tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-112603112011-11-03T22:20:34.556-04:00Moms who are trying not to lose their mindsHeather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.comBlogger4131100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-30161657416761417122009-04-01T19:15:00.002-04:002009-04-01T19:24:23.220-04:00

In church, we have a "good news minute". That's the time where anybody who has good news can quickly shout it out and share. I almost never share any good news. I have many reasons for this, not the least of which is because I doubt "Hey, I got my pantry organized. GO ME!" is anybody's idea of good news. And I don't like to monopolize the time. I've been told in the past that I talk too much,

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-29985063931766527962008-11-17T19:37:00.002-05:002008-11-17T19:40:04.768-05:00

I don't have ARPKD. I have ADPKD, the adult onset version. But ARPKD really really sucks. Watch this. Do you need a tissue? Yeah. Me too.

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1158008140022904002006-09-11T16:53:00.000-04:002006-09-11T16:55:40.116-04:00

Goodbye Blogger. You have served us well. So many memories, so many tears, so many temporary technical difficulties. We'll miss you. See you over at www.mormonmommywars.com. Thanks for the love!

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1157821553882419242006-09-09T13:05:00.000-04:002006-09-09T13:07:56.896-04:00

Ok, I think we are ready for people to check us out over at our new address: www.mormonmommywars.com. We hope y'all like it! Make a comment here, or make a comment there--either one. We are still in the tweaking stages, but for all intents and purposes, it's all there. Thanks!

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1157746981318098772006-09-08T16:14:00.000-04:002006-09-08T16:23:01.433-04:00

Lose your keys. Search for them for an hour. Get frustrated with the lack of progress of finding keys, knowing you are missing your child's open house for school. Start throwing everything away in a mad fit of cleaning frenzy like the desperate women that you are because you think the stray envelopes on your counter and the messy books on your shelves might be harboring your keys. Call DH and

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1157600901433630802006-09-06T23:07:00.000-04:002006-09-07T20:12:06.006-04:00

NOTE: We are having some technical difficulties, as we slowly make the shift from Blogger to Wordpress. We are hopefully moving there soon, just as quickly as we can get it ready. Until then, well, sorry for some Blogger blips as we import data over to WordPress. But, prepare to be dazzled! Anyway, bear with us. Thanks. The pet saga continues. To recap, we used to have a dog. He bit a

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1157428068630423222006-09-04T23:11:00.000-04:002006-09-05T00:14:46.466-04:00

OK, so today I went up to a cabin of my cousins. Despite what I am going to say in this post, it really was fun, we ate, talked with extended family, etc. etc. However, I have come to a conclusion about myself that I have been flirting with for quite a while. I hate nature. We walked over to the lake to give our kids a canoe ride, and while on the path to the lake, we passed two MOOSE - yes

The Wizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809035401445888720noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1157402990091604222006-09-04T15:56:00.000-04:002006-09-06T23:05:44.030-04:00

There has been some talk lately about housewife slug and drudgery, slobs and slovenliness, gross and grotyness. I've yet to meet a woman who says, "My house is clean all the time. I love it." Ok, so I have met one, but she's a little nuts, so we can't count her. And if you can say your house is clean all the time because you pay somebody else to clean it, well, happy day for you, but you

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com35tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1157211504373932652006-09-02T11:22:00.000-04:002006-09-02T11:39:02.520-04:00

He came, he dumped, he left. Phew. It wasn't a hurricane by any means, but boy, it sure was the worst weather I have ever seen in my entire life. I foolishly took a trip to Target in the middle of the day, and after having to drive through roads that were so full of water it almost buried my car's wheels, I thought, "I hope I make it home. What happens if my car starts to float?" Trees were

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1157031553002328822006-08-31T09:27:00.000-04:002006-08-31T09:42:35.646-04:00

Moms, be afraid. Be very afraid....

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1156953783985233352006-08-30T11:56:00.000-04:002006-08-30T12:25:59.683-04:00

It's not me who is on bed rest, everybody. I just wanted to say that up front, lest y'all think some kind of miracle has happened. It's my friend who is confined to her cushy prison. She is expecting twins in November, and her doctor has ordered very strict bedrest--flat on her back, basically. She can be up in a semi-reclined position for short periods of time. She can get up to pee, and,

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1156878762109943602006-08-29T14:45:00.000-04:002006-08-29T15:43:39.670-04:00

I have been reading with delight, the Wiz's posts on Toddler-man's adventures in Pottyland and the carnage of Spiderman and Sponge Bob he is leaving behind. Of course, I read these posts with the smug assumption that I had crawled out of the rabbit hole and was no longer in Pottyland. Oh how wrong I was. Not only am I still in Pottyland, but I have discovered that boys and girls really are

jamisuehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11799659973280013214noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1156789239729440872006-08-28T14:15:00.000-04:002006-08-28T14:21:05.296-04:00

Ok, so when I met these twins, and asked their names, and was told Warner and Maddox, I was really surprised that I had to ask which one was which. I figured (ignorantly, I guess) that once I knew their names, I would know which one is the boy and which one is the girl. Warner is the girl, and Maddox is the boy. Most of you were right. I would have guessed the other way around, but I wasn't

The Wizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809035401445888720noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1156712995816027132006-08-27T17:09:00.000-04:002006-08-27T17:11:11.900-04:00

Ok, I recently met a set of boy/girl twins who were named Warner and Maddox. Go on, guess which one is the boy and which one is the girl!

The Wizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809035401445888720noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1156545417459483912006-08-25T17:40:00.000-04:002006-08-26T11:52:56.666-04:00

We had some friends come visit us this week. I've known them for a long, long time, and it was fun to have them in our new house, etc. But I was surprised to discover an area of life where we seem to have little in common: food. Now, I am not a food Nazi. But having PKD means that I have to watch some of the things I eat, mainly sodium and hydrogenated oil. I also can't have caffeine, or

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1156454017839633002006-08-24T16:59:00.000-04:002006-08-24T17:13:38.000-04:00

Ok, so Jamisue posted before we could welcome her to the front lines! Welcome to Jamisue, our newest poster. As a sort of intro, I will tell you that she is the mother of two astonishingly cute children, she works full time as a lawyer, (We now have a lawyer on our blog! Does that make us officially part of the Bloggernacle dark side?) and always adds extra M&M's to her trail mix. We are

The Wizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809035401445888720noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1156385680613767662006-08-23T21:46:00.000-04:002006-08-23T22:14:40.703-04:00

Did you know those were the words in the song, "You're Never Fully Dressed Without a Smile?" I just learned them this week as J has gotten into the whole "Annie" phenomenon. Yea for me. I now can sing along to the repetitive record in my head instead of just humming, "Hey, hmm hmm hmm, hey dodeedo, you both got your dumdedumdedum...." Now, not knowing the lyrics to a show tune is not usually

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1156354798179131142006-08-23T13:12:00.000-04:002006-08-23T13:39:58.583-04:00

My daughter has learned an invaluable lesson. She has learned that she can fake her way through a piano lesson without having to practice, based on smarts, luck, and the fact that she's still a beginner and the lessons are still fairly easy. I don't want her to think she can go through life sailing by unprepared. I also don't want her to think she's stupid and needs to spend hours at the

The Wizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809035401445888720noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1156213309615130212006-08-21T22:00:00.000-04:002006-08-21T22:23:42.090-04:00

DH once asked his sister, while I was standing right next to him,"So, what do you think of my wife?" My SIL, generous soul that she is, said, "I think she's a with it, happenin', cool kinda gal." Really, what is she supposed to say to my face? "Actually, brother, I think your wife is a total dolt, and I'm feeling rather sorry for you that you are saddled to such a bonehead for eternity."

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1156205514617442492006-08-21T20:00:00.000-04:002006-08-21T20:11:54.700-04:00

Today was the first day my son voluntarily got up from what he was doing, went into the bathroom, and made magic happen. Yee-Haaa! He has yet to tell me when he needs to go, so I'm a little wary about venturing into public without him being swathed in large amounts of plastic, and as I am typing this, excited about potty training success, he just pooped into his new underwear. Crap. One step

The Wizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809035401445888720noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1156121791672512372006-08-20T19:36:00.000-04:002006-08-20T20:56:31.846-04:00

Ok, so they really were sunflowers after all. This is the view from my dining room window. Gotta love it.

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1156115846756745882006-08-20T18:55:00.000-04:002006-08-20T19:20:57.700-04:00

I'm so not a fashion queen. Trust me. One thing I like about the temple is that fashion is not a part of it. At all. Everybody wears white--how can you go wrong with that? Well, apparantly, you can. I went to the temple yesterday, and at the end of the ceremony, when I handed my little pink slip of a name to the temple worker, I was stunned at what I saw. No joke, this lady was sporting

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1156033420733146792006-08-19T20:17:00.000-04:002006-08-19T20:23:40.883-04:00

My oldest is giving a talk in Primary tomorrow. Here is what she's saying - spelling errors and all: Today I am going to talk about the stoy Lehi Left Jerusalem. When God told Lehi that Jerusallem was going to be dushoed and that he will have to take his family out of Jerusalem and thats what did and he did it without comeplanening. That shoses us that God tells us to do something we shood do

The Wizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809035401445888720noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1155914501299284692006-08-18T10:44:00.000-04:002006-08-18T12:14:28.846-04:00

This post does have a happy ending. It could have had a bad ending, and it came awfully close to being likethis story, but, thankfully, everything was ok. I just want to say that at the outset, because the last time I told somebody a suspenseful story about my son, she yelled at me for stopping her heart in her youth. Ok, so lately, I've been REALLY tired. A friend and I have formed a running

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1155846778292019942006-08-17T16:30:00.000-04:002006-08-17T16:32:58.433-04:00

I just have to say that my friend called me today saying "I'm in your neighborhood and I'm getting some lunch. Can I bring you something?" And she brought me lunch! Holy Cow! What are the odds?

The Wizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809035401445888720noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1155790578162160562006-08-17T00:41:00.000-04:002006-08-17T00:56:18.370-04:00

Ah, yes. Another post on potty-training. Just what you wanted to read. But you see, it's not my toddler who is willing to poop for candy. It's my five year old. She has figured out that Toddler-Man (soon to be named Preschool-Man) has a vast array of sugared sweets available to him should he make magic happen in the potty, thus saving both SpongeBob and Spiderman from more disgusting fates

The Wizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809035401445888720noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1155673465001769842006-08-15T16:13:00.000-04:002006-08-15T17:15:27.773-04:00

What are the odds that the first day we put "big boy pants" on my son, he has an attack of diarrhea? (apparently fairly high, but I will spare you the details. Let's just say 'Spiderman got soiled.') What are the odds that requesting afternoon kindergarden means you actually get afternoon kindergarten? (apparently very low, and now I will have a school year with morning kindergarten for one

The Wizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809035401445888720noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1155576516211660912006-08-14T13:16:00.000-04:002006-08-14T23:12:29.820-04:00

When I planted the sunflowers, I was thinking along these lines: Or even something like this: I did not anticipate coming home to this, after a 2 week garden hiatus: Here's another picture with a shovel in it, just to give you some perspective: The Wiz says she can't even tell they are sunflowers, that they just look like big weird green

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1155511604871196832006-08-13T18:15:00.000-04:002006-08-13T19:27:43.213-04:00

Here's some jokes I'll bet The Wiz's 6 Million Dollars you've never heard before: Knock Knock Who's there? Eye. Eye who? Eye BALL! BWAHAHAHAHAHAH Knock Knock Who's there? Chicken. Chicken Who? Chicken LITTLE! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAH Knock Knock (sigh) Who's there? Chicken. Chicken who? Chicken CHICKEN! And that last one sent my son into spasmodic giggles for at least a minute. I

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1155440649382430652006-08-12T23:19:00.000-04:002006-08-12T23:48:15.916-04:00

My daughter is 7 years old. The current trend for 7 year olds seems to be Tamagotchis. I hate them so much. She lost her Tamagotchi. The fact that they are the size of a (fairly large) keychain contributes heavily to this. Also, she lost it at CHURCH, which made me really upset, since she is not allowed to take her Tamagotchi to church, and I didn't know she had it there. In my opinion,

The Wizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809035401445888720noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1155430187038150992006-08-12T20:40:00.000-04:002006-08-12T20:49:47.116-04:00

Today I received an email informing me that I was one of 3 winners of an 18 Million dollar something (they never actually used the word 'lottery') and so I was now the proud winner of "6.000.000.000 (6 Million U.S. Dollars)." I think this is my favorite bit of spam so far. Wow! I won something I didn't enter, and the prize is just astronomical! We never have to work again, and college for my

The Wizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809035401445888720noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1155331753403173882006-08-11T17:26:00.000-04:002006-08-11T18:21:25.903-04:00

I was going to write a review of the other book I check out at the library, but I found this reveiw that says exactly what I wanted to say, and does so with more research than I have time to do! So, the review for Mommy Wars: Stay and Home and Working Mother's Face Off edited by Leslie Morgan Steiner can be read here, if anyone is interested. I heartily endorse Sandra Tsing Loh's conclusions

Tracy Mnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1155245013502734092006-08-10T17:19:00.000-04:002006-08-10T17:25:55.570-04:00

I love the library. I love libraries the way some people get excited about Disneyland- so much good stuff to see and do and read- gets me giddy. Libraries are also wonderful places to take your kids, especially in the summer, when the air-conditioning and the stories are both free. Two weeks ago during story time, I was able to creep towards the "New Books" shelf (oh glory!) and nab a couple that

Tracy Mnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1155151057368831122006-08-09T15:06:00.000-04:002006-08-09T15:17:37.456-04:00

Hanging out with my sisters and female cousins, we had quite the disturbing conversation. Well, I found it disturbing, anyway. It turns out that it is not uncommon among women to sit and "pick out" who their husband's second wife would be, if, by any chance, the current wife should shuffle off this mortal coil and leave their families wife-less and mom-less. "She'd be nice to my kids." "

The Wizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809035401445888720noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1155053154305003452006-08-08T11:48:00.000-04:002006-08-08T12:07:19.366-04:00

Yesterday I pulled from my pants pocket 2 candy wrappers, a crumpled, half-eaten Power Bar, a plastic frog, and a rock that I had been told was "very special". The other pocket had a stick (aka power sword light saber) and some sunscreen. Moms--what's in your pockets? And please note: I did not eat the other half of the Power Bar. I have no idea who consumed it, or even where it came from. I

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1154963632811964322006-08-07T11:01:00.001-04:002006-08-07T11:13:52.900-04:00

Back from vacation with the in-laws. Whew! It was a great time, as usual, and it's always good for J to spend some time with his grandparents he doesn't see very often. But during the course of the vacation, which consisted of hanging out in a condo on a lake for a week and doing various water related activities (I know, it's hard having a life where you have to spend a week water skiiing and

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1154807228009673492006-08-05T15:27:00.000-04:002006-08-05T15:47:08.096-04:00

My daughter's favorite song is "Not Dead Yet" from Spamalot. Both my girls can quote bits of it and laugh. Hopefully I have kept the profanity in it from them. (I try, anyway, and yes, I am aware of the irony of exposing my kids to music that I have to screen. But it's a nice break to listen to something that I enjoy while in the car.) My husband just killed a bee, and both of us

The Wizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809035401445888720noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1154719108467282852006-08-04T15:11:00.000-04:002006-08-04T15:20:37.140-04:00

For much of my life, I have gone from short hair to long hair, and back again. I am currently in the "short hair" phase, and I think it is highly likely that I will be there for the rest of my life. It's way easier, and when I grew my hair out, I realized I didn't have a clue about curling irons, barrettes, and all the other girlie hair stuff that I used to pass in the store without a second

The Wizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809035401445888720noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1154710441267611142006-08-04T12:52:00.000-04:002006-08-04T12:54:01.280-04:00

Target. Oh, Target, my love, are we destined to hurt one another forevermore? After my last trip to Target, I hadn't had the personal fortitude to try again, until yesterday, when they had barbecue's on clearance, and we both needed one, and didn't have wads of cash to shell out for one. So I took a deep breath, packed all three Monkeys in the 'Burb, and headed off to meet my pain head on. It

Tracy Mnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1154586941042320292006-08-03T02:10:00.000-04:002006-08-03T02:35:41.286-04:00

Quite possibly I am the worst mother ever. My 2 3/4 year old is not potty-trained yet. That in and of itself is not a crime; plenty of kid not yet three are still in diapers. Or course my first was long trained by now, but alas, the reprioritation of life as more babies come along strikes again. First, I was so pregnant and barfing that I was constitutionally and physically incapable of training

Tracy Mnoreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1154546852746560192006-08-02T15:11:00.000-04:002006-08-02T15:35:58.776-04:00

I know it's August. I know the summer is winding up. But, you see, I have just purchased my first swimsuit in 3 years. And that's not because the ones I have are perfect for me. I am not unlike most women in that I hate to buy swimsuits. It's very hard to find one that's flattering, modest, and cute at the same time. I swear, it's like swimsuit manufacturers take out a Barbie doll, and cut

The Wizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809035401445888720noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1154447414783374802006-08-01T11:24:00.000-04:002006-08-01T11:57:29.900-04:00

On Saturday, we had planned to clean the basement, so naturally we went bowling instead. I beat Toddler-Man by six points. Whew. Now, in all fairness, he did have "bumper - thingies" to prevent gutter balls, and a "slide-dealio" for his ball, so it would have motion and go down the center, but still. He's two. The place we go, they bring pizza (actually good pizza) and a pitcher of soda

The Wizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809035401445888720noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1154240351978594432006-07-30T02:12:00.000-04:002006-07-30T02:19:12.066-04:00

OK, so I didn't techincally write this post, it was sent to me in an email, and I apologize if you've seen it before, but since my son is currently walking around in pink shoes now, (turns out his obsession is with shoes in general)it's pretty apt. BIRTH ORDER OF CHILDREN Your Clothes: 1st baby: You begin wearing maternity clothes as soon as your OB/GYN confirms your pregnancy. 2nd baby:

The Wizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809035401445888720noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1154062037179284842006-07-28T00:25:00.000-04:002006-07-28T00:47:17.426-04:00

Dear People Who Make Movies for Kids, I just want to thank you for your recent movie "Curious George". I recently saw it again with my 4 year old son at a special "Summer Movie" screening in my town. It is possibly one of the silliest movies ever made, and I mean that in the best sense of the word. When you have an entire theater of 4 year olds laughing because George puts a sandwich on his

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1153958476180284022006-07-26T19:43:00.000-04:002006-07-26T20:07:53.696-04:00

Today, when I got the mail, there was somebody's cordless phone in the mailbox. ???????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????? What am I supposed to do? Call my neighbors and ask "Did you misplace your phone? Because I think you mailed it to me by mistake." Of course, if I have their phone, they couldn't really answer now, could they, which means I am leaving one

The Wizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809035401445888720noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1153931734958947882006-07-26T12:34:00.000-04:002006-07-26T12:38:35.123-04:00

Her children are laughing, but she cannot discern from where the laughter comes. Sleep has a deep hold on her, and she struggles to find the surface, swimming through her subconscious toward the light. The humid jungle of dream, thick and oppressive, closes ranks behind her as soon as she moves, and insects are mercilessly biting her legs. The sun beats down through the canopy of trees, and sweat

Tracy Mnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1153774055928434272006-07-24T16:42:00.000-04:002006-07-24T16:47:36.066-04:00

Have you ever been just drifting off to sleep in your new, cost-too-much-but-it-was-worth-it king size mattress that feels like you are sleeping on a cloud, only to be rudely interrupted in your journey to sleepland? Of course you have! You have children! But what if I asked you if it was your husband that did the interrupting, and not your children? And the interrupting was not for any kind of

The Wizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809035401445888720noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1153592901389000072006-07-22T13:49:00.000-04:002006-07-22T20:52:18.760-04:00

Yeah, yeah, yeah, you all are saying, "How can you hate that book? It's a classic! Eric Carle is a genius! Counting, days of the week, healthy lifestyle, that book has everything!" I used to think that way, too. And then I saw the light. And I'm here to expose the truth. That book is part of a VAST, RIGHT BUTTERFLY-WING conspiracy to DESTROY ALL THE PLANTS OF THE WORLD! That book is not

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1153523651139036912006-07-21T18:43:00.000-04:002006-07-21T19:20:33.606-04:00

Let me tell you a little bit about my ward: It has 15-20 kids in the Primary. No scouting program whoatsoever. I hope this improves by the time my boy is old enough for scouts, but I don't feel that strongly about scouting anyway, so it's not that big a deal for me. It has no young women. As in zero. I hope this improves when my girls get big enough for the program, but I have no guarantee

The Wizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809035401445888720noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1153460073814658442006-07-21T06:05:00.000-04:002006-07-21T01:36:04.996-04:00

Conventional wisdom would dictate, putting a 4 (almost 5) year old boy full of boundless energy and a will of iron, in a class to learn how to fight would be a bad idea. You would think. When DH suggested we put our rambunctious oldest boy in a martial arts class, I cringed, imaging his poor younger brother, who is already tormented and pestered with Jeff's ninja stylings. My first answers was a

Tracy Mnoreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1153447552334000102006-07-20T19:53:00.000-04:002006-07-20T22:08:52.530-04:00

I recently met up with an old friend. I love this woman. She's fantastic. She's the type of woman who has planned her entire life around being a wife and mother, and it's awe inspiring. She has entire file folders full of decorating ideas for her house, things she has been collecting for literally years and years. She bought all the Disney shows when they came out as "Limited Editions", just

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1153333420044913412006-07-19T14:06:00.000-04:002006-07-19T14:23:41.363-04:00

My friend's son is turing 3 next week. She is having a Dora birthday party for him, because, like many his age, he is obsessed with Dora. She gets a universally similar reaction when she mentions she's having a Dora party. "Dora? Or Diego?" It's like they're trying to make his party more 'manly' or something. Did I mention that he's 3? Definitely Dora. Her son's never seen Diego. He

The Wizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809035401445888720noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1153192812092796072006-07-17T23:05:00.000-04:002006-07-18T21:46:40.193-04:00

Today, as I was coming home from shopping, my car full of groceries (most notably the eight potatoes I had to bake for the swim meet,'cause that's what every kid under the age of 8 wants in the 101 degree heat after swimming 3 laps--a piping hot tuber), a convertible Mustang with 3 young women turned left in front of me. These girls could have been in a commercial, they were just that typical.

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1153180439481126412006-07-17T19:30:00.000-04:002006-07-17T19:54:00.783-04:00

Toddler-Man has a new obsession. He won't take of his shoes. Little blue crocs which my husband says are a "girly blue." No way, "baby blue". Of course, one might argue that the flowers are a tad girly, but hey, whatever. He sleeps in them. He strips down to his diaper and crocs and runs around the neighborhood. He won't wear pants, but hey, at least his feet are covered. He wakes up and

The Wizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809035401445888720noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1153011239174482302006-07-15T20:17:00.000-04:002006-07-15T20:57:34.836-04:00

I say I LOVE SUMMER FOOD! Yes, this is a picture of a tomato that came from our garden. It isn't the first one--the first one we ate yesterday, too excited to be finally eating the fruits of our labors to take a picture of it. There are two more coming right along on the vine, if you will. And now, I am going to tell you the most delicious way to eat fresh tomatoes, even if you don't have

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1152847359450847352006-07-13T22:15:00.000-04:002006-07-13T23:28:55.406-04:00

Just some things that drive me incredibly crazy. Peeves of the pet variety, if you will. 1.Knives blade up in the dishwasher. No good. It's like "Are you trying to kill me? Is there something I should know?" 2.When the dishwasher door is left open, and you are walking by and bam! Bruise on the leg. 3.Not a pet peeve of mine, but my friend Goochie here hates it, and I mean HATES IT, when

The Wizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809035401445888720noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1152815030208861882006-07-13T14:00:00.000-04:002006-07-13T14:25:56.413-04:00

Ok, this has nothing to do with motherhood, but I need a little bit of input, so I thought I'd ask y'all. And I know I said that I wouldn't blog about PKD on this blog, but like I said, I need a little bit of help and advice, so, here I am. Here's the deal. The PKD Foundation has a walk every year, around the country. (Check out www.pkdcure.org for the walk in your town. It is held around the

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1152669170807280932006-07-11T21:38:00.000-04:002006-07-11T21:54:18.466-04:00

Recently we went miniature golfing as a family and yes, we let everyone behind us skip ahead. My girls took the endeavor fairly seriously, and Toddler-Man figured out quickly how to get ahead in the rough and tough world that is putt-putt golf. He has graciously allowed me to share his tips with you, the novices of the world. 1. Forget the tee thing. You are far more likely to get the ball

The Wizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809035401445888720noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1152639861496538222006-07-11T13:04:00.000-04:002006-07-11T13:47:42.100-04:00

I love gardening. I love everything about it. I love tilling soil, I love planting, mulching,weeding even. One of the things I like best about our new house is that we finally have a front and backyard we where can cultivate some of the skills we learned last year about having a garden. And we also finally have a lawn. That needs to be mowed. Often. After all, like DH said, living in the

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1152573044399928392006-07-10T18:26:00.000-04:002006-07-10T19:10:44.530-04:00

Oh, low about these parts, there's the legend or Her. She is whispered of in breath-ey tones from podiums in stake conferences, She is touted from the pulpit in many a testimony, She is written of in articles in Church News, She is the mother of every general authority, and She makes unruly boys into apostles. Mention of Her makes normal women hang their heads in shame and humility, wondering

Tracy Mnoreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1152371092690259272006-07-08T10:24:00.000-04:002006-07-08T11:05:49.863-04:00

I'm going to share one more thing with y'all about Rick that I bet you didn't know. And I can say y'all now because I live in the south and drive a pick up. Rick's a Mormon. He was baptized in September 1997. A golden investigator if there ever was one. When he told me that he was thinking about becoming a Mormon, I thought he was joking. I turned his wheelchair around and looked him

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1152242603676597212006-07-06T22:23:00.000-04:002006-07-06T23:24:15.283-04:00

I broke Rick's nose once. Not intentionally, mind you, and it's not like it was perfect to begin with. But those horrible moments I was talking about? Yeah, that was one of them. It happened on a day I took Rick to work at Boston College, where he was helping them develop a new augmentative communication device by tracking the movements of the eyes. They were basically trying to come up with

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1152131596959476402006-07-05T16:32:00.000-04:002006-07-05T21:50:04.590-04:00

There are two things that I will forever associate with Rick: The Boston Marathon, and Walden Pond. Rick lives to race. That's what he does. It's who he is. He and his father participate in at least 52 races a year, I think. That number is just off the top of my head, but they race at least once almost every weekend, sometimes twice. Some of the races they run are short, like the

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1152071800466944192006-07-04T23:13:00.000-04:002006-07-04T23:59:24.186-04:00

This is my friend Rick. Well, Rick and his dad, Dick Hoyt. They are a team. They call themselves Team Hoyt. I'm blogging about him because I was thinking about him tonight. I was thinking about all of the other 4th of July's I've ever had, and I was reminded of a particularly interesting 4th I spent working for Rick. Then I thought, "Hey, I haven't introduced everybody to Rick, yet!" See

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1151982328486473012006-07-03T22:25:00.000-04:002006-07-03T23:51:13.260-04:00

Brandon Rouch is fun to look at. That's about the only truly positive thing I can say about the new movie Superman Returns. Now, I am not a Superman expert. I don't follow all the drama that surrounds the enterprise, I basically just know Christopher Reeve was also fun to look at, Lois and Clark was a pretty fun show while it lasted, and that's about the extent of my knowledge. I've never

The Wizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809035401445888720noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1151892025395876052006-07-02T21:48:00.000-04:002006-07-02T22:01:08.426-04:00

I have to admit, J used to hate church. We would battle all morning about going to church. He would cry, throw his clothes away from him, refused to get dressed, and scream, "I hate church! I don't want to go!" all the way there in the car. He would squirm in Sacrament meeting, he would ask loudly to go home, and he would insist that he didn't want to go to Primary. In short, it was a

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1151779343838073102006-07-01T14:24:00.000-04:002006-07-01T14:42:23.996-04:00

I have internet access! Yahoo! My husband's been out of town for the past week. My internet connection went down a few days ago, so I re-booted the modem, re-booted the computer, and behold! Neither of those solutions worked. As I contemplated what to do next, I realized I had pretty much exhausted my internet fixing capabilities. And life without the internet pretty much sucks. I balance

The Wizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809035401445888720noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1151648416191632832006-06-30T01:40:00.000-04:002006-06-30T02:20:16.466-04:00

What is it about when Mama leaves the house? My husband is a very capable and competent Daddy, and he does a great job with our kids- he is also fabulous about making sure I get time away when I need it, even though we have to laugh, because we both know what is going to happen when I walk out that door... Tonight I had a dinner to attend at church, and while my being there wasn't crucial, I

Tracy Mnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1151503935408250332006-06-28T09:41:00.000-04:002006-06-28T10:14:45.500-04:00

Ok, enough talk about disease. Yech, so depressing. Let's talk about something everybody loves-MONEY! The other day, while sitting around at the bank, waiting for DH to finish up working out our new mortgage stuff and trying to keep my child from destroying everything in sight out of frustration and boredom (really, banks do nothing for 4 year olds), I came across the book _Rich Dad, Poor Dad_

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1151429069628001182006-06-27T12:43:00.000-04:002006-06-27T13:24:31.060-04:00

I have debated whether or not I wanted to post this on MMW, but I decided in the name of "raising awareness" I would pass on the address of a new blog dedicated to PKD, a.k.a. Polycystic Kidney Disease. Polycystic Kidney Disease is the most common genetic, life threatening disease affecting more than 600,000 Americans and an estimated 12.5 million people worldwide - regardless of sex, age, race

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1151350845650084282006-06-26T15:04:00.000-04:002006-06-26T16:06:30.716-04:00

You've heard a lot about swimming these days. Sorry. Somebody warned me that if I put J on the swim team, it would take over my life. Sadly, she was utterly, completely, and totally correct, dang it. But it's been an interesting experience, joining this whole swim culture. Oh, and believe me, there is definitely a swim culture, complete with cliques, competitions within the team, and varying

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1151189085891346442006-06-24T18:23:00.000-04:002006-06-24T18:48:07.450-04:00

Ok, so I have decided that I want to go back to the old days. Not that far back, mind you, I have no interest in churning my own butter or whatever. And usually, I am in favor of progress. But still, some progress is bad, and I want to go back to the days when one particular aspect of mothering was much easier and cheaper. I have yet to meet a mother who doesn't, at some point in her life,

The Wizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809035401445888720noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1151087213745053832006-06-23T14:23:00.000-04:002006-06-23T14:31:25.913-04:00

Motivating my Monkeys is always a tough row to hoe. However, the other night I unwittingly stumbled upon a new, seemingly endless, goldmine of motivation: Points. The boys were lagging in cleaning up their room, dawdling as they put their p.j.'s on, and playing in the water rather than brushing their teeth. And I'm trying really hard not to yell these days, especially since it falls on deaf

Tracy Mnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1151024395730354962006-06-22T20:23:00.000-04:002006-06-22T21:02:31.703-04:00

Summer is here, which for us means swimming. Lots of it. I actually put J on a swim team, which means practice every morning, as well as "practice" with mom in the pool afterwards, and then playtime in the pool after lunch, which means that we are averaging about 4 hours a day poolside. No joke--4 HOURS DAILY IN THE FREAKIN' SUN. Yeah, we've already gone through 3 of those not so cheap bottles

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1151007298577282412006-06-22T16:11:00.000-04:002006-06-22T21:39:09.050-04:00

Some for some. None for none. Slightly less for people we don't like, and a little bit more for me. hee hee. Just some lyrics from Spamalot to brighten your day.

The Wizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809035401445888720noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1150851034172562572006-06-20T20:16:00.000-04:002006-06-20T20:50:34.356-04:00

Breastfeeding is the only option, and if you try anything else, both you and your child are doomed forever. Breastfeeding is not the only option, and if you tell me it is, I will kill you. Sleep training is child abuse. Sleep training is the best way to get your child to sleep, and if you don't do it, both you and your child are doomed forever. Sleeping with your baby is the best way for

The Wizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809035401445888720noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1150737766325786052006-06-19T12:55:00.000-04:002006-06-19T13:22:46.456-04:00

Ok, we all know that summer is in full swing now, especially when you find yourself outside at noon and realize in about 5 minutes that you are dehyrdated, sweating, feeling faint, and suddenly want to be anywhere else than outside. Ah, love my air conditioning.... But we still have a long summer ahead of us, so I thought I'd share some handy tips I've learned along the way to make summer just

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1150655618997437052006-06-18T13:46:00.000-04:002006-06-18T14:33:39.246-04:00

This morning, as I was rinsing some dishes at the sink, Jeffrey hollered from down the hall that he needed help "I'm stuck, I'm stuck!"- I heard my husband head down the hall, but he stopped and grabbed the camera, and motioned for me to "look at your son". Somehow Jeffrey had managed to knock a picture off the wall in the hallway, and he was precariously holding it to the wall with his

Tracy Mnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1150607350055775092006-06-18T01:05:00.000-04:002006-06-18T01:09:10.136-04:00

A MMW reader by the name of Cat sent me a link to this NY times article regarding breastfeeding. It has some great stuff, and I agree that it should be passed along - enjoy!

The Wizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809035401445888720noreply@blogger.com38tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1150581968802884802006-06-17T17:51:00.000-04:002006-06-17T18:06:56.000-04:00

Heather is getting annoyed with me that i haven't posted in such a long time. I started to think about why, and came up with this: My youngest son is the reason. He's not yet 3, and yet, he knows exactly how to get to nickjr.com, playousedisney.com, pbskids.org, and to any of the games that we have installed. He is great at double clicking and dragging, printing, and yelling "I DO IT! MY

The Wizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809035401445888720noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1150423042366657962006-06-15T21:28:00.000-04:002006-06-15T22:01:48.763-04:00

I know we've been a little slow over here at MMW, but as I have been sitting here staring at the screen trying to figure out what to write, it struck me. Nothing. We're slow because there is nothing bad to report. No scribble disasters, no babysitting crisis, and no vomiting canines. What's a blogging girl to do? Of course, I realize that saying, "Hey, life is just too NORMAL these days"

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1150256704465978802006-06-13T23:08:00.000-04:002006-06-13T23:45:52.030-04:00

The Wiz was going to blog about this, as she recommended the book to me, but it seems that she got sidetracked (read: BlOGGERSLACKER!). She was reading the book _The Optimistic Child_, by Martin E. P. Seligman, and she and I were discussing it. Basically, this book claims to have the answers to safeguard children against depression and build lifelong resilience and optimism. Sounds pretty good

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1149998855717524682006-06-10T23:39:00.000-04:002006-06-11T00:09:14.883-04:00

I have figured it out ladies. I know what all men what. Yes, the secrets of the universe have been revealed to me, and I am now ready to impart my wisdom to you, O goddess sisters. All men, in their heart of hearts, want a truck. You know, a truck to haul stuff. I thought it was only my husband who longed for this powerful thing. He has jokingly talked about a pick-up since the days when we

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com27tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1149822724488690212006-06-08T23:07:00.000-04:002006-06-09T14:00:34.490-04:00

guest post from wbpraw - S is her 12 year old girl, B is her huge he-man of a husband. So a couple of weekends ago, B was driving home with all of our kids in the car plus S's two friends. It was at night after the Primary Talent Show. ( I had escaped to my sister's for the weekend.) They were just about home when some neighborhood boys who go to school with S and are S's age, mooned the car.

The Wizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809035401445888720noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1149733760609422052006-06-07T22:13:00.000-04:002006-06-08T00:12:51.966-04:00

Our new neighbors had us over for dinner tonight. I'll bet you are thinking, Wow, nice neighbors. So are we. The food was awesome, too, so, you know, double bonus on that one. Anyway, during dinner, their son came up and asked for more batteries for his laser gun, a toy he was sharing with J, who I swear thought he had died and gone to heaven. "Oh, yeah, I don't think we have any more

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1149637685679215762006-06-06T19:33:00.000-04:002006-06-06T19:53:39.083-04:00

I'm in trouble. Big trouble. The middle Monkey is putting on some serious tantrums and acting-out since Abby was born, and while I was expecting some problems, this really is more than I bargained for. I know I can't return him, and although I fantasize about some magic Toddler-Whisperer swooping down and taking him to Babies-R-Good for the day, I know that's really not going to solve my problems

Tracy Mnoreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1149539445711968342006-06-05T16:07:00.000-04:002006-06-05T19:58:17.736-04:00

I married a total food snob. He has introduced me to some awesome foods, and some awesome ways to cook it (or, in all actuality, to watch him cook it). Dh and I were watching Food Network last night, and a 'wasabi-ginger mayo' was talked about briefly. I cringed. Dh said 'ooohhhh'. See, I hate wasabi. He does not. So I've decided to list foods that I hate, just because I can. Foods I

The Wizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809035401445888720noreply@blogger.com31tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1149305827148895332006-06-02T23:09:00.000-04:002006-06-02T23:38:46.200-04:00

I went to a tea party today. An honest to goodness, not just a 3 year old's imagination tea party. Never done that before. A parent in our preschool put it on for our preschool administrator, who is moving this month. It was a fun way to send her off. During this little tea party (yes, there were other drinks available, don't worry), I got the chance to chat with some of the other mothers

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1149223993096340302006-06-02T00:26:00.000-04:002006-06-02T00:57:31.880-04:00

Or: Post Partum tricks and tips that may make life easier for you and your, er, um, body. Over the last few weeks, I've noticed my recovery from the birth of my third child has been much less painful and much easier than the others, particularly the first. (That one, I can't even think about without cringing- ugh!) And this really makes no sense- believe me, a baby born in 16 minutes causes

Tracy Mnoreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1149177857195804512006-06-01T11:31:00.000-04:002006-06-01T12:04:17.420-04:00

Ok, so I am the Best Mom Ever! Or possibly, the Worst Mom Ever! One of the two. I'm not sure which one yet. Yesterday I was watching my show (Gilmore Girls, of course) and they were talking about Twinkies, and at one point, Lorelai took a bunch of Twinkies out of the box and put them on a plate to serve. Immediately I wanted a Twinkie. I was going to die without a Twinkie, for life was not

The Wizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809035401445888720noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1149123482107731522006-05-31T20:38:00.000-04:002006-05-31T21:55:24.213-04:00

Defined as "loss or diminution of the ability to recognize familiar objects or stimuli, usually as a result of brain damage." My own experience with agnosia has involved stroke victims, usually right hemisphere stroke victims, who don't recognize parts of their own body. This really happens. It is truly truly freaky when somebody tells you that she is not sure if the hand on the table is hers

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1149037373293642872006-05-30T20:59:00.000-04:002006-05-30T21:02:53.420-04:00

Tracy did this,too, but I thought I would put up a link to Deborah's post on her thoughts about the statement read on Sunday. She has beautifully framed some of the harder issues facing the church with regards to homosexuality. Thank you, Deborah.

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1149029769997652812006-05-30T18:28:00.000-04:002006-05-30T19:10:06.970-04:00

My parents have a famous neighbor. Seriously. I can't tell you who it is because a) I'd have to kill you, and b) My father would kill me right after I killed you. He firmly believes in protecting other people's privacy. Once, when I was kid, Karl Malone was eating with his family at the same restaurant we were. The Mailman himself people, and that was when he was still delivering for Utah,

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1149001732580906172006-05-30T10:45:00.000-04:002006-05-30T11:10:08.383-04:00

When my kids were very little, especially when I just had two, and one as a newborn slept all morning, and the other as an almost 2 year old slept all afternoon, I was sure I would never leave the house again. I longed for the days when school would come, along with lessons and activities that would give my day some structure, apart from the schedule of nap times. Now I'm there, and I long

The Wizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809035401445888720noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1148740929503856262006-05-27T10:18:00.000-04:002006-05-27T10:43:12.333-04:00

The Oman family is officially ill. All three of us have it--the snot filled head, the runny nose, the sore throat, the headache, the aches and pains. Nothing too serious, but certainly something that makes getting up before noon a real struggle. And, of course, since nothing but a raging fever and puke will keep my little bugger down, we all have been up since 5:45. I'm not joking. The

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1148566257414579732006-05-25T09:43:00.000-04:002006-05-25T10:10:57.760-04:00

We've done it. Well, almost. All of our stuff is out of our house, and I will be doing the key handover today. I can't believe it, but we did it. And, unlike our last move, we did it without our driver hitting one of our neighbors' cars after unloading and subsequently getting arrested. Bonus points for that, I say. So now what? Well, we have to wait until DH is officially finished with his

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1148493610901252262006-05-24T14:30:00.000-04:002006-05-24T14:43:32.266-04:00

By now, you all are probably so done with my musings on the finer points (ha!) of mamaries. This is it, I promise! I've pontificated on the medical healing of breast reduction surgery, the special level of torture that is pumping everything your baby eats, and my own grief at not being able to nurse. But I have something to add, something I never thought I would say; I have a baby that is nursing

Tracy Mnoreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1148453681702487722006-05-24T01:55:00.000-04:002006-05-24T03:10:37.400-04:00

In the beginning, it was cute. There were costumes. Toddler-Man clapped at the end of each number. And yet, it was the production that wouldn't end. A few days ago, my daughter came home with a note from school saying essentially: "Come to the school on Tuesday night at 6:00 p.m. for a celebration. Performers need to be there at 5:50." Performers? What? "Honey? Is that you? Are you

The Wizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809035401445888720noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1148269859586366692006-05-21T23:09:00.000-04:002006-05-21T23:51:51.116-04:00

Today was one of those Sundays. It started at 5am, when J woke up and wondered where his bed was. We are out of our house, and staying with family while we await the movers tomorrow. All of our stuff has been packed since Friday, and J is sort of freaked out. Hence, I think, the 5am wake-up call. Anyway, he was cranky the entire morning, and the prospect of church did not cheer him up any.

Heather O.http://www.blogger.com/profile/00294085512048242495noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11260311.post-1148050603839535212006-05-19T10:47:00.000-04:002006-05-19T11:11:16.843-04:00

This is not a post about poop, vomit, or any bodily functions of any kind. Disappointed? Nope, this is just a quick post about ice cream. My oldest is doing a ballet performance this weekend, and opening night was last night. We saw her dance around cutely, giggle at other little girls on stage, and yawn hugely right on stage (the performances are at night, and she gets a little tired,

The Wizhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07809035401445888720noreply@blogger.com9