I wish I could take pictures like these:

But I am so lucky to have a wonderful sister who lives nearby who can. And does. Even when she has to come to my house and convince me to go. Even when there is lots of crying in the background. Even when we get to the park with less than fifteen minutes of sunlight left.

I was commenting/complaining about the uncooperative/loud kids. She told me, "Just think. You will be able to cherish these photos forever. And every time you look at them, you will laugh when you remember all of the screaming in the background."

I think I will.

Thanks for the beautiful pictures, Rebecca. They may have convinced me to tag along on your next adventure :)

Babysitters with Bright Hair

I typed this up a while ago (October 1) and I accidentally saved it as a draft instead of posting it. Rachel's hair is a bit longer now. And I think Jasmine's hair is now orange.

I have a knack for finding really good babysitters. We have had three main ones over the last five years, and each of them have been exceptional. I called Megan at ten-thirty one night to come over and put the girls to bed. I was pregnant and in bad shape. Steve couldn't come home from work and I couldn't stop throwing up long enough to take care of them myself. She hurried over with her mom. They rescued my semi-neglected kids and cleaned my kitchen. She came back a couple days later with a "coupon book" full of offers to do my dishes, iron ten shirts, and even bake us a pie.

Our next babysitter, Rachael, saved our family the summer Adam was a newborn and I had surgery. She didn't just watch the girls, she baked cookies, ran errands for me, and cleaned the house. Not just tidied, immaculafied, if that were a word. She did everything. She even helped me with projects like the time I thought it was a good idea to make 150 handmade leather journals for the stake pioneer "trek". The girls think it's Christmas when she comes down to babysit on the weekends every once in a while.

Our current babysitter, who happens to be named Jasmine (not Mykaeleigh's mother) hasn't disappointed us either. The girls love her because she plays princess, fashion model, curls their hair, paints their nails, and even dances to High School Musical songs with them. A couple days ago I found Rachel's handwritten list of all the things she wanted to do the next time Jasmine came. Loved it.

We feel pretty fortunate to have had such great babysitters. Not only have I thoroughly appreciated the temporary freedom from my kids, I also feel lucky to have such great role models for my girls. I think all three of them have even humored Rachel and her text messages. . . Now, onto the story about the colorful hair. . .

Jasmine has a section of her hair dyed purple. I think it is very tastefully done, in the back, beneath most of her other hair. Rachel has been in love with the purple hair for a long time, just as she is with most-other-things-Jasmine. When we were in Phoenix, and the girls were getting their haircut, the stylist had a section of her hair dyed, so I asked her about it. She cocked her head and looked at me like I was an idiot. For your kids? (Hey, I was just asking.)

And then she explained that in order to get your hair to hold color like that, you first have to bleach it until it is almost white. It would pretty much ruin their hair. She pointed over to the colored hair clips. That, she said, is what you use for kids. They were $10 each and there was even a sale: buy two, get one free. We walked out with three beautiful colors: blue, purple, and orange.

The clips are very disguisable, and when put in correctly, can hardly be detected. Rachel and Lucy have had a delightful time tricking everyone into thinking they had dyed their hair. (Steve didn't even seem bothered.) We are very lucky, however, that they are only clips. Rachel wore her blue one (to match her uniform) to school and was immediately, but quietly, told to remove it from her hair. Extreme hair colors and styles are against the rules.

So there you have it. Good babysitters are out there and so are colorful hair clips to satisfy your six-year-old who wishes she were sixteen.

New Nephew

I am thinking my new nephew looks a bit like Adam did when he was born:

(Baby Malouf)

(Adam, 2007)

(Baby Malouf)

(Adam, 2007)

I've always regretted that I didn't take more pictures of Adam when he was born, so maybe I will just print some of the new baby out and pretend they are Adam :)

Today, I am wishing I could sneak into the hospital and hold that cute little baby for a minute and give my sister-in-law a hug.

Four Little Lions

Rachel (2003), Lucy (2004), Adam (2007), Mykaeleigh (2009)

This is the best shot we got of the kids before we went to the ward Chili Cook-Off and Trunk-or-Treat. Look at Rachel's face.

Adam (ninja), Sydney (Chinese princess), Rachel (witch), Mykaeleigh (lion), Lucy (princess), Talmage (ninja)

I'm ready to put away the Halloween boxes.

They've been in my living room way too long.

It feels like Halloween should be over since I've spent all month thoroughly entertained by 31 days of Halloween costumes featured on my friend's blog.

And because we already went to the coolest Halloween party ever:

I wish I could show you pictures of all of the amazing decorations and activities from the party, but my camera is not-so-good with the indoor pictures. It's the biggest Halloween party I've been to since The Howl. So lets just say it's the biggest Halloween party that attracts people based on the party alone, and not because of scantily clad college girls. (I only fit into that category one year when I agreed to be a peacock with Bridgett and Brooke.)

I wish I would have taken more pictures of all of the great costumes at Jed's party, but this is all I got:

It's too bad you can't see a shot of me in the wet suit. (I was dressed as a triathlete.) Steve was not impressed. He says he gets to pick my costume next time. (He wasn't impressed last year either, when I was a pregnant nun, which, by the way, you shouldn't ever dress up as, unless you are actually pregnant.)

Two more days of Halloween. . . .

The vine in the back of my throat.

Lucy: Mom, what's that hangy down thing right there called?

Me: Your uvula.

Lucy: Hmmm. I just call it the vine in the back of my throat.

P.S. Did you know that Miley Cyrus cut her uvula on a piece of chicken in January?

I just learned that when I googled "uvula" to find this picture.

Sorry, Mike. I'll try not to break anything else.

Last week I broke the disposal in my kitchen sink.

I was busy with some other projects and left it broken for a little while. And then learned the hard way that you shouldn't run your dishwasher when the disposal is broken.

That night I broke the chopper part of Cuisinart Smart Stick blender thing.

The next day was Craft Day with the cousins, and amidst the activity of painting pumpkins, I decided to grill the steaks and the shish kabobs in the fridge without Steve, as he is never actually home for dinner. I've never used the grill; it's just not my deal. I also tried to make mashed potatoes.

Steve has always been the designated mashed potato cook in our family. He is welcome to retain that title.

Apparently, I didn't cook the potatoes long enough and somehow I managed to first trip the circuit breaker and then break the entire Cuisinart blender thing. By the time we (actually, Angie had taken over by this point) got the potatoes blended, they were cold, so she went to put them in the microwave.

It was broken too.

The kids wouldn't touch the "bloody" steaks or eat the cold mashed potatoes, which I inadvertently left the skins on. (Forgot my audience.)

Thank goodness Angie brought bananas. The kids ate them for dinner and then enjoyed pumpkin pie and ice cream for dessert. (Fruit, vegetable, dairy. . . right?)

And thank goodness her husband, Mike, knows how to fix everything. (He had to take apart the entire microwave to locate the tiny little damaged piece: the oven thermostat.) I should add that if you ever need an HVAC guy, you should call him (801-941-1205) because he is really, really good. So very mechanical. (My wonderful husband is so very not.) Steve was sure that broken disposal was going to cost hundreds of dollars. Mike talked me through fixing it, over the phone.

I think this was the second consecutive week that Craft Day ended with crying and a meltdown. But that's a good sign, right?

. . . . . .

I was starting to think we were going to have a repeat of last fall when everything wrong seemed to happen in a matter of weeks. This is what happened last October, as recorded on my electronic Stickie notes. . . the journaling format I used before blogging. Here it goes:

Derrick told us that Jasmine was 6 months pregnant and he believed he was the father. (I cried for a week.)

The transmission in our Passat went out ($3000 repair). Same car that had just had $3000 in bodywork done to fix it up after a collision with a deer.

Got a flat tire in the Pilot. (Our only vehicle, at that point.)

Had a break in our water main and endured three long days without running water.

Took the Pilot in for new brakes ($400) and found out we needed additional repairs ($1800).

Finally identified the strange smell in the laundry room. Water had leaked from our shower through the ceiling until it was so soft you could poke your finger through it.

The motor in the dishwasher broke.

Recieved frantic phone call from preschool teacher that Lucy was lost on her first preschool field trip.

Found dozens and dozens of black widows in all of the window wells around the house.

The leak in the shower progressed until water was streaming from the ceiling.

Adam jumped out of his crib for the first time. (And then we watched our sweet little baby transform into a devious little boy.)

Dishwasher leaked all over the floor.

Got two more flat tires in the Pilot.

Steve had bronchitis. (Steve is not allowed to get sick.)

But still had to teach Sunday School and Elders Quorum.

While I got to sit through a video on teenage pregnancy and STDs, shown as a direct response to Jasmine's pregnancy, to all the YW and YM at church.

. . . . . .

How did I ever survive? Probably with a lot help from many of you. (Thanks, friends.) I'm hoping we won't top that month for a long, long time. Makes my broken disposal, blender, and microwave seem like a walk in the park. I should probably post some pictures of our last two Craft Days. And get back to ordering a new oven thermostat for the microwave, which Mike says is likely to break soon.

That reminds me. My beloved space heater broke this morning. (If you don't think that's a big deal, you don't know how much I love my space heater.)

I wonder if I can get Mike to take a look at it for me.

Craft Day 10/14: In search of mountain air to get everyone healthy. Adam was searching for his sucker.

Craft Day 10/21: Painting pumpkins and re-learning that kids like to eat macaroni and cheese for dinner.

Swine Flu Hysteria

These pictures show the line of people at the Weber-Morgan Health Department this morning at 8:30 am. Actually, they only show a very small portion of the line. The entire line went from the southwest entrance of the building to the north side of the building, east along the sidewalk to Adams Avenue, south to 24th Street, and then around the corner headed west, halfway to Washington Boulevard.

The H1N1 clinic was supposed to run from 8:30 am to 5:00 pm, but this sign went up right at 8:30 am:

My awesome friend, whose identity may need to be concealed to protect her safety and well-being, administered the H1N1 mist to my kids last night. At our house. She said she walked out of work holding the vaccines in her hand, but then got a little nervous that carrying them in plain view might be a little dangerous.

(Thanks again. I feel super lucky.)

Being Evaluated

As many of you know, we are in the middle of Derrick's custody evaluation. I have spent the last week taking written psychological tests (no, I do not hear voices, no, I do not think everyone is out to get me, and no, I do not think anyone in my family has ever been concerned about my drug or alcohol usage), filling out stacks of forms, sorting through really cool records like text messages, audio recordings, and myspace postings, and compiling FOUR binders full of legal papers.

All for this cute little girl. Yes, she is definitely worth it. And the evaluation does seem to be going quite well. (The evaluator did make a mistake putting me, Steve, and Derrick at the same table as we all took the MMPI-2 test. Let's just say there was a lot of giggling.)

I have also managed to find the time (or rather, sacrifice some sleep) to make some grape juice. Have you ever seen anything so pretty? I was kind of disappointed when Steve moved some of them down to the food storage room. I would have liked to leave them all out on the counter so I could admire them for a few days.

I am pretty excited about these bottles I found at Smith & Edwards:

The lids are self-sealing, and I think most people fill them with syrup. I put grape juice in mine so I could have some ready next time we are invited to a quaint little lunch in a location like this. Someday.

No more burned hands

In celebration of grape juicing, which commenced today, I made a couple of very exciting purchases. Here they are.

A jar lifter:

And a magnetic lid lifter:

It's about time, don't you think.