Buttface + Siri

So my 9 year old has an iPod (let's not get into it).  One of her favorite things to do is to play with Siri.  For those of you who may not know, Siri is "an intelligent personal assistant and knowledge navigator which works as an application for Apple Inc's iOS.  The application uses a natural language interface to answer user questions, make recommendations, and perform actions delegating requests to a set of web services."  Basically it's a voice operated search engine.  You can ask Siri all kinds of things, from what date is Thanksgiving, to tell me the newest movies playing, to write an email to grandma.  You can change the language and voice, male or female.  You can say, "call me Nikki," and it will start doing so. I don't really use it, but my goofy 9 year old sure loves to play with Siri.

My daughter has naturally requested that Siri call her Buttface.  Naturally.  Siri will answer her questions and say, "I'm not sure about that, Buttface," in this weird robot voice.  Some of her more recent questions have been:

How many days until my birthday? 220 days until your birthday, Buttface.
Will you sing me a song? I don't know about that.  (But if you keep asking, Siri will indeed sing you a song.)
Will you marry me? We hardly even know each other!
What does the fox say? (Just ask Siri this one for yourself.)

The other day we were playing with Siri together.  She has it set up to be a man's voice, and I suggested she change it to the woman's voice because I thought she would find it more appealing.  She said, "I like the boy's voice.  That way I can flirt with him.  I need to practice my flirting."

So my friends, there you go.  9 year olds flirting with electronic devices.

Buttface + Siri = L.O.V.E.

A Stolen Scooter

So this 9 year old of mine got her scooter stolen from school yesterday.  She was there for an after school activity (until 4:15, so not late), and she and her friend left their scooters by the front door.  When they were finished and went out to go home both of their scooters were gone.  She came home with tears in her eyes asking why someone would take something that didn't belong to them.  It was a hard thing for me to see, and an even harder thing for me to explain.  I told her that sometimes people do things without thinking about who it will hurt, and we talked about keeping her scooter in a safer place next time.  This isn't the first time we've had scooters stolen from school (different school, 2 years ago), and it's so sad.  It's sad that someone would steal something from a child.  And it was likely another child, and that child will grow up to be an adult.  And that makes me even more sad.

And what makes me the most sad is knowing that this will not be the last time someone hurts her.  She will have her share of disappointments, and a few broken hearts, and the normal aches and pains that life brings.  And I wish I could protect her from it all.  And I wish I could make sure that she stays safe, emotionally as much as physically.  And I wish I could find a way to keep her from having the heartbreaking realization that life can be really, really hard.

This is why it is so important for me to teach her to turn to our loving Father in Heaven when life gets heavy.  To teach her to pray, really and truly and deeply pray.  To teach her to cry out to Him in her darkest moments.  Because He is the only one who will always, no matter what, no matter when, no matter where, always always be there for her.  For her.  He knows her and loves her and will be waiting for her to reach out to Him.  Just as He is waiting for you and me.  Whether it is over a stolen scooter, or a high school boyfriend, or the betrayal of a college roommate, or a difficult marriage, or a struggling child.  He is waiting to comfort and carry.

We just have to let Him.

Service Through a Dress

I decided I wanted to start chronicling (ummm is that the weirdest word in the history of words?) some stories and memories about my mom.

It has been almost 4 years since she passed away, which is so crazy to me.  I haven't spoken to my mom in 4 years!  I still have her in my favorites on my phone, though her number now belongs to someone else. When she first passed away, I found myself reaching for my phone multiple times a day to call or text her, and I still can't bear to delete her information.  It's almost like that would be forgetting her or something.  Every once in a while I'll go look at her Facebook page, too, just to remind myself that there is still evidence of her, that her life hasn't completely disappeared.  It's the weirdest thing to think about her being gone.  How is it that someone is just not here anymore?  One day they are living, breathing, worrying, and the next, nothing.  I honestly don't know how people get through losing a loved one without a belief in an afterlife.

So.  Stories about my mom.  I've told this one to some people, but haven't written it down.  Here goes.

When I was a senior in high school I was really really busy.  I was in a lot of AP classes (like honors classes), I was in ASB (student government), I had a part time job (as the janitor at a dental office, now if you want to talk about glamorous...), and I was on a competitive club cheerleading team that practiced 3 times a week an hour away from my house.  I also attended early morning seminary (a class put on by my church where we studied books of scripture) that started at 5:45 AM.  That's right.  Needless to say I was exhausted pretty much all the time.  Senior Ball was coming up, and I was stressed because I had no time to go look for a dress, and in my 17 year old world that was a catastrophe.

I came home from school one day, two weeks before the dance exhausted as usual.  I walked in the front door to find formal dresses hung all over the living room.  Beautiful fabric, beautiful colors, sparkles and sequins.  As I sat there confused and looking around, my mom explained to me that she knew I was so busy and stressed, so she had gone to the mall that day to find me a dress.  She went to store after store, and looked at dress after dress, and bought 10 or 12 dresses that she thought I would like.  She brought them home and set them up for me so I could try them on and choose one.  She was like my own personal shopper, and my living room was transformed into my very own specialized dress shop.  I was so thankful that my sweet mom took time out of her own busy schedule (which certainly included things that actually mattered) to serve me and help me find a dress.  She could have easily said, "It's just a dress, it doesn't matter.  It's one dance that you will soon forget about."  Instead, she was wise enough to know that even though the dance didn't matter, I mattered.  Even though finding the right dress wasn't important, I was important.

I picked out a dress I loved from the ones she chose, and she returned the others the next day.   Though I do not remember much about that dance, I do remember the love of my sweet mother, and how I felt that love through a dress.

Introducing...

Hey friends!  So my sister Calee and I have decided to team up and create a little video series for Have Joy.  Here are some things you need to know about it:

1. We think we are really funny.  You should probably keep this in mind as you are watching our ridiculousness.
2. We love watching home videos from when we were younger, which is probably why we thought this would be a good idea.  It's a grown up version of the videos we made as kids (minus the braces, plus a few offspring).
3. We are doing this series for fun.  So if you have fun watching it, subscribe to our channel and share the love!  And if you don't have fun watching it, I would suggest going to fun school.  Just kidding.  But seriously.
4. We are going to try to have a new video every two weeks for your viewing pleasure, so don't forget to subscribe so you don't miss anything that could be completely irrelevant to your future happiness!

Q&A: I feel so alone

I got this email from a reader a few weeks ago, and thought there might be others out there struggling in similar ways.  It is posted here with her permission.

If Mama Ain't Happy...

When I was growing up, we had a plaque in our home that looked something like this:

I always laughed at how true it was from my perspective as the kid - that if my mom wasn't happy seriously no one in the house was happy.  Her mood affected (and possibly even dictated) our moods.

Now I am the mom.  I have so much power in my home.  I influence for good or for bad.  I teach how to respond.

That is so stressful!  It's so much responsibility!

I have noticed this happening in my home recently.  I've been getting in weird, funky moods for no apparent reason.  And when I'm stressed, it permeates to the entire family.  I've noticed that everyone is more uptight and irritable when I am more uptight and irritable.

And I'm realizing that I HAVE CONTROL.  I can choose to be happy rather than stressed.  I can choose to respond with patience rather than frustration.  And the more I choose to be happy, the more happy the entire mood in the home will become.

So the next time your kids are being feisty with each other, or being grumpy, or responding in anger, take a step back and evaluate your own mood.  There's a good chance your kids are picking up on your mojo and acting out your bad mood.

Choose to be happy.  Choose to pass along your happiness to your family.  You have the power!  Use it for good. 

Hello Tuesday

I am setting a goal to start blogging more regularly.  I know, I know, you've heard it before.  I am going to start up my weekly Q&A sessions.  So here is the low down:

• Send in any and all questions.  Could be about relationships, parenting, religion, anything that tickles your fancy really.
• Every Thursday I will pick one question to post and answer, and all the readers can pipe in and give their thoughts and advice as well.
• Note: this is not me doing therapy over the internet, this is not taking the place of seeking professional help if it is warranted.  If you are in crisis and having an emergency please dial 911 or contact your local authorities.

So that's that.  Maybe there's not as much demand for this now, but we will see!

In other news, it's October!  I love this month!  The weather getting chillier, the yummy smells, the pumpkin and apple and cinnamon, the excitement of the approaching holidays, I just love everything about this season.  

Except finding costumes for my kids.  Last year I decided I was going to make their costumes because I didn't want to spend the money buying them.  It should be noted that I use the word "make" oh so loosely.  I do not consider myself a crafty person at all, so "making" a Halloween costume was quite the stretch for me.  Turns out that making the costumes was a brilliant decision - not only did I spend hours and hours "making" their (not cute) costumes, I probably ended up spending more money than I would have had I just bought the costumes in the first place.  Here's a really poor quality picture as proof:

The girls were happy, so that's all that really matters.  But I will not be pretending to make any costumes again anytime in the near future.

So this year, Walmart came to the rescue.  Yes, our costumes have already been purchased.  I accidentally bought them early, which absolutely goes against my do-everything-at-the-last-minute rule.  What is happening to me?  Buying Halloween costumes a month early?  I need to reevaluate my life.  Next thing you know I'll be planning meals and getting enough sleep.

Guess what?

I had another article published at Family Share!  Go have a read and share it with any moms you know who could use it:

5 Ways Being a Bad Mom Can Make You a Great Mom

Tender Moments

I was able to go to Time Out for Women a few weekends ago, and it was wonderful.  I felt uplifted and encouraged and inspired.  I was able to watch my amazing sister Calee Reed perform, and I couldn't help but think about how happy our mom must be to know that Calee is passing on the legacy of music.  Calee is so talented and I bawled the whole time she was on stage.  She is living her dream!!  It is so beautiful to watch and I am so proud of her!

I also saw Mercy River perform, and was especially touched by a song they did called "Walk You Through the Night."  It's a song about motherhood, and about how although as mothers we do not have all the answers, we can walk our children through dark times and love them perfectly.  I thought not only of my own children but also of my mother.  It has been almost four years since she passed away.  Although my mom was not perfect, she was the perfect mother for me.

I spent the next few days thinking about that song, and thinking about how I could overcome my own insecurities and shortcomings as a mother.  I bought the Mercy River album (duh) and was listening to that song when my 2 year old came into the kitchen with me.  She grabbed my legs and we started to dance.  My heart about exploded with love for this tiny human that is a piece of myself.  I bent down and picked her up in a cradle-style hold and began to rock her back and forth to the song.  My eyes welled with tears as I was filled with gratitude for the opportunity to be her mother.  She looked up at me with her big brown eyes and said,

"Mom?"

I looked down at her sweet face as she continued,

"PUT ME DOWN!!!!"

Moment ruined.  

RUINED.

I put her sassy face back down and she ran out of the kitchen to play.  And that about sums up my experience of motherhood.  Tiny, fleeting moments of tenderness interrupted by crazy, frustrating, not tender at all real life.  And I'm so incredibly thankful for every single part of it.

Not now, Son

 

Ran across this comic the other day, and I think it's profound.  How many of us are guilty of this?  I know I am.  It is so easy to let the not-so-important-in-the-long-run things take precedence over what really matters.  How will you make a little extra time for what's important today?

Illegal picking

My 5 year old brought me a bouquet of questionably acquired flowers after school yesterday.  She said,
"Mom!  Smell these flowers!  They smell like butterfly milk!"

And I said, "Just what do you think you are doing?!  You should not be picking flowers when you have not yet finished milking the butterflies you lazy child!!"

Happy Tuesday, Bloggyland.

Romance Is Nice...

Romance is nice. But it is biological in origin. That dizzy head-over-heels feeling is a species of losing your mind, and most of the time it lasts only as long as the chase. What we keep forgetting is that in marriage, as opposed to romances, you aren't marrying the thrilling wonderful perfect Someone you're looking at right now. You're marrying the man who decides not to have the dazzling career with the high salary, refusing promotions and transfers so the kids don't have to change schools. You're marrying the woman whose body doesn't bounce back after the third baby, so she's no longer slim and attractive by the standards of the magazines. You're marrying the migraines and the hemorrhoids and the heart attack and the cancer; you're marrying the irritable, forgetful, lazy, thoughtless, sarcastic, distracted, too-busy days as well as the Kodak-happy ones.

You're marrying the one who works with you to raise the crippled child, or stands with you at the graveside of the child who dies. You're marrying the one who can't find work after the company folds or he's laid off; you're marrying the early Alzheimer's, the diabetes, the obesity, the pain of conflict and the struggle of forgiveness. The foundation of that isn't some ideal of romantic love. It's a commitment based on the goals you share. And real love, married love, is not what you start with--it's what you create together along the way.

--Orson Scott Card

Self Esteem

I can do anything good. Better than anyone. Yes I can.

Hairy

Quote of the day, courtesy of my 4 year old:

"This morning Dexter (our kitten) was licking me. So I just licked him back."

Of course you did, child. :)

Sparkle

Went to Mcdonald's last night with the kiddos.

Bug was playing with a girl she met at the play place, and when she came down for a water break I asked her what her new friend's name was.
Bug: Her name is Sparkle.
Me: Umm...her name is Sparkle? (who named her, my four year old?)
Bug: Yeah. Sparkle. Or diamond or something.

Then she ran off to play. Ok, have fun with Sparkle or Diamond or whoever.
Few minutes later, Bug came back to clarify. Turns out friend's name is CRYSTAL. hahahahaha. Oh the mind of a four year old works in magical ways.

Tune in tomorrow for a sexy Q&A that a reader sent in to me. I actually think this is a subject that many of you will relate to, and those of you who don't will have some feelings about it.

See you tomorrow!

The Sandlot

Oh how I love this movie. I love this movie for, "Yeah yeah, he looks like a dead fish!" I love this movie for Wendy Peffercorn. I love this movie for "you're killin me smalls!" I love this movie for "FOR-EV-VER." I love this movie for finding it in the $5 bin at Target.

And I especially love this movie when my 2 year old turns it over, sees the above picture, and yells, "Grandma!!!"

Apples to Apples

You know how sometimes you'll be mindlessly eating an apple? And you're taking crunchy bites while you watch tv, or read, or clean the kitchen? And after a while you'll realize that you've been chewing the same chewy bite for a while, and you figure out that you forgot to take the little sticker off and you've been grinding it around in your teeth for like half an hour?

Yeah, that's pretty fun.

Or how about when it's 7 AM, and your kids are sleeping, and the house is quiet, and you're trying to figure out what to blog about today, and all of a sudden you hear your 4 year old screaming at the top of her lungs. Except she's not crying. She's yelling, "IF YOU HAVE A FROWNY FACE, DO NOT LET IT STAY! QUICKLY TURN IT UPSIDE AND SMILE THAT FROWN AWAY!!" And she's got the scratchy I just woke up voice going on, and you know she's just laying in bed, singing to her stuffed animals. Very loudly.

And it makes you smile from the inside.

Or how about when your sister gives you her facebook password so you can check out the profile of the new boy she's hanging out with? And you're really tempted to change her status to something like "I am a man," and send scandalous emails to all her ex boyfriends... But you figure that will result in you losing the Sister Password Privileges. Boo. Being mature can be so boring.


Or how about when you realize that all your friends who were pregnant at the same time as you when you had Baby #2 are all pregnant again? And a lot of them have actually already had another baby? And it makes you feel sort of sad that you're not even close to having another baby, and you wonder if you'll ever have that experience again?

And remember when blogging about that made you kind of sad? And made you feel like you were done blogging for the day? Word.

I hate it.

So let's talk about how much I hate dropping my kids off with their dad.

Wait, let me rephrase that.

I love that my kids' dad is involved in their lives and that they love him.

And I also hate it.

But mostly I love it.

But a lot of times I hate it.

(Are you getting dizzy with my switchiness yet? And yes, switchiness is a word. Because I said so.)

Anyway, the last few weeks I have been able to spend way more time than usual with them. I've taken a few days off work each week, and just spent it with my girls which has been really fun but also makes it really a lot harder when they have to go away.

ugh.

h.a.t.e
i.t.

So. I don't have the girls this weekend. I should stay home and pay my bills. Or clean my house. Or sleep. Or get the brakes fixed in my car. Or catch up on any of the nine billion things that I am behind on.

But instead I'm going to sit here and blog.  And eat.

Happy day.

Introducing Bug

So I have intentionally avoided putting pictures or stories of my kids on this blog up to this point. I just thought I'd keep the family stories and pictures on my personal blog, and keep this blog more not-personal. haha. Mostly because I think some people (aka anyone who is not related to me) probably get bored of kid stories and pictures all the time. And also just to keep the pictures and names of my kids a little more private. Hence the threat to make my personal blog private like a year ago. Which I still have yet to get around to.

I have since decided that my kids bring me a lot of joy (also a lot of sleepless nights, crabby evenings, messy kitchens, ruined clothes, sticky hands...you get the picture), and that because of that I would be leaving out a very big piece of me by not posting about them on this blog. So, I'm going to do it. I'm just not going to use their real names, or put actual pictures of them on this blog. Done and done.

Allow me to introduce you to my 4 year old, Bug. She is quite the little character. Today during nap time she decided that she did not want to sleep. She knows she has to stay in her room during nap time, and is usually pretty good at it. Today she would scream at me (since she knew she had to stay in her room and needed to make sure I could hear her requests for exit from across the hall where I was trying unsuccessfully to rest) various reasons she needed to be done with naptime. Her reasons included:

1. She needed a snack
2. She was thirsty to death
3. She had to go to the bathroom
4. It was 14:30 (apparently that is when naptime is over in Bug Land)
5. She wasn't tired, you Stupid Lady (that would be me)

I just kept telling her to get on her bed, naptime would be over soon, and it would probably be over quicker if she actually napped. Which she apparently didn't believe.

When naptime was over I went in to get her. I asked her if she needed to go to the bathroom. She said,

"No. I went pee in my trash can."

Really?

Really.

I just nodded my head at her ingenuity, and what that thought process must have looked like:
I'm stuck in my room. Really have to pee. Stupid Lady doesn't believe me. I'll get in trouble if I leave my room. I'll get in trouble if I pee on the floor. THERE MUST BE ANOTHER WAY! Aha! Empty trash can. Just in the knick of time.

I wasn't even mad. My child is a prodigy. A trash can peeing genius. I'll just make sure to leave a roll of toilet paper in her closet for next time.