Our Little T-Rex

Do any of us really ever get enough of gawking at cute baby pictures? If you answered yes, then scoot. Head on over to a news website or something else more dignified. If you answered no, then stay awhile. Get yourself a nice good fill of soft, squishy, baby cuteness. Here's Rex, 3 and half month tiny, sweet, and kickin'.

Funny Fashion

I know I am always saying it, but I love having girls. Yesterday their fashion choices made Ryan and I both laugh, so of course we had to take a picture. And of course I have to post it to our blog so everyone else can get a chuckle too. And hopefully when the girls look back on this snapshot in time they know we were laughing with them, not at them. Parents would never do that right?

I Once was Lost, but now am Found

I learned the articles of faith by singing along to songs from a cassette back in the day. It didn't take any effort to memorize them, because I loved the music and sang the songs often. Fast forward to me as a mom wanting the same great songs for my own kids. (Yes, I am aware that the Primary Song Book has also set the articles of faith to music too. But are you aware those songs are not at all melodic or catchy and basically no fun to sing?) I scoured the internet a few years back with no success. I asked my mom if she knew where our old cassette was, but it gone the way of most items in a house with six kids: buried in an unknown drawer, garbage pail, or toilet. Impossible to track or retrieve.
Now fast forward to me last week looking for a Easter presents for Marielle and Jenna's baskets. I wanted something religious to attempt giving more attention on our Savior and less on the Easter Bunny. I saw a Scripture Scouts CD featuring the articles of faith and thought, "...hmmm, that would be nice, but I bet the songs aren't as good as my songs. " I couldn't resist casting out one more time in search of the songs. After a few carefully selected keywords, links, and clickety-clicks, I found the album! The page was filled with comments from other happy seekers like me who thought they would never find those songs again. The company who produced the songs is no longer around, and the songs aren't available for purchase anywhere. So I guess now the album is free to float along the tide of the world wide web. Due to the generosity of a stranger, I have those songs in my hot little inbox and you can too. If you also remember the songs fondly or even just want to challenge my claim that they are "so great", send a comment my way and I'd be happy to email you the mp3s. Sharing is caring after all. Consider it my Easter present to you.
I don't remember why we were dressed like Indians, but this is my siblings and I around the age when we learned those songs.

P.S. Article of Faith number eight is my favorite!

Striking Resemblence?

Does this guy

remind you of this guy?

A Chip Off the Old Block

Did you grow up in the Cabbage Patch rage? I did. In my home of five boys and one girl we had no less than 12 dolls at the height of popularity. Even my dad got a Cabbage Patch for his birthday one year. (I guess it was a gag gift?) We LOVED those dolls and played with them all the time. We made a zip line from the boys bedroom window to our swing set. We held gymnastic meets tossing them and counting flips in the air. I even remember one birthday when I knew I'd be getting a new Cabbage Patch Doll, we staged a labor and delivery for the birth of the new doll into our family. (Now that I think of it, maybe that was a little weird.)
Marielle has heard something of these tales and asked me what happened to all the dolls. I told her I thought Grandma had saved a few in the attic as future play toys of grandkids. On our last visit to Grandma's when Ryan and I came in from our trip to the temple, the living room was littered with Cabbage Patch Dolls and clothes. About four dolls had survived and Marielle had latched on to the sole doll wearing a dress. The rest were clearly boy dolls. She proudly showed me the doll and exclaimed, "Grandma said I could keep her!" It was pretty cute to see my daughter bonding with one of my vintage toys. And you want to know what she named her? Mary.

I don't get out much these days

Yesterday I went to the post office. Seems normal enough, but for me it was a small triumph. I'd been meaning to go for the last three days, but somehow I could never muster the energy to get all four of us out the door. So yesterday when we were already out to drop Marielle off at joy school, I seized the moment. I stopped by our apartment to grab the package and dashed in and out while Jenna and Rex stayed in the car. There was no time to hunt for packing tape.

I arrived at the post office with a double stroller, unsealed box, and the wrong zip code, but I was there. I approached the counter with visions of a kind postal worker who would whip out a tape gun, zip, zip, zip, seal my package and send it packing (with a smile too). Instead I got a look of annoyance and curt response of "Your package is not prepared. You can buy tape or send it Priority Mail and use our tape." I wanted to cry out, "But I just had a baby and even arriving at the post office is monumental -- let's not fret about packing tape!" Instead I politely asked him to give me the rates for priority mail and regular post. That's when we discovered I had the wrong zip code neatly written on my package. Another look of annoyance and sigh from Mr. Sour Face. The difference was three dollars which was according to Sour Face, "Hardly any difference at all." Sadly, I'm such a tight wad that $3 is consequential, and in my pre-3-kid life I would have gone home, found my packing tape and come back later. But, given my circumstances, the priority mail packing tape racket won out. So I get shuffled aside and the Sour Face hands me the tape gun and tells me sternly to find the correct zip code.

As I'm struggling to tape up my box and figure out how to work the tape gun, I hear the very next customer also get a lecture about not having his package prepared. (Umm, I guess this happens a lot?) Now I'm struggling with the tape. The tape tears off to a skinny sliver and I can't find the end. Once I find the end I have to reload it, but I can't for the life of me figure this tape gun out. I give up and just try to finish but I can't reach the tape to the metal edge. So I resort to cutting the tape with my keys because I'm scared to ask for help from the postal worker. Meanwhile Jenna has gotten bored and decided to amuse herself with Rex, who had been asleep, but is now crying. He's escalating and I'm still having no success cutting the tape with my keys. Enter Patti. I know her name is Patti because it is embroidered on her shirt. I also know that she works at a nail salon due to her informative clothing. It seems Patti is friends with postal worker who we can now call Ken because they are quite chatty as I continue to mangle the tape gun. She notices me struggling and asks Ken for some scissors, which he happily produces. He decides to show compassion since his friend is now watching and surprisingly whips out another tape gun and says, "This one should work much better for you."

And it does, I have no trouble at all! One more swoop of the tape and I finish. Phew! I pay the cash, mail the box, and head out. I'm not sure what the moral of the story is, but I'm sure glad that Ken has a sweet spot for Patti.