Backseat Driving

Joel is the worst backseat driver. This is how it usually goes when I am the one driving the car and he is enduring the trip in the passenger seat:

"Elise, those people are going to cross the crosswalk up there."

(Already pressing the brake pedal) "Yes, honey, I see them."

". . . I know."

"Well, then why did you point it out?"

"I just. . .I just wanted to make sure. Hey, you can turn now."

(As I'm already starting to turn) "Yes, honey, I know. . ."

"Why are you still behind this guy? He's going so slow!"

"Because we're turning right in half a block."

"Oh, great. Now we're going to miss this light, all because of this guy," comments Joel, now irritated.

"Doesn't matter," I say, "we don't have anywhere we have to be."

"It does too matter. We could be way up there by now!"


Usually I just let him drive. We're both much happier that way. When I'm all alone with the kids, though, I can have the run of the road minus the constant driving commentary. Until lately, that is. You see, Everett has recently discovered the wonder of traffic lights.

"Red light, Mama, red light! STOP!"

"Ok, Everett!"

"Jelly Bean, Jelly Bean, turn the light GREEN!" (the light turns.) "IT WORKED!!!!" He giggles profusely. "Go, Mama! GO, GO, GO! GO GO GO! Faster!"

"I'm going, buddy. I'm going."


For some reason, this backseat driving stuff is a whole lot cuter when it comes from the mouth of a two-year-old. Either this means that Joel just isn't cute anymore, or it means I have a soft spot for my young child. Whatever the reason, my car trips are not quite the same anymore. . .

Beating the Rainy Day Blues

It was a rainy, blustery day here in South Bend today. Joel is gone to a job interview until tomorrow night. We have a long winter ahead of us.

By default, I have discovered a very important equation:

not being able to go outside + rambunctious kids x student budget = I have to get creative.

We have had a lot of failures. Unfortunately (fortunately?) I do not have those on camera, so you only get to see the successes. Why do we only take pictures of the successes? The failures are far more interesting. I cannot take credit for all of these ideas, as Everett is pretty good at coming up with messy activities all on his own.

Idea #1: What Everett has dubbed "The Balloon Train". It's simple. You string a piece of yarn across the room. Blow up some balloons. Tape a straw on each balloon. Thread them on the yarn. Turn on a powerful fan and watch them sail along the string! For more fun, leave an inflated balloon untied, and release the end while it is on the string. It will blow itself into the other balloons, prompting your almost three-year-old to laugh hysterically due to the "train crash."

Idea #2 is Everett's invention. It's a mattress slide. Am I the only one who used to do this, too? My sister and I had a bunk bed, and my parents hated it when we'd lean the top mattress against the floor and top bunk, then throw ourselves down it. But the rush was worth the risk of discipline.

I think it's safe to say that Ashley had fun with it too.

Idea # 3 is a popular one: cooking. Everett and Ashley get a lot of pleasure out of completely dis-assembling my kitchen in the name of creating a feast. The setup you see in this picture pales in comparison to their usual spread.

P.S. Also Everett's idea.

Building forts always has its place. I think Everett takes these couch cushions off every day (ever since I removed the couch cover in the hope of trying to remove a massive vaseline spot. Don't ask--also Everett's doing.). Here you see the roof (blanket) and the three steps (pots & stool) leading to the doors (green pillows).




It doesn't take long for me to be out of ideas. I'm sure some of you have some good ones. Want to share? Do you have anything to add?

Sometimes I Want to Murder My Television

Our TV really has it in for me. No, I'm serious; it really does. It is a maniacal little thing that gets a vast amount of pleasure out of torturing my mind.

I'm mentioned this before, but the only scary movie I've ever seen is The Ring. That was enough for me. I went into it thinking it would be intense, so I was wholly unprepared for the evil and creepy factors. I had nightmares for months after that one.

It's been four years now since I've seen that movie. I have refused to see another movie like that one, and it pleases me to say that I am no longer plagued by images of a decaying girl climbing through my television and killing me with a single glare.

However, I think my TV keeps wanting to remind me. At random times during the day and night, it will turn on. It might happen while I'm doing the dishes. It might be on when I come home from an errand. Or I'll wake up with a start in the middle of the night to the hum of soft audio and eerie flickering blue-green light reflected against our washer and dryer. Flicker, Flicker. I dare you to get out of bed. I dare you, I dare you.

Sometimes I nudge Joel to go turn it off. Sometimes I lay there for a while, feeling the hairs on the back of my neck raise every time I close my eyes. Sometimes when it comes on, I really have to go to the bathroom. Sometimes I buck up and just go already (after turning the TV off); sometimes I wait it out.

Regardless, I will be happy when we replace our TV. In the meantime, I think I am going to start sleeping with our remote.

Hallmark Has It All Wrong

When Joel and I had been married for a year, he was smart enough to know he should do something for our anniversary. He knew I liked flowers. He even knew what those flowers were. So he made a call, loosened his student wallet, and ordered me a beautiful bouquet of red roses and lilies, complete with vase and baby's breath.

When it arrived I found that I was surprised by Joel's indulgence. I loaded him up with thanks, but I noticed he didn't seem too satisfied with his purchase.

"What? Is there some sort of issue?"

"No!" He replied. "Do you like them?"

"Of course!" I thought for a minute. "Wait, how much did these cost?"

"It doesn't matter." Joel shuffled his feet a little and then looked away.

"Well, I'm just curious. Tell me. How much were the flowers?" After a little waffling on Joel's part and some bambi eyes on mine, he confessed the amount (more than 60 dollars, less than 80). It was extravagant; that was a week's worth of groceries.

I started laughing. The more I laughed, the more uncomfortable Joel became.

"What did you do that for?!!" I laughed. "Don't you know I'm happy with a grocery store bouquet? Ten bucks." I laughed some more. "I mean, these flowers are gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous. Grocery store flowers don't look this good, and this came with a very nice vase. I just mean that I don't need you to spend that kind of money on me."

"Well, I didn't mean to. I was on the phone and told her what I wanted, and it took forever, and then she told me the price, and I just didn't know what to say. So I paid." Joel's sheepish discomfort was growing and I decided we'd better change the conversation.

"Honey, they're perfect. I love them. Thank you for being so thoughtful and being willing to get them for me." A long kiss made him feel a little better, I thought.

But I'm not so sure it did. I think that early purchase ruined the entire experience for him--Joel has never gotten me flowers again.

However, I am not bothered by this. Joel does things for me now that mean so much more to me than someone else's floral creation.

We have a netflix account, and we use the instant play feature more often than we use the TV. A few days ago Joel insisted on watching "Wives and Daughters" with me, just because he thought I'd like it. If you are not familiar with this movie, it comes in four parts and is very much a movie filled with parlor conversations and not much else. It the kind of movie I really enjoy, and it is the kind of movie Joel fidgets relentlessly through; but we watched every last second of it together, all at Joel's request.

When the five hours were over, Joel stretched and said, "Well, what did you think? I told you you'd like it."

(What he did not say was this: "Wow, well that was a colossal waste of time. Where's my remote? I'm feeling like a little Sports Center right now.")

Then there are the times Joel gets up with the kids so I can sleep for a half an hour more. The days he leaves his laptop home because he knows I like to use it during the day. The fact that he would rather spend his evenings home with me than out socializing with friends. That he never, ever grumbles when I mention a girls' night or a Relief society meeting I need to attend. Even the fact that he has no problem with me controlling the budget.

He frequently tells me he loves me, that he is in love with me, and that he appreciates me.

Hallmark, you're sadly mistaken. Love isn't bought; it is lived. Just ask Joel. (But don't be surprised if he turns bright red and denies everything.)

Conference Weekend: The Reality

We really enjoyed conference weekend. Joel and I put the kids down for a nap during the morning session (because it starts at noon here) and enjoyed a little peace and quiet. During the afternoon session, well, we had to get a little creative as it happened to be the time the kids are used to going outside to burn off energy.

I have been working on crocheting a blanket (the red and blue pile you see in the picture below) and Everett has always wanted to help me. I let him pick out his own yarn and crochet hook this week, and I got him started on his own piece of. . .something. He liked pretending he was crocheting, anyway.

Wild colors, but he sure liked them--He even wanted to sleep with the whole shebang.

Of course, there's always a game like Blokus to make everyone happy.

When we run out of games, we move on to food, like eating apples while standing on the same stool.

OR, sharing popsicles.

When the food doesn't work anymore, we move on to wrestling.

And if I don't watch out, there are two sneaky boys who love to tackle their Mama.

Of course, we always have a bunch of this going on. . .

But after hanging upside down for a while, the belly laughs come out and the world starts to look more fair.

Conversations we had during Conference:

"Hey Honey, do you want to roll my yarn into a ball while I work on this row?"

"No. . . Why would I want to do that?"

"Just wait. When we're 70 years old you'll be sitting peacefully by me, rolling all my yarn, while I crochet blankets for the grandkids."

"Hah! Yeah right. Never gonna happen."

"Everett, make sure you go potty IN the toilet this time instead of hitting the floor."

"O-tay, Mama."

"Candy, Mama! Candy, Mama! CANDY! MAMA, CANDY!"

"Everett, did you finish your apple? Oh, nevermind. Two pieces."

"No, three!"

"If you count to ten for me, I'll give you three pieces."

Notice something missing? Yep, that's right. We didn't have too many gospel conversations around here. I didn't hear very many talks in their entirety without getting distracted (demanded on) by the kids. Our online transmission jumped to french for a while. We had to restart our computer a few times. The kids had a lot of energy.

But somehow we felt edified and uplifted. The talks were wonderful. Many of the speakers said things I had been praying to hear. The spirit was in our home more strongly, tantrums notwithstanding.

Such is the beauty of Conference weekend. I'm already looking forward to the next one.

Dressing Up

I don't know what it is, but there is just something about a little girl in a tutu.

Ashley loved wearing it and didn't want to take it off. Everett wanted one for himself, but Ashley already had dibs!

Sometimes (well, often) when I ask Everett to do something, I do it in an irritated way. I am trying be more mindful of my tone but I don't always remember.

Most of the time, he is very compliant. Whether I'm irritated with him or not, he replies amiably:

" 'tay, Mama." (OK, Mama) and cheerfully goes on to do whatever I asked him.

Somehow that simple reply just melts all my frustration away. I am so happy he is in our family!