April 09 Movie

SuperMom Stuff - April

Tub Time (bathing suits + bowls + cups = significantly more fun)

Body Painting (shaving cream + naked = significantly more fun)

Inside Bike Show (the dining room was cleared for mopping, the kids were bored, and it was cold outside)

Milk Mixing (it all started with dying their milk pink ...)

Grocery Shopping (I saved boxes, bottles, etc. for weeks, glued them shut, and set up a little grocery store. The kids used a laundry basket to go shopping, paid with expired insurance cards, and then I bagged everything they bought so they could take it all home.)

Five Green & Speckled Frogs (the eyes are those glue on kind)

(here - print this and you can make your own)

we ♥ movie quotes

We love movie quotes. In fact, I would venture to say that not a day goes by that at least one of us doesn't quote a movie. When we're really on fire, Sam and I can have full conversations just using movie quotes. Our favorites include:

"Back to your lives, citizens." Toy Story
"Redonculous!" Bolt
"Toooooooo the future!" Meet the Robinsons
"Let's do this thing!"Ratatouille
"Aww, that is disgusting." Toy Story

The kids are even catching on. Seara is starting to use, "I'm hungry mother, I really am" (101 Dalmatians). And I regularly overhear these conversations from Meet the Robinsons:

Elijah: "You think I'm crazy, too!"
Seara:"No, no. I think you're right!"

Elijah: "I have no future! No one wants me!"
Seara: "That's not true, [Lija]!"

But, the hands down best movie quote of all time is this one:

[sigh]

I only do laundry once a week. Every Tuesday. So when I ran out of Tide last week, I figured I had seven days to run out and grab some. A week past. Laundry day came again. I still didn't have the Tide. So this afternoon, while my boys were napping and Sam was studying, Sease and I ran to the grocery store. I bought ...

bread & milk
fruit & veggies
oatmeal & baby food
soups & chips
cheese & yogurt
ice cream & condiments

My cart was overflowing, my bill topped $200, I thought I had it all. Until I came home and realized something.

I forgot the Tide.

Dejunking

Near the top of the hardest-things-to-do list, right up there with child birth and potty training, is dejunking. Every time I consider getting rid of something I am plagued with doubt ...

• If I got it for my wedding, and kept it for five years without it ever seeing the light of day, does that still mean the person who gave it to me will intuitively know that I threw it away?
• How far back can the IRS audit you? Because I might have receipts in here that I may have used on my 2004 tax forms, so I better keep them all.
• So what if I haven't worn the shirt for four years? It was my favorite, and there is a chance that some day I might remove the ribs that permanently expanded my chest cavity during pregnancy and then maybe I'll be able to wear it without the spaces between the buttons gaping open.
  
• Are you even allowed to throw away old Ensigns? Because I think it might be a cardinal sin. I mean, it might somehow effect my salvation.
• Okay, okay. Fine. The shirt doesn't fit me any more. But it is so cute! And maybe by the time Seara can fit into it, it will be back in style.
• The thing cost me fifty bucks, I can't just throw it away! I don't care if it's been hidden away in the closet for the last three years!
• One day Samuel might get nominated for an Oscar, and what would be more perfect to wear on the red carpet than the dress that I wore to my high school junior prom??

my Wish List

I meant to get Enoch's 6 month pictures taken on time. I really did. But I blinked and suddenly he was 9 1/2 months. Oops. Well here are his "6 month" pictures. My friend Sue took them again. I love her.


This, of course, leads to my wish list. (You'll follow the logic once you read the first bullet.)

• A really nice camera, that way I don't have to take advantage of my friends to get darling pictures of my kids. :)
  
• A few photography classes so I know what on earth to do with said camera.
• A job. Not for me, for Sam. Obviously.
  
• A house. With a yard. And a fence. And gorgeous grass. And big, beautiful trees.
• A minivan.
• Running shoes that don't kill my left big toe nail and make it fall off.
• An ice cream maker. My last one broke after just a few uses. :(
  
• A piano. (Maybe then I can learn some hymns other than Choose the Right and Sweet Hour of Prayer.)
  
• Final Cut Pro so I can make my movies look more professional.
• An iMac with a 30-inch monitor.

Anything from your wish list you'd like to add?

The Changing Face of Romance

When we were engaged, a romantic date was eating shark at an exotic rooftop restaurant, walking around an enchanted garden, and dreaming about what the future might bring.

When we were just married, a romantic date was eating at a hip restaurant, attending the opening night of a much-anticipated movie, and giggling in bed for hours as we mused about the funny flick.

When we had one child, a romantic date was getting a great babysitter, dressing up for a ball, and slow dancing the night away under a blanket of stars.

When we had two children, a romantic date was bringing home five buck pizza, exchanging babysitting with a neighbor, and going to a show we got free tickets for.

Now that we have three children, a romantic date is fish sticks and tater tots coupled with at least seven spills, climbing into bed after the kids are out, and watching a film we got from the library.

Now that's romantic.

Weight

"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a [woman generally perceived to be thin], must [never speak about her weight]." -Jane Austen

I've been thinking about my weight lately. Where I've been, where I am, and where I'm going. It all started when I told my mom I was going off whole milk. She told me that it was probably a good thing, because my metabolism wouldn't be on my side for much longer. Awesome. That's really bad for people like me. See, although I tend to be thin, I also have a real talent at gaining weight. I can put on a lot of pounds, really fast. According to the BMI scale, I have been overweight before. (And no, I wasn't pregnant.) In the past I was lucky enough to be able to lose those pounds almost as quickly as I put them on. But apparently not for much longer.

Well, the start of any weight issue is awareness. So, in classic Janae form, I'm bearing all about my weight history.


Exchange Student in Bolivia (as a High School Senior)
Weight Gain: 40 lbs. We bought a bride's maid gown for my sister's wedding before I left. In the first three months I had gained forty pounds. When I came home in the middle to attend two sibling weddings, my mom's eyes grew huge as she saw me come out of the airport terminal. I knew what she was thinking. There was no way I was gonna fit in that dress. One very tight and uncomfortable corset later, I managed to squeeze into it. But it was bursting at the seams. Literally. When I first got to Bolivia I got tons of cat calls. They called me "Barbie" (remember, I'm tall). After I gained the weight, the calls stopped. When I went out with my friends and heard the cat calls, I'd look over to where they came from, only to have the men say things like, "Not you, fattie!" Ouch.


Mission in Portugal
Weight Gain: 50 lbs. Within the first six months I went up three dress sizes (if you only count with evens; I went up six sizes if you count the odds as well). A year into my mission the outfits I wore to bed reached their maximum stretch: the tops could no longer touch the bottoms over my protruding belly. I tried running a couple times, but it was no fun. So instead my companion and I set a goal to eat a Magnum each time we taught a discussion. I loved those eight-discussion days. Three months before going home I started my 'Trunky Diet':

Breakfast - one bowl of corn flakes and a nectarine.
Lunch - 1/4 cabbage and 3 carrots, steamed. Dressed with a can of tuna fish.
Dinner - 10 fiber crackers and a cup of yogurt.

It only sort of worked.


Growing Babies
Weight Gain: 50 lbs Seara, 40 lbs Elijah, 45 lbs Enoch. The day I finally squeezed into my pre-Seara pants, I found out I was pregnant with Elijah. [sigh] After Elijah I started running and did my half marathon, but then I got pregnant with Enoch and, well, you know how that goes. I guess I should just accept that when you're in baby birthing mode (which is a good 10-20 years), your weight is like a yo-yo.


I guess it's only up from here! (That or exercise. Anyone feel like motivating me?)

An Interview

When does Sam get done with grad school?
In four weeks and two days. Not that I'm counting or anything. Graduation is May 20th.

But didn't you just get out there?
Yes we did. We arrived on May 23, 2008. So we're coming up on a year.

So his grad program was only a year?
No, actually. It's a two year program. Due to some very tricky maneuvering by yours truly, we convinced the both the grad counselor and the program director to let him do it in a year.

What did he study again?
The program is called Publications Design. Essentially he studied writing (emphasis in storytelling) and design (emphasis in illustration). He loved his program. You couldn't have catered a degree more perfectly to my husband.

So what degree is he getting?
An MA. Masters of Arts. In case you didn't know what that meant.

Wow, that must have been really crazy!
[long pause] Um, was that supposed to be a question? Because it's not one. And yes, it was crazy. On both ends. More particularly on the end that has three people under three feet tall.

So, how is the job search going?
Fine. Truthfully, I'm getting sick of answering that question (although I know it is always asked with genuine concern). We had some requests for more stuff and just got that sent off. We don't expect to hear anything for at least four weeks. I'm not anxious. Yet.

But you're moving?
Yup. Our rent here will go up to nearly $2200 a month [gasp!] when our contract runs out, and we definitely can't afford that if we don't have a job. We're not applying anywhere in the greater Baltimore/Washington area, so we will have to move no matter what.

So when is the big day?
Thursday, May 21st, at approximately 8:23 am.

Forgive me for prying, but where are you moving to?
Well, wherever we get a job, if we get one soon. Otherwise, my parents' basement in Utah. They have three empty rooms down there, so we'll be more than comfortable. Plus, I have a friend from the ward who will also be moving into her parents' basement with her hubby and two kids, so I have a fellow moocher. I'll be in good company.

Thanks for the interview. A lot of us have been wondering exactly what is going on with you guys.
Hey, no problem. I'm always up for putting on multiple personalities and having mock interviews with myself!

These are MY kids???

A completely random picture. I just felt bad that Enoch wasn't mentioned in this post.

Yesterday was the ward talent show. We had everything from kids singing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star and doing somersaults, to adults break dancing and doing Junior Olympic jump roping. I must admit, I am always impressed that people will get up in front of crowds like that. You couldn't pay me enough to go up there. I'm getting an ulcer just thinking about it. Which is why I was so shocked last night when Seara kept clamoring to get up front, insisting to me, "I want to dance! I want to dance!"

Soon it was Elijah announcing, "My turn to do music! My turn to do music!" I swear I only blinked, and he had climbed up on to the stage, arms in the air, announcing to a silent crowd, "Ladies and gentlemen! Boys and girls! I -- " [ and he is yanked off the stage by a humiliated mother].

As we were leaving I couldn't help but express my shock to Sam that my kids were so fearless in front of crowds and so anxious to perform. To which he replied, "Man, I only wish I had thought to do something!"

Never mind. I think I know where it comes from now.

the Underdog

I have a soft spot for the underdog.

I am the tiny girl who chased away the 6th grade boy that was beating up a 2nd grader.

I am the scrawny 7th grader who barged into a circle of 9th grade boys, arms flailing, and rescued the little kid they were hitting and tossing back and forth while everyone else stood around watching.

I am the student who ran to the toilet dry heaving while watching the movie Radio and could never finish it because watching the way people treated him was too traumatizing for me. (Even if there is redemption at the end.)

I am the adult who looked out my window to see a group of middle school boys holding down another kid and taking turns punching him, and since I could do nothing else, opened the window and yelled - in a voice I didn't know I had - for them to let him go. They scattered like cockroaches.

I guess that should fully explain why watching this movie made me bawl like a baby. If you want to read more, go here. But watch the movie first.

I'm a Stay-at-Home Mom

On my way to the doctor this afternoon I turned on talk radio. The station was broadcasting an interview with a recent author. As they talked, the author cited the following statistics:

• In the 1950's 17% of mothers worked outside the home.
• In the 1970's (at the height of the woman's lib movement) 33% of mothers worked outside the home.
• In 2007, just over 70% of mothers worked outside the home. That number dropped in 2008, thanks to the economic crash, but still it hovers around 66%. That means that 2/3 of US mothers work outside the home.

The interviewer asked if those numbers increased because women need to work to help provide for their families. This is where things got interesting. According to the research, in the 1950's the majority of mothers who worked outside the home were in the lower class and worked to put food on the table. In 2007, the majority of working mothers were in the middle or upper class and worked to put iPods and cell phones on the table.

As I listened I couldn't help but feel sorry for the children. Their mothers work to give them everything they could ever want ... except for time. Now I realize that there are mothers (many of whom I know and love) who really do have to work. And I admire those who try to work in such a way that they can spend as much time with their children as possible. My heart goes out to you. I'm sure you're doing the best you can with what you've got.

I guess my real qualm is when people minimize the sacrifices I've made by insinuating that I just happen to be really lucky to be able to stay home, and not everyone can be that lucky. I usually smile and say, "Yeah." But if I had the guts, this is what I'd say:

I know I'm blessed to stay home with my kids. I really am. But it's not like my husband has a six figure income. I don't stay home out of pure luck. We have made some serious sacrifices for me to be with the kids. We have three children in car seats and yet we have one mid-sized car. We don't own Blackberries or iPods. We don't have cable TV. We don't have fancy computers or lavish furniture. We don't go on exotic vacations. We don't eat out - even at McDonald's or Costco. In fact, in the last three years we have only once gone to a nice restaurant on our own tab. If we don't need it to survive, we generally don't buy it. I don't stay home just because I'm lucky (even though I really am). I stay home because it means the world to me to spend my days teaching and loving my children. And I'd sacrifice almost anything to do it.

ps. According to Reuters, I'm worth $138, 095 a year and put in a 92-hour work week. That sounds pretty accurate to me. :)

Rose Buehner Memorial Park

We had only been in Maryland a few weeks when Sam decided to take the family on a spontaneous Sunday morning drive. Destination: the local cemetery. It was beautiful. The rolling green hills were covered with mature trees and bright flowers. The road wound up and down, over bridges and under trees. Small ponds filled with geese and ducks dotted the landscape. It was the kind of place I'd like be buried. We enjoyed a peaceful drive and were just pulling out to head home when I saw another cemetery across the street. This one was small and decrepit. The stone wall reading 'Rose Buehner Memorial Park' looked like it was about to fall over. Very intriguing! I begged Sam to pull in.

We drove the small loop in the old graveyard, passing a father and daughter enjoying a brunch on a small bench. "Oh look!" I exclaimed, "That must be the mother's grave. How sweet!" I didn't want to bother them, so I waited until we were a good distance away and then insisted we pull off to the side so we could get out and look around. The overgrown weeds and wildflowers nearly reached my knees, and I had to brush them away to be able to read the gravestones. I stooped down to the nearest one.

Across the top of the stone was the family name. Below that, in large letters, was the deceased's first name. I read the date. "How strange, Sam! This grave has a death date, but no birth date!" I went on to the next gravestone as he wandered away through the graveyard. "Hey Sam, this one only has the birth year!" ... "And this one too!" ... "Hey, check this out, Sam. This person's name is Spike! Cool, huh?!" ... "Ooooh, bizarre. This one doesn't even have a last name! Just a first name." ... "Sam, a lot of these don't have birth dates, just death dates. Something is strange here." ... "Look! Half of them only have first names!" ...

It was then that we started putting two and two together:


Pet. Cemetery.


We laughed the whole way home.

Eastern Excursion 35: Lacrosse

JOHNS HOPKINS LACROSSE

The Johns Hopkins lacrosse team is one of the best in the nation. They have won 1 World Lacrosse Championship, 2 Olympic Gold Medals, 9 Division Championships, and 44 National Championships. We attended their Day of Rivals game against Maryland.

The Complete Idiot's Guide to Attending Lacrosse Games

1) Prior to the game, learn how it is played using Wikipedia. This will ensure that you don't make an absolute fool of yourself during the game. It is important to note that when people at lacrosse games talk about 'attackers' they are referring to the forwards, not scary people carrying knives and chasing you.

2) Find out the colors of each team before arriving. Wear none of them. This is a protection against crazy people who may hate you for supporting the wrong team.


3) As lacrosse is played in the spring, attend one of the later season games so the weather is warmer. This makes it that much more hilarious when mother nature pulls a fast one and it ends up being cold and rainy the entire game.

4) When parking, avoid abandoned, decrepit parking lots manned by suspicious-looking characters who charge $15 a car. Especially when they all disappear in the ten minutes it takes you to drive to the ATM. Instead park much closer to the stadium for free.

5) In order to not create rifts with your game-time neighbors who may support a different team, yell only vague things such as "Go team!" and "Good scorepointgoal!" (Just kidding. We didn't really yell anything random like that, although I was tempted. We did cheer when both teams scored, though. I think it confused the people around us.)


6) If possible, attend a rivalry game. This will increase the amount of entertainment from fanatic fans who yell random things like, "Hey Hopkins - you only pretend to live in a tough neighborhood!" (Rivalry games will also allow you to attend the game in the Baltimore Raven's stadium, which will appease your guilt for having forgotten to attend a football game during the NFL season. Oops.)


7) While lacrosse may look like soccer with sticks or hockey on grass, do not share these observations with die-hard lacrosse fans. They may find such comparisons offensive.

375: An Apartment Story

"The rent here may be low, but I believe we have it on very hard terms."
-Marianne Dashwood, Sense & Sensibility (the movie, not the book)

Most everyone has a period of their lives when, either out of frugality or necessity, they live in a sub-par apartment.

This is my story.

Soon after Seara was born we found out that everyone was being kicked out of our apartment complex. At that same time Sam decided to go free-lance with his art work and we no longer had a steady, reliable income. So, we began our search for the perfect dirt-cheap apartment. And we found it. A two-bedroom basement apartment for $375 a month. We moved in March 1st.

I should have known something was wrong when, before we moved in, I rented a carpet cleaner and after a dozen times cleaning the carpets the water was still coming up black as tar. I shrugged it off. The place was cheap.

Soon I started noticing that just about everything in the apartment was falling apart. The upper cupboards in the kitchen leaned forward precariously, ready to pulverize an unsuspecting passerby. The sprinklers outside hit the few windows we had and filled the window wells with water, so the apartment manager covered the window wells with sheets of metal, thereby taking away our only source of natural light. The air conditioning didn't work, so as summer came the coolest the apartment ever got was about 80 degrees ... and that was at five in the morning. The whole apartment smelled putrid no matter what I did. And in the upper corners of the room I could see mold inching in, threatening to take over the apartment.

And then there were the red, itchy spots that started appearing on my body when I'd wake up in the morning. They came to a head one night at about two in the morning when I, mostly asleep, reached back to itch my back and felt something crush and ooze between my fingers. I screamed and Sam woke to inspect. Spiders.

We fumigated the apartment. We couldn't even go inside for three days. We expected the problem to be gone when we got back. It wasn't. Apparently the windows weren't sealed well and all sorts of creepy crawlies were constantly getting into the apartment.

After a few weeks there we got the flu. We were sick. Really sick. For twenty days straight I never once left that dark, dank, windowless, mold-growing, spider infested apartment. Sam and Seara got better, but for weeks I did not. Sam figured it out before I did. Baby two was on its way. What morning sickness I already suffered from was amplified by the squalor.

Then one day, as I was getting Seara out of her crib, I noticed something just outside the window above her crib. Nestled into the corner of the window well was a large, black spider. And on her back were large, red dots. A black widow.

We needed to move. Fast.

Miracle of all miracles, while calling around I found an apartment complex that needed an apartment manager. I'd be in charge of showing people my apartment at the semester start, sweeping the walks each week, and doing cleaning checks in the 11 other apartments at the semester end. In return, we'd get the last apartment for $375 a month with free utilities, free internet, and free cable. It had two large bedrooms, tons of storage, huge windows, a new kitchen, and it was CLEAN. We moved in July 29th.

I couldn't have found a faster solution for depression. Everything in my world suddenly felt so happy and light. But those five months in our basement apartment weren't fruitless. They taught me a very important lesson:

Just because it's cheap doesn't mean it's worth it.

Laziness = Food Poisoning

Lazy -->
Procrastinate grocery shopping -->
Do shopping the morning guests are coming -->
Buy pre-cut fruit tray because you no longer have time to cut it yourself -->
Food poisoning ... not only for yourself, but for your husband, children, and all your guests.

I'll understand if no one ever wants to eat at my house again. Really, I will.

Being Ghetto & the MoTab

When I announced to Samuel that I had invited a few couples over for our traditional General Conference pancake breakfast and to watch the Saturday morning session with us, he immediately replied, "But Janae, we don't have a tv!" Touche.

Okay, that's not what I really said back. But I just recently figured out exactly what that word means and I've been searching for a way to use it in my blog for over a month. Not quite a perfect use, but still. I used it. Now I can die happy.

What I really said was, "Who cares? We can watch it on the internet. Our friends will still like us if we're ghetto." So we ghettified it up and moved all our couches into the kitchen to surround the computer.

Starting at Seara and moving counter clockwise: Sease, me, Jason, Eileen, Michelle & Doug, Guy

I know. Awesome, huh.


The best part of conference is the spiritual stuff, of course. But the second best part is spotting the camera's MoTab favorites. You know who I'm talking about.


Man, I love General Conference!

A Life of Craziness (Sam Post)

I'm finally posting! Woo hoo! Are you ready for the coolest post ever?! Okay, cause that's not this post. As you may know, I've been working on my portfolio night and day for the past 4 months. It's been a crazy experience, but the final stuff's been sent off. Now I can do my real homework.

You may know that we're moving in a month and a half. The day after I graduate. We're still not sure where we're moving, but things will work out.

Enoch's crawling now. The kids have started calling him "E-no".

I've noticed myself saying things I never dreamed. For example:

1. "Seara, please don't bite your toenails!" (I didn't know this was humanly possible. I think it takes biting your nails to a whole new level.)
2. "Seara, please stop licking me!"
3. "Lije, don't bite Seara's face, please!"
4. "No biting Seara's back!"

Elijah is on this "agency" kick where he wants to do everything himself, even if he has no clue how to do it. He'll spend 5 minutes screaming about how he wants to put his undies on himself, then he'll come hobbling over to me with both of his legs sticking out of one leg hole and say, "Daddy, I want some help!" Yeah, it's frustrating.

Books I'm in the middle of reading:

• Walden (This book is awesome.)
• Les Miserables (I don't think I'll ever finish this book. It's long. long. long. This is saying something coming from a Tolstoy fan.)
• From Word to Image, Beigleiter (A book about storyboarding.)
• The Elements of Style, Strunk and White (Again. I guess I still need the writing help.)
• Dream Worlds, Hans Baccher. (It's all about production design for movies.)

Hmm, now Seara's trying to lick my toes. I guess I'd better go. I haven't had a chance to proof this. Oh well.

Eastern Excursion 34: Blue Crab

BLUE CRAB

It all started when I noticed that I randomly heard the phrase "Maryland Blue Crab" everywhere I went: the grocery store, the library, at church, etc. People seemed obsessed with the thing.

Then one day we were at the zoo seeing the Christmas Zoo Lights. And amidst all the light displays I saw a gigantic blue crab made of Christmas lights. Just as I was explaining the blue crab obsession to Sam, a kid ran by and yelled, "Look, Mom! The Maryland Blue Crab!" Case in point.

A few months later we went to a really prominent museum in Baltimore. And what did I find? Oh, the blue crab in the center of a display case titled, "Wonders of the Universe." Then, two weeks ago we went to the Maryland Science Center. It was huge and amazing. And of course, there was an entire section of the museum dedicated to the blue crab.

Alright, enough was enough. I googled it. And what a found made me laugh. It is just plain silly that there are websites and children's books dedicated to the blue crab. But did you know that the blue crab is the 'Maryland State Crustacean'? I know places have state birds, but state crustacean?? Are you kidding me?! And then there is the beauty pageant held every year in Chrisfield, Maryland in celebration of the blue crab. The winner is crowned 'Miss Crustacean'. But best of all is the hermit-crab beauty contest held every year in Ocean City. People bring their live crabs dressed in - no joke - dresses, and have a race down the boardwalk. The winner gets 35 bucks and the customary Cucumber Rind Cup, which is the "symbol of Crustacean comeliness." Ooooooooooo-kay.

But, Sam and I have really learned to love Maryland. Which means we must embrace the quirks. So, in celebration of his finishing and mailing off his final portfolios and job apps, we got a babysitter and went out to eat the beloved Maryland Blue Crab. This is a BIG deal (obviously everything that has to do with the blue crab is), hence we dubbed it an excursion. We ate at the Rusty Scupper, which is practically floating in Inner Harbor in downtown Baltimore. All the walls are glass, so the views are spectacular.

I didn't take this, but it shows the location well.

We had an all crab meal. Maryland Crab Soup as an appetizer, Crab Cakes as an entree, and Crab Cheesecake as dessert. Okay, I'm kidding about the cheesecake. That would be disgusting. I snapped pictures when the server wasn't looking. Not very couth for a fancy restaurant, but I couldn't help myself. I wanted to blog about it!

My crab cakes are in the top right corner.

We watched the sun set in stormy clouds throughout dinner. This was our view. Awesome, huh?!

So what does blue crab taste like, you ask? Long answer: creamy, soft, chewy, tender, sweet, delectable, and delicious.

Short answer: chicken.

I grew up with maids.

Yes, you read that correctly. We had maids growing up. Let me explain.

My family lived in South America and Caribbean for about 9 years when I was a kid. My parents and younger siblings went back for 3 years while I was at college/on my mission. And for the majority of those 12 years my family had maids. See, there were always women who attended our church who needed help financially. And with so many kids (there were 7 of us at most during those years) my mom could always use help. Put two and two together, and we had maids. One particular maid would come every day and do laundry. That's all she did. Laundry.


This is the view of my house from my front door. Wait. What is that mass gracing my counter top? Let's zoom in.


Oh, it's my clean laundry. I originally started putting it on the counter top because it got in my way and irritated me, which motivated me to fold it sooner than later. Unfortunately, I think I've become accustomed to it being there, because today is day 4 of this particular load making a beautiful welcome scene for all visitors.

Life Goal #971: Have a laundress. And a house keeper. And a gardener.

The Proper Loading & Organizing of Dishwashers

FACT: Men do not know how to load dishwashers properly.
FACT: Men think women are crazy for thinking there is a 'right' way to load a dishwasher.

Everything is helter skelter. Call me crazy, but I don't think the cups that are sideways
are gonna get very clean. And why are those big bowls up here, taking up all the space?

FACT: With as often as women load the dishwasher (at least once a day, every day, our entire married lives), it is only to be expected that women find the most efficient way to fit as many things as possible and still get everything clean. After all, what doesn't go in the dishwasher must be washed by hand. And what goes through the dishwasher but doesn't get clean must also be washed by hand.

See how much more fit in there? And how much less I had to do by hand??

I'm not crazy. I'm just efficient.