Do I stink?

I mentioned in a previous post how I really want to have a house that smells good. Well, right now our house is for sale and the other day we had a brokers' open house. (No need to worry. We don't NEED to sell our house, but we've lived in it for two years now and so we're (well, more like I) anxious to sell it and build another one.) So anyway, the house was all spic 'n' span and I had lit candles and everything, and I was on my way out to the garage when our realtor and a couple of others got here. They might have been totally taken by the spicy aroma in the air except that I opened the garage door. I tried to squeeze myself and Janey out the door without opening it more than a crack, but it was too late. The stench from the garage came trespassing in. I don't know why the heck our garbage was so dang rank this week, but it was, and I can't help but think the realtors got a whiff. Dang it! After all my hard work... But anyway, that scenario got me thinking about stinking, and thinking about stinking brought to mind:

The girls in my family are exceptionally cool--all except for the fact that we sweat. No, no. Not the normal kind of sweating, like the kind that happens after you've run a few miles, or the kind that happens when you haven't showered in days. The kind that drenches your armpits any time you leave the comfort of your room and your sweats. Oh, my heavens. It has been such a curse my whole life. At one point,my mom even took me to the doctor and I got a prescription for a special deodorant/antiperspirant. I think it was called Certain Dry. You had to take a shower RIGHT before you went to bed, dry thoroughly, and then apply it immediately. And it actually did help significantly if you followed those directions exactly. However, if you let yourself get distracted and say, brush your teeth before applying the deodorant, you were screwed. Not only would your armpits start sweating, but they would start itching like the dickens, too. No joke. So what did I do about it? Well, I survived the best I could--I stuck pantie liners in the armpits of my dresses when I went to dances or was giving a talk or something; I'd run into the bathroom at school and wipe my pits out with toilet paper; I'd wear multiple shirts; I'd wear colors that didn't change color as badly when they were wet....and I just tried to keep my arms down at my sides as much as possible. Like that isn't totally weird. So my whole life I've just had to fumble along trying not to be drenched in sweat. But it's getting better as time goes by--is it possible to wear out your sweat glands? I was even able to sing Once There Was A Snowman today in church without worrying about lifting my arms. (By the way, did you know that it is deodorant mixed with sweat (not just sweat alone) that makes those nasty stains on the armpits of your white shirts? So if you don't wear deodorant, you'll never get stains there. Don't worry. I don't go without deodorant very often. But sometimes, when I've just showered and I'll be wearing a nice white shirt to go out for a few hours, I'll skip on the deodorant and just wear perfume in order to keep the shirt looking good. I can only get away with it now that my pits are drying up.)

And constant sweating might be the biggest problem related to stinking I've ever had except that in college I had a bigger one.
Sarah and I were running errands one day and we were sitting in the car when she said to me, "Ann, you have the worst breath I have ever smelled. It smells like something is rotting in your stomach!" Yeah, THAT hurt. But it didn't hurt because it wounded my pride, it hurt because I was then horrified that I had just kissed Johnny earlier that day and I was going to be seeing him again later that night (despite being broken up. Oh, brother.) So anyway, I cupped my hands around my mouth and blew into them in an effort to smell my breath for myself, but it was to no avail. I couldn't smell a thing. I trusted my sister, though, and took her word for it as we left in a frantic to get me some help. We bought gum, mouth wash--you name it, and we went home and gave my mouth a good deep cleaning, but it just didn't do the job. So finally I decided to call my uncle (who is a doctor) and describe my symptoms to him. He told me that I most likely had a sinus infection--which would have been fine except that you can only kick an infection with antibiotics and time was of the essence. Anyway...to make a long story a little bit shorter--I did go on my date that night, and as unseemly as it is, I did still get a little fooshnickens (remember that work, Meg?). Come to think of it, it is quite remarkable that it wasn't my breath that day that finally broke us up for good--we all know what it's like to kiss someone with bad breath. And I did end up having a sinus infection. Turns out that my sinus infection was also the reason behind the loss of hearing in my right (or maybe my left) ear that I had been experiencing. And that experience taught me a couple of important life lessons: 1) the cupping-your-hands-around-your-mouth-to-check-for-bad-breath trick does NOT work and 2) just because a boy kisses you does not mean you are not totally repulsive.
So despite the fact that I obviously no longer have a sinus infection, I still have a lingering paranoia that I could have bad breath at any time without knowing it.

Enough about stink, though. Camp turned five! Yes, this is the season for birthdays in our family. He is really becoming a neat boy and I've been so excited to see him grow to share some of my passions--as of late: grilled chicken sandwiches, oreo blizzards, and decorating for holidays. And unlike for Danin, I did have a little party for him. I wasn't sure how I was going to pull one off without Becky being here. She's the one who always makes the really cool cake that Camp loves. I stretched myself to my creative limits, though, and made an oreo ice cream cake which I stuck spiders to. We bobbed for apples in the bathtub, played musical chairs and used toilet paper to wrap each other up like mummies. And the boys seemed to have fun, so that's cool.
Jane is as darling as ever except for the occasional "You are TUPID!" And oh, man. There is nothing that warms my heart more than experimenting with mascara on my daughter and being so pleased that she got Brian's eyelash genes and not mine.
Danin is still pretty bald, but there is evidence of some beautiful reddish hair. And she's so enjoyable.
Brian is still keeping himself busy and he has been losing weight. I've been really impressed because he has been eating really healthily for a month or so and he is really looking and feeling great. He and I went to the stake ball last night with another couple from our ward. It was titled Arabian Nights and I assumed we were supposed to dress up. Brian's always told me, though, that 'when you assume, you make an ass out of u and me', and I guess he was right. We were the only ones dressed up--as Arabs, no less. Someone asked us if we were going to be in a skit. Ummm, nope. Oh, well. It felt good to live a little.

Happy Birthday, Pee Wee.

Happy happy birthday, children dear-- Happy things will come to you all year. If I had one wish, then it would be-- That you would give all your presents to me.


As a kid, the original song got a little boring, so I decided to change it up a bit. And I've loved singing it ever since.

Yesterday was Danin's 1st birthday. And even though I don't really believe in getting presents and throwing parties for kids who are too young to understand what's happening, I did want the day to be a little bit special. So I did make her a [burnt, woops!] pancake in the shape of the number 1, and I did put her in a new outfit, and I did give her a cupcake (which she totally understood) with a candle . And all day long I really did feel even more love and gratitude for her than I always do. She's such a good girl. I was going to tell you all of the things she does, but it would just be too hard for me not to brag, so I'll just avoid the temptation, and write it all down in the journal that I used to use. You're welcome.

Instead, I'll just ask you: Have any of you seen how REAL SIMPLE has those pages where they talk about new uses for every day household items? Well, today I came up with my own:

Everyday use: Plate holder













Aha! use: Magazine rack for the bathroom

All jokes aside

As you've probably noticed, I dedicate much of my blog to reflecting on my past. I think I do it because it is interesting for me to analyze myself, and also because I plan on having this blog serve as my personal history of sorts. That being the case, I feel like the following will be an important inclusion.
As a youth, my testimony--and the way I interpreted the gospel, was almost entirely borrowed from my parents. And it wasn't until after Scotty died that I started realizing it. Suddenly my parents' understanding and application of the gospel seemed to be changing and it was very hard for me. It was hard because I had come to accept and trust that their previous ways were correct and now I was being forced to question it all and try and sort things out for myself. Let me clarify. It wasn't like my parents had testimonies before Scotty died and not afterward or vice versa. It was just that their understanding of different principles changed, and as a result, the way they were raising kids changed as well. So I was left trying to figure out which way was better--the old way, or the new way, and I found myself being frustrated with my parents for causing me to have to go through this. (In case you care, the old way was good, but the new way is even better.) What I came to realize, though, was that I was really frustrated with myself for never having really developed my own understanding of the gospel.

So anyway, since then, I have been working hard to figure things out for myself and more importantly, I have been earnestly seeking for the Spirit to testify to me of truth. And I still struggle with some things. Specifically, I don't have the testimony I want of Joseph Smith and his prophetic mission. I believe he was a very important prophet and that he was the most important catalyst in the restoration of the gospel, but I don't think I've had the Spirit seal that testimony in my heart yet, as it has other things. And most importantly, I have not yet developed the relationship with the Savior that I want to have. And as hard as it is for me to say, I think it is because I am just now BEGINNING to understand and apply his atonement. In all my life, I have not sought forgiveness so much as I have the last three years as a mother. As a mother (and as a wife), I am being made painfully aware of all of my weaknesses, and I desperately yearn to be forgiven and to become more the mother and wife that Heavenly Father wants me to be. And despite how hard this has been, I feel so grateful to finally be recognizing a need for dependence on the Savior. And while I was visiting Sarah, she shared some of her insights on the atonement that I really appreciated. She said she feels like it is Christ's suffering for our sins and sorrows that allows him to give us the gift of Charity. In other words--Charity is a GIFT that only the SAVIOR can give because only He has suffered for all of us in a way that created such a perfect and pure love. (Man, I hope I got that right.) So anyway, don't get all worried about me, because I am working on it, and I am confident that my understanding and testimony of the Savior and his atonement will grow as I continue to work on it.

In the meantime, let me just say this--that I do know and have never doubted that Heavenly Father loves me and that I am his daughter. I know that he is aware of me at all times. I know that he listens to and answers my prayers. I know that he expects a lot from me, but that he is proud of my efforts and has great hope in my learning and becoming better. I know that he is a God of miracles. I know that he is a just God, but I swear I experience his mercy so much more often than I do his justice. I know that living righteously brings happiness. I know and have experienced the power of the Holy Ghost and I am SO grateful to enjoy its companionship when I am worthy. I am so grateful for the example of the Savior and for his perfect love. I know that it is his eternal mission to bring all of us back to our Heavenly Father. And I know that I feel the closest to Him when I am serving others.

And you know what else? I love the Book of Mormon. When I was growing up, I was super fortunate to have parents who both loved studying the scriptures. They were great examples to me. I saw them reading and studying the scriptures often and I knew that they loved to do so. They STILL do. And I've always trusted that the scriptures--particularly the Book of Mormon--contain the gospel and are very important, but it used to be difficult for me to comprehend how my parents could actually enjoy them so much. You know what I mean? So I went a lot of years wondering if I'd ever be able to say that I love reading my scriptures the way my parents do, and guess what? Now I can. I take that back. I can't say that I love reading them as much as my parents do because my parents even love Isaiah and Exodus and all that stuff. But I can say that I have really come to love and enjoy the Book of Mormon. Right now I'm not perfect at reading it every day, but when I do, I really do enjoy it. I've always appreciated the gospel gems, but now I recognize and enjoy the stories, I love noticing new details, and I love the power that comes from reading. The Book of Mormon even makes me laugh sometimes. So that's cool.
And I love General Conference now, too. It gives me the spiritual feeding that I really do hunger for now that I am a mom and my opportunities for Spiritual feedings are harder to come buy and usually interrupted by noise or needy or hungry kids. (Sorry for the run-on.) And it just feels so good to hear truth.

Home Sweet Home

"Going home" meant something different when I was a kid. "Going home" meant leaving my cousins (who were my life blood) or leaving Grandma Hatch's house--where there were fun neighbors and other cousins to play with, midnight runs to Dairy Queen, parks and water fights, and a fruit stand (where we bought lots of cheap candy) about a quarter mile away--or just leaving a friend's house in order to do chores. I remember "going home" many a Sunday after having taken a family drive up to the rich neighborhoods by the temple to ooh and ahh at all of the big houses. It was like a tradition that upon returning to our own house, someone would comment, "Ooooohhhh, look at THAT house!... and we would think ourselves so funny.

But going home is different now. Despite how wonderful a trip is, I love to come home--my own bed, my own drawers, my own little flowers, my own ward, my own schedule. It's funny how the smell of my house, along with the texture and color of the carpet and tile, becomes new again, and I find myself looking at everything like I've never seen it before. Weird.

And this trip really was a wonderful one. I'm really grateful for having been able to go away for so long (although I wish Brian could have been with me for longer.)
Laura's wedding was fabulous. She looked beautiful and she and her husband seemed very happy. The reception was especially good becuase it was in my parents' backyard, the weather was perfect, there was lots of good food, and John, Laura, and their friend Sfen (sp?) gave us a super cool concert afterward.
And we went to Disneyland with the Lacouture side of the family, and that was a blast as well. My sister and brother-in-law are Disney experts and therefore know every secret to having the best experience at Disneyland. Camp was tall enough for every ride but two, and I think we were able to get him on every one of those. I'm not sure which ride was his favorite, because everytime I ask him, he says something different. Jane loved everything she experienced as well--except for the Captain Hook character who accompanied us at breakfast one of the mornings we were there. And Danin was happiest whereever there was water for her to play in. My favorite rides were Splash Mountain, Pirates, Flying over California, and the Tower of Terror.
And I got to spend a few days at Sarah's house. I'm so grateful to have a sibling with kids. As I've said before, I love being with Sarah. I feel totally comfortable with her, our kids have a ball together, and I learn something every time I'm with her. (More on that later.)
Kat ran the marathon up in Logan last Saturday and I got to be there to cheer her on. Man, what a high. She has the most beautiful legs, so it is only fitting that she is such a good runner. (Or maybe she has beautiful legs because she is such a good runner....) But anyway... she did great and loved the experience and now my mom is talking about all of us girls doing one together next year. I would love to do one again, and doing one with my sisters and mom would be the coolest, so we'll see what happens. You can do it, mom! Even if you really do run a twenty minute mile. All you need are some good tunes, and I've seen what a little crazy music can do for you.
And all of the rest of our time was spent playing with our Lacouture cousins or at my mom and dad's house with Charley, Kat, and Seth (and Audge for a few days). Good times. Good times.
I'll post a few more details of the trip later.

Oh, and I can't forget to mention my new van. Love it.

Toenails

What is your best physical attribute?

It's hard for me to say which feature of my body is the most perfect (are you laughing?); but if I had to pinpoint just ONE, I would definitely say my ears.

All I can really say is that my toenails are NOT contenders. The thing is, I was raised by a toenail picker and unfortunately, monkey saw and monkey did. So I have picked my toenails my whole life. I know it's gross, but I just can't help it. I have very few memories of ever having pretty toenails. In fact, I have two. One was a time in high school or maybe right afterward. I had somehow managed to grow my toenails out and had actually painted them. The only reason I remember this is because I was so excited when Meg noticed them and commented on how good they looked. The second memory is of the day that Camp was born. I remember that I had grown out and painted my fingernails and toenails just so that something would look good after having given birth. Brian even helped me paint them the day before since I could no longer reach them. Talk about service. And they looked good--they were really toenails to be proud of. But other than that, my toenails have always been nasty. A few times over the years (like in the picture above)I have painted onto my toes in order to make my toenails look longer, but for the most part, I have never really cared too much about it. I mean, they're TOEnails, right? And nobody has ever really given me any trouble about it until a few days ago. Leave it to Rachel Terry(not to be confused with my sister-in-law) to finally make known to me that my toenails are unacceptable. She is so funny. So despite the fact that it is totally lame to care about what other people think of my toenails(or of anything else, for that matter), I am going to master myself and stop picking my toenails. And who knows, maybe someday I'll be a girl with perfect ears and perfect toenails.

P.S. For those of you who are interested, our stay here in Vegas has been really good so far. Brian flew back home three days after we got here and I have really missed him. He'll be coming back on Sunday, and I can't wait. I'll post pics from this trip later on.

I lived my dream, and now the dream is over.

I didn't think I would ever have long hair. As I mentioned in previous posts, I longed to have long hair for most of my childhood. I would have given anything to have had hair that hung in front of my shoulders or down my back. I would have DIED to have had hair that got stuck against the pew at church when I sat down. I never felt very feminine and I felt like long hair would have made me so much more a girl. Over the years, though, the obsession faded as I accepted the realization that long hair was just not in my cards. And as time passed, I even came to like short hair better--to me it was sassy and way more sophisticated. I cut my hair short when I was in college and it was short for about five years--and I was cool with it. However, when I became pregnant for the first time and began taking prenatal vitamins and then as I transitioned into motherhood, my hair began to grow as it never had before. I think the prenatals and hormones were huge contributors, but I think it was also a result of my not doing my hair nearly as often. You know how it is as a mother--taking a shower becomes a luxury, and doing your hair is forced several notches down the priority list. Since I wasn't damaging my hair as much and since I didn't always have the time nor the money to have it cut very often, it just kept growing. And you know what? One day I woke up and I had long hair. (Long for me, that is.) I had long hair! And even though I loved short haircuts by then, I felt like I was living a childhood dream! And I got to enjoy all of the things (for the most part) that long-haired girls get to experience, and I loved it. I loved it until one day a couple months ago when I began losing it by the handfuls. I'm not kidding--i was losing my hair and I was losing it fast. But don't be concerned--it was all in the normal cycle of things. I think we all lose hair after having had a baby. But mine had just hung on a little longer than usual as I continued to take prenatals. Anyway, despite loving having longish hair, I was equally determined to not be one of those crazy girls who has hair that is long alright, but it is also nasty and stringy--lookin' and thin. You know the ones--they usually hang out around places like 7-11. And as sad as it is, I was fast becoming one of those girls. So on a sunny day a couple weeks ago, I cut my hair. I cut it to my shoulders and then had Brian try to help me even it out. It looked alright, but as long as I was cutting my hair, I felt like I should at least get a real hair cut. So last Wednesday I went and had it cut for real. And I'm OK. It isn't exactly what I wanted, but I'm OK. You know why? Because I don't care as much about my hair any more. So anyway... now I'm a short-haired girl again, and I've said way more than should ever be said about hair. Sorry about that.

Everything else is cool, except that my little Danin is sick. I'm not sure what is wrong with her. She's been running a fever for a couple of days now and she is just not herself. I think she only smiled once today and she has just been really tired and lethargic acting. I took her to the doctor today and they prescribed her some antibiotics for the beginnings of a possible ear infection, so we'll see how that goes. I sure hope she's herself again soon. She started walking a few weeks ago and now she's cruising along like a pro.

Jane is as darling as ever, but man, I sure hope she starts going potty in the toilet soon. She has gone poop in the toilet many times over the last year, but it's never materialized into any kind of habit.

Camp is really growing up, and I am so proud of him. He has gotten so much better at not hitting people, he has amazing phone manners, and he is learning to swim.

Brian is doing well also, but I'm not sure he has been thinking about what an amazing wife he has lately. Probably because he hasn't had an amazing wife lately. I really need to kick it into amazing wife gear this week, because starting next Sunday, I will be away from him for two weeks while I stay in Vegas with the kids and I really want him to miss me. I miss him every time I am away from him.

Sittin pretty

I made Brian laugh tonight. (I just wanted to make sure I got it on record.) AND I bought a minivan on Friday! I have to say that I bought it because Brian is still wanting no part in it. It is a 2008 white Toyota Sienna. Oh, yeah--I'll be posting pictures, alright! I just have to get down to Vegas to get it first, and that will happen on the 21st.