Case closed.

So we're sitting around the other night, kids are slumbering away, and it's time to herd Daisy (because that's what's required) outside to take care of business, when she flops on her side as though she's fallen and can't get up. This is not unusual. What was unusual was the vastness of her belly as she lay prone. She's a girl with curves, to be sure, but she looked like I might need to roll her out the door like a giant snowball. My immediate concern was whether we might have a health issue to address, and as we've had handful of vet visits in the last couple of months, resulting in our having to sell off the children one by one (we're starting with Bubs in case anyone is interested), I was mildly concerned. But with enough coaxing and prodding she made her way outside.

Fast forward to this morning. I was frantically slapping together a packed lunch for Wonderboy, who was headed to scout camp, and thought it odd that Daisy wasn't underfoot begging for a slice of turkey. I peeked into the dining room and there she froze, mid-chomp, with half a dog biscuit hanging out of her mouth. She remained frozen, with the exception of the eyeball that fixed on me, until I left the room to retrieve the camera. I followed the trail of evidence, and her bloated condition was justified by the near-empty, Costco bulk pack of dog biscuits, overturned on the floor of the storage room. Almost fifteen pounds of dog biscuits polished off by Daisy. That's quite a feat, I think.

Dance recital

Miss S's dance recital was held recently. Amid the whirlwind of busy acitivity that inevitably characterizes every May, we had photo calls, dress rehearsals, meetings and finally the recital. I was fortunate to be asked to 'room mom' for her class which allowed me to sit with the girls at the recital, lead them backstage, sit in the front row while they performed and then hang out with them until curtain call. So, so fun.


Her particular class was one of the smallest, at only 4 dancers, but I kid you not, 4 little girls waiting for their turn to dance (Number 22 in a program of 25 routines!)? Well, let's just say it was like leading four little butterflies around. A total crack up. By dance routine number 2, they were leaning over and whispering "How many more???", and then by dance number 4, "And now how many more??", and then again after dance number 5, and you get the picture...all the way to number 22. And then when it was time to leave the auditorium to be ready backstage, you would not believe how my little group agonized over whether their lipstick had smudged away, or if their hair was still just right. They were so sweet. And so serious about the whole affair.

E and the boys had seats elsewhere. And Wonderboy had my little point and shoot camera. Something tells me he got a little bored. Dance recitals can do that to ya. Here's a sampling of his artistry:

We have an 8 year old.

Such a big birthday for my sweet boy. We celebrated at home, just our family. But last weekend was his baptism and confirmation, and my parents arrived the Thursday before to be here for the big event. I can't get over how nonchalant an eight year old can be about such a huge step. He was his usual goofy self. But he didn't insist on wearing swim goggles. Phew.

The speakers were amazing, grandpa being one of them as well as witnessing - and his primary teacher brought him a white towel embroidered with his name and CTR. He was thrilled with the new scriptures we gave him, that incidentally had been purchased and schlepped by grandma and grandpa J, because when I called to order them, a sweet and obviously older lady told me their computers were down and might be back up in a week or so, but if I'd like to give her my order, she'd write it down on a scrap of paper and try very hard not to lose it. A panicked email to the parents to call in backup forces meant all was not lost and the scriptures arrived in time for his baptism.

Such a great day for him, and for us.

Afterward, we went to lunch and the zoo. Because what goes better with baptism than a trip to the zoo, right? It made sense to me anyway, as I felt it was completely appropriate to reward Bubs, in particular, for not diving into the font. I know he totally wanted to, and lets be honest, it was really very much in the realm of possibility.

Daisy. 9.00 hours.

Status: Hungry and lazy. Ha.

The Mother's Day Shiner.

Bubs threw himself head first down the slide after a pleasant afternoon walk around the lake. And, really, if you know anything about my boy at all, you're not the least bit surprised.

A Conversation

(Walking home from school)

Bubs: I too busy for walking. Pick me up.

Me: Too busy to walk?

Bubs: Yup. Pick me up.

Me: Fine. (I pick him him)

Bubs: Oh no! My toes falling off!!

(I put him down)

Me: You crack me up, Skip.

Bubs: Crack you up? Like eggs? Oh no. That not good.

Easter Duds

With General Conference falling on Easter Sunday this year, (and our affection and overall gratitude for BYUtv on said weekend) we decided to let the kids wear their Easter duds yesterday. Miss Fia's little head was going to burst if she had to wait much longer anyway, and we can't have any bursting of heads, can we? I wanted to make her dress, but found the patterns available uninspiring generally. I finally settled on one that was slightly less uninspiring than all the others and then tweaked and modified it until I figured I could live with it. The girl was breathless with delight when I presented her with the finished frock (and pink shoes!) - and what more could I hope for? And, besides, Wonderboy was surprisingly enthusiastic about his new blazer and oxfords. Bubs wanted nothing to do with the whole affair. Shocking, right?