Editors Note

My loving readers,

It has been brought to my attention, by my loving editor-in-chief, that sometimes I fail my status of being an Alumni of the University of Utah English Program. It seems that there are many grammatical, typing, and did I really put that, errors in this blog. You see, although I pride myself in being an English Major, as my ingenious thoughts rush to my fingertips sometimes I can't capture the phrasing fast enough with out some sort of mishap dribbling out. So you all know, I did enjoy my Grammar and Linguistic classes and even got giddy, not as giddy as my Profs though, when the task to diagram complicated sentences was at hand. Who doesn't like to break the codes of the English Language and make confusing charts that only a select few understand? Understandably, that was eleven years ago and it seems that my grammatical prowess is trickling away. So for now, please be patient with my failings. I will try to do better as time passes, even if it means that I must submit a copy to my editor-in-chief for approval. Yet, remember if you weave around my failings, you are getting my verse in its freshest form. Also, I know I sometimes make up words, use the wrong word, that is why said chief calls me Miss Malaprop, and drop letters in words, it is all for the sacrifice for innovative blog entries. For those of you who feel it bothersome, action has been taken to solve the matter. Next week I propose to fix my other editing woes which include: too many extra spaces after loading pictures, cliches, improper capitalization, and the grammatical errors while composing this entry.

Sick Day

**This letter is a depiction of actual events, with some emphasis added for dramatic effect.

Dear Miss Moulton,

Harris regrets to inform you that he is unable to come to school today. He is truly disappointed with this matter and has asked me to inform you with much haste (he has been reminding me every five minutes since 7:10 a.m.). Not to worry, we have been taking his temperature every few hours in order to determine the half life of Ibuprofen. So some academia is being pursued between watching Young Indiana Jones Episodes and playing Webkins. We have determined Ibuprofen lasts about 6.5 hours a 65 pound subject. If there is any school work that he can do today, I think that it might aid in his recovery. He is quite anxious to be among his peers so he can resume his duty as line leader, not lose any more money from his checkbook, and not listen to Fiest, 1 2 3 4, repeatedly (only if I were as lucky). If you a worried about his condition, let me calm your fears. His illness is a spotty one, at one moment he is laying on the couch asking for more blankets to smother the chills and the next he is playing Super Why, bounding of our new leather ottoman, with his kid sister. As of now, he is lounging on the couch in a big lump of blankets. I have perfumed the air with all the comforts of home: fresh laundry, home baked bread (which he didn't want any of), and disinfectant. He is still determined to present his science project on Wednesday and, lucky for him, has found the strength and time to muddle through the organization of his facts about whether tapping soda cans does reduce the chance of explosion, by the way, it doesn't. All and all I cannot regret that this virus chose my son as a host. I hope that you realize what delightful company he is and welcome his return as I morn his loss.

Hopefully, but a bit regretfully, his quarantine will be lifted, his fever extinguished, and he will back at school tomorrow eager to learn.

Kari

So, I am jealous

Attention: all non-runners, non-adrenaline seekers this entry contains intense stuff that you might find on the bit of the nauseating side.

In my usual blog lurking and addictive facebook behavior, I have learned of many, many people who have actually ran the Wasatch Back, Ragnar, crazy person race. At first my though was, Are you crazy? Running is great, Really great, I am in love with it. Nevertheless, who wants to run a hard uphill calf-tightening run and then four hours later run again, and then again? I do. It is way, I mean way too late to sign up, and for that manner train, for this incredible adrenalin junky race but, I taste it. Even as I ran my measly four miles, I could see myself running through mountain passes and getting toner and speedy as I went. Then at the end there was my lovely family waiting to embrace my sweat soaked body, lovely. So Who's in for 2010? I definitely am, at least for today. For more of my deep jealousies stay tuned. They include: those of you who still look like you just flung their high school graduation hat 13 years after the fact, hips and all; those of you who can blow dry your hair in ten minutes flat, maybe it will happen now with my great new hair by Jen, (t, I love it!); and those of you who live closer to IKEA.

Today

Today I sat on my bed with Anna and read her There's a Monster at the End of this Book and Go Thomas Go. I am Lucky. She is also wearing a bright purple shirt and magenta stretchy pants, I am sooo lucky.

For the Sake of Being Me

There was time that I had a curly hair…years, stress, changing hormones and babies(yes them too) have pulled it straight, onye a little flip lingers.
I used to blog about what we did as a family, not just my daily musings. I have gotten a bit selfish. I like to trick myself into thinking I am cjane or nie nie, that you (all four of you) awake with the thought that you must rush to my blog and eat my nurishing

and vitamin packed words for breakfast, if only I was that consistent. Yet, I was forgetting the most important part:

We went to the Airforce museum. Anna was scared of the airman’s masks, Harris was engrossed in all things Airforce and I fretted inside myself thst he would want to become one of those scary airmen. There were big planes that held hundreds of men and a stage that Anna strutted her stuff on.
Most off all, we were all together and as I took Aaron’s hand I realized, I am grateful for this part of me that takes my kids to the museum and holds my husband's hand, even kisses him, in public places.Not just because the admission is free, but because it is another brick set in my house of memories.
Our outing like my curly hair is over, more bricks added and now thoughts seal them in place. Yet, our trip, unlike my curly hair has a resting spot here. Both can coexist here in harmony. One cannot be created with out the other. It is what this blog and me are made of.

Fearing 2009

Question: What do you fear most in 2009?





Aaron: The economy will get so bad that my new estimated date for retirement will be 2063. (I'll be ninety years old then!)












Kari: I will have an encounter with a rabid dog (or fox) when running.









Harris: My Webkins will starve because I have to go to basketball and scouts during the week. It's a chore to be a kid.











Anna: Bread and Jam for Frances

Its scary.

Monday Pros and Cons

Pro: I enjoy when things are more predictable. Weekends can seem in congruent at times.
Con: I live for life's in congruences, that is were the sweetness lives.

Con: Laundry day
Pro: I chuckle every time I empty Harris's pockets and find treasures from that trove he calls a school play yard.

Pro: Nap times resume on the tried and true schedule.
Con: I really want a nap, but had such a jolly time this weekend I must catch up with what was left by the wayside. By the way, I love waysides.

Con: It is a mucky, cold, inversion-esque January Monday.
Pro: My tot and I are banished to the basement and play silly made up games that have only a light dusting of educational purpose.

Pro: Having Monday night set aside for us.
Con: Figuring out who's turn it actually is to give the lesson as holiday cheer and snow storms have made our home evenings on the short and sweet side. Harris? Are you listening?

Con: Realizing that there really few things that are good about Mondays.
Pro: Only five more days to go...

Keeping Time

Dear Birthday Fairy-

Thank you so much for the fabulous, but a bit complicated, running watch. I love it! It amazes me that such a little thing can do so much. I mean, for me to record all that it does would take a three foot scroll. It was a a tad complicated to figure out what was meant by the logarithmic diagrams, meant to be instructions, on how to program it. I did finally figure it out though, and now feel I have earned some new sort of genius prowess because of that feat. I love that it keeps a log of my times and distances. Amazing! What a thoughtful gift for me, one crazy girl who likes to run more than is probably really good for her.
On that note, I have a request for next year. I know that it is eleven months away but, I thought you would like a heads up. While enjoying my handy new watch this morning, especially its accuracy, my thoughts turned that a similar watch with certain specifications could be useful for the rest of my duties. So, next year I would like a similar model watch but catering to my mothering mode. I realize I never remember to wear any other watch except when I run, but I ensure you that this one would be a permanent fixture on my wrist. Now, it must not be any bigger than my running watch and have no sharp edges that can scratch little children who are always underfoot. If you would please make it water, milk, crayon, urine and vomit resistant that would be much appreciated. Also, an anti-theft buzzer needs to be included just in case any little someone finds it and decides she needs to be mommy for the day and forgets where she put it because Super Why! was distracting her. I could rattle off a never-ending list on the features to include but, I will try to understand that you have many other mothers to attend to and let me tell you, once I get my "Mommy Tech Watch," they will all be writing you charming letters like this one.

First off, you need to include a timer. Not just a simple stop watch but a multi-function, multi-use alarm system with an array of pre-set times. For instance: if I am potty training and cooking dinner and Anna hasn't gone potty in a while, I would like to set it so at the exact moment she feels the urge, I am at a stopping point with the cooking. You might need to include some sort of a sensor in fruit snack coating so it can be near the reacting premisis. I would also like it to warn me if Anna is going to enter a tt (terrible twos) moment when I am trying to help Harris on how to write an algebraic equation the way his teacher does and not the way the rest of the world has understood it for years. The alarm function could also include, when Aaron has seen his last patient and will be living the clinic, when to leave to get to basketball on time according to weather and traffic conditions, and most importantly, when exactly my third grader must get up in order to be ready on time for school, since it varies by whether or not there are Lego creations that need his attention before getting dressed.
You would think that a good alarm system would do the trick well, there are just a few more capabilities this wonder watch needs. I need a good bit of internal memory in order to store such things like, immunization records, social security numbers, children's minutes read, insurance card information, and what punishments I gave, when I gave them, and what the consequences are. You see, with this data strapped to my wrist there will be no more of the Pediatrician questioning whether my child is really up to date on their shots and then thinking maybe he should disturb the peace and poking my poor two-year old's legs a second time. Luckily he trusted my word but, that is if I trust my own word, if all this info was on my wrist what would be the worry?
I would also, for my own blissful pleasure, a running log of how many dishes I wash, wet clothes I change, times I mop gray watery foot prints off my my white floor, stories I read, kisses I give, Legos and Nerf darts I gather, cute phrases and pronunciations I hear, crazy questions I am asked and all other daily morsels that only I really need to tabulate. As I tumble day in and out, these things need somewhere to call home other that my already cluttered brain.
Dearest Birthday Fairy, you have been so dear to me in years past and I know this is one of the bigger requests I have made. Yet If you do this for me, I promise that I will be tickled to figure out the hieroglyphic instructions which presumably will accompany it and let it never leave my wrist. Also, I'll drop the request for a second home in Paris, we both know I was being a bit greedy with that one.

My good wishes to the Tooth, Valentines, and Christmas-eve Fairy.

Yours Truly,

Kari

Sweet Solace

So here I am sitting at my computer, one child in sweet slumber the other attending to his academic pursuits. It is quiet, it is peaceful, it is seemingly the perfect compliment to an overly busy December. I have played a bit of catch up on household chores and done laundry. Then I sat down trying to get my video to upload for the post below that I wrote Friday unsuccessfully. The only thing is that I miss him. I miss them. I remember having the naughty thought about two days before Christmas that I would be a bit, a pretty big bit, happy when the season ended and normalcy resumed. Normalcy consisting of no extra trips to the store at nine thirty, no making decisions about if having a late night every night is kosher for a nine year old, no rushing do to Salt Lake to see lights, family, and any other activity we deem necessary because it is the holidays. Having days that just have the normal ins and outs like making doctor and dentist appointments, potty training, and spending way too much time on facebook. Never did I think that today twenty minutes before his arrival would I be so anxious for his homecoming. I miss his insistence that he must check on his webkins every ten minutes, it doesn't seem to be such a great privilege to have the computer all to myself. In fact, I feel a bit selfish. Who would think I would miss the bounding neighborhood boys who's arrival is announced by gray watery footprints in my hall and Anna waking up from a much need but much to short nap. Yet, I miss those footprints. Maybe it is good that the taunting, teasing, and biting (oh, Miss Anna) is over. Yet, the pirates cove, zoo, and army camp has now been transformed back to a dull living room. So as I wait for Harris to return I must repent from ever, ever, wishing school to be back in session.

The List

****Excuse me from jumping over a full detailed memorandum of our Holiday dealings there will be that and more trinkets, prizes, and treats coming next week.

Every year the day afterChristmas, I start thinking of the holiday to come: New Year’s and with that day the dreaded word resolution. I guess it is a choice whether you set one, two, twenty or none. My psyche has the idea that the more the better. The flood gates open that day after Christmas and they all come in. Some are new ones like getting Anna to successfully produce number two in the potty but most are frequent visitors. Eat better, run harder, remember better, and live better pour right in. I start seeing myself as skinner, sleeker and all the more together by April at least and realizing that I must set these goals now and receive the life that is waiting for me. I mean, there is nothing tragically wrong that needs rearranging in my life, but it is enticing to look what I could be. What happens after January 2nd is sometimes mentionable and sometimes my list stays under my bed to keep the dust bunnies company. So this year, as the gates were lifting I realized that yes, those same old goals came through, and yes, they need attention but, there are stories I want to tell and things I want to capture that should take the first spots on my list.
Watch her groove everyday and take more movies like this which I guess is for my viewing pleasure only since I can't get it to load....just imagine a favorite blanky used as a DDR mat and Anna going wild. Hopefully, I'll figure out this tech difficulty. (I found a DDR (dance, dance, revolution) plug and play Disney edition we might have to get. If it happens, she might just need her own blog.)

Go on more dates with this guy and kiss him a lot.

Hear more of his stories and jokes. Always have great ‘school's out’ days.

Do more things like this.

Remember that all this girl really wants is what's above.