Mistaken Identity

I totally thought for a couple weeks that I had assassin bugs in my garden.  They're pretty awesome albeit kinda creepy looking.  They help my garden by eating pests.  Friends. :)

But no.  I was wrong.  They're not friends.  :( They're not assassin bugs, they're squash bugs.  Helping themselves to the leaves, stalks, stems and fruit of my Baby Pam pumpkin plant.

This is my un-friend request squash bugs.  Consider yourselves uninvited to the smorgasbord you've made of my garden.

(wordless) Gratitude

I sometimes forget just how good I have it when, in a fit of selfishness, I bemoan the vast quantities of laundry facing me.  Or when I wish I could get a nap too.  Or read a book.  Or veg on the couch.

And then I get hit with hormones, and suddenly, everything is a much much bigger deal.  Like it was a few months ago or like right now, when I'm almost crushed by a renewed perspective of my reality and gratitude for just how darn good I have it.

Let's review.

1. I have a husband who loves and respects me.
2. I have a great job, that I enjoy and pays me very well for what I do.
3. We have two beautiful, vibrant, healthy little girls.  Who love me and Daddy and each other. 
4. Our girls have never had to go to sleep hungry.
5. Our girls have never had to endure or witness violence or rage.
6. Our girls are learning both English and Spanish and their letters and numbers.
7. Our girls have access to great schools, music, safe places to play and healthy food.
8. Our girls have never had to walk across the plains to seek freedom from persecution.
9. I have the gospel in my life that comforts me when I worry about if (heaven help me), I should lose one of my babies.

My heart aches for the mothers and fathers who have had to comfort their children in war torn countries, where crimes are not punished or are enacted against you by your government.

No, our nation and our world is not perfect.  Nor will it ever be under the direction of mortal hands.  But for today.  I myself am going to thank my father in heaven for piles of laundry.  And toothy smiles.  And kisses and slobber.  And enjoy every bit of the misery and joy that is given to me. Because I realized a couple years ago - wishing to be past the pain won't make it go faster.  And wishing your life away is pretty ungreatful when you have it as good as I do.

Dear Mom and Dad,

Thank you,

For the piano, violin and voice lessons.
The braces.
Buying me those horrible choir dresses and telling me I looked beautiful.
Letting me use your embroidery floss for friendship bracelets.
Tutoring me in math when it probably wasn't fun for you either.
For teaching me how to be kind and how to love myself.

I never realized that you, as parents were and probably are still proud of me - as I am of my girls.

For what it's worth, I'm proud of you too.

I love you.

Memorable Moments

Erik had Alyson on his lap at church the other day and she farted.

Daddy: (whispers) Honey, say 'excuse me'.
Aly: (normal Aly loud voice) You farted!

Oh, the joys.

Dear Mom,

I remember one time I was getting ready to go over to Heather’s house (when we were living on Mayo) and I just started walking and didn’t stop. Didn’t even warn you that I was going.  When I got there, you'd already been on the phone with Heather's mom and I'm pretty sure I got an earful from both of you.


I used to just drop my backpack on the front lawn when I got home from school. Not sure why. But I did.  I think I was about 6 or 7 at that point.

And then of course there was that time that Rachel, Bonnie and I decided to go look for cans to recycle. And we decided to go look at the Expo Center. Without telling you. That's the only time I ever remember being grounded.

And there was one time in Middle School when I had detention (for eating a caramel in history class) I didn’t wait for you to come pick me up. I just started walking home when I didn't like what the other kids were talking about.  Of course I didn't think about going inside.  Nope - I just packed up my backpack and violin and headed out. But of course, I didn’t take any normal sort of route home. Because when Burlingame meets 29th, there’s no really good place to cross on the southwest side of the road. No sidewalks or crossing signs. I didn’t realize that soon enough, so instead of backtracking, I started walking west on 29th to find a better place. And you found me. After who knows how long of looking and how much cursing and praying.

So, uh. Thanks for always letting me live to see my next birthday. I didn’t always deserve it. I love you.