There's a squirrel in my pants!!!!!

June 9, 2012 Please forgive all of these- they are horribly unedited and a little shameful for me to put out there. So- We bought a van today- visited my brother and sister in laws family- came home to relax...all in all a pretty darn good day. We were sitting on the couch lounging with the cat lying quietly at our feet when she jumped up, sprinted across the living room, stopped in the hallway with her back arched skywards cornering the worst unidentifiable shrieking noise I have heard in my life- so my first thought is, "No! which of our family pets just became dinner!!!!!????" My husband quickly sprung into action and streaked across the living room at lightening speed- identified the little brown blob in the corner- a flying squirrel and grabbed a blanket with the intent of throwing it over to cover it up. The plan failed. The cat jumped- the squirrel leapt, the husband yelled and the wife- eight months pregnant in a piece of clothing that is the only thing I can wear right now without catching fire at night that I think was once a piece of totally homely lingerie- was acting like a cross between a rabid gorilla and a line backer thinking my stance was somehow having more influence on corralling the little thing than the crazy wild eyed cat and the hollering husband. It went into the office- taking refuge under a huge lumbering armoire- with the kitten, Ashes, still trying to show off her mighty hunting skills and Bobby and I staring at each other with our mouths hanging open trying to figure out what exactly a squirrel was doing in our house- and how we could possibly capture it without getting scratched or bitten. We looked over to our eight year old sons room as an afterthought and saw him sitting calmly on his bunk bed, looking over the edge of a book like he thought the whole thing was just slightly amusing. We all three piled into the office- our son, Brayden, suggesting we use a squirrel trap- all of us having a part in the brilliantly devised plan to coral the squirrel into the corner using a stick, a fly swatter and a blanket as weapons- a beach themed chest, a Pottery Barn anywhere chair and Mickey Mouse riding train to create the perfect pathway of entrapment for our new little friend. This went on for about 30 minutes. We'd sweep. We'd look. We'd think. We'd question. We'd reevaluate. We'd determine there was no better way to catch it and we'd start all over. This was all good until I realized the squirrel had barreled right through our perfect coral into a tiny nook just next to the rectangular squirrel cage and was three seconds away from escaping into the house through a tiny hole underneath the tropical chest and the pink polka dot kids chair to un-contained freedom. I moved, the squirrel ran, we started sweeping again and then realized it was resting next to Bobby's foot- which moved just in time to startle the squirrel into latching onto Bobby's leg for comfort before it realized Bobby was not a tree- prompting it to propel itself in my direction- running up the leopard print rain boots I'd put on for protection (yes- they went well with my fat girl lingerie) and across the room until it disappeared behind a ten foot bookshelf that runs the length of the opposite wall from where we had been. Brayden was now standing on top of a file cabinet, Bobby had been chasing after it with what is in actuality a large fish net, but in the way he was using it was a little reminiscent of a butterfly net- and I was still standing in the corner- slowly recovering from having jumped about ten feet high and shaking my leg about as hard as it would go a moment earlier when it had been running up my body like a telephone pole. Brilliance struck. We opened the window- got our fish net and stick, swept along the back of the bookshelf and Bobby very bravely swatted the thing out of the window onto the front porch- where I hope a neighbor at least was watching. Comedy like that shouldn't go unseen. Bent curtain rod used as a sweeping pole- $5. Pregnant wife in a frumpy nightgown and leopard print rain boots- funny. The exuberance of success- Priceless...

The Not So Molly Mormon Installment 2

November 19, 2012 A day in the life of a Not So Molly Mormon- Installment 2 Growing up, I always had an overly developed affection for the turtles crawling around in the deep woods of our rural Arkansas home. My Dad would humor me on the not so off chance that we would see one "stranded" and would pull over on the side of the road to allow me to jump out and "save" it, prompting the poor little creature to suck all appendages back into it's shell, no doubt wishing it hadn't bothered venture out that morning. I would take the turtle, bond with it for the afternoon, tearfully take it to the special spot on the woods I had designated as my turtle release spot, and watch it crawl slowly off into the sunset, occasionally missing it so much I would walk the six feet it had gotten in five minutes and take it back to the beginning so I could say goodbye to it all over again. Sometimes my big brothers Golden Retriever, Lucky, would gleefully come upon us and take the unsuspecting turtle for another slobbery spin across our five acre yard, usually with me running behind him trying to wrestle it out from between his teeth. Needless to say, the term "rescue" could be used loosely. I've grown up, moved away and live in a neighborhood with a pretty slim turtle population these days, but old attachments die hard and my attempts at heroism have never quite dampened. I have an adoring husband of my own now who's eyelid twitches when I ask him to pull the car around, and four little angels who terrify the living daylights out of me sometimes, let alone any poor unsuspecting creature who is unfortunate enough to be pulled into the vehicle with them. My second to youngest daughter, Hadley, has never seen a turtle close up that she can remember though, so when I saw one onthe side of the road about a quarter of a mile after pulling out of my parents driveway I was excited to broaden her horizons and yes, was a bit caught up in the spoils of my childhood as I found an old gravel driveway, backed out and took my Mother and kids for a short detour back in the turtle's direction. The chase was afoot. We would have to be fast this time because if the turtle moved into the brush we would loose our ability to call it a rescue and would be moving dangerously close to wildlife endangerment. I slowed to a crawl, letting the minivan idle next to the turtle as we all peered over the dashboard, a little bit of wonder, not just in my eyes, but in the eyes of my mother and children. My Mom was the first to look concerned, when it slowly dawned on me that, this time, my dreams of sharing the joys of childhood with posterity might not happen just as I'd hoped. There on a side of the road, in a perfect pile of turtle-esk likeness was a large spiral cone of animal turd. Maybe dog, quite possibly even raccoon... It mocked me, as somewhere from the backseat my daughter asked, "When can I old de tuttle Mommy?" Trying to control our giggles... I replied, "Not today, sweetiepie... Not today."

The Not So Molly Mormon- Installment 1

This is old writing. I have a renewed sense of journaling after seeing my friends awesomely bound blog book that she put together for her family, so I completely apologize if anyone is reading this. Lol. I write for my sister. She is the perfect fan. She pumps me up, makes me feel funny for a few minutes and then doesn't expect me to do anything more. When stupid things happen in my life- I jot it down and email it to her. The following are a few of those post. Love you Melissa- Maybe my kids will read this one day after I'm gone and thank you. You are the reason I write. Written August 23, 2012 "A Day in the Life of a Not So Molly Mormon" Installment 1 I had a choice when I woke up this morning. Clean my house before my Young Women's Presidency Meeting or attempt to make my very first batch of homemade laundry detergent- of which is supposed to earn me some highly significant savings-. I chose the laundry detergent. My house is not one of those cute little thrifty houses with only a couple of toys scattered about the floor and blankets laid over the back of the couch looking a smidge too wrinkly. There are dirty diapers from my seven week old, fourth child. There are masses of funk dried to the floor that I'm afraid to ask what are.There are two day old sorted clothes piled up on my couch and coffee table... to say the least- my house is not even close to being that harmonious haven of love and cleanliness I have always longingly envisioned. Still- savings is savings, which is how I justified the fifteen dollars in supplies I bought and the superior procrastinatory evasion skills I have developed to keep myself from cleaning. I set my stove up. A large used stock pot I bought for five dollars off Craigslist. A Dollar Tree cheese grater. Some dollar fifty Irish Spring Soap Bars (a three pack of course) and my moldy Pampered Chef spoon that could truly benefit from stirring a few dozen boxes of Borax. I labeled them all in my red permanent marker, I grated my soap into my large tried and true pot (tried by another family and truly banged up) poured in my water and started my wait for the soap to dissolve so I could pour in the other two ingredients which I had perfectly pre-measured into an old cottage cheese container my husband had lovingly rolled his eyes at me keeping the night before. The first two things I noticed was that the pan let off a hearty aroma of chicken stock that my Irish Spring was having a hard time competing with, and that my red marker was dissolving into smudges all over my hands and possibly leaving a red tinge to my newly concocted cleaning solution. As I thought through this new development my ideal of my perfect detergent making experience was slightly shattered upon the thoughts that my clothes might smell like chicken and look like they'd been washed with a new pair of superman underwear- but I pressed forward, urging myself to stay positive and just finish the recipe before I ruled out such a fantastic chance to save money. I followed the directions to a "T". When it was time to boil everything together I was quite satisfied with the progress I was making, deciding, since I was doing so well, to venture into the blissful world of multitasking and do my dishes while I was waiting for the well documented "coagulation". I turned, peacefully loading the dishwasher, basking in my productivity for several contented moments when I heard a sizzle, like water boiling over a pan of potatoes, and turned, expecting to see a light froth of water spilling ever so slightly from the pot. Instead, I turned to suds- mounds of suds, suds galore, chicken- flavored- suds, erupting from the top of the pan, spilling into the stove top, spilling onto the floor, pooling in massive bubbly puddles waiting for me to get my wits about me and pull them from the stove. I finally did so- pausing in a short sort of accepting disbelief, giving myself a free pass on a long sigh before talking my suddenly bright eyed two year old out of trying to take a bubble bath in them... I have to ask myself, does this kind of thing happen to everybody- or is it just me? On the up side- my stove has never looked cleaner... Until next time, The Not So Molly Mormon

I'm Better Where You Are

I'm pregnant. I'm tired. I have this hitch in my back that makes me walk like I have a peg-leg under my maternity jeans at least a quarter of the time and I've either been hurling or on the verge of hurling every second of every day for the past three and a half months.

I fell down the stairs with Hadley in my arms the other day and the impact was so perfectly angled that poo flew out of her diaper covering me and the stairwell in a lovely shade of brown. I was covered in bruises for a week.

I am a fat pregnant mess...but I'm happy.

:)

Funny huh:)...

Life is a battlefield

Being a Mom is such a roller coaster of good and bad, sometimes it's hard to remember when to put your hands up and let go and when to hang on for dear life. From battling with an almost five year old who acts like I am offending her deeply and personally every time she has to wear a pair of jeans to a little boy who has his first crush only to find out his girl likes another boy. The heartache that is felt vicariously is enough to make me wonder why I ever wanted to fall in love in the first place...but then I walk home from the bus stop past the trash my husband took out in the rain this morning before he left work at 6am and I remember it's worth it. (Not so I can have a garbage man:) He does things day in and day out not expecting a seventy six trombone band (I don't think) and cheerleaders doing scissor kicks to come out from behind the trees to spell out his name, he does it just because he loves me.

So today, when I'm picking up laundry and see the secret note that says "I love Alison" or am picking out another pair of jeans for school tomorrow that I know will cause world war three, I will look at the latest addition to our family, stumbling around grinning, showing off her four teeth and I will know that in the big scheme of things, that little bit of unconditional love that my parents and husband have always shown me will have to be enough. Now it's my job and someday, if I'm lucky, they'll be happily married and be picking out their own dang jeans and be able to see those same attributes of love in me.

My nine and a half month old daughter fell out of a high chair this weekend. She has a really impressive shiner and was pretty upset for about twenty solid minutes on out way to the hospital, but she's fine.

It would be stupid of me to let something like that pass by without me acknowledging the immediate answer to prayers that were given to myself along with four other people. It came close enough to her eyeball that everything is swollen shut around it, but her eye is fine. The function is seemingly fine. Her sister cried almost as hard as she did that her "little sister was so hurt" which is evidence again of how much love our Savior and Heavenly Father has for us. If she can love someone who has been in her life for under ten months with that kind of emotion, then their love for us has to be painfully intense.

Hopefully Hadley will read this one day and understand the love and divine awareness that she was given even at an early age.

(Or she could just wonder why we let her fall out of the chair in the first place. Ha! Oh well!)

I am fascinated by the way things work out! I went to my Mom and Dad's house with the intention to swim with the kids in spite of the fact that neither of my parents were going to be home . As soon as we were all swim-suited up to swim, it started to rain with an insane amount of thunder and lightning, although there had not been a single cloud in the sky all day long. We waited a few minutes for it to slow down disappointed about the anti-climatic turn of events, then got in the car with the intent to drive back home and run a few errands. I went a certain way in spite of the fact that I really needed to go the other way, then almost made it to my turn off for the last stretch home and saw a little boy on a bike flagging down cars. I stopped, turned around and rolled down the window to see if he was okay. Through very polite, choked sobs he explained that he had gotten turned around and couldn't find his way back to his Grandpa's house. He had been riding for two-three hours in the hot sun with the occasional bout of rain falling on him, trying to flag down whatever cars he saw and talk to construction workers to find someone to help him. The workers ignored him and the people kept driving by, smiling and waving at him as he moved positioning up and down the road, mistaking his flailing arms for friendliness. He was understandably upset and was at the point where he'd had just about enough. I don't know if he prayed for help or what kind of family he is growing up in (although they seemed great). I know that his need was heard whether verbalized to our father in Heaven or not and that help was sent so that he could return home safely.

We called his Mom, got in touch with his Grandpa and got him home safely. He kept saying with very sincere gratitude, "Thank you so much for stopping."

I am in awe at the seemingly insignificant things that the Lord set in motion so much earlier in my day that sent me in that particular direction b/c he knew that one of his beloved children would be lost and would need the help. It is evidence to me of our Heavenly Father and Savior, Jesus Christs love for each and every one of us. Great or small...

He was one little boy on a bike in the middle of nowhere on a back country road. He was led...and I was led. Unspoken prayers I have in my heart were answered as well...

...I had an impression I should clear out the back of my car before I left my house and didn't do it. We were still able to fit the bike in the car, but it was a much tighter fit and caused a broken leg or two on my antique high chair which is a comparatively small price to teach me to the importance of listening to my promptings.

Kinda cool...