Steve's turn...(at Sheila's request)

What I've learned in the past 11 years:

1. Jenn can't sleep with the door open even a crack (the light from the hallway bugs her). I, on the other hand, can sleep on the family room floor in full daylight for hours.

2. What a dust ruffle is (although I am still questioning why it is necessary). Along those same lines, I have learned that two good pillows are not enough for a queen sized bed. It seems that the pillows on my bed have multiplied and yet we still only use two to sleep on. Apparently, a number of the decorative pillows are too snooty to have my grubby head placed on them.

3. To follow Jenn's instincts concerning the major decisions in our lives. She is always right.

4. That the comments I make (that are seemingly benign to me) are always misinterpreted and never forgotten. For example, "You have great Halloween hair." I really just meant she could have fun at Halloween with such curls. She did not take it that way.

5. Doing the dishes for her makes her happy. Much happier than buying her something.

6. She likes to feel just as important to me as football. (Maybe even a little bit more.)

7. There is nobody else I would rather have with me to help raise my kids.

8. I never knew a package of a dozen gluten-free chocolate chip cookies could disappear so fast.

9. I never thought before I got married that the best part of my day would be sitting next to Jenn on the bed watching the 10 o'clock news. I know this makes us sound really old and boring, but it's true. At least we change the channel before the farm report comes on. I expect I will be interested in that in about 20 more years. Although I do like bacon ....

10. It's really easy to hide stuff from her. I just put it about six feet above the ground somewhere in the house and it's like it doesn't exist.

11. The best thing I've learned in the past 11 years is that the only way I can really have a good day and truly be happy is if I'm with her. I feel like a huge part of me is gone when she isn't there. I am thankful every day that I am with her. I think I got the best part of the deal.

Politics Shmolitics

I saw a news stand while I was in Washington DC last year. Someone had written the word "Lies" across the glass front. I thought it was funny, so I took a picture.
The last couple of nights we have been watching speeches given at the Democratic National Convention. It made me think of this picture because I felt that there were very few sincere words spoken. Most of them were just calculated catch phrases and well-crafted motivational chants, but there was also in equal measure a host of stinging and accusatory remarks. Not to mention the typical inflated promises that are made at EVERY political rally--promises that no one can deliver, that maybe no president ought to deliver (I wish we, as citizens, would actually try to fix most of these problems on our own, truthfully, by refusing to point fingers, but instead just doing our part to individually work harder and do more to help others). Sad thing is...I feel the exact same way every time I listen to John McCain speak. So, who, who, WHO should I vote for?

Later on we saw a comedy routine given by Lewis Black (for whom I don't especially care) and he suggested we elect the first "dead" president. Ronald Reagan was his first choice. Just picture it--that first inauguration day. We could carry his coffin right up the stairs and prop up his corpse while he was sworn in to office...wouldn't THAT scare the bageebees (sp?) out of all those other world powers who weren't afraid to crash themselves into skyscrapers just to bring about our downfall? That'd show them! We've got a DEAD president. We're CRAAAAZY! Don't mess with us!!!

Seriously, if it is between Obama, McCain or a dead Ronald Reagan...I think I'd pick the dead guy at this point.

Happy 11th Anniversary!

*A little disclaimer...I could not find any other wedding photos. They are all in a box someplace and I don't know where. This one was in a special box I keep in my endtable, but I don't know how to hook up the scanner to my notebook, so I had to take pictures of these with my digital camera, and that is why they are so dark and blurry.

Last night, Steve and I were reminiscing about our wedding day eleven years ago--a much too sentimental conversation for a blog with an enormous cow emblazoned across it--but here a few choice memories I have of that day I felt might be more fitting.

I remember the night before our wedding getting in a big fight with my mom. (Please don't be mad, Mom.) She told me that I needed to get in and out of the bathroom quickly in the morning because lots of other people needed to use it before the wedding. Oh my gosh! I lost it! I'm pretty sure that smoke came out of my ears--and possibly my nostrils--when I told her that I didn't care if everyone else showed up at the wedding in their pajamas! That if I felt it was necessary for me to stay in that bathroom tweaking each individual curl and eyelash from 3 AM right up until the time when I had to get into the car, then so be it! (As it happened, I woke up at 5 AM, took a shower and had my hair finished in ten minutes, with enough time leftover to do my sister's hair and engage in a nice 2 hour chat with my aunt before we all slipped peacefully in my dad's car, arriving at the temple way ahead of schedule.)

I remember not eating anything at all that day. Even the tiny morsel of cake I sampled at the reception--the cake that someone spent days making--tasted like bunk.

I remember Steve kissing me as we were driving away from the ceremony en route to the luncheon while we were stopped at a stop sign and it was the best kiss of my life...up to that point.

I remember Steve kissing me later that day while driving on the Las Vegas Strip (where we would stay that first night) and accidentally slamming into the car in front of us. (It was all resolved peacefully, though. No major harm done.)

I remember (except for the car accident thingy) feeling nothing but peace and contentment that day. The nerves and stress I had felt the day before the wedding were completely absent. It was a really happy, happy day.

Here are some things I have learned about Steve in the eleven years since that day:

1. He asks for things like "maglights" for Christmas and gets really, really excited when he unwraps them. (I don't understand this, but I think it must be the equivalent of my excitement at receiving--say--a vacuum cleaner or something.)

2. He gets really excited about pulling teeth. He thinks the cliche "it's like pulling teeth to get 'em to do it..." is just plain silly, because for him it is easy to pull teeth.

3. He turns into a six year old at Christmas time. And whenever he is around his brothers.

4. He loves to grill. Anything and everything. Grilling tools also make good Christmas or birthday gifts. (Except I have never actually bought him any of the tools we own. He always beats me to the punch. He'll just go out and buy it when he wants it and then come home and say, "Look, I bought my birthday present early.")

5. He loves to play hymns on the piano on Sunday afternoons to set a reverent mood.

6. He loves to let the kids ride him like a horse. (Although we learned that it is possible for a kid to break an arm when doing so. Who knew?)

7. He has learned not to blush when his wife brings up embarrassing women's issues at parties (i.e. childbirth, etc.), or else she will continue to push the envelope just to get such a response out of him.

8. He has learned not to be too honest with his wife. For example, he has learned to never make comments such as "D'ya know what? You have great Halloween hair!" or "Wow, I've never noticed before, but you kinda have stumpy legs, don't you?" Now he says instead, "You are the most beautiful woman I know!"

9. He works really, REALLy hard and never complains.

10. No matter how much pressure he is under, no matter how much he has on his plate, no matter how difficult the path is, he NEVER compromises his integrity. For eleven solid years he has remained good to the core, and I am a better person for knowing him.

Wow! I am so lucky to have this guy:


Happy 11th, Steve! I love you!

I have a problem

I can't stop eating this stuff.

I bought this package of swiss cheese yesterday afternoon so that I could make ham and swiss sandwiches for my family this week to pack in their lunches. They love swiss...it's kind of a special treat. Well...there were twelve slices yesterday and now there are only three left. I shouldn't even be eating them. I have a milk protein allergy and if I eat too much I get sick. But I couldn't help myself. I pulled into the driveway after a grueling shopping trip with my cranky kids and popped two slices into my mouth, vowing I would save the rest. But then dinner came around and I was too tired to make me anything else. I popped in four more slices (with a side of strawberries...Mmmm...)and then this morning when I came downstairs at 6 AM (I get hungry early), in popped the rest. So now there are three slices left and I fear they will not last to dinner time. Hence, my family gets none of it and I will probably feel sick for the next two days. But it was soooo worth it.

Here are my two favorite ways to eat swiss cheese, just in case you don't know how weird I truly am.

#1. I like to wrap my swiss around a couple of slices of bacon. When I was pregnant, I ate these mouth-watering snacks like they were going out of style. (PS...I can eat dairy indiscriminately when I am pregnant...which probably explains why I already have four kids.)

#2. If I must eat the swiss alone (I am gluten intolerant so bread and crackers are not an option), then I like to sprinkle it with a little salt. I know it sound nuts, but salt makes a great bacon-substitute when there is no bacon to be found.

Mmmm...there goes slice #10:

Hate/Love Day (The first day of school...)

Today is the first day of school for Laura (now in 4th grade) and Lincoln (in 3rd). Unlike the second day of school (and all the way through the 150th day) the kids actually raced through their morning chores. I LOVE that part. What I HATE? Arriving at the school ten minutes before we are even allowed to drop them off, only to find the parking lot looking like this:

Uhh...hello? Double parking? I don't think so...

We had to park a mile away from the school to insure that I could get out of the parking lot sometime before the dismisal bell rang at 1:55 pm. I almost forgot the reason I decided all those years ago to drive my kids to school, rather than letting them walk the twenty minutes alone. (At the end of the previous school year the kids brought up that very same issue. They asked it of me while I was driving them home. In answer to their question, "Why can't we walk home?" I pointed to a man just standing on the corner. He stands there many days, morning or afternoon, on the corner, staring vacantly ahead. "That--," I said, pointing to the man, "--is the reason you cannot walk home from school." "But why?" asked Lincoln. "Do you think he will kidnap us, or something? How do you know he is a bad guy? He could just be waiting for a ride." I roll my eyes. Obviously, the great pains I have taken to brainwash my kids into being as fearful, judgemental and pessimistic as I am have all been in vain. "Yes, but Lincoln," I said. "You don't know for certain. And I won't risk it. What if he really is a bad guy?" To which Laura replied, "Yeah, Lincoln, what if..." And that was when I sighed in relief. At least one of my kids has picked up on my paranoia.)

Here are pictures of the kids in front of the school:






Isaac and Noelle, excited to get the house (and the toys) to themselves:

"This is the BEST day of my life!!!" (Said Laura)

Oh, alright! I'll admit it. I have found one good thing to come about as a result of the whole lice-plague ordeal.

ONE. That's all. (And I refuse to find another. Wouldn't want to tempt the lice-gods, or anything, for a repeat appearance.)

Here's the one good thing: Laura was really excited to go to church today.


Here she is showing off her new "Do". Cute, huh?

Post-lice Celebrations!

By way of celebrating the complete obliteration of lice in our family, we decided to take the kids to get shakes at Sonic (I know, I know...we really go "all out" in this family. Let me tell ya, once you get into your thirties and you have four kids, celebrations tend to get downsized a bit.)


We forgot one minor detail: Noelle. We didn't get her a shake. Here she is saying, "Wait a minute! I had lice, too! This is soooo unfair. Why did all the other kids get a shake? You can't simply jump to the conclusion that just because I can't use the potty that I cannot also use a straw. Do I not have lips? Oh...the injustice!!!"


Here's Laura trying to help, but not happy about it. This was only a temporary solution.


And here's a better one. This way Noelle is happy and Dad only gets half the calories!

The Mystery That is Isaac

Aw...doesn't he look sweet?

Don't be fooled. I finally found my camera after almost an entire month of searching, and guess where I found it? Inside of THIS clock:

I should have thought of it, what with all the action figures that he has hidden inside it in the past. (All of you with young boys are nodding in understanding right now).

Something else that is a little odd about this boy: his prayers. Whenever he prays, each and every lengthy sentence is composed of random religious words all tossed together enigmatically. Some of our favorite sentences of his:

"Please bless the religious impossibilities to have the spirit of truth."

And, most recently:

"Please bless the waste of God's cup that it will find the gospel prophets."

It is very difficult not to laugh when Isaac prays.

Also, another odd thing:

Everytime this kid steps outside into the summer heat, within two minutes flat his hair is drenched in sweat. Gross! (But funny.)

This is what I feel like today...

Yeah! Our A/C is now fixed, Isaac's hives have finally abated, and I learned that the dozen or so baby lice that hatched in Laura's hair on Saturday just prior to her second lice treatment was supposed to be there. Apparently, the first treatment kills the lice, but not the eggs. You are then required to do a second treatment to kill the lice that hatched from the eggs during the week. It was a very good sign that there were only about twelve baby lice. It means that I did a dang good job combing out all those pesky little eggs during the week. And I am telling you, that two-hour long daily combing regime has nearly done me in. (Is it just me, or do I look like I've aged about ten years in this picture? Not to mention the fact that someday I will have to do a post on what it is like to have such reprehensibly crooked teeth when your husband is a dental specialist!)

PS...I am SO excited for the Summer Olympics! Last night I watched the qualifying events for the women's gymnastic team and it really got the blood pumping. Go, Shawn Johnson (who hails from Iowa)!

Today I feel like this...

I won't go into the boring details. I have high hopes that in no time, I will feel like this...

...which is a definite upgrade.

Here's to...

Baby love

Summer grillin'

Birthday parties

Weddings (and tears)

Friday nights with nothing better to do


Dumping our kids on you

Taking lots of forced pictures

Chillin' on the backporch swing

Lessons learned (in the sun and otherwise)

Pictures that have been deleted: any of those containing floods, the flu, screaming babies, Noelle's eye-poking escapades, dirty dishes, Jenn's stink eye, swollen cheeks from wisdom teeth removal, infections, burning things on the stove, lice!!!

Thanks for the memories, guys! We will miss you!!!

Good luck in Virginia and that harrowing second year of law school.

Love Steve, Jenn, Lu, Linc, Ike and Toe-naily

Vendetta!!!

See this little guy? I HATE this little guy! And I hate all of his little buddies! They are my new-found enemies and I must destroy them!!!
OK, so I know it sounds like I have lost it, and maybe I have. But for all of you out there who have not yet heard the news...the Fletcher family has LICE!

Is that not sufficient reason for me to lose my mind? (If you have answered a resounding "NO!", or even a timid, doubting "no...i don't think so...", then you are free to exit this blog immediately. If, however, you feel compassion and have thought, "I most certainly would not be holding up as well as Jenn under the circumstances, with four kids and three house guests," then feel free to read on.)

Okay, I could go on and on and on about the ridiculously exhausting cleaning and purging routine that has been thrust upon us this week, but I will only say this...

I have indeed lost it. My husband has said on more than one occasion, "I don't think you need to spray that again. Don't you think that's a bit overkill?"

My response? Yes! It is a bit overkill! And I mean to overkill and overkill again and again until I rid this household of those nasty little critters! Overkill is my only sanity! It is my only weapon! And I don't even think my pacifist, spider-saving brother-in-law who lives in the basement would begrudge me my murderous revenge.

(PS...I wanted to take pictures, documenting our pain--it looks like we are moving, what with our rooms bare with nothing in them but lone, stripped mattresses, and the kids have all had their hair shorn, well, not the girls, they've just had their hair cut short--but I can't find the camera. It's probably bagged with the rest of our belongings, where it will remain for the next two weeks. I really have lost it, haven't I?)