Sunday, July 25, 2010

What I Want

{First, let me preface this with I know I have everything I need--I'm not naive enough to think for a second that I am not very, very blessed. But hey, if I got to choose the perfect world, then this is what I'd get}.
Here's a list of some of the few essentials I feel would make my life a whole heck of a lot easier.

  • A full-time cook. Seriously, I hate cooking dinner. It seems that most of my life revolves around the making, eating and cleaning up of some meal or another. For instance, right now I should be making dinner. But I'm not gonna. We're going to have pancakes for dinner. Again. There's no shame in that.
  • While we're talking, a full-time dish washer. Again, far too much of my time goes to this inane task.
  • A four-year-old brother for Will (or just any four-year-old boy who I can have on hand whenever I so desire). Those 4-year-old boys are the best kind--they entertain your child and are tough enough to take any of the beatings your child chooses to dish out at any given moment. My life would be a breeze.
  • A Sherpa. I only have one kid and the amount of junk I lug around amazes me. If I had a full-time Sherpa, I could get in and out of my car with ease, all while said Sherpa lugs around my child, my purse, my stroller and the inordinate amount of rubbish my child insists on taking with us everywhere.
  • Three hours of nursery, from the beginning of church to the end of it. I mean really, after Sacrament meeting I feel like I have been through WW III. And my bench looks like it's been through WW III. And my Sunday best, that I spent hours ironing, look like they've been through WW III.
  • A full-time mother's helper--someone who will always be here so I can go to the gym for an hour, shower in peace and change my child's diaper every time it needs to be done. Like, right now. Will has stinky pants on. Again.
  • The immaculate conception. As in, some how, miraculously conceiving without a vat of drugs, millions of doctor's visits and an entire team of doctors. Come on, I just want to be pregnant already.
  • On that note, to somehow, again miraculously, lose a good 10-15 pounds, all done without any exercise, dieting or any form of strain on my life.
  • To be on the show, "What Not to Wear" so I can clean out my entire closet and have $5,000 to buy an entirely new wardrobe with the help of a team of stylists (plus, you get a makeover. I soooooo would love a makeover). Wouldn't that be divine.

There's my list. I really don't think it's too much to ask. What's on your list?

But since I highly doubt I will receive any of these things (unless anyone wants to volunteer to be my Sherpa? My full-time dishwasher, anyone? Anyone?) I'll just have to console myself with these words I read while reading my scriptures this week, "Receiving something without effort will mean nothing" (from Doctrinal Commentary on the Book of Mormon by Joepsh Fileding McConkie, Robert L. Millet, and Brent L. Top). So, I guess I just better buck up and go make dinner already (pancakes is still an effort, right?).

Saturday, July 10, 2010

Everyone Deserves a {Naked} Day

After our week long vacation in Washington, we've been slowly trying to get back on East Coast time. We've had some lazy days, waking up at 10 or 11, lounging around and swimming in the kiddie pool out back (no thanks to this crazy heat wave we've been having. Oh, how I miss Spokane weather!). And lately, Will has been so obsessed with "be naked", wanting to wear nothing but his b-day suit. So, after our jaunt in the kiddie pool, when Will requested to "be naked" to eat lunch, I thought, "Why not?" I mean, his window of opportunities to prance around naked are quickly coming to a close, right? So, he may as well enjoy it now because what better way is there really to eat lunch than this:

And, when I finally at least diapered him and he tried to escape to the outdoors in nothing but his dog boots, I insisted that he put some clothes back on. His naked day was over.