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?).

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.

Fathers & Sons' Camp Out (a.k.a. Jessy's Day Off)

Will and Josh's first fathers and sons' camp out. Sure, they had a good time--eating s'mores, playing by/with the fire, sleeping in a "camping bed" (as Will called it) and eating a yummy campfire breakfast of "pankicks". Sure, Josh was in heaven, snuggling with Will in the tent all night (Will's first time not sleeping in a crib, by the way, and he did just fine). Sure, Will still talks about sleeping in the "camping bed." But really, what it was all about was what I got to do (because, let's be honest, this is my blog and isn't it always all about me?). I got to go for a nice long bike ride, without rushing back home. I got to CLEAN all the floors, with no one spilling or messing up around me. I got to take a nice long, hot shower. I got to watch a non-Hollywood action thriller (BBC's Bleak House. Slow but wonderful. Josh could have never stomached it). I got to go to bed nice and early. I got to SLEEP IN. I got to go on a nice loooooooong run. (Of course, I did lock myself out of the house after my run, but luckily Josh and Will were on their way home). I say: let's have a fathers and sons' camp out every weekend. I know I could sure use the break.

My cute boys.

Out of the Mouths of Babes

Here is the babe himself, lining up all his bikes. And below, he lines up all his cars. He is obsessed with lining everything up. He always comes and gets me to show me how proud he is of his accomplishments.

I just wanted to record a few of the crazy things Will has said of late before I forget them:

• He was holding my cell phone, "talking" to his cousin Beth when he dropped the phone. I heard a loud crash and then Will's response, "Oh, curse me!"
• Josh, Will and I were all cuddling on our bed, Will playing with all his cars. Will fluffed and Josh asked him, "Did you fluff?" to which Will replied, "No. Blue car fluff." Right, Will. The blue car fluffed.
• I was upstairs, using the restroom, when Will came crashing through the door. He looked at me, saw I was using the toilet and then asked, "Where's your book, Mama?"
• We try to encourage Will not to throw toys, only to throw balls. It must be something we tell him often because one day when I was cleaning the kitchen, I threw some spilled food into the sink. Will looked at me, pointed his finger and said, "No throw food, Mama. Only throw balls."
• Will looooves to play cars, especially on Mamadada bed for some reason. Our bed is a pillow-top so it is high off the ground, which makes it difficult for Will to get on. One time when Will was trying to climb onto Mamadada bed, he slipped and fell. All of a sudden I heard an, "Oh, Mensch!" from Will's direction. Apparently, he got this expression from his German-speaking father who often says this (it means "oh man!" in German).
• Will likes to put his cars down for a nap. He lays them on their side, puts a blankey over them, sings them a song (usually "Row, Row, Row Your Boat"), and rubs their backs. Then he uncovers the blanket, picks them all up and says, "Good nap. Good nap."
• One time when I got Will up from his nap, I asked if he had a good nap. He quickly replied, "Sure did, Mama. Sure did." It was too funny.
  

I'm sure there are more things, but this is all I can remember for now. Every day is entertaining, living with a chatty two-year-old.

Have I Done Any Good in the World Today?

Yup. Sure did. What did I do, you wonder? Why, I sewed 1.5 baby wrist rattles in twice as many hours (and let's not focus on the fact that all the charitable people around me made about twelve hundred rattles in the same amount of time). And now I feel I must pose the question that was running through my mind as I sat there, fingers bleeding, sewing those blasted wrist rattles: why, oh why, does every service project entail sewing? I will gladly clean your house, watch your kids, pull your weeds, mow your lawn but please, please, don't make me sew anything. ever. again (sorry, Mrs. Strangburg, my 9th grade home-ec teacher; I have failed you). At least I will sleep better tonight, knowing that I have, in fact, done some good in the world today. Because I am sure, certain, that my 1.5 barely-recognizable wrist rattles make the world a better place.

El Dia de los Madres

{Note: Since I took enough Spanish classes in college to be fluent in the language, I feel justified in entitling this post in said language. Mind you, the only reason I passed these classes (not only passed but received top marks) is thanks to my Uruguayan teacher's assistant who just happened to teach all my classes and who also just happened to take a liking to me; thus, in all my oral exams she asked me the exact same questions (all about mi esposo). Thanks to her, I didn't learn much Spanish but I did gain a love for Shakira and let's be honest--how much Spanish do I use in my every day life? Nada. But how much Skakira do I use? Muchos. That's right, "The Hips Don't Lie" is a vital part of my daily life}.

On this day of the mothers, I try not to get overly sentimental. Instead of focusing too much on all the "what ifs" (what if I were a better mother, what if I could just get pregnant again, what if I NEVER get pregnant again, etc., etc.), I choose to focus on the important stuff: breakfast in bed, fresh flowers, long afternoon naps, and homemade dinner. That said, don't think for a second that I'm not grateful that I get to spend every day with this rugrat:

Don't think that I don't love every hug given, every laugh bellowed, every nose kiss received, every song sang, every "wuv you, mamas" offered. I daily recognize that I'm living the good life, spending every day doing what I love most. And while it could be easy to focus too much on all the "what ifs", I choose to focus on the "what I've got". Because what I've got is good. Really good. Will and his mama; Mother's Day 2010

Here he's giving me "eye kisses" (butterfly kisses).

And here he's giving me "no'e kisses" (Eskimo kisses).

Palmyra Pilgrimage

Every year, in the spring, we trek to Palmyra, to revisit the place where it all began--in a grove of trees. Every year, we visit the temple, walk through the grove, see the hill. And every year, I remember why, why I go, why I believe, why I do what I do. Because a boy prayed, in a grove of trees, early one morning in the spring.

This year our pilgrimage wasn't quite as magical as in years past. Will wouldn't sleep in the porta crib {or anywhere else}, I didn't sleep when he didn't, the humidity was rampant, the BUGS were out, Will was a tad crabby from the lack of sleep, I was a tad crabby from the lack of sleep and our favorite sandwich shop was closed. Even still, we met Jane there. We went to the temple. We walked through the grove. And my testimony was fortified.

Did you hear that Palmyra adds ten pounds? I guess so. I'm figurin' it's time to do some bicep curls.
Wouldn't it be fun to be as beautiful as Jane? {Don't worry, I'm not jealous.}
That cute Will.
I love this shot of him. What a ham!