Another Day Another Dollar

Buddy starting the "Fun Run" at school on Friday.  He did 8 laps in 20 minutes.  He claimed he "wasn't even tired" at the end. 

When I was a kid my mom would make us "job lists" every day during the summer and any other time we seemed bored.  We were expected to complete everything on the lists -- no ifs, ands, or buts about it.  The lists were always long and we had to complete the tasks to my mom's standards, which were extremely high.  I always got assigned the crappy jobs, like cleaning the bathroom because I did such a good job.  To this day I still hate cleaning the bathrooms.  And if there was no work to be done (because our house was small and it was always clean), then she invented tasks like picking up lint and debris off the carpet or re-folding the kitchen towels.  We picked berries for money when we were very young.  We babysat.  My brother had a paper route.  And then when we were legal, we all got real jobs.  We probably complained about all of this at the time, but of all the things my parents did right, this was among the top of the list, in my opinion. 

Working hard was a requirement at my house, and I will be forever grateful for that high standard my parents set.  I don't remember how my parents did it.  I don't remember being threatened, bribed, or even rewarded.  It was just expected we pull our weight in our home.  As a result, all three of us kids are hard workers and we all married hard workers.  In fact, now that I really stop and think about it, I'd dare say that I'm probably the laziest of the bunch.  And I'd hardly classify myself as lazy. 

My mom is the biggest workhorse I know.  She's always, and I mean always, up to something.  She accomplishes more in a day than most people in a week.  Case in point:  a couple weeks ago she watched my kids for about 4 hours so I could get ready for my daddy/daughter barn activity.  My week had been busy getting ready for the activity, plus I had been nursing my broken foot.  So my house was a disaster.  When I got home all my floors were vacuumed and mopped, the house was clean, the kids' rooms were clean, the sheets on the beds were clean and back on the beds, lunch had been made and cleaned up, they had done a food craft (a cute caterpillar out of fruity pebbles) and cleaned it up, she had read to the kids, and played a game with the kids.  All that (plus more, I'm sure) in 4 short hours.  And the kids were happy.  I was even more happy.  Thanks again, mom!!!!!  That's just one example.  I could go on and on about all the work my mom does each day, most of which is for other people.

My dad is a hardworker too.  He taught us the value of a dollar, the value of education and that money comes from hard work.  He has always worked hard at his job and despite lots of uncertainty in the banking industry over his career, his job has remained intact.  He is the type of employee everyone should be.  He works hard at his hobbies, has trained for marathons, and works hard around the house.  My parents don't hire anybody to do anything.  They do it themselves. 

My sister has a master's degree and had (has) a very successful career as a therapist until she moved across the country a month ago.  She was very well-loved by her clients because she was so dedicated to her work.  She had to pack up her entire house by herself when she was 7 months pregnant a few weeks ago and I never heard her complain about how hard that must have been.  She's a worker, so I'm sure it was just another day in the life.  She exercises through her pregnancies, despite being sick as a dog.  And anybody that's spent more than 15 seconds with her oldest son knows how much work and stamina he requires.  But interestingly enough, she's got it.  I'd dare say most experienced moms with 10 kids couldn't hold up as well as she does with her one son.  (If you haven't met her son, you should because he's the craziest and coolest 2-year old I've ever met.  (And that's saying something considering my kids are pretty crazy and cool too.))

Her husband is the second-most hard worker I've ever met (right behind my mom).  He worked three jobs during his undergrad in nursing and was a dedicated father, and kept up their huge yard/farm and still graduated near the top of his class.  He is now in graduate school and I'm sure he will be extremely successful there too.  In the 8-9 years I've known him, I've never seen him sit around. Seriously never.  That guy's middle name should be work. 

When I was a newleywed and my brother was in high school I was really surprised to find out how much he was earning at his part-time job as a server at a countryclub.  I ran across his paystub and could hardly wrap my head around how much more money he was earning than me as a college grad.  He had plans for after high school (going to Europe, serving a mission, college, buying a nice camera), so he was working as much as possible at the highest paying job he could find to earn what he needed.  I was so impressed by that.  And now that he's in graduate school, an involved father, a fun friend, and his ward's YM president, I can predict those work skills learned in high school will payoff even more for his future.  Oh, and he came over the other day and made me dinner!  For real.

If I didn't like his wife so much, she'd irritate me because she's just so perfect.  She's the type that runs on the treadmill through her pregnancy and looks amazing 15 minutes after delivering a baby.  She takes care of a newborn, exercises every day, supports her husband in everything he does, and works as a personal trainer.  And she's also that type that could have 8 kids and not even bat an eye at how much work that would entail.  

And then there's G.  He has a demanding job yet never complains.  He is the rare (I'm learning) husband that does things around the house.  And I don't even have to ask him.  He just knows what needs to be done, especially how I like things done, and does it.  He is an excellent housekeeper:  he knows how to do laundry and put it away in the right place, clean bathrooms, do yardwork, clean up the kitchen, put away toys, keep the cars clean, and take care of the kids.  A couple weekends ago I left on a last-minute trip to Utah and he managed the house perfectly in my absence.  He did the meals, took Buddy to soccer twice, got him to school, took Sambo to swimming lessons, took the kids to church, did a top-to-bottom cleaning of both kids' rooms, did about 7 loads of laundry, and worked from home.  When I'd talk to him on the phone he was never "exhausted" or "tired of the kids" like I always am.  When I got home the house was immaculate.  I was so impressed, but not surprised. 

After reading all that, I know you're jealous.  

So with that long preface, now you can see why G and I were so overjoyed after back-to-school night, when Buddy's teacher said he is "so cool" and "such a workhorse."  In our family, there is no higher compliment than to be a good worker (and of course to be cool). 

The thing is, it's true!  Buddy is such a big help to me.  And I don't mean the kind of "help" where the child is involved in a project so it takes 5 times as long.  He is a legitimate help and support to me and I really appreciate and admire that about him. 

I've been instructed to "take it easy" and "no walking" for a few weeks so my foot can heal.  I've relied on both the kids to help even more than they already do -- and boy have they risen to the challenge.  Buddy helps me with everything and amazingly, Sambo is capable of doing quite a bit too.  I put dusters in both boys hands yesterday and got the house dusted for the first time in a looooong time.  They loved it!  I loved it!  I have to make a conscious effort not to ask my little boys to do to much because if I ask, they'll do it.  They both love to work, especially if they feel like they are really helping and if they feel responsible for the task.

And that's why we've called our blog, "Another Day Another Dollar."  I often go to bed and tell G, "Another day, another dollar.  Oh wait... I don't get paid for this."

Yet all joking aside, it's not the dollar that matters, but rather the process of working hard to have a (relatively) clean house, happy kids, and full life.  I appreciate that work was the foundation of the family I was raised in and the the family I am now raising.  And hopefully Buddy's First Grade teacher isn't the last person to call him a "workhorse."   

In Case I Haven't Mentioned Lately

I love these kids.

Them + G = Best Part of My Life.

(P.S.  We got a glowing report from Buddy's teacher at 'back-to-school night' last night.  And I still can't wipe the smile off my face.  I'm so proud and I'm so happy.  I could never have expected something so simple could bring so much joy.)

Broken

Nearly 5 weeks ago I attempted to step from my house down one step into the garage.  Unfortunately, it was a terrible mis-step onto a cleat... and I quickly fell into a heap on the garage floor.  While the kids watched.  The pain was excruciating and immediately both boys were in tears watching me writhe around until I could get control of myself.  I had a carload of groceries to bring into the house and Buddy was supposed to be at a birthday party in 30 minutes.  And we all needed lunch.  Oh, and G was out of town, not expected home for 7 more hours.

Within minutes, my foot was enormous.  Through his tears of worry, Buddy was able to help me accomplish my tasks, including getting his brother down for a nap.  But not without all sorts of drama like, "Are you going to die?" and "Great.  Now we're going to have to go to daycare."

To make a long story short, I called G home and he came as quickly as possible, cancelling his meeting with clients and driving the 3.5 hours to get home to help.  A friend (the birthday party hostess) took me to the doctor for x-rays which turned out fine.  My foot was too swollen for a good view apparently, but the radiologist reviewed the x-rays the following week and called with "you're fine" results.  The doctor told me that if I wasn't feeling better in two weeks to follow up with a podiatrist.

Well, during that two week period, I put my mind over matter and willed myself to feel better.  I was in charge of our stake daddy/daughter barn activity so I spent several days shopping for supplies and food, getting the barn ready and moving heavy haybales.  During that time I also canned pears, got all the necessities together for Buddy to start school, enjoyed the last days of summer, and packed for vacation.

Eventually I went to the podiatrist when I realized my foot was still horribly swollen and bruised and sore.  He took x-rays which showed damage, but they were inconclusive because of the location and swelling.  The next day we left for a trip to Utah, with plans to get an MRI when I returned.  I hobbled all over Utah willing myself to heal.  Some days were definitely better than others and I learned that some activities (swimming) put way too  much resistance on my foot to be comfortable.

I finally had the MRI last week, then the following day I returned to Utah for another trip in which I helped my dearest Shaniqua unpack her new house.  I actually felt pretty good the entire time.  So good that I figured the MRI results would be totally clean.

Today I got the frustrating news that I have torn ligaments and at least six fractures.  Can you believe that?!  And now I'm on strict orders to stay off my foot which includes very little driving for the next four weeks.  I tried to convince the doctor that the orders were totally impractical and don't fit into my lifestyle.  Then he reminded me that I've got an 5-week injury that hasn't begun to heal because rest "didn't fit into my lifestyle."  Then he strongly encouraged me to rent a "knee scooter" and gave me a postcard with a phone number to call.  He said the knee scooter is awesome because you can get out of the house and stay "active" while avoiding the burden of crutches, which in his opinion are not good for you back and wrists. 

I literally laughed hysterically at the idea.  I mean actually laughed and laughed and laughed.  Especially when I took a good look at the advertisement:

My doctor is a young, attractive, and extremely hip, so I totally trust his judgment on cool.  Except this is just not OK.  Can you imagine me riding around Safeway and soccer practice with my knee scooter?  It's just as bad as headgear in middle school.  No, on second thought, I think this might be worse.

Lookalikes?

This is a picture of Buddy and his birthmom's daughter (his biological half-sister).  Aren't they just the most gorgeous children you've ever seen?  We just saw her a few days ago.  She is now 19 months. 

Here are some pictures of Buddy that look so much like her, it's incredible.  He looked more like how she does now when he was closer to 15 months, but still the resemblance is so fun to watch.  It's like a very welcome trip down memory lane to see her from time to time.  She not nearly as busy at Buddy was at that age (but who is).  It's awesome to see how those chub rolls run in the genes!  Amazing that his birthmom makes such chubby babies, considering how tiny she is.  And how tiny Buddy has become as he's gotten older.

And now what's even more incredible is how he looks more and more like his birthmom the older he gets.  This is where he gets his good looks:

First Day of First Grade

My little Buddy went to First Grade today.  Luckily I have been super busy and preoccupied with all sorts of other things, otherwise I probably would have had a nervous breakdown over the matter.  I hate that he is growing up and is supposedly mature enough to function outside the home without me.  And it's true -- he's needing me less and less.  I loooove having him home.  He is a huge help and he keeps me and Sambo occupied.  (Oh, you should have seen the reunion after school.  It's like the boys hadn't seen each other in three months.  Much hugging, wrestling, and loud laughter all afternoon and evening.)  Not to mention, I hate the annoyance of the school schedule: up early, to bed early, packing lunches, homework, and no time for fun, peer influences, etc.  I hate that busy lifestyle and I've been dreading this day for a long time.

But the big day came.  Although I've been dreading school, I've been careful about what I say because he also has been dreading it.  He's a fantastic student and makes friends easily, so there's no big issue holding him back.  Except he worries about all sorts of scenarios -- none of which are very likely.  Needless to say, he's been a little nervous the past few weeks.  G gave him a blessing last night (after we rolled into town from Utah at 10:00 PM).  This morning he told G that he was nervous until the blessing and after that he was excited. 

I took him to school and then he returned home on the bus.  He reported a great day and loved recess, lunch, when the teacher read 2 books, and when he found a Magic Treehouse book about Halloween that he hadn't yet read.  Those were the best parts of his day -- in that order.  The saddest part of his day?  When he talked on the "rug" to his best friend and had to go sit on his desk with his head down.  Poor kid was humiliated, so hopefully that was a good lesson.  Trouble is, he has several close friends in his class, so I doubt that will be the last time talking on the rug happens.

As for me and Sambo-we managed OK.  I kept busy canning pears and tomatoes.  And Sambo hung on my legs and messed up the house worse than it already was.  I wonder how many months til that kid learns to play with toys on his own. 

I'd complain about him not being able to play on his own, but I've learned through sad experience that time passes too quickly and soon he'll be heading off to school too.  So in the meantime I'll enjoy the company.

The Perfect Day

Remember how I said I needed a vacation in the worst way in my last post?  What I meant to say was I needed a vacation -- but I didn't need any of the work that goes into getting ready for a vacation -- in the worst way. 

And that's just what we got yesterday.

We went to the beach with our closest friends (missed you Nicki! You totally missed out!!!!!)  And seriously, it was just what the doctor ordered.  In fact, I just talked to another friend on the phone who saw me last on Friday and she said, "You sound sooooo much better today!  What happened?"  This particular coastal location is very healing for me, apparently.  Every time I go there I come home happier and more capable of facing the world.

Yesterday was no exception. 

I have a bum foot and G did 99.9% of the work, so I literally just sat around and enjoyed good conversation with my friends, ate chips, and watched the kids playing so happily.  We kept saying how much fun it was to let the kids play with very few restrictions.  They played with true abandon for hours without once being told to "calm down" or "be quiet" or "please share."  It was fantastic!  Plus the weather couldn't have been better.  It was not only sunny, but warm enough that the kids were all sweaty in their swimsuits.  We ate hotdogs and roasted smores.  The kids ran up and down the sand dune, caught crabs, threw sand, and enjoyed playing together.

I wish I could look forward to "next time," but our life of the party is moving in 2 weeks, so rather than dwell on that horrific fact, I'll just focus on how awesome the good times have been.  Thanks Shauna for making everything fun.  Love you!!!!!!

Reno

It's really strange to think we just got home from vacation just over a week ago because I need another vacation in the WORST of ways.  Luckily I got my windows cleaned by a professional yesterday and if it weren't for bright clean windows... well, let's not go there.

Let's focus on the awesomeness of our visit to Reno instead.

We went to Hot August Nights.  G went every night, but I could only manage once.  I just don't have the stamina for car after car after car but the men of the house sure enjoyed it! Sambo said "Whoah!  Tar!  (Car!)" every time he saw a different car, which was about every .5 seconds.  Good thing he likes classic cars because we're painting his room silver with a black racing stripe soon. (G's inspiration came from a Camaro a few months ago.)  Buddy most liked the Grim Reaper car because he's still really into monsters.  He is really good to identify the different Camaros, Corvettes, and Mustangs.  He liked walking around best, but Sambo loved watching the cars cruise by. 

We took a leisurely float down the Truckee River near Lake Tahoe.  It was heavenly.  It was very relaxing and was fun to enjoy the sunshine and the drunken fools all over the river.  Our kids were pretty much the only kids on the river, so we got immunity from all the water fights between friends and strangers alike as we floated down the river.  Buddy loved the river, especially the time we hit a few rapids and he fell out and had to cling to a bridge we were passing under.  Too bad we didn't get a picture of that because it was hilarious.  He loves to be scared, so this was the highlight of his entire vacation and he still is talking about it.  Sambo was a bit tentative in the raft, but seemed to like it by the end.  And now every time he sees a river he says, "River!  Me boat!" so apparently it left a good impression.

Buddy caught and loved on a lizard in grandma and grandpa's yard.  Both boys were totally in love with that thing and begged and pleaded to let them bring it back home to Oregon.  We felt so bad for the poor lizard because the kids manhandled it constantly.  Finally we had to let him go back to his family, much to the huge disappointment of Buddy.  Yes, tears were shed.  Many tears.

This is what I mean by manhandled.

And this is what I mean by loved.  He is petting the darn thing.  Check out the look of love on his face!

We also went swimming in the Truckee River in downtown Reno.  The city has created a fantastic place to kayak, swim, and tube, right in the middle of town.

They just got done floating down some rapids. 

We shopped while the kids played in the fountains at the mall.

And then the very best part.  We stumbled upon a Grimaldi's.  The ridiculously good pizza that we waited in line for 90 minutes in Brooklyn.  They've apparently opened up 4 other restaurants around the country and lucky for us, Sparks, Nevada has one.  We about died because the food was fantastic, plus we didn't have to stand in line for it!

We also went to the railroad and checked out some trains.  Sambo loves choo-choos, so it was pretty exciting for him.  We've been trying to bribe him with a choo-choo ride if he learns to go poop on the toilet, so of course, the entire way home he was really proud of himself thinking he had fooled us.  Because no, he yet to poop in the toilet since the last time I bribed him.

Not pictured are the other amazing meals.  One of these days we'll have to get a picture of us at the Atlantis buffet.  We go every time we're in Reno and this is no ordinary buffet, I tell you what.  We also enjoyed lots of relaxation and time to read.  The kids rode their scooters and terrorized grandma and grandpa. And then we returned home 400 pounds each!  That's what I call a successful vacation!