The Prisoner

"Bread and water AGAIN? Can't we jazz up the meals a little more, Mom?"

Apparently I need to try harder.

Win Fame and Glory!

Who knows where this picture was taken? Extra points if you love both people in it.

Close, Miriam, but not quite! Here's clue #2:

Clearing my Conscience

This doesn't apply to most of you, but it's drifted to the surface of my mind often enough that I want to address it. I have, on the side of my blog site, a listing of blogs that I keep track of, with the title "I've Got My Eye On You . . .". If you have checked that listing for your own blog and felt wounded by its absence, consider the following: I do not list blogs that require permission. I hate clicking on links on someone else's blog only to be told that I'm "not invited." It is also possible that I am simply not aware of your blog. Several choices here: either leave a comment on my blog (I usually check to see if you have a blog to follow back to), email me and tell me I should read your blog, email and insist that I add your blog to the list, or sit on your hands and wait until I find it myself.

Or I may have read your blog and decided it was boring, in which case, I'm sorry.

Puzzled at the Park

Abby and I went to the park a few days ago to feed the ingrate ducks all the stale pretzels, Cheerios, and other bread-ish food that collects around small children. They are never very appreciative, which sometimes leads to my chucking cereal AT the ducks instead of TO them. Don't tell the animal protection people.

Anyway, at the park we ran into another mom and her kids, and while we swung our respective children, she initiated a conversation. I hate smalltalk, but it does provide amusement. For example, she asked when my baby is due, and then what I "do." I replied that I stay at home, and she said "Good for you! Good." A little later in the conversation, she asked how many kids Regis and I want to have. (Again, I hate smalltalk.) I joked that while my mom only had 7 kids, Regis' mom had 11, so we're just trying to beat her--then we'll be satisfied. She said, "Oh, I admire anyone who can have 7 kids." I agreed, and mentioned that Mom also graduated from law school while raising them, took the bar exam a few days after my sister's birth, and is basically amazing. She asked, "What kind of law does she practice?"

This is the part that puzzled me. I have one young child and one on the way. She showed no surprise that I am a stay-at-home mom; in fact, she heartily approved it (or faked as much). So why would she expect that a woman with 7 children would work outside the home in a field known for its intensity and long hours? I guess she could have assumed that we are all grown and out of the nest, but since I never mentioned where I fall in line, for all she knew, Mom still has kids under 10 at home.

Does that seem weird to you?

Raising a Panda

My daughter disdains strawberry yogurt, choosing instead to snack on sliced bamboo shoots. Why are toddlers so weird?

Friday Five

Happy Friday! It's time for a list.

Five Things that Make Me Happy:

1. Bacon.

2. Abby's dimple.

3. Listening to oldies.

4. Knitting.

5. Tickling Regis.

If "Being tickled" was only on Regis' list, my life would be so much happier.

Scaling back

I don't know why, but Regis always feels like he has to argue with me about buying butter.

Yesterday I said, "Oooo, butter is $1.79! Let's get some. Write it on the list."
He says, "You do realize that we already have a ton of butter?"
I say, "That's just silly. Our whole fridge/freezer setup doesn't weigh a ton. It doesn't even weigh half a ton."

And then we carried on for about ten minutes trying to decide what fraction of a ton our fridge weighs, based on my belief that I could move it myself if I had to.

Isn't marriage fun?

Dumb Joke

Y'know, it's kind of too bad that Al Gore didn't win the presidency that time, because then when the media started plastering pictures of the First Lady's clothes everywhere, we could have called it "Tipperwear!" Ha! Ha! Y'know, like Tupperware? Only Tipperwear? Haha?

Seriously, why do we care what the First Lady is wearing? Or what the First Children dress in? Or that the First Dog likes to bite its own paws? Why are people being paid to write about these things?

Reflections of an Old Geezer

I've been reflecting recently on the fact that I'm 24 years old now. (Eeek! How did that happen?) I was married at 20, had my first child at 22, and will have my second this year. It makes me wonder if people are ever tempted to tell me to "act my age." It's not the norm these days to do that so young; in fact, it's not the norm to get married at all.

Seeing our younger siblings contemplating marriage has been stressful for me. I want to tell them to back up and think about this more deeply: marriage affects so much of your life! I want to ask lots of nosy questions that they won't know the answers to yet, because they've never been in a situation like marriage before. I want to tell them to grow up more before they even think about making that commitment.

But on the other hand, I recognize that I probably shouldn't. For one thing, it won't do any good. For another, they would probably be justified in thinking it a little hypocritical of me. I sometimes look at my marriage and think, "Wow, I sure lucked out, because I didn't even think about whether Regis would be X or do Y. It's a good thing he is/does." And then sometimes I think that marriage is really a craps shoot, anyway: there's no way you can know everything about the person you marry or how their character and behaviors will affect your union, so you might as well pick your numbers as best you can and roll the dice.

I think marriage makes you grow up a lot. But I don't advise doing it that way.

Big Old Jet Airliner

I bought plane tickets to California today. What? I can hear you all gasping incredulously. What could possibly induce Crystal to leave the Beehive State, the land of her pioneer forefathers, the birthplace of her darling daughter?

Well, how about this?

That's right, Utah, I've had quite enough of your nonsense. Dumping several inches of snow in APRIL is unnacceptable behavior, and I won't put up with it any longer.

Except that I will have to, because we don't fly out until May. By which time the weather will probably be gorgeous. I hate this place.

Happy Easter

Abby really enjoyed her egg hunt this morning. She was absolutely ecstatic about the candy she discovered inside the eggs, but she was more than willing to share with both Daddy and Mommy. We loved how she would find an egg, then go back to her stash to refresh herself with a jelly bean before continuing the search. Apparently Easter egg hunts are taxing.

The Easter Bunny has discovered that he has an alarming tendency to buy way too much candy for one little girl. Luckily, Mommy and Daddy are willing to sacrifice to make up the difference.

Nom Nom Nom

Here we see the lone survivor of the terrible Caramel Massacre of April 2009. The carnage was terrible. Worst of all, our sources indicate that this is not the first time this group has been targeted, and that similar acts of brutality occur at least twice a year.

Caramel Sticky Rolls. Our traditional General Conference treat. Mmmmm.

Dr. Who?

According to my pregnancy information emails, this is what my doctor thinks my baby looks like this week:

And this is what I think my baby looks like:
The emails I get (from babycenter.com) always compare the baby's size to a fruit or vegetable, which I find pretty hilarious. Anyone who has shopped for produce in California and Utah knows that oranges, for example, come in very different sizes.

But the real point here is that the doc and I disagree about when my estimated due date is. I say it's July 19th. He says it's July 31st, based on the size of the baby at my ultrasound. What? My baby is measuring under normal size? Well, take a look at me, Doc. Do I look like a large woman? How about Regis? Not a real big guy, is he? How about Abby? A little on the chunky side, you think? I mean, the fact that my first child was 6 lb. 10 oz. at birth when she was supposedly a week late and is still BELOW the 5th percentile in weight and height doesn't tell you anything?

I know, I know, he's just playing it safe, can't always trust patient's memory, due dates are only an estimate. That doesn't mean I have to like it.

Um, no.

I heard a car commercial on the radio today that included something like this:

"Prices for 2009 models have only gone up about $300! That's like a whole year of driving, FREE!"

Right! In the same way that . . . uh . . . kissing an alligator is like playing drums in a boy band!

Commercials like these make me want to track down the people who wrote them and sharpen my teeth on their faces.

Anyone else have any great comparisons to make?

Random delights

Try saying "blue-bummed baboon" five times, fast. And thank Regis if you get the giggles.

Take Note

We're having another girl! Our home is full of sugar and spice and everything nice, with Regis thrown in for variety. :) He's excited. I'm excited. Abby likes her new baby doll and enjoys poking my belly. We hope this baby will be just as charming.

Retro--or Not?

This last weekend, Regis, Abby and I drove up to Logan for his little sister's wedding. We stayed with my in-law's in-laws, who have a lovely home complete with the Little People sets of my childhood! Abby and her cousin Elsie had a great time playing with the house, the construction workers, and all the rest. Regis' sister and I chatted about how great those toys are, and what a bummer it is that they don't make them like that anymore. Imagine, then, my delight when I opened the Sunday paper and saw an advertisement in the Toys 'R Us flyer for--Retro Little People sets! The barn! The school! THE JOY! I rushed to show them to Regis (who, incidentally, was using the facilities and was rather startled when I came bounding in) and insisted firmly that I NEEDED these excellent retro toys. For the children, of course. Regis was, as I mentioned, a bit taken aback, but he readily agreed.

So Abby and I packed up the stroller bright and early this morning, ready to go and find these delightful toys. After a failed attempt to find them on my own, I broke down and asked a customer service person, who directed me straight to a huge disappointment. These "retro" sets are not the toys of my childhood. Sure, the barn set has a sheep and some fence pieces, but they are in the new fat style, and even worse, the "barn" is a commemorative TIN. Like a lunchpail. They basically just took a few pieces from the old sets, replicated them in the fat style (apparently so kids won't choke on them. I never heard of that happening, but I guess the old ones could slide through a toilet paper roll), threw in a crummy printed tin and called it good. My disappointment knows no bounds. Poor Abby will have to wait until we make it back to Grandma and Grandpa's house to revel in true retro style.

Life's Little Lessons

I made Amish Friendship Bread last night, and after tasting it, decided it was not worth the time and effort.

There's a deeper meaning in there somewhere, but I'm not sure I want to look for it.

Flashback

It disturbs me to see shoes that I wore in the 'eighties on sale for $60. Particularly if those shoes are moccasins of a virulent hue. Like these.