Everyday this and that

Well, it's been longer than usual since my last post...mostly because nothing has happened. And by "nothing," I of course mean all the happiness, sadness, whining and fits that make all my days blur together.
Yep. I thought about the last week and a half for a good thirty seconds, but I really can't report any great stuff.
Oh, except: Tom Hartman came to visit, briefly, and on that occasion we all enjoyed some creme brulee french toast, (yum), and a trek downtown to find the oil painting of Grandpa Payne that hangs in one of the many courthouses.
Beau got strep throat over the weekend and has been honing his "I'm sick, everything is impossible" attitude that makes getting a drink of water for himself a cruel form of torture. It's the third time this year he's had strep. Blech.
Jacob is way into Transformers right now, not outer space or dinosaurs which he was way into two weeks ago. Itellyouwhat, he can draw a pretty mean Decepticon.
Bekah *sigh* my dear girl Bekah. As the sign on Aunt Mary's wall says, "Being a mother is like being pecked to death by chickens." Bekah is a vicious little chicken in this context. She routinely asks me ten questions in five minutes, questions like, "What is sausage made of? Why doesn't lightning make a sound? How big is the tallest evergreen? Why are we not standing sideways if we're on the side of the earth? When are we going to Walmart? What are we doing after lunch? Can I have a cream soda?" I tell you, that girl will make a fine lawyer or deep-cover-spy-interrogator. Sometimes I think she asks questions just to hear herself talk. And fine mother that I am, after eight hours of this I either hide in the bathroom or tell her to give me five minutes, no questions. To this she responds, "When will five minutes be up?" Nails on a chalkboard, my friends. Here she is, so pretty, posing for a picture for her baptism invite.

And me...I am learning lots about myself these days, like that proximity affects how good of a friend I am, other amazing mothers with amazing children make me feel insecure and dumb, scoring a goal in hockey makes me super excited (so much that I lose my balance and fall into the goalie's lap), and that hosting a girls night out is a huge pick-me-up when I feel tired and down. I'm grateful that my husband loves me and I pray that I'm not royally screwing up my children. I wish I were better at teaching them their abc's, how to tell time, how to read, math...but I know what I will really regret later is if I fail to teach them to love Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ, to love each other, to love the scriptures, to love to serve, to know that prayers are answered. That's a big job and sometimes I just expect them to absorb all of that from somewhere instead of proactively teaching them.
On another note, I finished my eagle nebula painting. I varnished it to give it a good sheen (thus the glare), and I'm pretty happy with it. Hopefully he's happy with it, the man that commissioned it.

Here I am in my hockey gear after a game. My mom came to watch and took a picture for me - the one and only piece of evidence that I actually play. I didn't realize until now that the picture shows a portion of the sign above saying, "Awesome!" ;) I used to wear yoga pants because that's what I had; I have since invested in a pair of hockey pants - much breezier. The t-shirts come in XXL and so I've altered them each season to fit. I recently found out some of the other girls were jealous because they thought I scored the only small shirts. I had to correct them and say, nope, I know how to sew. Believe it or not, hockey doesn't usually draw the sewing-types. I'd love to buy some actual hockey skates, but I'm not sure Rus can handle another season...

 

The end. Congrats for making it through this much jibber jabber.