Weed Brother Tag Team

Dear Garrett (G-A-R-R-E-T-T, as you so loudly proclaimed),

You stepped into the wrong pile of Weed Brothers, my little friend. When you came to Barnes and Noble to play on the train table and found it deserted, you must have been delighted. I can understand how your delight might have diminished when you saw 80 pounds of Weed Boy rolling in (I'll leave you to imagine how that weight is allocated between the two). Though I can understand that this might have cramped your style, you must admit, you were a little bossy. Ok, a lot bossy. My boys just weren't into you telling them when, where and how to drive their trains. And after all, this is America, buddy. Land of the free. But, apparently in GARRETT world, the right course of action is bashing and crashing the trains of anyone who dares defy your decrees. A bit excessive if you ask me. But whatever, I wasn't going to be that overprotective mommy and stop you. Watching carefully, yes, (because had you crossed the line into physical violence, you would have had me to contend with) but stopping your poor behavior, no. And you certainly didn't have a mom there to correct your antisocial actions. Which was too bad because really, aside from the whole being socially appropriate thing, you needed someone on your team.

Ok, I confess. I was proud when my boys stood up to your bossiness. At first, when you demanded that Nathan only drive his train your way on the tracks, I was pleased when he just looked at you like the unreasonable child that you were and simply said, "no." But you couldn't just leave it at that, could you? Nope, Little Garrett the Dictator bumped and bashed and crashed into his trains. To which, he (very reasonably) responded, "Stop it!" But you wouldn't, would you? And that was your fatal flaw. Poor kid. Because before you knew it, you were the middle of a Weed Boy sandwich, with Cody bumping your back with his belly and chiming in, "Stop it! Stop it!" and Nathan towering over you (even though you are "SIXANDAHALF!") Eventually, you realized that you were outmanned and outgunned, so you extricated yourself from the situation. The first wise move of the morning.

Your pride was hurt. I understand. But please. Looking at me with watery pale blue eyes and whining, "They're being mean to me!" Come now. What self respecting 6 and a half year old tries to tattle on someone to their own mom? Please, GareBear. That's never going to work.

So I responded, "Well, I think they just don't want you to bash their trains anymore." That's the voice of reason speaking-listen up... "But they're both being mean to me and I was only bashing his train! He's mean to me!" (Pointing to Cody.) Please, dude. If you can't hold your own with a TWO year old, you're never going to make it on the playground. And frankly, I don't know why you thought it was a good idea to start something when there are two of them and one of you. You only have a sister and she was nowhere to be found.

As you will recall, while you were trying to tattle on them, my boys were watching me apprehensively, trying to determine if they would be getting in trouble for not bowing to your whims. I just winked at them. I winked because I'm proud of them. Proud of them for standing up for themselves. And proud of them for standing up for each other.

When your mom-or was that your grandma?(Ok, I realize that 'your mom' jokes may not be appropriate smack talk to a 6 and a half year old. Sorry. Kind of.)-anyway, when your female guardian called you to leave, their victory was complete. My boys had won not only the battle of wills, but also the train table turf.

Better luck next time, G-A-R-R-E-T-T. That is, assuming next time isn't against the Weed Brothers.

Most sincerely,
Their Proud Mama



I can only hope this is the first of many Weed Brother Tag Teams. Watch out world 'cause they come as a set.

Ickle Firsties

Or, for those HP illiterate readers out there, the alternative title for this post is "Firsts."

Baby's been having a lot of firsts lately. This morning, she was concentrating on Nathan's hat, then reached up very fluidly and grabbed it. I've realized that she doesn't try to do things a couple of times before she masters them. She just... does it. Like when she rolled over. It wasn't like she'd been trying and working on it for a few days. I turned around, she rolled over, end of story. Same with purposefully grabbing Nathan's hat today. She hasn't been shakily reaching at stuff lately. She just... reached out the first time and successfully grabbed.

We also took her swimming for the first time. This was her favorite part:


The getting out part. She wasn't so much a fan of swimming. Well, we went to a little community pool that had lots of kids playing and I think she felt stressed about the noise and splashes. Whenever an unexpected drop of water landed on her, she panicked and flailed and blinked her eyes and gasped as though she were drowning. Poor kid. Wasn't very fun for her.

And then, another first today-food.




I think you can tell, she liked it. I had Nathan take a video while I fed her the first few bites-shown below.






Yep, she was happy as a clam. Happy as a clam who has eaten a bowl of rice cereal, that is.

A real food eater. No going back now!

Truly Sorry

The usual Monday morning routine. Train tracks are out and boys are engineering new routes. I'm feeding cute baby in my bedroom. I hear the beginnings of a dispute. The dispute (naturally) escalates. Soon I hear a clunk. Followed by a wail. Followed by a super speedy, "Sorry Nathan!" Next, I hear the marching of righteously indignant feet down the hall. Nathan bursts into the room, hand over forehead for emphasis and announces, "Cody threw a metal train at me. And it hurt me. Very badly." He looks at me expectantly, waiting for the wrath of mom to incinerate little Cody, as he so rightly deserves. I call Cody into the room. He slinks in, a smile lurking about the corners of his mouth, no doubt hoping that his cute face will get him out of some grief. Very calmly, I tell him that I plan to spank his bottom as soon as I'm done feeding the baby and I would like him to go sit in time out until I'm ready to spank him. Nathan's face registers the satisfaction that good, proper, just, right, and true has triumphed over evil. At the same time, Cody's brows contract in puzzlement and dismay, as he realizes that even with his extremely high level of cuteness and charm, he will still be getting in trouble for his behavior. He slumps his shoulders and slowly turns to leave the room. As he droops and drags his way down the hall, I hear him saying, "But I'm sorry! Truly truly sorry! Truly."

It's difficult for me to keep a straight face.

Dinner and a Movie

So for our big anniversary date last night, we got an actual babysitter (like, one that we paid and that came to our house. Still a fairly rare occurrence for us, as we generally go the cheaper 'couple swap' route.) We went to Sweet Basil Thai-ever been there, those in my approximate zip code? We like it. I have no idea how it's still in business, as both of the times we've been there it has been nearly empty, but we really like it! The Pineapple Fried Rice is particularly good. We did the restaurant.com thing, thus getting a 25 dollar gift card there for 2 bucks (if you're going to follow my link and do the same thing, just enter the code NAPKIN at checkout to get 80% off your purchase), but the catch is you have to spend at least 50 total (then get 25 off, see? At least, that's what it is at Sweet Basil. Each restaurant has different rules.) Ryan was delighted because that meant he got to order 3 appetizers plus 2 entrees. He couldn't complain that he left the restaurant un-full. Then we hit up the old HP movie (which we got a 2 for one ticket price-we almost never go to movies, so I was delighted that when we did, I was able to coupon it for cheaper. And you can too if you have any sort of Visa card-any movie, not just HP. :) I do love me some HP. Do you love HP? How could you not? If I could choose to be someone in the book, I'd be Minerva McGonagall. She's rad. (The Minerva from the books, not necessarily the movies, though I like that gal alright.) You do know that we dressed up to attend the Book 7 release party, do you not? Here, let me pull some pictures from my wallet:

(Had to put that part in bold, as a number of people have commented on Ryan's bravery to dress that way to go to a movie. No no, not the we saw tonight, but the Book 7 release party at our library from awhile ago.)

As Minerva, obviously.

I'll let you guess who Ryan was, aside from just plain embarrassed. But he did it, and that's the thing, isn't it? That's some love. He's willing to go along with his crazy wife's schemes.

Good times. Both then and now. :)

Board Game Banter

Hello friends. Ryan again here. I want to clarify our board game banter which we've taken public on the blog. Of course trash talk is often slung around our house in anticipation of nightly battles around the board, but I don't want anyone to get the idea either of us is at all serious.

The truth of the matter is that Bethy wins probably 60-70% of the time. (Editor's note: More like 80%.) This is obviously a victory for her since she wins the majority of the time, and a victory for me since I've greatly improved my performance over the last 7 years. Maybe in 7 more I'll be closer to 50-50, but I don't plan on it! Thanks for your well wishes.

7

You forced me into it

I never wanted to have to use this. But you have forced me into it. (You probably need to have read the previous post for this one to make sense.)



I thought this picture might come in handy some day. Bet you didn't count on me having photographic evidence, didja? Why did I take a picture of this moment? A.) I was very afraid that some button somehow would erase one of my greatest triumphs ever (and do you see that last roll? Had that 6 been a 3, I would have added ANOTHER HUNDRED points to my score.) And B.) I believe that this moment, more than any other, earned me the respect of my father in law. I am positive that with this one Yahtzee game, his opinion of me jumped a few notches. I don't know what he thought of me beforehand, but I could see a new glimmer of admiration in his eyes afterwards. It was a proud moment for me. And now, one that has come in handy in rebutting Ryan's outlandish claims that he always wins at Yahtzee. Given that it IS a game of chance, he's bound to win sometimes. But always? Even "almost always"? Please.

Sorry, Ryan, but here's the thing. If you want to debate with me via blog, you have to know I'm going to win. It's like when someone tries to call a radio talk show to debate with the host. You know they're never going to win because the host has the button that can cut them off at any time, as well as unlimited air time to prove their point over their foolish caller. Call it unfair home court advantage if you will, but that's the situation you find yourself in, my dear. Leave now and I'll let you go with some of your dignity intact. Keep pursuing this foolhardy debate and you'll be licking your wounds from now 'till next Christmas.

A Rubber Rebuttal

Hello friends. Ryan here. From the previous post you will already be aware that today is our 7th anniversary. That fact, combined with the tauntings placed therein, has compelled me to reply. My first reaction is something that anyone who knows us even a little bit will readily agree with and has, no doubt, already concluded. And that is that, Bethany, the poor, sweet, math challenged young lady that she is, has made a critical error. (Perhaps all this couponing has gone to her head!) She fell victim to one of the classic blunders! (Movie quote… anyone? anyone?) The blunder? Standards. I was reminded quite clearly about the standard blunder a few weeks ago upon receipt of a test grade in a difficult class at school. The young man in front of me (who must shape his world around becoming valedictorian) pounded on his desk, uttered a few choice words (ala J Golden Kimball) and fumed off in a cloud of sulk. When he returned, I asked him, “So what did you get, so-and-so?” (names have been changed to protect the innocent) “An 88,” came the reply. Uhhhh….? All of that as I sat elatedly rejoicing inwardly to have scraped my way to an 84? Yep. Standards. The only thing I can think (having performed a near statistical analysis of the facts and data surrounding our marriage) is that I’ve simply cleared the qualifying height, maybe by a couple of inches, while Bethany feels she’s scraping over her bar; the bar that ’s apparently been placed at World Record levels. Is there anyone who frequents this blog that honestly thinks that Bethy married up? Please. I think the last time she jumped she must have glanced up and, looking into the sun, burned both her retinas. That’s not my bar above you dear, that’s a blinding shaft of light filling in the gaps between the scarred remnants of a bunch of your rods and cones. ☺ After they heal up, look down. You’ll see my bar there. ☺

As it pertains to the board games… it strikes me as funny that Bethy has so understated my marrying up and her marrying down and so blatantly overstated her gaming dominance. IF she wins more than half the time, it’s only because I almost always let her pick which game we play. Hence Yahtzee and Phase Ten Twist (games I almost always win) going by the wayside and a (coincidental I’m sure) increase in the appearances of Big Boggle and Bonanza (games I usually lose handily). Easy fella. Don’t make me start keeping stats!

In the spirit of our marriage being like a seven-year-old, I thought I’d answer a set of “get to know you” questions about our 7 year old life together. While the answers don’t necessarily represent us individually, I think they speak for us as a couple. Here we go:

Where were you born? DT Field during Y-Group. (If that makes no sense to you, move on. ☺ )

Do you have any siblings? (Siblings in this case must mean married couple siblings, right?) So,
yes, we have 4. Trevor and Liz, Chase and Amberlynn, Joel and Melinda, and Leah and Landon.

What do you like to do on weekends or in your spare time? We try to play a game most nights when there’s not a test the next day, we have one TV show we indulge in together and we like to do things around Dallas to take in as much as we can while we’re here. We check out the occasional movie.

Do you look forward to getting baptized next year? If it’s baptism by Portland rain water… oh yes!

What do you want to be when you grow up? We want to live down the road from the Portland Temple and work there together (when we’re not on a mission in England or South America).

How many children do you want to have someday? 3 ½, depending on how the current 3 are acting. ☺

What is your favorite movie? Napolean Dynamite

What is your favorite (secular) book? Harry Potter I-VII

What website would you say you never go a single day without viewing it? The 3 permanently open websites on our computer are Gmail, Weeds Seeds and all of the coupon blogs… ☺

Coke or Pepsi? Split personality here because half us us drink pop and half of us don't, but if we drink pop… Sprite. ☺

Well, that’s it. Happy Anniversary bud! I love you. Thanks so much for all you do.

Where the Rubber Meets the Fan

*This is my day-before-our-7-year-anniversary-post, as I have something else planned for tomorrow. :)

So, have you ever heard of the 7 year itch? Not only is it the movie that showcased Marilyn Monroe's famous skirt billowing in the breeze, but apparently, it refers to the fact that the average marriage in North America lasts 7 years. Or, that at the 7 year mark, people begin to reevaluate their relationships and start finding them lacking.

Well I can kind of understand that. I look around at our life right now and realize that in our married lives together, we've never had less money, more kids, more unknowns or more stress. Less money-that's self explanatory, right? We've been paying out and paying out and paying out for the last 3 years with not so much coming in. More kids-self explanatory also. Cute, darling lil' critters that they are, they add a lot of responsibility and worry. More unknowns? Well, we don't know where we'll be living on October 1st. (Oh, haven't I mentioned that yet? I suppose we'll get to that sometime later, hopefully when I have an answer.) We don't know where we'll go when school ends in December. We think we know where we want to eventually settle, but that isn't even for sure. We don't know what kind of practice Ryan will have or how it will work. How about the awesome economy-perfect for a guy to start into practice, right? Oh, and that's all stuff in the future-how about all of the right now unknowns-like, how's Ryan going to get the required number of patients and adjustments so that we can graduate? Will I ever be able to be the kind of mom I want to be to the three daring kids that I'm blessed with? And all of that adds up to more stress. I think (and hope) that this has got to be one of the more stressful times in our relationship. Now, please don't get me wrong-I can mentally catalog all of the things that I worry about and stress about, and I realize that even with those things, we really are very blessed. So, while I definitely know that it could be worse, and that in the grand scheme of things, what I am worried about now isn't all that bad, it still is what I'm worried about and thinking about now. Anyway.

So I look around and I go, yeah, I can see why couples start feeling a little itchy around their 7 year mark. But man! It seems to me like now isn't the time to quit! That's like ... well, I don't know. Insert your own analogy here of doing something hard and then quitting before you get to see the rewards. Ryan's mission president had an analogy about marriage in general. He said that you've got to give your marriage the same slack that you would give a child of the same age. So if you've been married a year? Think of a 1 year old! They're just barely learning to walk-you can't expect your marriage to be up and "running" if you've only been married a year. By age 3, they're starting to get good at talking, and they're definitely good at running. ;) By age 5, they're in school! But still just learning to read. Etc, etc. At that time, he had been married 25 years and said that "things were just starting to get interesting." So, our marriage is 7. Why would you quit before your marriage even got out of elementary school? I mean, our marriage can't even do long division yet! Why bail out now? (Well, okay, it's possible that if our marriage is a little more like Ryan, it already can do long division. But if it's more like me, well, it'll never be able to do long division. Or Algebra. Or Calculus. Or Trig. Let's not go on. You get the point. :)

So, this is kind of where the rubber meets the fan, to meld two cliches that have essentially the same meaning. I mean, there are days when amid all the babble and crying and fighting and whining and messes and stresses, we just stop, look at each other and hug and laugh because there's really nothing else we can do. And you know what? With all of the worry and unknown, I have come to learn something about our marriage and Ryan that I might not have learned were it not for all the stress. We really are perfect for each other.

Not that I didn't kind of know that before. But I really know it now. He is strong where I am weak. He is calm where I am worry. He is faithful where I am stressed. Ok, maybe what I'm really trying to say is that he is perfect for me. I still consider it the greatest coup in all of Christendom that I somehow conned him into marrying me because I am well aware of how far I married up. And let's not tiptoe around it, either. It's true and I know it. And while I'm no good at math, I know just enough to tell when I'm getting a good deal. And I'm getting a good deal here.

So, happy anniversary, my dear. Thank you for all of the calming late night "it'll be all right" talks. Thanks for letting me cry. Thank you for so willingly taking your whuppins at every game we ever play. (Seriously, the kid can't get enough of losing to me. Keeps coming back for more and thinking that maybe this time he'll win. Laughable! But endearing.) Thank you for being so considerate when you get ready in the morning. Thank you for calling every single day to see how we're doing. (No, really. Every single day for the past 3 years of school, he has called. An unbroken track record. And we haven't had a cell phone for all that long, so many times he had to endure public ridicule for having to use one of the school's phones. That's love.) Thank you for thinking I'm funny and for laughing with me. Thank you for your willingness to do everything. (Yeah, dude goes to school all day, and when he comes home, he jumps right in to the house--cleaning, cooking, caring for kids, and many other tasks that don't even start with a "c.") Thank you for being so strong and steady. Thank you for being so willing to help others and serve the Lord. (I just hope He'll let me in too when He sees that I'm with you.) Thank you for our beautiful kids-not only for creating them, but also for your continuously active hand in raising them. Thank you for overlooking my many shortcomings and weaknesses and for loving me anyway. Thank you for our life together, because with all of it's crazy downs come incredible ups. Thanks for picking me, fella. I love you.

See that conspicuously bare left finger? Pre-mission, people, pre-mission.

Second Star to the Right and Straight on 'Till Morning

I asked for a map to grown up-hood. A few of you gave me helpful ideas. Like,

-Cook a turkey.
-Have 10 different kinds of insurance.
-Though having a salary was disputed, I DO think it must help. How else are you supposed to buy the aforementioned insurance?
-Be able to prepare a salad for at least 20. (Having been the activities committee chair, I no longer fear making meals for big crowds. It's a baptism by fire, I tell you. Try a salad for 200.)
-Have a child in real school.
-Hang around the wives of summer pest control guys and realize how much older you are. And how loooooooooooooooong you've been married in comparison.

Here are a few others that I've thought of:

-Drive a van. And like it.
-Be able to make whatever Halloween costume your kids want, be it an angler fish or a robot.
-Have some sort of skill with the sewing machine. Real moms are supposed to be able to make stuff.

What else? This will be helpful for me as I want to feel like a grown up, and also helpful for those who do NOT want to feel like grown ups, as they will now know what to avoid.

Never Never Land

So. When do you start feeling like a grown up? Is there some test you must pass before you do? Is there a certain experience you have to have? Because I don't feel like a grown up. So it must not be any of the experiences that I have passed through already. Having kids must not do it. Graduating must not do it. So, how do you do it? Because I don't feel grown up enough to make grown up decisions. And we have a lot of grown up decisions to make right now. Like, where to live.

Where to live. With a lot of jobs, they tell you where to live. Company's in Dallas, you live in Dallas. And you just deal with whatever you might not like about it because you don't have any other choice. But we do have a choice, and for me, that feels like a lot of pressure to make the best choice. But I'm not a grown up yet! So how can I tell what the real best choice is? How do you pick the place that will be best for your family in the way long run? So far, we're planning on Portland. Because we dig Portland. But is that a grown up enough reason to choose that area? I dunno. (PS, let this be a call for anyone who knows anyone in the Portland area to come forth. We'd love any insider info we could get.)

How about Ryan's practice? Grown ups would know how to set up a practice and make it work. Grown ups would be able to tell the right type of practice for him and how to market it to make it successful. Grown ups know how to own their own business and stuff like that. I tell you I'm not grown up enough for this.

But it's not just future stuff. It's now stuff that I don't know too. I don't know how to be a good mom. I just muddle through it and hope it works. I don't know how to organize, manage, make and do all kinds of stuff that adults should know. I wonder if my kids can tell how un-grown up their mom is. Moms are supposed to know stuff and have answers. But I don't! Don't tell 'em. I hope I can get it figured out before they figure out what a fraud of a mom I am!

Maybe you start feeling like a real grown up when you get fully out of school and start making actual money. Maybe that's the thing that makes you feel like an adult in this world. I hope so, because right now I feel like this:





'cept for not as cute. And more worried. That's the trouble with this Never Never Land that I'm in. I feel like I know about as much as I did when I was little and have the same abilities as a kid, but I have the responsibilities and the worries of an adult. That's the worst of both worlds!

So, are you a real adult yet? How did you do it? And do you happen to have a map out of Never Land that I could borrow?

Skinny Dipping

Sometimes, a boy just needs to let it all hang out in the privacy of his own backyard.

How You Say...?

Nate: "Mom, can I have a Rolla Hoop?"

"A Rolla Hoop?"

"Yeah, you know... a Hula Fruit?"

I get it. I start laughing.

"A Rolla Fruit?"

Laughter.

"A Hula Roll?"

The harder he tries, the funnier it gets.

"Sure buddy. For making me laugh that hard, you can have a Fruit Roll Up."

Three Bears in the Bed and the Little One Said...

Roll Over! Roll Over!





I put her down on the floor this morning on her back and went to the other side of the room to do some work. When I turned around a few minutes later, she was on her tummy! So, I missed her first actual roll over, but then I went and grabbed the camera and behold-this is the second roll!

Let Us All Take A Moment...

...to remember what it is that we like so much about Cody. Because, frankly, it's hard to remember why I think he's so cute when he's throwing out stink eyes like this at everyone he sees. (Yeah, and as you'll note, he's still in his pajamas. It ought to be illegal to be such a stink face this early in the morning.)



What you can't see in these pictures is the angry screech that accompanies the stink eye and the angry finger pointing, followed by the angry fist pounding and the angry whole body shaking. Oh yeah. His two year old tantrums are doozy-full.
I also feel that I didn't quite catch the best "stink eye" face, mostly because as soon as I pull out the camera to capture the angry scowly Cody, his inner beauty queen takes over and he works up a fakey smile.
So now, if you don't mind, let's have a moment of silence to remember Cute As Can Be Cody, as shown in the following video.




Come back soon to me, Cute As Can Be Cody. I miss you.

Don't Get Your Panties in a Bundle

Been like this all family night.

He Knows It-An Addendum

Hah! Grandma reminded me the other part of the hair cut story. After Cody's successful hair cut where he didn't cry, fuss, whine or try to get away, both Grandma and Aunt Leah were praising him.

"Oh, Cody, you're such a good boy!"
"Cody, you're such a brave boy!"
"What a good boy, Cody! That's the way!"
"You did such a good job with your hair cut, Cody!"

Pat, pat, love, love, praise, praise, etc, etc.

He accepted all of this adoration with a smug smile, as if to say, "Yes, yes, ladies. I know. I know. I'm amazing."

Then I piped in with,

"And you're such a handsome boy, Cody!"

To which he responded without missing a beat,

"You know that's right."





Aaaaaaaaaaaaa hahahahahahahahaha. "You know that's right?" Really? Aha hahahahahah. Oh Cody, Cody, Cody. I recreated the conversation in a video below, just so you could hear him say, "You know that's right!"





What a kid. Honestly, has there ever been a Codier Cody? No. I submit to you that there has not. He is the preeminent Cody in all the world.

Grandma is Magic

Is it so wrong that I leave many of our personal grooming tasks until Grandma can do it? Well, I mean, not all of them, but if haircut time falls within a week... or two... or 5 weeks of when we'll be seeing Grandma, I might let it slide. So for future reference, if you see some shaggy Weed boys, you can just assume that we'll be seeing Grandma in the next... 6 weeks or so, so I'm waiting 'till she can cut their hair. Why? Well, for starters, she's way better at it than I am. (See evidence of handsome boys below.) And second, magical stuff like this happens when she does it.


See that child? Not only no tears, but a smile. A smile during a hair cut? Magic, I tell you.

And this child? His exact words were "And it didn't even hurt one whip!"


Thanks for the hair cuts and everything else, Grandma!

Nothin' More American Than...

Nothin' more American than visiting a farm in Kansas on the 4th of July. (Or, for that matter, there's nothing more American than having an outdoor picnic and barbequed brats and dogs, but I didn't get pictures of that.)

Nothin' more American than milking an electronic cow on the 4th of July.

Nothin' more American than pretending to be a dairy farmer on the 4th of July. (PS, is this the new image for dairy farmers? "Strong and gentle"? Hm.)

Nothin' more American than a hearty "Yeeeeee haw!" (Or "Neeee haw" as Cody says.)

Nothin' more American than a cute cowboy.

Nothin' more American than a roundy baby in red, white and blue. (Thanks friend Marcie for the bow! :)

Nothin' more American than two brothers in matching Old Navy flag Ts. (Thanks Grandma Meyers for sponsoring the Weed Boy uniforms today. :)

Happy 4th! Hope you all had a great American day!