Personality....

Presley is starting to show some serious personality. She is still a very laid back gal, but now she has places to be and things to do.

She gives new meaning to jewelry. Especially in the nasal region.

And helping Dad is as much fun as going to Disneyland. Especially when she gets to "hold" his calculator and pen.

Shawn and I are just loving this age. Personality shining without the back-talk. And small enough to tote without a struggle. Lovely.

Delivery...

This is what I had knocking on my door the Saturday before Mother's Day. 3 Dozen. I don't think I've ever seen that many flowers in one vase at one time. Shawn scored serious points this year.

Overturned....

Somber. That is how I'd describe today using one word. Somber. A tornado ripped through the north part of our small town last night. Around 6:00 last night I was giving Presley a bath. Shawn had just turned on the tv and asked "which is the bad one? A tornado watch or a warning". I continued to watch little Pres splash her way back and forth from the foot of the tub to the head of the tub, then back again. "A warning. That means they've actually seen one in the county." "Oh. Then we are under a warning right now." Calm as that he said it. We've lived here 8 years and only had 1 other warning. Tornadoes always go around us. We are invincible. As calmly as he mentioned it, I said "I guess we better get in the basement then." Shawn headed downstairs. The kids were already there doing what they always do. Me? I finished up lotioning down Presley, diapering, and getting her in pajamas. Then I headed down. Calm as can be. Only. I didn't know that this time the warnings were so significant. While I was pulling pajamas over the body of a wriggly baby Jim Robertson's dealership was being torn apart. Car by car. Flipping. Dumping. Smashing. Then the Lakeside neighborhood where all the fancy homes are. Ripped to shreds. Then the street of Bobwhite lined with duplex's. Homes invaded. All while I sauntered slowly down the stairs into my basement. So fast. Lives in upheaval. Turned on a dime. So fast. Some friends of ours called to see if they could come hang out in our basement should any more storms occur. To me it was just like having some friends over on a regular Wednesday night. Playing Wii, watching the news, talking. All while the people just north of us were watching their lives unravel in the blink of an eye. The news station was out so we were getting zero information. Rumors were spreading like wildfire by cell phone. Making sure the ones we are closest too were fine. And they all were. Minus a few shingles, and being separated from a child for the evening. Everyone was alive. And fine. At 10:00 after our kids were tucked safely in their beds because the storm threat was gone, the news station was back running local news. They were interviewing a few victims. One man and woman were glad to be alive. When they interviewed the owner of Jim Robertson dealership, the anchor man said "At least you are all alive, right?" The owner paused. And he had this look on his face. Then he said, "Yeah, but...." and then he backed away from the camera. I finished his sentence in my head. "yeah, but everything I've worked my entire life to build. All the hours I've put in making this dealership successful. All the paperwork, employees, my lively hood. Gone. We are alive, but everything is gone." That is what I would have wanted to say. Ethan was talking to me this morning and saying how it's okay because they all still have their jobs and they can just pay to put everything back together. So simple. In my mind it isn't about the money. It's the invasion. How one minute all is well and then poof. Gone. Invaded. Destroyed. Everything you've worked your whole life to build up is taken away. Do you have the energy to spend the rest of your life re-building what you had already spent so much time building the first time? Frustrating. Sad. Overwhelming. The town is really rallying together to help those directly affected. I was just in Walmart and everyone knows what I know. Everyone I passed looked into my eyes with that same knowing look. We are okay. But there are those that aren't. Somber. That is the word I'd use to describe today. The day after disaster. Somber.

My Mom....

This is my Mom. Wait. I'm not going to post a picture. She hates to be in pictures. It would be unfair to post one when trying to honor her. (You're welcome Mom). My Mom is awesome. All growing up my friends always told me how cool my Mom was. I just always saw her as my Mom. I remember one time when I was 13 or so and we were in Malad at my Aunt Sandra's house for a Price family reunion. My mom was getting picked up by her 4 best friends in the world for a girls get-a-way weekend. I remember trying to ask her something about what to do with one of the kids. (Even though my Dad was around I still felt responsible). Only I couldn't get an answer out of her. It was like once her friends showed up she reverted back to junior high. All giggly and stuff. I was so baffled to see her that way. I think it was the first time I recognized that she was actually a real person. Not just a Mom. I had never seen that before. Once I became a Mom myself everything made sense to me. I can honestly look back over my childhood at all the things my Mom did and now I understand. Completely. Like the time I got caught in a ginormous lie and my Dad came down to the bowling alley and interrupted the birthday party I was attending to dole out a punishment. I realize now that it wasn't the actual lie itself, but that my Mom was hurt that I felt like I needed to lie to her. Like I didn't feel safe enough in our relationship to tell her the truth. As a Mom that's a huge slap in the face. I now truly know how she must have felt every time we packed up our house and moved away from all our friends. And hers. I only know this because just 2 weeks ago I asked her how she was able to be so excited every time we relocated. She let the guard down and told me she hated to move as much as we did. She was just as afraid as we were. I never felt that fear. Ever. She was that good. As I've gotten older (and had more kids) my relationship has changed with my Mom. She is now more of a friend. Someone I can call and voice my concerns too. She's been there, done that. I like that I can call her and ask if it's normal for 9 year olds to burst into tears constantly over ridiculous things and she assures me that it is. And then admits that she just remembers someone in our house crying incessantly at one point or another. Then laughs. And assures me that this too shall pass. I love that I can call her anytime and ask stupid things like how to boil eggs on Easter. I do that every year. And every year she asks how I can cook such great meals and still can't boil eggs. And then laughs. She laughs a lot. The good hard belly laugh if you get her on the phone long enough, or travel with her. I'm usually laughing as we hang up the phone. It brightens my day. A few years ago a really good friend of mine lost her Mom. Her Mom was really young too. It made me think differently about my Mom and made me realize how much I still rely on her and her wisdom. (Mom, I know you laughed in your head when I said that about your wisdom. But. It's true.) Everyone always says you eventually turn into your mom. And it is oh so true. I'm turning. But I'm glad. As I was waiting at the front door for Katherine to pick me up so we could drive to the train station for our girls get-a-way I felt like my Mom. From my clothes, to where I placed my jacket on my arm, and the way I postured myself. I was my Mom at that very moment. And I knew how she felt that one day when her friends were picking her up. I was experiencing the giddiness she felt when she couldn't give me the responsible "mom" answer to my question. She was going away where she could be "Deb" again. The "Deb" that only is able to come out when she doesn't feel responsible for all her kids and their needs and wants. I'm so glad that I'm old enough to see my Mom as both. Deb and Mom. They are two different people. And now I get it. Thanks Mom. For all your sacrifices. Worry. Stress. Guilt. Sleepless nights. Laughter. Made up stories because they made a good point but were entertaining. Laundry. Dishes. Moves. Love. And everything in between. I truly appreciate you and all you have done and continue to do. I love you. Happy Mothers Day.

Alignment...

The guy that owns the moving company in town came over last night to give us our estimate. He actually gave us a "confirmed" price which means he will not charge us more than he says it will be. We are all set as far as that goes. And I don't have to pack. Not one box. Except for the suitcases we will need to live out of for a few days. Nice. This should be a good move. Right? All the stars are aligning, but that doesn't mean it will go off without a hitch. I've mentioned before that I'm a planner. I like every detail ironed out nicely. Things like---when should my mom come that would be the absolute most help? When am I going to get blinds for the new rental because I want my kids to sleep past the suns first awakening? And I need a shower rod. What color shower curtain do I want in my bathroom? And then will I just get new towels and rugs to match? It's only a rental. All these stupid nit-picky details that I know are ridiculous. Who cares. Life will continue regardless and everyone will still be alive, right? Only. I find myself thinking of these ridiculous details. In the middle of the night. At 3 am when my bladder is full I slowly make my way into the bathroom and the first thing I step on is the rug. The rug that doesn't have a shower curtain to match, or a rod to hold said shower curtain. Then I notice the street light peeking through the blinds. The ones we don't have in our rental yet. By then I can't stop the thoughts. My 30 second bathroom trip turns into an hour of tossing and turning and going over dates, time lines, and airplane trips trying to make this all culminate into the perfect move. Ridiculous. And a serious waste of good sleep. I wish I could just lay down on my pillow and sleep away all my stress. Shawn does. When he is stressed, sleep is what he does best. And let me tell you. Lately he has been seriously stressed. While I am busy planning our lives in the wee morning hours my husband is sleeping especially sound. Irritating. Maybe now that the mover is secured I'll be able to quit the obsessing. Maybe I need to cut out liquids past 7 pm.

Settled....

The man I married seems to always get what he wants in the end. Amazing. And beneficial to me a lot of the time. Like now. As I've previously mentioned, when moving we would be seriously downsizing. There was this one house that has been on the market for 1 1/2 years because of a few quirky things. And it's kind of overpriced. It is situated on the country club's golf course, and a stones throw away from the country club itself. Easy access to a pool. In a cul-de-sac. They won't rent to a family because it would be too hard to displace us should the house sell. Only. Shawn has a way. It's a nice way, not pushy. He's just able to somehow convince people they would benefit by helping him. Like by letting us rent this house and pay their mortgage for them. Instead of having it sit empty on the market for another year, why not let us help them out. And take it off the market for the entire year. We would love it, take care of it like our own, only they would be the owners. For one year. And the owners approved of the deal. Outstanding. I'm no longer dreading this move. We will have plenty of space to sleep the little people, let them run free and not under foot. A completely unfinished basement for my treadmill and Shawn's weight equipment. And. My new backyard is the golf course. I think now I need to take lessons. Excellent.

Pre-ciou-sley...7 months