Let your light so shiner

Quiz.

The bruise on Leah's face was incurred:

(A) During an encounter with a bully,

(B) In an unfortunate playground accident, or

(C) While serving as the reverence child.

If you have ever met Leah, the answer is obviously "C." She is the only Sunbeam I know capable of sustaining facial injuries in an attempt to model reverent behavior.

For those unfamiliar with LDS culture, it is traditional each Sunday to invite two particularly adorable primary-age children to stand at the front of the chapel and fold their arms, reminding the congregation to reverently prepare themselves for sacrament meeting.

(It is also generally considered inappropriate to snap pictures with your cell phone before worship services. But let's not fret over details.)

So last week, my girls were called to duty. This was no small feat, as Jack was in DC and curtain call is 8:50 am, but we made it on time and things actually started out very well. Leah's arms remained folded for a good 2 or 3 minutes before the boredom kicked in. Then she transitioned to waving, then winking, and then double thumbs up. Just as she was hitting her stride, a member of the bishopric mercifully started the meeting, thanked the girls, and invited them to return to their seats.

Leah, likely assumming that she would receive gum as payoff for her mad reverence skills, responded to the invitation like a starting gun. She ran full speed toward the stairs without looking, slammed her face into the music stand, and was knocked to the ground. Jolie (mortified) helped her to her feet, then she continued racing toward our bench unfazed.

By the time she arrived at sharing time, the bruise had appeared like a badge of glory. Just in time for the primary president to award her highest honor to date - a sticker that says, "I can be reverent."

Dental Records

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As you may recall, Cal’s first two teeth were some serious upper fangs. Precious. But admittedly a bit of a pain, as people were constantly mistaking him for Edward.

(*Editor’s Note: I have not seen New Moon, nor could I find an image online of Edward flashing his New Moon fangs. But in my head, he looks exactly like this. Ladies, did I get it right? Sexy!)

As much as I enjoyed the Twilike phase, I was pretty excited when two new teeth finally broke through.

Unfortunately, now people are constantly mistaking him for Michael Strahan.

We spent all of December singing "All I want for Christmas is my Two Front Teeth." Perhaps we should have been more specific.

Annual Report

In 2009,

Cal learned how to walk.

Leah potty trained.

Jolie started kindergarten.

Jack finished graduate school.

Katie (see above)

We appreciate you sharing 2009 with us, and look forward to including you in our 2010.

Next year promises to bring big changes to our family. Stay tuned -

Happy New Year!

Giveaway Miracle Spectacular

Six years ago, my sister's husband Richard got tickets for all the brothers-in-law to see Lord of the Rings on Christmas day. It was the film's opening week and tickets were sold out, so he called the opportunity a "Christmas miracle."

This initiated a family trend of terribly misappropriating the phrase "Christmas miracle." Like the time my nephew flung his sister's underwear toward the tree, and it landed exactly where the star is supposed to go.

Yesterday at Kmart, I admit the phrase came to my mind again when I beheld a fresh shipment of these, just in time for the holiday:

It was at that moment that I decided to forgo the family Christmas cards this year in favor of a spectacular blog giveaway. Yes Virginia, there is a Santa Clause. And yes, people who read House That Jack Built, you are one comment away from the opportunity to call one of these babies your own.

Before you get too hysterical, I should mention that they were all sold out of Leah's flesh-colored hedgehog (Kmart shoppers do tend to have impeccable taste). But I did manage to secure a lavender elephant,

a hot pink pony, which the packaging appropriately describes as "lifelike,"

and a blue dragon, also "lifelike"

On the back of the package are detailed instructions for use (so don't be intimidated), as well as the phrase "PATENT PENDING," just in case anyone gets the big idea of tapping into the market for latex animals that inflate to resemble human gall bladders.

To qualify, tell me one thing you want for Christmas (BESIDES these). I will pick three winners next Wednesday, 2 at random and 1 based on my favorite response.

Prizes will be shipped for delivery by Christmas. This of course is assuming I can convince postal authorities that I am not in violation of any federal law. ("Sir, I realize they are SO lifelike, but I promise these animals are just pretend!")

If all goes well, one of them - and feel free to indicate your preference - will be inhabiting your stocking on Christmas Eve, poised to delight everyone on Santa's nice list.

Also, they are just creepy enough to punish the ones who have been naughty.

Sunday Dressed

My favorite mother-in-law picked out these dresses for the girls (thank you Daneille!).

Because when it comes to overdressing for church, I say, why should Easter have all the fun?

Right Cal?

Morning Bird & Medicine Girl

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Jolie believes that everything deserves a name.

Every toy in her room has at some point been assigned one, or several, and what she lacks in creativity she makes up for in consistency. Six of her dolls are referred to as "Baby Jesus."

Once when her friend Gillian was over to play, we overheard the following conversation:

Gillian: Pretend we live all by ourselves

Jolie: Yah. And pretend we have different names

Gillian: Okay. Pretend my name is...Samantha Alexis

Jolie: And pretend my name is...Los Angeles Mexico

Imagine her delight last week when her kindergarten teacher explained the Native American custom of bestowing names based on events and even animals. She came home certain she had been born into the wrong culture.

At her insistence, we have since been referring to her by her proper Native American title. "Morning Bird."

Afraid Leah might feel left out, Morning Bird deliberated rather intensely one afternoon, then formally bestowed her "Medicine Girl."

Medicine Girl comes in peace. As long as you are willing to share your food.

Mouse or Leah

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Want to test your skills?

This is a game we play often. It's called "Mouse or Leah?"

#1 Mouse or Leah?

#2 Mouse or Leah?

#3 Mouse or Leah?

#4 Mouse or Leah?

Answer Key:

1. Leah

2. Leah

3. Leah

4. Leah

Eye of the Beholder

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Leah loves to draw during sacrament meeting.

That is to say, Leah loves to draw during sacrament meeting when she's not busy grinding Lucky Charms into the carpet, flashing her Dora underwear to various members of the congregation, or scouting out unsuspecting toddlers to hug, and then drag helpless toward our bench. By the neck. (I am so sorry Miranda)

Last Sunday however, we enjoyed an unprecedented 10 minutes of peace when she fished the markers out of my bag and focused on creating this masterpiece:

When she was done she sat quietly for a minute examining the finished product, then suddenly had a total meltdown.

I managed to calm her down using the few Lucky Charms that hadn't made their way into the deepest fibers of the floor, then asked what was wrong.

She pointed to a green shape in the middle. The one with the blue line to the left of it, right above the words "Crafty Ladies Retreat"...

She tapped her finger on it and said, "THAT part."

"That part what Leah?"

"That part's too messy."

Oblogatory Halloween Pics

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For his first Halloween, Cal wanted to dress as his Grandpa Jack, a college football official (yes, Grandpa Jack is the handsome Head Linesman you’ve seen on ESPN). Unfortunately, infant head linesman costumes are hard to come by (skeletons and sweet peas as far as the eye can see. Not a thing for aspiring referees).

So, our Jack customized one himself. Ladies, that shirt is hand painted! (That Jack! Don’t let the backward baseball hats or affection for Sunday football fool you. He is a crafty, crafty man.) He’s also responsible for Minnie’s custom headpiece.

And while we’re rolling the Halloween credits…I’d like to also thank Aunt Aileen for the Minnie Mouse dress, and tazcat1032. Tazcat1032 is the heavy smoker who sold us Jolie’s entire Tinkerbell getup on Ebay for only 15 bucks. It’s a good thing she looks so cute in it, Tazcat. Because, my gosh, she smells like tobacco.

Twilike

Last year, I casually mentioned on my blog that I tried to read Twilight but never finished because I did not enjoy it. This prompted a whole slew of positive, constructive comments, such as, "What is WRONG with you??" "Vampire hater" and "You are no longer invited to my children's weddings."

Well ladies, you will be pleased to know that I am now a little older, a little wiser, and madly in love with a vampire.

No, not because of the book (I never did finish it), but because it appears as though I have given birth to one.

This week, Cal strategically grew two new teeth. Just in time for Halloween.

Step aside, Edward. There's a new heartthrob in town.

Pomp & Our Circumstances

For the entire 8 years we’ve been married, Jack has been a full time student. To put things in perspective, when his cub scouts ask him what grade he’s in, he says, “Twenty second.” And he’s being completely serious.

On Friday, his doctoral dissertation was filed after receiving approval from its committee of advisors. In layman’s terms: He’s like, totally finished.

Jack said that being a PhD doesn’t feel any different. But actually, our lives have changed quite dramatically.

For instance, we just moved from a two bedroom apartment built in the 1960s, to a two bedroom apartment built in the 1970s. And our rent doubled! You may not be able to see the difference between our new place and our old one, but I am certain we are enjoying the luxury of unseen seismic upgrades.

Since graduation, I have also found it necessary to come up with new things to complain about. As residents of student housing we went six years without a dishwasher, washer or dryer - Something I loved to lament, particularly in my journal. (200 years from now my posterity will want to discuss the hardships of their ancestors - I always thought it would be fun to be cited as a reference). Now that we have home appliances, I’ve been testing out some new material (“Dear Journal, I miss the laundromat, and am so tired of emptying this dishwasher!”)

One thing that has not changed, unfortunately, is my inability to explain exactly what it is that Jack does. The title of one of the papers in his dissertation, for those who don't believe me, is “Accurately Sized Test Statistics with Misspecified Conditional Homoskedasticity ??????” (question marks added for emphasis).

Now, he is employed as a Lecturer of Game Theory. If you are wondering what Game Theory is, or why it takes 6 years of home appliance deprivation to earn a degree that qualifies one to teach it, you will have to ask Jack himself. I will give you a hint: It has nothing to do with designing an NFL offense.

And thus begins the next phase of our lives, and the end of a 22-year phase of Jack’s. I will spare you the details of how proud I am of him. But as a few of you know, graduate school has been a very winding road. More than his degree, I will always be impressed by the way he handled the process of obtaining it. He demonstrated a lot of integrity when he didn’t have to, and a lot of persistence when he didn’t necessarily want to.

Plus, contemplating Misspecified Homoskedasticity is no small feat when your ivory tower looks like this

I snapped this picture a few years ago while Jack was working on his dissertation. I can’t tell you how many hours he spent studying while wearing a fussy baby in the Bjorn, or how many lectures he prepared at the park, while pushing the kids on the swings.

I think that’s what they call graduating with honors.

(*Editor's Note: The author of this post acknowledges the possibility that at the time this photograph was taken, Jack was not actually working on his dissertation, but rather managing his Fantasy Football team.)

Make a wish

In the year and a half that I've been blogging, I have managed to participate in almost all the popular blogging trends - I've hosted a giveaway, shared my favorite recipes, even responded to a tag or two.

That leaves just one thing on my list: Throw a spectacular birthday party for my children, then follow up with a post of enviable photographs and details.

Well our Leah turned 3 last week, thank goodness. Now I can check this off my list.

Before the party began, we had to pick a theme. If I have learned one thing from talented bloggers, it’s that a party is not a party unless it has a theme.

After some careful thought, we selected, “We are in the process of moving.”
(Jack tried to call it, “Leah gets the shaft,” but I thought that sounded sort of negative.)

Because you will no doubt want to throw your own child a “We are in the process of moving” party, here are step by step instructions for pulling it off:

1. Invitations: Rather than constructing formal party invitations, try suddenly tossing down your packaging tape and saying, “Honey we have got to do something about Leah’s birthday. It is today.”

2. Guest List: Only immediate family members are invited to a “We are in the process of moving” party. The only friends I wanted to see last week were the ones capable of lifting our solid oak bedroom furniture (and who fully intended to do so).

3. Decorations: Carefully drape all scratchable surfaces in bubble wrap. Festive!

4. Seating arrangements: As guests arrive, they are invited to play a fun little game called, “Try to find a place to sit.” To make the game challenging (albeit slightly dangerous for children) cover the floor with various obstacles, such as cleaning supplies, industrial dollies, and miscellaneous furniture laying on its side.

Here, our guest of honor has taken her place beneath some collapsed cardboard boxes.

Which brings us to #5,

5. Dress: No hair bows or, for that matter, grooming of any kind is allowed at a “We are in the process of moving” party. In fact, if you look closely, you will notice that some of the children aren’t even wearing pants.

6. Cake: The cake was Jack’s responsibility. Ten minutes before the party began, he took Leah to Kmart (a natural place to go when you are in the market for pastries). The two of them came home with this:

Don't worry ladies. One paper plate, a little creative stacking, and a decorative candle later, and it looked super classy.

7. Party Favors: At a “We are in the process of moving” party, children are given anything that will keep them quiet and out of your way. For big sister Jolie, this meant the bag of Rainbow Cotton Candy she has been requesting for two years. For two years I have politely declined (“No Jolie. That stuff gives me the creeps.”). But at a “We are in the process of moving” party, the answer changes to a celebratory, “Yes, yes. Anything that will keep you quiet and out of our way.”

8. Meal: Little Ceasar's large pepperoni, $5.00. Conveniently located inside KMart (Because Jack and Leah were already there, you know, picking out the cake.)

9. Serving Wear: Children are welcome to eat from paper plates or, if they would prefer, straight off the floor.

10. Entertainment: Who needs a clown? Dad is soooo much fun after single handedly disassembling and transporting the storage shed and all its contents.

11. Gifts: “We are in the process of moving” gifts can be purchased at CVS Pharmacy, exactly 2 hours before the party begins.

Proof:

One kickboard. Summer Clearance. $2.99

One Barbie toothbrush. Sale. $2.99. and,

One inflatable hedgehog punching ball. The hedgehog was filthy. If I had to venture a guess, I would say it had already been blown up by at least 7 little CVS customers. But. It was 60% off. (Normally I would hold out for 75%, but look how cute it is!)

Happy Birthday Leah! It’s all for you. It took an excessive amount of planning and effort, but it was worth it.

Also, so nice to pause from such a busy week and see the children truly enjoying themselves.

Class of 2022

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The same week that Jack is preparing to graduate, our Jolie is strapping on her giant blue backpack and taking her very first steps inside a classroom.

Here are the two of them, first day of Kindergarten. Jack has tears in his eyes. Jolie is a little nervous. Both have a lot on their minds.
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And here, the moment I got teary eyed. When the bell rang, Jolie first kissed Cal goodbye,
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and then told Leah she wanted to tell her a secret before she left.
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I would give anything to know what that secret was, but didn't dare ask. I know all about secrets between sisters. (Plus, I like to imagine it was something precious, like, "Take good care of Mommy while I'm away," when in reality she was probably cracking some joke about poop.)
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Finally, the last picture we took. Just after the classroom doors were closed.
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Now that I've learned how quickly the first five years fly by, I went home and spent every free moment of the day scooping up Mr. Class of 2026 and giving him kisses.

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Business & Pleasure

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With graduation just around the corner, Jack has been all work and no play. Afraid this is making him a dull boy, he sent me and the girls to Utah to have lots of fun without him. Also, to launch our modeling careers.

First, the girls struck a pose for See Jane Shoot.

I tell you, that See Jane Shoot. She is the next big thing.

Not to be outdone, I then beat out countless hopefuls to be booked as a hand model for my sister-in-law Dawn's latest venture, Pink Honey Designs.

Dawn's work is exquisite. Check it out here.

I'm afraid all the attention has gone to my hand's head. Since the shoot, it has been demanding the most expensive lotions, nail polishes, insurance policies. It's probably a good thing the vacation ended at the ascent of our promising careers.

Plus, the kids sure missed their daddy.
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And now we are pack. back. Back, and packing.

What's wrong with this picture?

Dress Form

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Several people have given me the same advice for packing to move...eliminate, eliminate, eliminate.

I agree. I just think it's so much more fun to acquire stuff.

I bought this last month at a darling vintagy store in Redlands. I justified the purchase by calling it my "birthday present," although by then I'm pretty sure that excuse had run its course.

When I brought it home, Jack said something like, "Oh Kate! Wow!" (Which I've learned is what dutiful husbands say when they're thinking, "What on earth?")

It's a dress form. And I had to have it.

I understand Jack's confusion at the time (and, admit it, yours right now), as he was not yet able to catch the vision.

I didn't want the dress form, I explained to him. I needed the dress form. To store the girls' hairbows.

So cute, huh?? I think it will look darling. Sitting inside its U-haul box.

You should give him liquor

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This is my to-do list from last week, straight from my Franklin Covey:

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To Do:

swimming lessons a hair appointment a upload photos a order Cal’s birth certificate a finish/ship bows a start packing a primary meeting a birthday thank yous a maritime museum w/ Lee a PAC meeting refreshments a return library books a call Natalie a plan picnic a book Jack’s flight a cake contest a finish sharing time a schedule visiting teaching


This is my to-do list from this week:


To Do:





Cal is teething.

I cut the video to 6 seconds (you're welcome). If you're interested in a more realistic glimpse of my week you can play it on repeat. All day. On full volume. At night, download it onto your iPod and program the alarm to wake you to it about every 3 hours.

Poor little boy. And boy, am I tired.

A man at the Cotsco food court asked me if he was teething. When I said yes, he said, "You should give him liquor."

I was about to crack a lame joke ("someone should give his mommy liquor"), but was afraid he might actually take me up on it. To be honest, I think the guy might have been "teething" himself.

Still, he had good intentions. I just prefer infant remedies that don't involve me getting carded...Suggestions?

T minus

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After six beautiful years in Santa Barbara, we are down to just nine weeks left.

This has meant a little bit of crying, and a whole lotta this
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5

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Today our oldest turns five.

I once heard someone say that raising children is like making pancakes. You kind of mess up the first one before you get it right. If that’s true, then Jolie has endured our rookie mistakes beautifully. It also doesn’t explain the time I thought it would be funny to hold Leah, our second, upside down, and I accidentally dropped her on her head.

Today, much to celebrate. Five years, three delicious pancakes, Happy Birthday to...





3. n. One who prides herself in being the oldest child. Jolie’s favorite shirt is one that says 'Big Sister.' When putting it on recently, we overheard her saying, “Sooooorry Leah. They don’t make shirts that say ‘Medium Sister.’

4. adj. An avid vocalist with an eclectic taste in music. Our nickname for Jolie is "iPod Shuffle,” because you never know what song is coming next. It's not unusual to hear her belt out “We Thank Thee O God for a Prophet,” followed immediately by “Girl Put your Records On.”

5. See also -

Glamorous

Entrepreneur

Observant

Clean

Open Minded

Family Pictures

Where were you when?

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There are certain moments in life that cause you to pause, and reflect. Moving away from home, for instance. Saying goodbye to someone you love. Realizing you lost your iPod. again.

Today I’m having one of those moments. Today I turn 30.

30. 30? 30! 30…

The day I was born, I’m told, a crew from the local news arrived at the hospital to shoot a story. My mom and her sister, whose due dates were separated by 2 months, had given birth just hours apart, in the same hospital room, wearing the same department store pajamas. Some producer from Channel 12, I suppose, decided this would be of interest to the local folks. I’m sure he also decided that Phoenix was experiencing a slow news day.

And so, among the very first people I met when I came to earth were a reporter and a camera crew. I’ve often wondered if this explains why I love television news, and why my most poignant childhood memories revolve around the breaking of some great story.

January 28, 1986. Space Shuttle Challenger Disaster.

When I arrived at my first grade class that morning, something wasn’t right. Our teacher, Mrs. Sciatto, had taken the day off. Mrs. Sciatto was a sweet old lady, and we all figured she was home sick with some sweet old lady disease.

And then, a few hours into the day, I remember our principal’s voice over the loudspeaker. Something had gone wrong with a space shuttle. People had died. One of them was a teacher.

As our substitute turned on the television (it must have been in the curriculum somewhere that 6-year olds can benefit by gazing at images of fire, debris and expressions of horror), things began to add up in my mind. Mrs. Sicatto didn’t take the day off because she was sick. Mrs. Sciatto took the day off to travel into outer space.

I must have held it together until my mom arrived to pick me up, because she said that when she did and asked how my day was, the emotions finally erupted. “Not good. Mrs. Sciatto tried to be the first teacher in space, and she exploded.”

Footage. Wow.


October 16, 1987. Baby Jessica.

The next story I vividly remember watching was the 58 HOUR rescue of Jessica McClure, the toddler who fell down the well in Texas. I didn’t watch all 58 hours, but just enough to develop an overwhelming childhood fear of falling into a well. Would have been nice of someone to tell me there are no wells in suburban Glendale.


June 17, 1994. White Ford Bronco Chase.

I don’t just remember watching OJ evade police, I can actually recall what I was wearing.

It was the day I returned home from Girl’s Camp, where we were given white t-shirts emblazoned with pink sheep and the words “EWE are special!” The shirts were fine within the confines of the forest, but not when stopping at McDonalds on the way home. I was 15 and mortified.

OJ’s surrender and trial were of particular interest to me, as just one year earlier I had named him my hero in a graduation speech. It wasn’t just his life on the line. It was also my reputation.


August 31, 1997. Death of Princess Diana.

The People’s Princess died the night I arrived in Provo for my freshman year at BYU. I never felt any connection to Lady Di, except that Elton John said she lived her life like a candle in the wind, and that’s exactly how I felt walking to 8 am classes during my first real winter.


July 16, 1999. Death of JFK Jr.

When John John’s plane was first reported missing at about 3 am, I was awake. In fact, I was at work.

I worked at KBYU TV throughout college. Every semester, my boss recruited people to work the dreaded “overnight shift” (midnight to 6 am). Every semester I vowed I would never work it again, and every semester I found myself volunteering to work it anyway. (Some people never learn. I am one of those people.)

The rule was, that while at work you could only watch KBYU TV. That was the rule. But anyone who thinks it’s possible to stay awake all night watching a 6-hour Lawrence Welk marathon, can think again. That night I was tuned to CNN.

By about 4 am I needed to discuss, so I called Arizona and woke up my mom. A 4 am phone call, just to analyze Camelot’s latest chapter. That she was more than happy to, is another reason I love my mom.


September 11, 2001. 9/11.

In the fall of 2001 I graduated college and got my first real news job. Well, internship. At KUTV, Salt Lake’s CBS affiliate. Finally, my start at being on the disseminating end of breaking stories.

Cue irony.

When I first got the job, in August, I met with my boss and had a conversation that went something like this:

Boss: Welcome to KUTV (or something to that effect)
Me: Thank you (or something to that effect)
Boss: We brought you on board to perform menial tasks that no one else is willing to do. Also, you won’t be getting paid (I think he said it more nicely than that)
Me: Awesome.
Boss: Any questions?
Me: Yes, actually. Would it be okay if I took just one day off? Next month? My sister is coming into town…
Boss: What day?
Me: September 11th.
Boss: Should be fine. Hope for a slow news day. Ha Ha
Me: Ha Ha Ha
Boss: Ha Ha
Me: Ha
Boss: Ha.




Huh.

I slept in that day. My sister woke me up when the first tower was hit, and I watched live as the second went down, in my pajamas, with my nephew in my lap.

The biggest story of my lifetime. The one day I requested off. Granted, my assignment probably would have been BYU student reaction to canceled classes. But still.

At the time I was struck by the irony. But looking back now, I actually see the experience as a nice foreshadowing of my life today. At 30. Minus the sleeping in part.




For those who read this far (and I will not presume there are many of you), Where were YOU when?? Pick one and share!

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It's one of my favorite things to learn about people. In fact, you can consider it my 30th birthday present.

That, or I like cash.

Marry a Nerd

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When it came to love and dating, my dad had one piece of advice for his daughters.
He used to always say:

"When you grow up girls, marry a nerd."
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When we asked why, he would say:
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"Because. Nerds make the best husbands."
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Last week, Jack came home with an anniversary card from the campus bookstore.
Inside, in his neat handwriting, was this bit of hot romance:

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---------------------

.Set: r(t) = 6*cos(6*t)
and
#Points = 250
Click Plot

Then Set: r(t) = 6*(1-sin(t))
and
# Points = 250

Click Plot

with instructions to visit the Polar Equations Applet at:

http://www.math.ucla.edu/~ronmiech/crew/eugene/java/PolarPlotter/PolarPlotter.html
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Confused, I typed in the address,
set my function (?),
entered my points (??),
and activated the polar plotter (???).

The result was this:
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and this:

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He was so proud.

Then suddenly panicked, because I actually started to cry. He thought I was crying because it was nerdy.

I was.

That was then,

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1987. This is my 2nd grade class picture. The photographer thought it would be a good idea to reflect the sun directly into our eyes. I agree.
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That's me in the front row, 2nd from the right. I thought it would be a good idea to wear my pinstripe jeans - the ones with faded knees, of course, and pink "bears at a pizza parlor" sweatshirt. I wonder if my mom agreed.

In the top row, far right, is my first crush. Awwwww. Isn't he so handsome? (even when blinded by the sun?) He was smart too. And, the undefeated recess tetherball champ. What more could a girl want??

You never forget your first crush.

Good thing, because today is our 8-year anniversary.

6 months

Awkward Moment at the County Fair

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Within earshot, Jolie shouts,

"Dad! I see a PIG!"
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Jack looks,


panics,


surveys the scene...

and breathes a sigh of relief.

Officer, I can explain...
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Spring Cleaning

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A friend of mine called recently and asked for my advice on how to keep her house clean.

Two theories:

(a) She’s trying to flatter me
(b) By sheer coincidence, she has never stopped by my apartment on a bad day

Either way, it caused me to reflect, and we ended up having a really great conversation - some of which I thought was worth sharing. At least, more worth sharing than pictures of my baby’s feet.

I'm not an expert on housecleaning, nor do I claim to be (language provided by my legal counsel). I just have a lower tolerance for clutter than most. Plus, I love doing it. Cleaning relaxes me, the way eating ice cream relaxes me, or watching my DVR episodes of Keeping Up With the Kardashians.

So for those who enjoy cleaning, as well as those who view it as a necessary evil, three simple suggestions for keeping a house of order:

1. Sunday Solution:

Shortly after I was married, and with no scientific background, I personally discovered Newton’s Fourth Law, which is:

A clean house, no matter how clean, will become a disaster 10 minutes before you leave for Church.

Does that sound familiar? It didn’t seem to matter how hard I tried on Sunday mornings, or how much earlier I woke up, or even how much I resented anyone who left a mess. Exactly 10 minutes before we left for Church, the place was turned upside down.

(*Editors Note: The word “Church” can be replaced by the word “Anywhere.”)

Well I don’t know how long it took Sir Isaac to crack the laws of physics, but after a few years, I hit upon a solution.

It works like magic.

It’s an ironing board.

About 10 minutes before we leave for Church, I set up the ironing board against a wall. Just before we go, anything that’s out of place gets scooped up and put on top of it. The result is a clean place ready to greet us when we return, with one single, doable, out-of-the way pile of things to be put away.

Anytime I’m overwhelmed by clutter, the ironing board comes to my rescue. Once it’s set it up, I’m 5 minutes from a straightened place, and much more motivated than I would be wandering around piles of clutter, wondering where on earth to begin (which usually ends with me deciding to “begin” by eating more ice cream).

2. The Rule of Three:

This trick works so well for me, I actually gave it a name. “The Rule of Three.” Sort of like “The Theory of Relativity,” except much more important. (No offense to Albert Einstein, but a theory that can prevent the insanity of parenting in an overwhelming mess, is far superior to a theory that explains something silly, like gravitational phenomena.)

Here’s how it works:

As I go throughout my day, any time I enter a different room - for whatever reason - the first thing I do is put three things away. Three things only - It takes no time at all.

Enter family room. Put away remote, crayon, diaper (1,2,3) Then put Leah in her highchair.
Enter kitchen. Put three clean plates back in the cupboard (1,2,3) Then pour cereal.

etc. After awhile, the Rule of 3 becomes automatic.

At first, you won’t notice any difference at all. But the idea is that every time you use a room, you’re leaving it cleaner, rather than messier (even if only a tiny bit), which is sort of contrary to our nature. Over time, everything eventually gets put away, then stays put away, without having to set aside extra time to get it accomplished. It just fits into your day.

Because who has extra time?

Try it for two days. I promise.

3. 20 minute pickup

This last idea I learned from my mom, who truly wrote the book on creating and maintaining a beautiful home.

Growing up, about one evening a week, my mom would announce a “20 minute pickup.”

Here’s why she’s so brilliant: Us kids loved it.

A timer was set for 20 minutes. Music was blasted (Mom was an aerobics instructor - we rocked to the good stuff). Best of all, there was always the promise of a treat when we finished.

The magic (get out your calculators) was, that when 6 people participated a 20 minute pickup, 2 hours of cleaning got done. Two hours of cleaning! In just 20 minutes time! (Take that Einstein)

Jack and I have started doing 20-minute pickups with the girls, and not necessarily as a way to clean the house (Truth be told, when a 2 and 4-year old are “cleaning,” often more harm is done than good). Rather, the goal is to let them discover that cleaning isn’t some dreaded thing that mom barks at you to do (although believe me, they get some of that too). It’s also music. It’s cooperating as a family. It’s the promise of an Oreo.

On a few occasions, they've actually requested a 20-minute pickup. Rewarding, even if they are just looking for free reign of the rags and squirt bottles.

Bonus

I'm not ashamed to admit that in the time it's taken me to write this, the kids have made a complete disaster of the family room.

Tip #4: Keep your blog posts brief.

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Found Cal sleeping like this today. It's the first time he's been called out of bounds.
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* I realize this makes 2 posts in a row related to his feet. Clearly, it's been a slow news week.

Sunday & Someday

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My favorite thing about Easter? Christ's promise that someday, my Dad and I will pick up where we left off.

Also, I loved buying Cal new Easter shoes.
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Interpretation

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Looove when

Jolie's art
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Imitates life
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My Friends in Utah

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....Lucky you!

All next week, my sister Jane will be taking Easter photos for only $35.

Seriously!

I have a feeling her schedule is going to fill up instantly, so LOOK HOW CUTE,
then reserve yourself a spot!