Five Years From Today...

I have played the "five years from today..." game since, well probably since I was five.  Because I remember thinking how totally freaking awesome it was going to be to be ten.  And play on the big playground.  And four square.  Because I was stuck on the kindergarten play ground, and that just didn't fly with me.

I remember when I turned eleven and thought, five years from now, I'll totally be driving. 

And when I was 16 I thought, in five years from now, I'll be in college becoming a bilingual neurosurgeon who travels the world helping the less fortunate by giving them frontal lobe lobotomies and helping them forget all their problems, like not having cable. 


But when I was 21, I had just had a little baby.  I had been married for 3 years.  And then a few months later, I was expecting another baby.  I bought a house.  I bought a washer and dryer.  I was grown up, for realsy.

Today I am 26.  I'm moving to Arizona in a few months for my husbands job.  Did I mention my husband is 30.  He's the second counselor in the Bishopric.  I should feel a little more grown up, but I really don't.

I have to figure out how to register my oldest for the gifted and talented program he got into here, there.  I have to figure out how to register my daughter, who will be FIVE, for kindergarten, or she will never forgive me.  She's told me this several times.

And so I asked her, "Kembry, where do you think you'll be in five years?"

She contemplates. I  love it when Kembry contemplates.  She's four, but she tilts her head, puts her finger on her chin, rolls her eyes up, and actually thinks.  Or, at least she looks like she's thinking.

"I think I'll live with my husband, Mila, in Rainbow-la-roo, and he'll drive a red car just like daddy's and I'll be a mommy and you'll be a grandma."

So, it goes without saying, Kembry and I are quite different.  But I'm so at peace where I am.  I love my life.  I love my family, my husband, my calling, my religion, my responsibilities, my laundry (mmm...sure, ok).  I love it all, because it all goes towards a life in eternity with Brett and Cohen and Kembry and Chloe and apparently Mila.  Whoever the heck he is.

So, in five years from today...

Today I...

Didn't find my camera cord.  I suck, I know.

Instead I dropped Brett off at the airport for a two week work trip to Arizona.

Then I came home and...the ice maker broke.

Then I got ambitious, and cleaned my entire bedroom.  If you had ever seen my bedroom, you would totally high five me right now.  And what's the best part about cleaning a total disaster area?  Vacuuming, correct! 

Circle gets the square.

So I went to get the vacuum, and...it broke.

Son of a...

Alright, alright, breathe.  I'll just finish the sixth, yes, sixth load of laundry, then I'll call Brett and accuse him of breaking stuff before he left me alone with three kids 5 and under, no ice maker, and no vacuum.

But my phone was broken.  He could barely hear me. 

What the...

Oh, hello Aunt Flo.  Perfect time to visit.

On the bright side, I got a new vacuum, I can scoop out ice from the ice maker just fine, thank you very much, and I get to go and spend 5 days house hunting for our new home in Arizona starting Saturday.  Totally stoked.

Even better, I made Chloe laugh, like, all day today.  So freaking cute.

Oh, Kembry also wanted me to let everyone know that Cohen threw her Cinderella barbie over the fence today, soaked her, and then ripped off her head.  Ha, gotta love older brothers!

Bisneyland

So, I did go to Disneyland.  And I did have the greatest vacation ever.

But I can't find my camera chord, and a post about Disneyland without pictures is a blogging sin.

I'm not sure how many Hail Mary's I'd have to pop out to rectify it, so I'll just stay safe and tell you that, when it happens, you're gonna be blown away.  It was SUCH an awesome trip.

In fact, Disneyland should PAY me for this future post.  It's gonna make you wanna go.  You'll wonder why all of the sudden you want to sport round black ears.

Here are some bullets to give you a little taste:

• Peter Pan was in love with Kembry.  It was both cool and creepy.
• Fairy God Mothers in training are awesome.
• My step-mom and dad are awesome.
• Rain Forest Cafe: a little overrated, but they did have the yummiest tomato basil I've ever had.  I ordered it two days in a row.  
• Brett actually said, "If I could do anything different, I would make more time for shopping."  And no, he wasn't being sarcastic, the stores were that cool.

Stay tuned.  Also, if you know where my camera chord is, please tell me.  Also, my phone, my glasses, and the left side of my brain.

A Mothers Plight

Is it "Mother's" or "Mothers'"?  Where's Mr. Drake when I need him?

For some reasons unbeknownst to me, even though I'm the one who did it, I purchased Pop Tarts.

This may seem like a seemingly inconsequential thing, but its really become a thorn in my side.

For example, when should I let my kids eat these empty calorie filled pastries?  (If you can even call them pastries.  I mean, look at me, I know a good pastry when I see one, and then eat it.)

Because, it's not healthy enough for breakfast.  We like to start our day with something healthy: oatmeal, scamby eggs (I love "Cable Guy") French toast, pancakes, etc...something hot and filling.

So breakfast is out.

They're not healthy enough for a snack.  I need my snacks to last because I'm too lazy to get up and make them another one.

They're not enough for lunch, and certainly not a side for dinner.

So what's the point of the Pop Tart?

This is my life, ladies and gentlemen.  I sit here pondering the significance of a Pop Tart.

Brett and I used to have so much to talk about*.  Deep things.  Doctrine, politics, agriculture...maybe...and now it's Pop Tarts.

When I posted on FB about my awesome new fridge, a friend commented that my life is so totally far from hers.  And she was so right.

I'm not jealous of her life, nor do I think mine is better in any way.  Just different.  I watch my kids through exhausted, but pleased eyes, mess up a barely clean living room, and I'm happy.  Well, retrospectively happy.

I don't miss late nights, I don't miss dating (I married the man of my dreams, c'mon)  I guess I miss my figure...but we all must sacrifice a little.  Oh, and my brain, I miss my brain.

This is the plight of a mother.  Giving up and gaining unmeasurable things.  And trying to figure out what to do with 3 boxes of Pop Tarts.

And hoarding Oreo's.

*I guess this isn't true, as I think about it.  We still talk about "deep" and interesting things.  He makes me.  I just have to laugh that the one thing "on my mind", that I'm actually thinking about, is when to feed the kids Pop Tarts.