DON'T take your eyes off of her!

I've been doing my best to try to space out my posts a little more because it seems that unless I give it a week, nobody comments. And do I really like posting without comments? About as much as I like chocolate covered pickles.

So, I'm giving up on that, when I feel the urge/need to post I will. That's right, I'm going all free style willy nilly.

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Whoever said kids aren't worth it obviously isn't living in my house. I mean come on, what's not to love?

This evening I sat Claire down at the table with a Trix Yogurt and a spoon, ready for a little snack. I turned my back for the briefest of brief moments and came back to find this. I don't know HOW it's even possible to make such a mess in such a short time.

The best part of it is that the shirt she happens to be wearing says:

"I tried to be Sweet...But I got BORED!"

OH COME ON?! Why must we make such a mess with everything? One of these days I keep hoping she'll get out of this phase...I really need to stop hoping and begin accepting.

P.S. Did you see that she has piggy tails in her hair!? It was quite an accomplishment we met yesterday for the first time. She kept saying "ow, ow, ow" while I was putting them in, and yet stood there and let it happen. She knows we must sacrifice for beauty.

Animal Sounds

Oh Claire - my sweet little red headed fireball. She brings our lives SO much joy and entertainment. So what that I let her still use a binky and still give her warm milk before bed...until there is another newborn in this house (which there won't be for a long time) she will have no choice but to be treated as a baby. Not that she's complaining. :)

Because I just think she's the cutest thing ever - tied with Brielle of course - here is a cute clip of Claire after we came in from sledding. I have no more to say about it...I'm not feeling witty, funny or anything else. Mostly sentimental and it's in your best interest that I not get started.

Oh, and you know the drill...go down and pause the music so you can fully enjoy the cuteness that you are about to enjoy.

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Miniature Secretary

Brielle has become my little secretary at home...not by my request, but because for some reason she believes that if my cell phone rings it is her responsibility to answer it.

I was in the bathroom getting ready the other day and heard my cell phone ring. Because of the wonderful technology allowing you to use distinctive rings for people (I know, it's magical!) I knew the ring was someone I didn't have in my phone book. I assumed it was probably this stupid sales call that I had been avoiding. You know the ones where when you pick up they don't immediately respond? Yeah, it's that kind...so since I answered once and they didn't respond I now ignore the number.

I do realize if I just answered and talked to them and told them to leave me alone I wouldn't be avoiding the call...but I hate talking to sales people and listening to their sales pitch and trying to convince them I'm not interested. I just hope that if I don't answer they'll eventually give up.

Anyway, the phone rang and since I assumed it was the sales call I didn't try to go get it.

*Side Note* I also assume that if it's someone that needs to talk to me, they'll leave a message if I don't answer.

SO, I heard Brielle answer the phone and this is what I heard from her side of the conversation?

Hello?

Hello?

What?

Camille? She's in the shower.

No, my mommy is in the bathroom in the shower.

Why do you keep saying Camille?

Why are you saying Camille?

Why are you calling her Camille?

Do you mean my mommy?

Why are you calling her Camille?

Because you wanted to talk to her?

But she's still in the bathroom.

Hello?

Grandma?

Grandma?

Grandma?

Hello?

*Hangs up phone*

Oh, they must have split up.

I was laughing so hard knowing that this poor salesman was just innocently trying to get her to bring the phone to me. Apparently all my talks to her about "privacy" in the bathroom and leaving people alone when they're in there paid off!

Here is a little video of her answering my phone when Marty called. She picked up the phone and this is the first thing she said. I'm pretty sure she's working him for a new toy or something. (Pause the music at the bottom and listen closely.)

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Hello Bertha.....

*I'm feeling rather long-winded and picture happy today....consider yourselves warned*

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I'm sure there are many moments much more awkward than the one I have experienced, but I'm going to pretend those don't exist at the moment and that mine trumps all other awkward moments.
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We ventured out to our new ward for the first time yesterday. Don't tell anyone we've been here for over two weeks and haven't gone...that's a secret. And in my own defense the first week we had no idea what time church was, one person was saying 1:00 p.m., the internet was saying 11:00 a.m. and another person was saying 9:00 a.m. Doesn't that exhaust all of our options?

So, we gave up and just stayed home. I know, I'm the best example to my children "If you can't find out what time your assigned church is, just don't go" what a model to live their lives by.

Anyways, the second week was spent at the instacare for x-rays etc. with Marty. Poor guy had an entrapped nerve...or something of the sort...in his neck that was so excruciating he could hardly move. Sunday was actually our SECOND visit to Instacare, he just is barely starting to feel free of the pain today...thank goodness. I'll miss the days of Prince Valium (as we lovingly referred to him during the ordeal).

We told Brielle that she was no longer going to be in Nursery at church and that she was now going to be a Sunbeam! She wondered what a Sunbeam was required to wear, how would Jesus know she was a Sunbeam if she was wearing her blue dress?

We assured her that "Sunbeam" is just the name of the class and that no matter what she wore, Jesus would in fact KNOW she was a Sunbeam.

So, back to my semi-awkward encounter...you be the judge of the awkward level. Me and my sister-in-law, Sara, went to Sunday School together (you know, since we are living in her basement and all) and sat down. I noticed the lady sitting next to me (there was an empty chair between us) looked somewhat familiar. I just assumed maybe I'd seen her outside or around somewhere.

The teacher in Sunday School - who happened to be this woman's husband - was introduced...and then it hit me. I KNOW this lady! She was one of my piano teachers when I was probably about 12.

Now, most people are now wondering how I wasn't immediately sure it was my piano teacher from the old days, why it was awkward and why I wasn't excited to see her and immediately engaged in conversation with her.

Well, the short story is that at 11 I tried out for a piano teacher who was really hard to get in to. I don't remember this lady's name, I just remember her saying, "Wow, you are great and I would love to take you but I usually don't take kids until they are 12. Come back in a year and I will take you." (She didn't know my age until after I tried out and she asked me.)

I was then referred to an EXTREMELY talented woman - aka the lady in Sunday School. I'm not divulging her name for her own safety, we shall refer to her as.....Bertha - not for any mean reasons, but because that's one of the only names I can think of that people wouldn't start going - "hm...I wonder if it's the Bertha I know?!"

I HATED her! Wow, that was rude...I thought it would take me longer to get to that point, but nope, it spilled right out. I didn't hate her as a person, she was just WAY to demanding for my fragile 12 year old self. You see, I didn't become un-fragile until I was about 16...up until then I still cried if people looked at me wrong. I begged and pleaded with my mom to not make me go anymore, cried EVERY day I had lessons and barely made it through. I only lasted there a couple months before my mom found me another qualified teacher, who was not quite as mean.

I have NO idea if Bertha knows the reasons behind me quitting lessons, for all I know my mom told her it was just too far to drive. Which really could have been true, because it was about a 15 minute drive...which also means I'm about 15 minutes from my mom and dad now *tear*.

Bertha kept looking at me in Sunday School and seemed as though she might have recognized me also. I didn't say anything to her and avoided eye contact at all cost. It was like she somehow brought that terrified 12 year old out of me and the very thought of her had me shaking.

I'm kidding...it wasn't that bad. In fact, I actually thought, "Hm, she seems really nice." I still didn't talk to her and immediately after Sunday School me and Sara quickly got up and moved to the back of the room for Relief Society.

I'm sure you're STILL wondering how I didn't immediately recognize her. Am I the only one who has blocked certain things from my childhood that were painful? I know, this doesn't qualify as painful...I just have one of the world's WORST memories, and I cannot explain the things I don't remember...because I don't remember them.

Anyways, how long can this charade go on?! I'm hoping she doesn't remember me...and if she does, well then I'll just have to grow up and pretend that I don't remember her. :)