It was fun. I promise.

We went camping over the holiday weekend along with pretty much everyone else living in Oregon. Here's the run-down:

We got a little bit of a late start and once on the road we quickly realized that ALL of the kids had diarrhea. I SO wish I was kidding. We ended up stopping a million times quite a few times on the drive and every.single.stop was "it's an emergency! Seriously - you have GOT TO STOP THE CAR!" so the kids could go to the bathroom. Only they never had tummy aches at the same time, so what should have been a 2 hour drive took us almost 4 1/2 (poor kids). I'm pretty sure that between all three kids, we used every public restroom between our house and our camp site. We stopped for coffee on the way and right after pulling back into traffic after the coffee shop stop, I realized that mine was pretty much just espresso with luke-warm milk (they forgot the flavoring and didn't really heat the milk) - so instead of actually drinking my "coffee," I just held it and practiced the lamaze breathing I never got to use during labor to get through the never-ending drive.

When we finally got there, it was wonderful. Our sweet family had the campfire going hot and we had about an hour of blissfulness before unpacking our stuff in our trailer and turning in for the night. The next morning fun was had by all (except when I realized that the batteries for my camera were dead and I would get ZERO pictures of the whole weekend). The weather was wonderful and we had a nice morning and lunch outside. Then it started to hail. Like the kind of hail that will bruise your skin if you're not wearing long sleeves. For about an hour.

And then, after the hail, it snowed. And snowed. And snowed. For the rest of the day and into the night. Luckily, Jeremi and Shane (Jeff's sister and her husband) brought their big fifth-wheel and we all piled in for some warmth, cards, and a hot dinner. All was going as well as can be expected when it's freakin' snowing during your camping trip great until Jack decided to randomly projectile vomit all over me and proceeded to dry heave for the next half hour.

The next day we woke up to a COLD morning. The snow was still covering the ground, but at least it was dry out. We decided that after being cooped up in the trailers the whole day before, we should go garage saling for a while (and yes, there were plenty, even in the snow in the low 30's - nothing stops Central Oregon from their garage sales) and in search of a coffee shop (that ironically didn't make coffee any better than the cup I had bought on the way over). Papa (Jeff's Dad) gave each of the kids a dollar for the garage sales, to buy something loud and annoying for the car ride home special, and they had a blast holding out until they found the toy that would push their parents over the edge perfect thing.

It's funny, because when I write it all down, it sounds like it was a horrible experience. But when all the less than desirable stuff was happening I just remember laughing... and thinking, "Seriously? This is REALLY happening right now?" followed immediately by, "Yeah, you can't make this stuff up."

But mostly, when I think about this weekend, I just remember having a great time with a bunch of people I love being around. Certainly a weekend none of us will soon forget, even if there aren't any pictures to remind us.

He thinks he's SO funny.

So, Jeff and I have a weight loss challenge going on between the two of us. If I reach my goal before he reaches his then I'm going to get my nose pierced again (it's been a while, but I have had it done before - twice, actually). If he wins then he gets to buy a new pair of Danner boots that he's been eyeing.

I can't believe that he agreed to this (he's never been fond of the whole nose ring idea), but he did. We shook on it (agreeing not to purposefully sabotage each other), and off to the races we went! Like I mentioned in my last post, I've been trying to make lifestyle changes (yada, yada, yada) and add regular exercise into my routine to help boost my weight loss (and obviously, "boost" means "begin").

The other night I decided after eating 3 pieces of Papa Murphy's pizza that I should finish my day with a run, so I went in my bedroom to change and then headed out to the garage to hop on the treadmill.

This is what I found: 

While I was changing into my workout clothes, my husband (oh-so-lovingly, I'm sure) went out and placed a freaking CUPCAKE on my treadmill.

So much for the no-sabotaging, eh'? Anyway, I'll keep you updated (via Fit Friday posts) as to how it's all going. It could be a long road (it will be), but I'm in it to win it (and be healthier and stuff, too, I guess obviously).

{Despite what the photo might suggest, I feel the need to report (for the record) that there was no cupcake eating in the making of this workout session.}

Fit Friday {some stuff I've learned so far}

I'm (obviously) no expert on weight loss although I should be, I've been at it for years but in the past few months I've been learning a few things. I decided to write some of them down on here - partly to share them with you guys in case you need encouragement or tips and partly just because I don't want to forget them lest I find myself pulling into the parking lot of a Taco Bell.

Okay - here they are:

 - It's worth the effort it takes to feel healthy, to look healthy, and to BE healthy. No one is going to hand me a new and improved edition of my body wrapped in ribbon for Christmas - if I want it, I have to work towards creating it.

 - Don't make decisions about how your eating for the day will go before you've had a healthy breakfast. When I'm running around the house trying to get everyone ready for school, (lunches packed, teeth brushed, shoes on, etc.) my brain feels swollen and I feel unbelievably emotional. Because I'm so tired/hungry/stressed by the time everyone is actually out the door all I want to do is immediately excuse myself from my "healthy lifestyle," give myself a million reasons why I deserve to have a "day off" and immediately binge on sugar cereal and a mocha with whip cream (neither of which we have in the house, but you know what I mean). I've found (after much dismay and disappointment when I give in) that all it takes is one rational decision to start my day off right. If I can just get through a healthy breakfast, my head is cleared, my stomach isn't angry at me anymore, and I am able to think more clearly and remember what my goals are and in turn actually care about taking the steps it takes to reach them.

 - Keep a journal. I've never been good about writing in a regular journal (you know the "Dear Diary" kind? - well, unless a blog counts...) but I have been pretty consistent about keeping a food journal. I write everything in it. Every bite I eats goes in that journal. I take it everywhere with me so that I can be reminded of my goals when I'm away from home and in a more vulnerable place (where I'd be more likely to throw caution to the wind when it comes to making healthy choices like, say, Red Robin... mmm, cheeseburgers). Anyway, I've just found this is key in my accountability. 

I took this picture at about noon. {Also? I might be known for putting smiley face stickers on the page at the end of the day if I did a good job... I said I might.}

 - Water. Drink it. I don't love drinking water at all. I've always preferred soda (I know, it's terrible) but lately I've made it a priority to drink more water. I write circles on the bottom of my daily page in my journal and each circle represents one cup of water. This week my goal has been to drink a gallon of water each day. (Can I just say that the bathroom and I are friends? Because we totally are. We're tight these days.) I also bought a new water bottle because the 13 others that we own aren't good enough I wanted one that was MINE. One that I take everywhere (my water bottle is married to my journal) and one that my kids know is just Mommy's. I bought one with a built in straw (Camelbak) that I love because I don't have to unscrew a lid and spill all over myself when I'm driving. Simple and probably just a mental thing? Definitely. Is it working so far and thus totally worth it even though it was frivolous? YES.

 - Even though walking isn't running, it's better than sitting. I've had shin splints lately and running has been p.a.i.n.f.u.l. so I've been "power walking" on my treadmill. Yes, it takes longer to burn the same amount of calories, but I'm surprised at how much I still sweat (especially when I carry weights!) and I find that I feel just as good as after a run because even though I couldn't do what I hoped, I still chose to do something.

Okay guys, that's all for now. When I come up with more, you'll be the first to hear about them. What are some tips you have to share? I'd LOVE to hear em'!

Happy Weekend!

Two-In-One

{Kid Quote AND Wordless Wednesday. That's right folks, I'm goin' all out today.}

Quote from February 20, 2010:

Carter: "Begging isn't whining. It's just asking really, really hard."

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Sick or not, some days you just have to gear up for battle.

I *Might Have* Monday {Semi-Extended Version}

I might have slept in past 9am both mornings this weekend. It's been years since I've slept in so late (two days in a row) - so if, in fact, it actually did happen - it might have felt a little like heaven.

Today, I'm paying for all the sleep, though. My house looks like a family of five was here all weekend hanging out, relaxing, cooking, not cleaning, and generally having a good time making a disaster of their home great memories all the while forgetting not caring that there will be a time when it all has to be cleaned up again. Wait. Yes. That's exactly what happened.

Knowing that today was inevitably cleaning day, I made a to-do list (as I do every morning because I'm weird like that). I squeezed "make a to-do list" on the top (right above blaze-a-trail-through-dirty-laundry-to-the-washing-machine) so that I could cross at least one thing off before I (technically) got off track doing something that wasn't on the list (coughbloggingcough).

So, all in all, I might have had a great weekend. I got good sleep, I had fun with my family, and we made memories (which is way better than keeping the house clean). Now I have to go make a check-mark next to "detox the house from this weekend disaster."

Alrighty, I'll catch y'all later... like say, when I get bored of cleaning.

 ::Spoiler Alert:: I'malreadythere.

The "rules" no one writes down.

So I saw a post on FaceBook this morning that was titled, "25 Manners Every Kid Should Know By Age Nine". I agreed with the article, but it got me thinking, too.

We've always tried hard to instill in our children a gratefulness and appreciation for the things they have. We've worked at teaching them manners to be used both at home and in public (not that they readily remember them when the time comes). But there are a few things (rules, per se) that weren't on the list so I thought I'd add a few...

1. Don't try to wipe your boogers on your siblings. Use a tissue and wash your hands.
2. Don't lick the dog. I don't want to have to pull the hair out of your mouth... again.
3. When I'm on the phone with a doctor, a grandparent, a social services employee, or anyone from your school please refrain from acting like a herd of monkeys - or at least be quiet monkeys until I'm off the phone.
4. For the love of Mark Ruffalo flush the toilet!
5. Don't smear your banana covered fingers on the sliding glass door. The dog licks it off and it makes me want to throw up.
6. If, during bedtime story, you find that I'm skipping pages or only reading the first and last sentences of each paragraph, just go with it. It's for my your own good.
7. Sidewalk chalk is for the sidewalk. Not the carpet in your bedroom, the bumper of the suburban, or snack.
8. When you're flossing your teeth and you find something in there, feel free to not show everyone.
9. Announcing "number 1" or "number two" is not necessary when you're heading to the bathroom. No one wants to know.
10. House-plants drink water. Not juice or chocolate milk.

I can think of MANY more, but this is a good start. What are some of your house rules?

There. I said it.

I don't like Mother's Day. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm unbelievably thankful for all of my mothers... {{The one who gave birth to me and then being amazingly selfless, chose adoption and gave me to another... The one who prayed endlessly for me to come into her life, then gave me a childhood most people only dream of having... And the one who through patience, love, and  undoubtedly lots of prayer raised my husband to be a respectful, loving, sensitive, strong, and Godly man... I am crazy-thankful for these women.}} but seriously, I don't like Mother's Day.

There's so much pressure. So many expectations (is it just me, or does everyone expect to not have to give kids baths or vacuum out the car on Mother's Day?) and often times (in my life anyway) it just doesn't work like that. Our morning wasn't ideal, by any means. It wasn't the typical breakfast-in-bed-and-handmade-cards that you think of when "Mother's Day" is near. 

But really, not liking Mother's Day has nothing to do with the fact that mine was different than "normal" or less than what I had expected. (We did go to Portland and had a wonderful afternoon with my parents and brother.) I don't like Mother's Day because I find so much more joy in every day than could ever possibly be packed into one day with a "Mother's" label on it (throw up in your mouth if you have to, but it's true for the most part).

Every time I hear my kids laughing with each other, it's more beautiful to me than a bouquet of flowers. When my husband randomly tells me he knows it's not an easy job, but he really appreciates how hard I work for our family, it's better than runny eggs and burned toast served on a platter in bed.

I realize that when I really think about it, getting woken up at 4:00am to change wet sheets, give a hug, and whisper, "it's no big deal" to one of my children doesn't make Mother's Day "less-than." It makes every single day Mother's Day because every day I am nothing but blessed to just get to be my kids' Mommy.

I guess I'm *that* kind.

I know I've talked about this before, but seriously, sometimes I hate that I'm that kind of girl. You know, the kind that needs a guy to do the stereotypical "guy" jobs...

Today I bought spackle. And a spackle applying tool. (Can you tell I have no idea what I'm talking about here?) But, I did. And I used them.

A few days months ago we took out a set of cabinets in our kitchen to open up the space into the dining room. It was great but the walls (where the cabinets were) were white, and all the walls in our house are a cream color (I know, how boring are we?) and there were big holes where the cabinets were nailed to the walls... and something had to be done about it. Today (my opinion). But Jeff has been busy (hence the 7 month waiting period to get a project done) and I just didn't want him to have to think about it anymore. I wanted to help ("help" - obviously it's gotta be in quotes, right?).

So I went to the store and bought the stuff I thought I'd seen used on HGTV I needed and I went to town on it. I spackled (is that even what filling in the holes is called?) and let it dry. Then in the garage I found all the spackling materials I needed that I had just bought at the store old paint from the previous owner of the house and painted the whole thing the same color as the rest of the room. I felt accomplished. I had been adventurous and took the initiative and did it. And best of all, because I did it, Jeff didn't have to. WIN!

Only, it looks weird. I don't think I did it right. The colors aren't matching (can paint in a gallon "bucket" fade a little over time?) and I don't want Jeff to come home and act all proud of me for doing "such a great job" while secretly wanting to re-do the whole thing the right way. I did it so he wouldn't have to. But I think I did it wrong and I'm not really sure how to fix it.

Anyway, like I said, I hate being "that kind of girl" - especially when I really (really) wanted it to work out.

But at the same time, the fact that it didn't work out means that my husband can (clearly) see that I need him. For spackling... and other stuff. Plus, I'm not just that kind of girl I'm other kinds, too. Other kinds that are WAY more important.

Like the kind that tries. The kind that wants to help her husband out, not so that he feels guilty that he didn't get it done earlier, but so that he can just take a deep breath and know that it's one less thing on his plate. I'm the kind of girl who loves her husband so much I went WAY out of my comfort zone and into a hardware store...

I'm that kind of girl. And if nothing else, that is something I can be proud of.

Wordless Wednesday

::::  "Krista" is my younger (24 yr. old) sister.  ::::

{Could this be any sweeter? I think not.}