What do These Things Have in Common?

The Beloved took the boys to the store and surprised me by bringing home all these glorious delights!

Flowers! Yea!

I was cuddled with my blanket on the couch - feeling the magnificent anticipation of wasting the majority of my Saturday watching one of my favorite television series!!!

My Fam of boys came down the stairs with my goodies exclaiming, "Happy Downton Abbey Day Mom!"

 The Beloved informed the boys I had Downton Disease and they were not to interrupt me for the rest of the day.

Gotta say - I feel no shame.

It was glorious.

It's Finished!

Meet our old, well loved kitchen wallpaper.

The Beloved and I live in the house I grew up in which my parents now keep as a rental. This kitchen was decorated with love by my mother about 15 years ago. She carefully picked out the perfect paper and spent hours applying layer after layer. My mom isn't super homemaker-decor-ish and our kitchen was her labor of love to better our home when I was growing up.

Every strip we pulled off... a layer of guilt was added to my conscience...

just so ya know Mom - the guilt was intense!

So I made the five year old start the removal process.

After many months of grueling work - working on it here and there as time allowed -

here is the end result.

Kitchen Sweet Kitchen.

One of my favorite decorations is this traveling measuring board my sister gave us for Christmas so we can measure our quickly growing offspring.

The decoration I'm in love with the most though is this painting The Beloved created for me. 

Ties everything together. Thanks Dear. 

You're basically the coolest spouse alive.

It's About Time -

Our 2012 Thanksgiving post comes to be.

We'd played outside in the beautiful November sunshine -

bringing out the soccer ball and the little ones spending hours in the sand box.

There are fifteen grandchildren on The Beloved's side of the family - Little C being the eldest -

so the activities are all about the kids -

15 kids under ten equals wonderful, organized, chaotic delight!

Ruckus and his little cousin having pretend lunch

The kids are beginning a photo treasure hunt journey their uncles set up.

Lou with a clue - Ha that rhymes -  I like it.

Little C's turn

This little cousin didn't want to participate but eagerly watched  the hunt out the window.

Ruckus' is entranced by his clue

Even Kathy the dog was involved

In the end they arrived at

THEIR BOWL OF TREASURE! HURRAH!
but I accidentally deleted that photo.

The night we arrived in Utah Little C threw up and was feeling awful. One of his cousins was ill and also The Beloved's sister.

The sickness spread to Grandma and Grandpa. 

They felt so horrible and couldn't get out of bed :( -

so we postponed Thanksgiving and on Thanksgiving Day had a desirable feast of fondue - headed by Chef, The Beloved.

Big Kids table  -
seriously so cute watching kids fondue - I think they felt so big and important.

Making fondue chicken nuggets with a smile

Beautiful Sous Chef

Serving up the kids with a little bubbly aka Sparkling Cider.

Little Kids table

Baby corner

Nothing like lounging back and taking it easy after a good meal

The adults ate around the serving island  - no place I'd rather be -
SO GOOD!

This is not a staged photo :)
The after affects of Fondue Love

....must eat more...
achingly striving to have one last bite

I think he's trying to look full ... 

Hair in Fondue is not recommended

Uncle Fultray showed up with his significant other and we were proud to show off the hip-ness of our meal.

How cool and with it are we?

I like us.

Impressed? Not sure.

Mmmmmm.... Chocolate covered banana.

The sickness spreads....

I can honestly say I have never cleaned up more evidence of being sick in  my whole life. Three of my kids experienced the Patton Plague while there and then Lou showed symptoms upon our return.

But Grandma felt better! 

And Thanksgiving dinner was on....

the day after Thanksgiving. :)

(is it kind of disturbing to combine a post about delicious food and include vomit tales at the same time - so sorry - imagine how we all felt.)

And we're exhausted from all of this good food, fun, and....

ailments galore.

Happy Thanksgiving 2012 - is was memorable for sure!

This cannot be ignored...

is the above photo extremely adorable but shouting, "make fun of me a little bit"

Uncle Fultray and newly betrothed girlfriend -surrounded by a litter of children... and

Uncle Dave.

What?

Maybe it's a sign that the happy couple is going to have 57 children but may need a little help in their lives -

which then makes perfect sense for Dave to be in the picture because I think he has the capacity of 5 nurturing mothers.

Tis true.

I love it!

Again - Happy Thanksgiving 2012....

being delivered February 15 2012 -

maybe I should say Happy Valentines as well?

Happy Valentines Day -- 

yesterday.

Memories...with my dad

Happy 70th!

Sitting around the dinner table, a quarter of the way through, we'd catch his image through the kitchen window- Daddy was home! We'd cheer and Mom would greet him with her lips pronounced saying, "Give me a kiss honey!" In a rambunctious, funny, nasally voice.  It was football season. Dad left the house early and arrived home late into the evening while carrying out his match made in heaven job, being the Head Athletic Trainer for Boise State University.

When I think back to those years and envision my Dad I'm reminded of soggy Cobby's sandwiches and Big Red gum. Cobby's, supplied the players with their sandwiches extraordinaire after every game. Dad would bring home the leftovers or, if we were lucky, when attending a game we would lounge out in his office afterward, feeling like royalty, and bite into a fresh, soggy-free, feast of our own. We'd ravage through his desk usually finding the two big guarantees: Big Red gum and Snickers bars. Pure treasures.

Often times our Sunday evening activity would involve picking up Dad from the airport after an away game. We'd scan through all the people, waiting to recognize his face among the seemingly endless line of people exiting the aircraft. And there he'd be! We'd run toward him with a big hug ready and in our minds be dreaming about the possible delights he had carefully chosen out for us from his travels.

On the weekends Dad was home we could find him lying on the front room floor after church. He'd play around with the dog or just lay on his back, chatting with us, while his arms were outstretched – moving them from the ground to stretching high above his head, touching his pointer fingers together when his hands were close enough. Sometimes we'd jump on him and try to wrestle... he'd play for a bit and then trap us with his legs - once you were trapped there was no getting out so we'd lay there like a dead fish until he was certain we understood who the true victor was. :)

Dad was the big softy parent. If there were concerns about his children he'd express them to our mother and encourage her to follow through (stinker :)... but he usually only appeared to us as our pal. Our friend. Someone we could relate to. He treated all of us as if we were his favorite and showered us with surprises. I remember one St. Patrick's Day, when I was the only child left at home, he went shopping and bought me a forest green V-necked sweater in honor of the holiday. The sweater was cute but even cuter was the time and effort he put into purchasing the perfect piece of attire for his 17 yr old daughter.

Dad was our protector; yelling at a few deserving boyfriends now and then or comforting one of his little girls when their heart had been broken. When I was a confused, mentally handicapped teenager I ran away from home. Not because my life was bad but because a lot of my friends were doing it and for some reason it didn't seem like that big of deal. (Remember my brain was not fully developed... logic was lacking). About a week after I had returned home I decided to skip school with my friends. The school notified my parents for obvious reasons. My friends and I were hanging out at a house not too far from mine when my Dad showed up. He was relieved to see me, afraid that I had possibly run away again. The thing that I'll remember most from that day was his grip on my arm while leading me home. It wasn't too firm or hurtful but a grip that spoke to me, as if saying - I love you and I am never going to let you go. Please be safe. Please make good decisions. Your mother and I love you desperately. It was a Father's grip, a grip desperately trying to protect his baby girl from the world. It worked. I’ll never forget that grip.

When I was growing up Dad was always a good home teacher. He had a gift for lifting up those in need; giving them the time and attention they so desired. This enabled him to have an odd collection of unique friends. Friends who were invited to almost every holiday and many Sunday dinners. Everybody needs a friend. Dad was theirs. One day I discovered an acquaintance of mine was also a friend of my dad’s. He described my dad perfectly, "That Gary - he's just one of the good guys". One of the good guys. Ah yes, a more brilliant description has almost never been heard.

You want my dad in your corner. You'll win. When I was in labor with my first son I guess the epidural allowed me to feel comfortable enough inviting everyone and their dog into the room. It was a long grueling process and I told my Dad that when it came time to push he had to look the other way and stay in the corner (the literal corner). My dad is the most modest man alive and concurred with my sentiments eagerly. When it was finally time to deliver my sweet baby all the women in the room were buzzing around trying to be helpful. I pushed and pushed but the baby wouldn't come. I glanced at my dad in the corner. He looked miserable. Helpless. He's a get the job done kind of guy - a leader - let's accomplish something. And there he was, banished to the corner, feeling and looking powerless while listening to me struggle. I needed my Dad. He needed a responsibility. So, I called out his name to come and hold one of my legs while I tried my hardest to deliver his grandson. A little while later Carson was born. My Dad takes care of his girls. He took care of me that day. His presence was a comfort.

I love you Dad. Thank you for your example, for being fun, for your crinkly eyelids and eyes that twinkle when you're up to good and maybe no good. Thanks for taking the time to teach the many boy-outdoorsy -sports - stuff to your house filled with daughters. Thanks for the many games of HORSE and even trying your best to teach us how to golf. Thanks for being our mom's sweetheart for eternity, dancing with her around the house and then taking a turn to twirl with us. No girl could ask for a better Daddy.

I love you tremendously,

Your youngest and rottenest :)