Brown Eyes? Blue Eyes?

The first thing most people say about Easton is “Look at those big, brown eyes!” And every time, in the back of my head, I think, “Where did he get those?” Ronnie’s eyes are hazel, my eyes are hazel-y green. Pondering this the other day, I remembered a project we probably all did in the 8th grade [or thereabouts].

We were assigned partners. Partners of the opposite sex. (gasp!)

We rolled the dice and created our own baby. (double gasp!)

I remember wanting so badly to be paired with Sean. Never mind that he was shorter than me, he was the cutest kid in my science class. The teacher announced the pairs. My partner was a girl. [unfortunately, there was not an even boy/girl ratio]

We did the assignment and I don’t remember anything about the traits our baby had, just that I wished I was partners with Sean.

I know this is an incredibly random memory—I have a lot of those.

Who did you want to be paired with in 8th grade? [Bethany—it is so unfair that your answer will be Casey]

And now, to reward you for reading this fairly pointless post, I’ll give you a view of the beautiful browns that brought it all on.

This American Life

My new obsession.

After hearing about this program from hola,isabel and the love of NPR in general from Jen, I was intrigued.

Work has slowed down. The move is over, my office is organized and all is well.

I’ve been typing minutes from meetings, editing newsletters and the like—a perfect opportunity to have something on in the background.

I went to the This American Life website and decided to start from the beginning. If I was going to be truly educated on all things pertaining to the American life I lead that seemed the logical place to start.

Love it.

Not every episode, not even every part of every episode. I tend to skip the episodes about current events (like the presidential election of 1996), and occasionally skip a story I don’t like, but overall I’m in love.

So go ahead—give it a listen and then tell me about your favorite episode. [I’d list mine, but I’ve listened to the first 37 (more or less) and already love many].

Where DO babies come from?

The question that every parent dreads.

At the ripe old age of four, I knew I had the answer.

It made perfect sense.

There was a staging area for the babies to be organized and a direct connection to each hospital. Another connection left the staging area and headed (I was sure) straight to heaven.

Pretty smart for a four year old (If I do say so myself).

Many of you have seen the “baby station.” I would even venture to say that several of you will recognize it instantly.

So, without further ado…


Have you placed it in your mind yet? It is located just at the mouth of Provo Canyon. Who knows where those pipes really go, but to four year old KaLee each one went to a different Utah hospital. This picture doesn’t capture the connection to heaven, so I found one online. The pipe below runs all the way up Provo Canyon and when you can’t see it any more it is ascending to heaven (right). [please ignore the random runner]

What falsities made perfect sense to you as a child?

It's Official

Ronnie has completed his first year of law school.

Way to go babe! I'm so proud of you and the hard work it has taken to get you through!

(Ronnie is pictured on his recent birthday--27 years!)

5 months!

Remember this little guy? Yeah, he's still around. His mom has been a little busy lately, so she apologizes for the break in posts.

Since Grandma Cali is here visiting, Easton has been sleeping in the pack and play. One morning he was playing and watching his mobile and then we came upon this.
He had completely pulled down the "toy bar." Silly boy.
One of the many funny faces he pulls. I call this one "total disgust."
He has also taken to sucking on his bottom lip if a binky is not handy. Cute for now, but not something I want to encourage. Can you imagine if he still did this in college?
Easton also loves to run his fingers through my hair. He does not pull it, but just touches it. This was the best picture we could get--although he normally does it with a much larger chunk of hair.
When he wants to put something in his mouth he strains with his lips--achieving this look...
"I want those buttons! Give me the buttons!"

Ah-ha! I got them!

And finally, I'll leave you with this--just a reminder of what a little cutie I have all to myself--and I guess Ronnie too.

Just a few thoughts

You know how you think your family is the best? Well, I'm here to tell you that you are dead wrong, MY family is the best.

My wonderful mother-in-law, Karen, came up to help out during finals--SUCH a blessing!

My favorite dad was down in Utah and went all the way to Payson to pick up some things for our Relief Society Enrichment. Plus he took a picture of something I have been wanting to blog about for a long, long time--go ahead, anticipate it.

I'm so grateful to have these wonderful people cheering for me and my little family all of the time.

What would I do without them?

Joy

I'm not trying to exclude anyone, but only mothers will understand the pure joy I felt today.

Easton pooped.

Easton pooped after 82 hours of non-pooping.

My heart swelled with joy.

Pure Joy.

Taxes

Nothing is certain but death and taxes. ~Ben Franklin

I was astounded by a human being last night (as opposed to when I am astounded by butterflies, Bear Grylls—I don’t care what you say, he is not a human being, or science).

It’s the first of two finals weeks for Ronnie. Have I mentioned that? Well, let me say it again. It’s the first of two finals weeks for Ronnie—translation: our house is a little hectic.

So I went to Little Caesar’s to pick up a pepperoni pizza, crazy bread and sauce. I walk in behind another lady (AL) and patiently begin my wait.

AL orders: “One cheese pizza please” and then hands over her five dollar bill.

The worker-guy-with-greasy-hair-that-I-am-trying-not-to-notice-or-think-about (WGWGHTIATNTNOTA) finishes pressing all of the buttons on the cash register and announces, “That will be $5.30 please.”

AL looks at him. WGWGHTIATNTNOTA looks at her.

He waits.

And then repeats, “That will be $5.30 please.”

AL finally responds, “But the sign outside says $5.”

WGWGHTIATNTNOTA: “With tax it comes to $5.30”

AL (as she digs in her purse for spare change): “You guys should really change the sign then.”

WGWGHTIATNTNOTA: “The sign says ‘plus tax’ at the bottom.”

Completely frustrated now, AL slams her change on the counter, takes her pizza and storms out of the building.

And I am left to wonder, are there really people who never think about taxes? (besides those people who live in states that don’t have taxes—I’m talking to you, Carissa)

A Dream

I have a dream…

This particular dream does not involve world peace, unity, sunshine and flowers (although I have all of those dreams separately).

I dream of seeing one of these driving on a railroad.


During the countless hours I have spent on Interstate 80, I have seen many Union Pacific vehicles with the capability of driving on the railroad, but have yet to see one in action.

Can someone explain what is so appealing about this whole thing? Is it the fact that you are driving on two skinny rails? That you are driving where almost no one else can drive? I have yet to answer those questions, but continue to dream anyway.


(sigh)

Fears

We all have them. At least I really, really hope we all have them. Otherwise I am one lonely, fearful human being.

I’ve found a new one.

Something so irrational that at first I hesitated blogging about it, but what is this blog good for if not to tell embarrassing stories?

My breath catches each time I come upon it (which happens at least 8 times a week). My foot hesitates (involuntarily) before I step closer.

I’ve really got your minds spinning now—don’t I? What is this horrible thing that KaLee has to encounter so often?

I’m not going to tell you—I’ll just show you.

See? I told you it was irrational. I know that I’m not going to fall through the holes or even twist my ankle on them but that doesn’t seem to matter. My fear is not increasing but it is not lessening either so I’ll take that as progress.

Please tell me I’m not alone in stupid fears—what are yours?

Oh, to be 5 again: Week 12

Erc recently told her kindergarteners that she is pregnant. She began by telling them that she had very exciting news—she was going to have a baby. She then explained that when the baby grows, her tummy will get bigger. The following conversation then proceeded.

Mark*: Are you having a boy or a girl?
Erc: I don’t know yet.
James*: Yeah, the baby doesn’t have any hair yet, and you have to wait until they have hair to tell what they are going to be. A boy will have short hair and a girl will have long hair.
Erc (after deciding that James’ explanation was suitable for 5 year olds): Yep!

* Not the children's real names.