Livin' on a Prayer

1987. It was the time of the big permed hair, the shoulder pads, and the butt rockers. I was all of 8 years old and living it large in 3rd grade. The cover-half-your-face eyeglasses were in, and yes, I had a pair. I got baptized in 1987; my youngest sister was also born that year. Black Monday hit that year, as well as the movie "Dirty Dancing". The big musicians were Madonna, Motley Crue, Whitney Houston, and of course Bon Jovi. "Livin on a Prayer" was the biggest hit that year, and for good reason.

1997. I was a senior in high school. My friend Than was the band president, and one of the songs they played was "Livin’ on a Prayer". Man, that song gets me pumped up! Even though in my high school any amount of prayers wouldn’t help the basketball team, or the football team, etc. But I would always make Than make the band play that song. Ah, the nostalgia. *sniff*

Present day. I was on the way over to pick Jakob up from preschool, and "Livin’ on a Prayer" came on the radio. I turned it way up and started singing at the top of my lungs. Brock and Troy looked at me like I had just gotten possessed. Over 20 years later that song still makes me boogie.

So here’s to you, Bon Jovi. Here’s to bad fashion and good tunes. Please enjoy the following video.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QUSDS9pkA2Y

And if you don't like the song, at least you can laugh at the hair.

IT

When I first heard of IT, I didn't really bother to learn much about IT. Then my sister told me she loved IT. I tried IT and was terrible at IT. Then my other sister had IT. I tried IT again, and lo and behold, IT was really awesome. Ever since, Pete and I have been kind of obsessed with IT. We looked for IT in a few different places, all to no avail. We finally found IT on ebay. What luck! We bid on IT, and won IT! YAHOO! Now we have IT, and have used IT over and over. IT has been and will be a great thing. IT makes exercising fun. IT plays some pretty sweet tunes. Needless to say, IT rocks.

Still don't know what I'm talking about? Here IT is in action:

(You must excuse my camera's lack of decisiveness on lighting.)

Baby Got Back

Jakob: Mom, you have a big tummy. And a fat butt.

Ah, from the mouths of VERY-lucky-to-still-be-alive babes.

Plentiful Puke

Yes, my friends, I have sunk to a new low and am now going to blog about bodily functions. I will however spare your eyes and not put pictures on this post. Fair enough?

The last few days I've been up to my elbows in all sorts of lovely fluids. Troy started us off Thursday morning when I went to get him and discovered that his entire crib was covered in dry red glory. We had eaten Red Vines the night before; hence the color. But in order to clean that mess up I had to find my kitchen sink that was buried underneath all the dishes that I never want to do. (Even though I don't have a million dollars, maybe I should hire a maid...hmmm.) So I do the dishes, and then the sheets. Troy also decided to projectile vomit all over me that morning, which was pretty exciting. But he was acting better after his super nap, so I thought we were past the fun.

Little did I know the fun had just begun. Jakob was next on Thursday night, though he runs to the bathroom now to barf. However, he kind of missed, so I had to clean the toilet at 12:30 a.m. But hey, now my toilet is clean for another however many weeks, pretty much until I start gagging when I walk by the bathroom. He got up one other time that night. Then Brock must have felt left out, so Friday night he puked, too. Gotta love it. Then, to polish off my week, Troy began again with the runs and the barfies. And Brock still has the runs.

BUT, on the plus side, I'm not sick (knock on wood for me!), and my laundry is done about 100 times over. And Brock is still in diapers, so I haven't had to deal with more than the side blowout or the top blowout. Still, I wish there was some kind of babysitting service for when your kids get sick.

"Do your kids have the flu? Tired of you and your house smelling like a sewer? Want to go to a day spa and get a massage instead of cleaning up barf? Well now you can with our fabulous new program! Just dial 1-800-NOMORPUKE. We'll come to your house in no time and send you on your carefree way." Heaven bless the person that decides to work at such a company!

Comments/If I Had a Million Dollars

I am now an official blogger. One thing we bloggers love are comments. Don’t worry, you don’t even have to personally know me to leave a comment, though if you’re some creepy pedophile, I’d rather you not. Here’s a quick lesson on leaving comments:

Below my extremely witty and eloquent posts, there is a thin line, under which is written “x comments”. If you feel like leaving a comment like, “Oh Nat, you are the most amazing mother I have ever known”, or “That reminds me of the time my son blah blah”, or something else totally random, then click on the comment link. It takes you to a page with a square in the upper right-hand corner where you can write comments. Then fill out the word identification part. If you are a fellow blogger then you have a google name and password; enter such into the appropriate spaces provided. If you don’t have a google account, then click on “Name/URL”, and just type the name you want to go by, like “Bubba”. Or if you’re going to write a comment like, “Your posts are awful and your kids are ugly”, I’d rather you click on the “anonymous” button, because I don’t like meany-heads. Then click “Publish Your Comment”. And voila! You just made my day.

Are we ready to practice leaving comments? Good.

The other day I was thinking, “What would I do if I had a million dollars?” My first thought was “I’d buy you a green dress, but not a real green dress that’s cruel” (thanks, Bare Naked Ladies!). My second thought was I’d pay off my house and other bills. But a million dollars is a lot of money; those would make just a small dent in the wad. Of course, I’d also hire a maid, a cook, and a gardener. But I’m the type of person I’d end up putting the rest in some kind of investment and just sit on it. So I’m going to ask you: What would YOU do if you had a million dollars? It’s tithing-free and tax-free. Comment away!

Lumbering

Last night we went to the store. And Pete said, "Nat, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but...you're kind of...lumbering."



I wish he meant: to log and saw trees as prepared for human use.



But it actually was: clumsy, awkward, gawky, graceless, heavy-handed, lubberly, lumpish, ungainly, unhandy, cumbersome, bulky, heavy, massive, clumping, floundering, pounding, scuffing, scuffling, shambling, shuffling, stamping, stomping, stumbling, stumping, tramping, tromping, dragging, flopping, hauling, laboring, plodding, trudging, careening, lurching, staggering, swaying, teetering, tottering, weaving, wobbling, struggling, wallowing, weltering, faltering, reeling, blundering, fumbling, muddling, waddling.

I don't take offense, because I am lumbering. And I will be lumbering for 13 more weeks. But I do still wish it was the piney foresty lumbering. *Sigh*

Because I Have Been Given Much

I've already admitted to being a blogger stalker. And it's pretty fun. But there's one blogger that lately has really gotten me to think. Her website is Musings and Misadventures. This woman is Mrs. Dub, and recently lost a baby girl due to complications with both her and the baby. And then I look at my own day, where Jakob just wants to show me his little game he just made up for the 30th time, and I still look and say, "Wow, Jakob", but there's no enthusiasm in it. Shame on me.

There's a lady in my ward, Sister M. She has two mentally handicapped children. Her son is 10, and she's trying to potty train him. And I complain that I'm going to have to start potty training Brock, my beautiful, fully-functioning son. How dare I?

Another lady I know had two miscarriages between her daughter and her son. My sister had a miscarriage last summer. And another girl in my ward had a miscarriage a few months ago. I've never had to deal with this. When I've gotten pregnant, it's resulted in a beautiful full-term baby every time. And I whine about restless legs and nausea.

So the next time you catch me bellyaching about my crappy day with my kids, do me a favor and remind me how lucky I am to have my little guys-and soon to be girl-in my life. Tell me to suck it up because these beautiful miracles have been given to me. Remind me I have everything to be grateful for and nothing to gripe about, that a messy toy-filled basement shows that I can afford toys for my children to enjoy. That a sticky kitchen floor means my children can feed themselves regular food and are learning coordination. That my aching tired hormonal body is healthy enough to bring life into this world without complications. And that I'm just so blessed.