A few rainbows

I don't have anything super amazing to say but my friend Holly devoted an entire blog post a few weeks ago to the rainbows in her life.  And while I wouldn't classify my life as stormy, and therefore not a lot of super bright rainbows, things are good so I thought I'd share a few.

1. Alice showed up in this outfit the other day.  She seriously thinks she is a 4-year-old boy.  If I ask to go get some clothes, nine times out ten she goes to Rex's room and steals his clothes.  This is her favorite shirt.

2. This tree.  While Rex is a pretty giant pansy and won't climb more than three feet off the ground, even if I'm holding him, I love that we have a climbable tree in our yard and that Rex asks to go climb it frequently and I get to just sit and watch him be a boy and I feel like it's 1950 (when I probably should've been born) and I love it. (The spend limit on our street is 45mph and the tree is in the front yard so I don't let the kids in the front alone--the fully fenced backyard, now that's a different story--I locked them out there for 45 minutes today while I cleaned the living room and playroom and called the insurance company)

3. A few weeks ago, it was warm enough to swim but we hadn't bought a blow up pool yet and I didn't want to go get one (EVERYTHING is 15 minutes away) so I emptied out a large Tupperware for the kids to play in and then I remembered a little idea from Pinterest about playing clothesline and I thought I was such a cute, clever mom and then I took this picture...yeah, we're white trash.  My neighbor then came over exactly when I was thinking "Man, this is pretty white trash" and said, "I like your red neck pool."  I was ashamed of myself.  On a different note, I love the brick fence in the backyard--it reminds me of my grandma Deon and southern California and I look at it pretend like I'm home (on the West coast).

 4. Shortly after the "red neck" incident, we bought this pool.  So much less white trashy.

 5. Alice wanted to finger paint a few days ago, so I let her.  At the same time, Rex was harassing me to play cars with him, so I did.  Then I look over and see this--pretty lipstick Alice.  This girl is quite the trend setter.

 6. Back to the white trash incident, while I kids played in their "pool" I got out all my notes to work on my culminating paper for my Master's.  It was beautiful--my children happily playing together and me sitting at a cafe-style table being academic.  Lovely moment--yes just a moment because then aforementioned neighbor came over and reinforced my observation of how white trash we are and ruined it for me.  Besides, it was time to go in and make dinner anyway.

Was that too sunny for you?  Yesterday Greg gave a talk in church.  He sat with us until he had to get up to speak--so keep in mind the next bit happens in 15 minutes, 15!--at which point Rex started loudly whispering "Daddy, Daddy" and holding out his arms across the bench in front of us.  Then he started sneaking toward the stand, all while loudly whinning/whispering "Daddy."  Alice then proceeds to climb on to the armrest of the bench and balance there.  So I'm holding Alice with one hand and pulling Rex back into our row with the other, when Alice falls face first on to the bench (luckily not the floor) and starts crying.  At this point, I literally drag Rex out while Alice cries.  It was so bad my friend came out to get my kids (good thing because Rex was about to die).  But wait, it gets worse: after church we run into my father-in-law in the hallway and he mentions that not only did he hear about what a great job Greg did (it was a good talk, I read it the night before) but that my children were awful--he wasn't even there! my awful children were a topic of conversation.  Add to this that we were sitting directly across from five children whose mother was home with their new baby sister and their dad was sitting on the stand as a member of the bishopric.  That's right, five unaccompanied children aged 11 to 3 were better behaved for an entire hour than my two accompanied children were for 15 minutes.  Good thing we don't judge at church, or I might not be able to go back.

On bathing suits

I bought a bathing suit this week.  It's been quite the ordeal (FWP, I know).

I don't think I was asking much out of a bathing suit--modest, cute, flattering, two pieces--I spent enough years trying to pee in a one piece that I'm done with those.  In February, I found a super cute one from Lime Ricki, but because I have a problem with buying stuff and like to really think about every purchase, I waited too long.   It was sold out three weeks later when I went back to buy it.

I checked every other modest swim suit site I knew--Shade, Downeast, even Anthropology (modesty is worth the price) and this priceless gem (seriously though, check out this site).  Nothing.  I threw a fit on Facebook and was led to Target online.  Target actually had quite a few long tankini's but were next to impossible to find--it's like Target didn't want to sell me a bathing suit.  In March I picked out a bathing suit, but, again, decided to let it sit for a while.

Two weeks ago, I was at Target getting whatever it is people buy at Target and happened to see the online-only bathing suit I'd picked out.  I decided to try it on since I had the chance--with two children in tow.

Now's the part where we talk about my body.  I made the conscious decision to own my body and be super critical of it in high school.  It is what it is and I will never be a movie star.  I'm (or was) over it.  But trying that swim suit on in Target was well...when you have the chest of a 12-year-old boy (notice I didn't say girl, I used to say girl but now that I work with the Young Women, I realize I more closely resemble a boy than a girl) and the butt of a 40-year-old woman, it hurt.  I needed an x-small top, which they don't sell, with and x-large bottom, also not available.  Part of the problem could be that I was in the juniors section, but still.  Add the fact the bathing suits are supposed to be tried on OVER underwear, sexy sexy Mormon ladies.  And I had Rex making lots of his oh-so-astute observations...

I didn't buy it.  I was sad for a while.  I would never swim again.  I started doing some more toning exercises to perk up some sagging places and came to this decision: I'm going to buy it anyway.  I had too many requirements for bathing suit--modest, cute AND flattering.  I went with two out of three.  The suit is modest, and cute on the rack.  Flattering...no bathing suit is flattering on a boy-woman body.  But I did re-purpose a few of Greg's old shirts to make myself this cover up, inspired by (including the pose) by several tutorials by Merrick at Merricks Art.  And covering up is always good.

Merrick almost always poses like this when she does a tutorial.

As a side note, I came across this video on Facebook the other day.   Well done Jessica Rey, well done.

So we moved

Remember way back in January when we were out of water for a few days and I went into a bit of a packing rage for two days thinking we would be moving by the end of the week and then refused to unpack said boxes because it was a lot of work to get them packed and we were going to move soon anyway?  Well, six months later, we finally did. (I have wondered much about Rex will tell his college roommates about his childhood--my mother once went crazy and packed our house up for six months--normal people don't live out of boxes for six months...ok really five, but still.)

This is what my family lived with for a nearly a month as I moved boxes from the living room to the entry way and added more boxes.  The amount of stuff was just overwhelming.

Last weekend we moved.  It was the least efficient move ever.  I moved every box at least 4 times.  I like to move all the boxes to one place so when people come to help move they don't have to ask, "What next?"  I can just say that huge pile there--all of it.  I did this.  But then the pile was by the door so Greg couldn't get the washing machine out.  Move number 2 (first move was to said holding location by door).  Then Greg said the boxes were too far away from the driveway and we were wasting time walking back and forth to the house, so I spent 2 hours moving boxes from their second location to a third in the garage.  Then I helped load the truck.  Fourth move.  Then I unloaded.  Then I moved the boxes again as I unpacked.  All I can say is I am so thankful that for the first move in our married life, I am NOT pregnant (that's right Lexy, NOT).  Also, I really need to thank for wonderful friends for watching my kids so much--seriously, I didn't even have to ask, they offered.  Such a big help because we all know have kids around makes everything take 10 times longer.

The kids helped me move the pile from the entry way to the front porch--I gave boxes to Alice, she gave them to Rex, he put them on the porch.

Nearly done moving the boxes for the second time.

As I was moving all the boxes a million times, I had a lot of a time to think about wealth and poverty; the ultra-consumerism of our society; how many times I can use the same boxes to move before things get ridiculous and other such things.  More than once I threatened to myself to burn everything and live in a yurt in Canada and in the same thought I thought about all the stuff I needed to buy to organize, store, and beautify the stuff I already have.  Insert lots of profound thoughts here that I was going to write here on the blog, but have since been lost in the long cool shower I finally got--at several points during the move I could not remember the last time I had showered.  While we're making confessions, I also almost asphyxiated myself while cleaning the bathrooms (Greg just read this and said, "You did not almost kill yourself).  Several months ago, I got rid of all my chemical cleaners in favor of baking soda, vinegar, hydrogen peroxide, and the occasional lemon.  But for a move-out clean, vinegar just doesn't cut it.  I turned like a dog to my vomit and got out the bleach.  The bathroom was the cleanest it's ever been, but so are my lungs and my fingers started bleeding.

One week later, I'm going to say we are moved in and settled.  While I still have some crafting to do to really finish things up.  This is going to be it for the next little bit, as I am taking a semester long class in two weeks at the beginning of July, so will be doing just that.  August crafting and decorating will resume.

And now, for my mother because she likes to know where her kids live, the house.

 This is standing at the back door looking at the front door.  I have never used the front door.  The back is just more convenient.

A close up of the play/toy area.

A close up of the children's art station, which you can see in the first picture just past the bar stools.

View of the living room from the children's art station.

Standing in the same spot as the first picture, but now looking slightly to the left at the kitchen.

 Just to the left of the picture above, standing at the kitchen sink, looking into the dining area.

 Now take a few steps ahead and turn left, you'll see where there will one day be a book case and a bit of the laundry room/pantry.

 Walking toward the one-day book case and to the left, the fourth bedroom/Greg's man cave.

 Walking into the man cave and to the right, Greg's work station and the biggest closet in the house full of his hobbies.

Now walk back through the dining room, through the play area and stand next to the long couch in the living room, this is what you see--the hallway.  The door closet to you is the linen closet, just to the right of that is the kids' bathroom--again no bathroom pictures.  The door all the way back is Alice's room, just to the left of that is Rex's room and to the right is the Master.

 Rex did make this little tour of his room.  Obviously the kids were getting tired as you can hear Alice screaming in the back, which is why Alice did not get to give a tour of her room.

 Standing in the doorway to the Master--Master bath is to the right, but I didn't take pictures of that because it's a toilet and a shower, you get the idea.

 The view from the bed in the Master.

 Standing in the doorway to the shower.

 And there you have it, Mom and other creepy killers, now you know where everything in our house is.