Four score and twenty loads of laundry

to go, before I sleep.
My dirty laundry multiplies like little bunnies.
Except not so cute--I don't want to pet it.

It was my birthday over the weekend.  It was funny!  My children, who wanted nothing more than to please me and provide a day of relaxation for their mother were fairly thwarted in their plans, since their parental birthday reinforcement was still working in California.  Also, since my two birthday wishes were 
-a clean house 
and 
-to play a game with my kids 
which ended up being things that they probably wanted to do LEAST of all.  Three-fifths of them suffered through part of a game of Settlers of Catan before we threw in the towel, and I tried to pretend I wasn't looking while they begrudgingly tidied up in honor of the occasion.
(Note to self:  next year, clean house BEFORE birthday, and tell the kids you want to play a few hours of video games, listen to loud music, tease the cats, eat ice cream sundaes and throw all cares to the wind in honor of your day)
Shopping opportunities were nil, as we packed our days with the final home football game of the season, pasta parties, soccer games and a full day at UMass in Amherst, where we were treated to marching band clinics, a football game and amazing performances by the university marching band.  I did find a homemade scrapbook on my pillow, enjoyed a short visit from my twin sister of Ohio and ate almost an entire angel food cake singlehandedly, which added up to reserving my spot in heaven.

Monday afternoon, as I was waiting for an Rx in Target, two youth-ly figures went running past me, shrouded in their sweatshirts.  My mom-radar picked up on their if-my-face-is-covered-you-can't-see-me plan of attack, and I laughed as they rounded the corner.  Later in the kitchen, I was presented with a 42-ounce bag of peanut m&ms and a dvd.  THEN, the arrival home of Mr. Dub and his promise of a new birthday chair.  Extended birthday bliss.

Lastly, I spent the first half of yesterday hanging out with babies and toddlers, and the last part of my day making surprise visits to women in a few surrounding towns as part of my Relief Society responsibilities.  
Then I came home to find a letter from Yonder waiting in my inbox.
I went to bed feeling pretty great.  Tired, but great.

Sunday at the MTC

Life is just one adventure after another around here.

We love our home teacher and have a good relationship with him.

Most of the time, he goes WAY above and beyond the call of duty.

Take October, for example.

Mr. Dub was ON-THE-ROAD.  A lot.

Enrique misplaced his keys.  A lot.

I am a good share-er of keys.

And there-in lies the problem.

It was easy for me to divide my keys--Noah's ark plus house key, or Toyota and car remote.

Most of the time, Enrique was driving the ark.

One Sunday afternoon, I found myself scooting home from church with our two youngest children, as everybody else had a reason to stay.

When I arrived home, I had no house keys.

Thankfully, our home teacher has a set, and he only lives five minutes away.

A couple of days later, I had to pick up a blond daughter after school, and the timing didn't work out so well. The Elementary school bus got home about 10 minutes before we did.

Mercifully, our trusty neighbors also have a spare key to our house, and the kids let themselves in.

I made a few daytime trips to the temple last month, and thankfully I timed my arrival to coincide with the arrival of HS daughter who has house-key-in-backpack, or I could have been sitting in the car for awhile.

Then, one night later, Dub takes all the Youth Group kids off to church and locks up TIGHT while I'm running around doing the basketball pick-up and library drop-off.

You may already have guessed what happened next:

Home Teacher saves the day AGAIN!

So here's what happens when you neglect to return your spare keys to your neighbors AND your home teacher in a timely fashion, and you continue to be an enabler share keys.

You bid farewell to Mr. Dub one Sunday morning in Sacrament Meeting, as he has a meeting in Cambridge to attend.  You go happily to Sunday School and don't think another thing of it.

THEN, after church when you herd your family to the ark--one-by-one, contrary to the other ark story you may be familiar with--(because Dub has switched vehicles and drives the smaller car to the city) you realize that not only do you not have keys to the big rig, you also do not have keys to your house.

Because they're ALL locked up at home, nice and airport-security-tight.

We casually called our home teacher, to see if maybe he might like to drive the 30 minutes back to church to pick us up.  HE DID!!   What a guy.  Then we enlisted his help to break in to our home.

Moral of the story:

I really don't know, what IS the moral of this story?!?
Don't share?...

Meanwhile, our home teacher might be campaigning for a new assignment.

99 weeks to go...

and feeling LOVED!

Thanks, everyone, for sending him your letters and packages.

just wondering

exactly how old will my kids be before they will go UPstairs or DOWNstairs or into ANY dark room in the house without me?  It's like Halloween everyday at our house.  SPOOOOOOKY!

Life is good today.

Mr. Dub!

Because he's around, life is good EVERYday.

I love you.

Happy Birthday~

It's FUN being married to the Dub.

And thanks to the original W's for raising such a fine son.

I feel blessed everyday to be loved by this man.

XO

Happy November!

One of my VERY favorite months.
There's a warm and cozy fire in the fireplace.
The house is quiet.
I nudged myself into my sneakers and went for a run this morning, even though they were cold, because I kicked them out into the frosty night when I found out that I'd stepped in dog poop while trick-or-treating with the crew.  Probably 3rd commandment karma.
The Segullah pressure was on, and BEHOLD!  I opened my brother's blog post in my email inbox this morning.
Look what came of it.
Thanks for having my back, Zach.