The One Where Skippy Learned to Swear Properly

So today I had to go to Skippy’s speech therapy class so that he and his teacher could teach me how to play a game that they do for therapy. I am trying to have faith in this process…I have to say, it is slow going. But looking back, I can see some improvement.

There was one cringeworthy day last year when I picked Skippy up from speech therapy, and his teacher had the somewhat awkward task of explaining to me that we needed to help Skippy with his swear words. At this point, I should insert this award that Stefeny over at Pike’s Pickles awarded me a couple of weeks ago. Yeah, you know I’ve earned it.


Okay, but let me just say that this one was not my fault. Last year the biggest problem with Skippy’s speech is that he left the last consonant off of every single word. We worked with flashcards for months, until he was able to put the ending consonants on his words. They aren’t usually the right consonants, since he does something called fronting, where all the sounds come off the front, so that sounds like “k,”, “g” and “r” are replaced by “t,” “d” and “w,” respectively. But at least they were there. So on this particular day, Miss Robyn informed us that we needed to work with Skippy, because several times a day, whenever he found something interesting or surprising, she was treated to Skippy’s rendition of cursing, which sounded like, Oh my Go_____! and What the He___?! And yes, for about two weeks, those expressions were an integral part of my barely-four-year-old’s vocabulary.

The speech therapy flash cards themselves provided endless fun for the family. When we started tackling the consonant sounds in the middle of words, there were a few grumbles around the house. The big boys were morally opposed, it seemed, to teaching some of the words his teacher sent home. For instance, they told me that no four-year-old boy needed to properly pronounce the word “nipple” and that particular flashcard frequently found its way into the trash, only to be replaced by the teacher at the next session. I think I’m with them. That could definitely open a whole new can of worms.

The One Where She Kept Mopping Herself Into a Corner

Do you ever mop yourself into a corner? I do that whenever I mop. Which is, admittedly, not often enough. Then I have to figure out how to get out without muddying up the works. I tend to mop myself into the corner in other ways as well. For instance, lately I have been needing to finish up purchases to complete my home sound studio, and lacking the funds, I have felt like I was spinning my wheels. So what do I do? I buy something, and then figure out how to pay for it. DK is wishing I would stop doing that. Have you ever bought a swimsuit just so that you would have to shape up to fit into it by summer? Mopping yourself into a corner.

Many times I have come up with an idea for a business, and before I could talk myself out of it, have sent out flyers advertising it. But you know what? Mopping myself into a corner may not be a bad thing. It can be a way of committing myself to something. After I sent out the business flyers, you can bet I got busy figuring out how I was going to make it happen. It is, perhaps, my way of fighting procrastination, by forcing my own hand. If necessity is the mother of invention, then desperation is the mother of genius…right?

The Silver One

Tuesday is my 25th wedding anniversary with DK. Hmmm… it seems like so much longer! Actually, that isn’t true. I feel like I am about 25, so I have a hard time wrapping my brain around that many years of marriage. To the same person. And having seven kids. With the same person. Go figure… so in honor of 25 years, here are 25 cool things about DK, in no particular order: (Click the photo to see it big!)

1. He thinks I am practically perfect in every way.
2. He is the master of random and strange facts about practically everything.
3. He can do more diamond push-ups than any of the missionaries who have ever lived with us.
4. Never tells me I can’t do something.
5. He loves babies.
6. When our oldest left home for college, he missed him so much that he found an excuse to drive to Utah to see him the very next weekend.
7. He takes Skippy to kindergarten every single day, and volunteers in his classroom.
8. He always tells pregnant women how beautiful they look.
9. He taught himself Italian over the last two years by listening to these crazy Jane and Mossimo podcasts in his car on the way to work.
10. Aside from a reckless (no, maybe distracted is a better word) disregard for traffic rules, he always does the right thing.
11. He makes lunches every day and uses the money he saves by “eating in” to buy me things, like my nice camera.
12. He calls my mom at least twice as often as I do.
13. Once when Cambria was about two, he heard her coloring on the hallway wall and barked a reprimand at her that made her cry. He carried her crayon around in his pocket for a week, to remind himself that little girls should be disciplined in a gentle, loving way.
14. He is going to take me to the new Star Trek movie for my birthday.
15. Despite his love of socks, he never complains that he seldom has any clean, matching ones.
16. He downplays drama. For instance, in DK parlance, “The car got totaled on the way to work” becomes, “I had a little challenge with the Volvo today.”
17. He tries to brag about me to everyone he talks to. You can see how that wouldn’t always be a good thing, so sometimes we have to have a chat about that, but it is certainly nicer than many of my friends’ husbands, who seem to always complain about things their wives do.
18. He visits elderly widows and helps them with anything they need around the house.
19. When the missionaries needed a place to live, he told me we needed to do it, even though we still had six kids at home, one in diapers. I thought he was crazy, but he followed his inspiration, and it has turned out to be a huge blessing to our family.
20. He has a sense of humor that often only I get.
21. He is smart. Definitely in the top five in our family. I think.
22. When our kids have to go to the emergency room (we are not bad parents…it happens, people), DK usually takes them.
23. You know how some people say, “If I tell you something, do you promise not to be offended?” right before they cut you off at the knees with a character attack? Whenever DK says that to me, it always turns out to be something that isn’t even about me…no personal criticism.
24. He is ten times more romantic and sentimental than I am.
25. He reads my blog.

Couldn’t resist this picture...there are a lot of fun faces here. Click it to see it big...what a great memory!

The One With the Grass...in the Glove Box?

So this is me Tyler. Second oldest son, student at BYU. My mom told me to do a guest post today. I am going to tell you what happened to me yesterday. I swear to you I still can’t believe this actually happened. Yesterday morning I woke up and packed my things in my car and parked at Josh and Jessi’s house. I was driving a friend’s car to California for her, so I put my weekend’s worth of clothes into that car and headed out. Driving out of Provo a little later than I had wanted to…Don’t tell Mom, but I started to speed a little, wanting to get home faster. I saw a police officer and slowed down to avoid a ticket. I was speeding back up again, when a second police officer noticed me before I noticed him. He pulled me over.

I was a little nervous that I was driving a friends car, and so the names on the registration and the insurance were not mine. I opened the glove box to retrieve the registration, when a small mason jar fell out of the glove box just as the officer approached the passenger side of the vehicle. I thought to myself that it was a funny place to keep whatever nasty food was in the jar. It looked like some funky rotting substance. The police officer asked what was in the jar. I told him that I didn’t know, and he picked up the jar and opened it. He asked again: you don’t know what this is? At this point I am starting to know what is in the jar, and I realize… I. Am. In. Trouble. I told him that it was not my car and not my jar of whatever it was. He had me get out of the car and get into the front seat of his Highway Patrol car.

He informed me that I was in his custody even though I was not under arrest…yet. He read me my rights and then asked if I wanted to waive my rights and talk to him. I agreed. Have you ever smoked marijuana? No, Sir. (two years as a missionary in Texas has left me unfailingly polite and respectful…not a bad thing in this situation). When was the last time that you smoked marijuana? Never, Sir. I didn’t suppose that it would help to try explaining that I had never tasted alcohol, never smoked a cigarette...never tried drugs of any kind. Ever. I would be asked this question repeatedly over the next three hours. My response, and theirs, was always the same: Never? Really?! (the tone disbelieving, bordering on sarcastic). Probably as a result of the constant praying I was doing, I stayed calm the whole time, realizing that freaking out would not help my case.

Apparently, what I had unearthed in the glove box was marijuana, dry roasted in a fire, meaning that it had already been smoked somewhat. (The police officer explained that that meant it was probably not worth saving…it was really only good for getting me arrested). I was not happy that my first time seeing weed was when it was technically in my possession, and I was sitting in a police car. Okay, so I have never ever wanted to see weed, but still…

Officer Friendly and I made some calls on my phone and he was talking to everyone he could find to see if the stash was mine. During this time, we also stepped outside the car to do some routine tests. Following his finger with my eyes as he watched my reaction time. Counting with my eyes closed, head back. Thank goodness they didn’t make me say the alphabet backwards…I have never been able to do that. My phone rang. It was friends, with more info on the real owner of the hash. Back to the car; no more tests. He talked a while and made more calls. After some lengthy conversations he was done with my phone and asked me if I thought he was working hard enough. Yes, sir. (I could tell he was trying to save my butt.)

Then he searched the car for more paraphernalia. More officers arrived and questioned me. (You guessed it…) SO, when was the last time you smoked marijuana… same answer… same “Really?!” I overheard from their conversation that the first officer was impressed with my tests and answers, and that he was sure I was telling the truth. Search finished and they found nothing.

They asked me to put all of the boxes from the car back inside and the sit in the car again as the officers talked. Although I had been praying pretty much nonstop for the past couple of hours, now was the time to pray out loud. One car drove away and I was called to the first car again on the loudspeaker. Officer K. (the first officer) explained that he would be calling his superior to discuss what he should do and if I would be set free. That, and the realization that Officer K. looked a lot like Steve Martin, were helping me to relax a little.

I went back to my car and watched as he spoke to his superior. Lots of hand motions and I even could tell when he was explaining the jar to his superior. He finished and came to the passenger side window. He told me that I would be getting my speeding ticket and that he had lowered it for me. And then the miracle. I was free to go. BUT, he wanted to know if I was a Chris Rock Fan. I said, um...sure? He said I needed to go and watch “How to not get your ‘butt’ kicked by the police.” Obedient as I am, I just watched it. Lots of foul language, but it rang true. Rules to live by: Before you borrow a friend’s car, make sure they don’t have any outstanding warrants against them. Check the trunk for dead bodies. Search the car for weapons, drugs and stolen goods. Although, after watching the video clip, I see that I had at least one thing going for me: I didn’t have an angry woman in the car with me, pointing at me and screaming at the police officer, “He got weed! He got weed!”

See? There’s always an up-side.

I drove away still stressed out, and only got as far as the next rest stop…I was done. I almost just gave up and drove back to Provo. But I played my guitar for awhile. Got a soda. Called my parents. And then got back on the road…a little under the speed limit this time.

Please note that neither Tyler, nor his friend who owns the car, do drugs. But his friend will be very much more careful to whom she loans her car in the future...

The One With All the Entropy (My 100th Post!)

I have been studying this concept of entropy. I am going to apologize in advance for my simplistic approach to the subject. If you have a scientific brain, you might want to just stop reading right now. Entropy is a central concept in thermodynamics. As such, it is the measure of disorder in a closed, but changing system. But as a sort of basic principle, entropy might be described as the process by which everything naturally unmakes itself. It is how, left to the natural order of things, household… personal appearance… financial stability…all will eventually devolve into chaos and disrepair. Do you see how fundamental entropy is? It is why you can’t have your house all clean at one time. It is why you can’t leave five-year-olds without a babysitter. It all starts to fall apart.

Some of my very favorite books are the Alvin Maker series by Orson Scott Card. The basic premise is that the Unmaker is constantly at work trying to tear down and cause darkness and destruction until, in true Good vs. Evil form, Alvin is born…the seventh son of a seventh son…with the power to Make. To create. To fight the evil Unmaker. Yes, the books ooze symbolism. And as with all my favorite books, I love the characters like they are my own best friends. But it is this concept of making versus unmaking that really appeals to me. I realize that my entire world is subject to entropy, and it is my job to fight it. Make. Create. Clean. Repent. Repair. Learn. Forgive. Serve others. All these things fight entropy.

On that subject, Tyler is coming home for five days! He is my household version of Alvin. He is Handy. I love handy men. Is it wrong that I have a whole list of things that Tyler is going to help me do while he is home? Come on…we’re just fighting entropy, here. What about you? Are you a positive force, or are you sitting back and letting entropy have its way? If it is the latter, you should at least drag your feet a little on the way down... And on that note, I am going to go fight in my kitchen for a little while.

The One With the Look of Love

Dear iMac,

Have I told you lately how much I love you? I know I am not supposed to love inanimate objects, but let’s face it…you are anything but inanimate! I have been saving files indiscriminately, yet haven’t even occupied two percent of your roomy 640 gigabyte hard disk. Running Logic Studio with more than twenty tracks at a time, you don’t even break a sweat. You escort me through the minefield of the internet as though it is your own personal playground, always shielding my eyes from anything profane or vulgar.

I know you’re watching me, too, because I clicked and you took this picture of me. We like all the same shows on Hulu HD (Battlestar Gallactica, The Closer, 24…did I tell you about my Jack Bauer dream where we were jumping into an empty elevator shaft, suspended from chains…and I woke up with this horrible bruise on my arm…I don’t think it was from the chains, but seriously, where else would it have come from?). We agree on all the important things: (cream cheese frosting does not belong on cinnamon rolls, it’s more important to have a nice piano than a nice car, and having kids is definitely better than having pets). I guess what I’m saying is, BFFs, okay? Love you.
P.S. You look great in silver…all 24 inches of you. Speaking of silver, since you’re so new, we could call you an anniversary present…because you know, DK and I are celebrating 25 in just a week.

The One With the Challenge

I have been at a church youth conference all weekend with about 300 young men and women aged 14-18. I have had way too much sun and way too little sleep. But wow! Talk about some amazing kids. By the way, I’m not kidding about the sun. It is currently 91 degrees here at 5:00 p.m., and can’t lie… I am not a good warm-weather girl.
So I am a little tired. But I needed to do a Sunday post for you. I have been thinking a lot today about one particular thing: The Book of Mormon. There is much to love about the Book of Mormon. It has beautiful scripture stories. Since I was a child, my imagination has been captivated from the very beginning of the book, where a father receives a vision from God that his city is about to be destroyed, and he takes his young family and tents and provisions, and flees the city. As the story of the people that lived on the American continent centuries ago, the book is compelling and exciting.

More and more every day I realize, however, that every word in the book has one purpose only. That is to testify of Jesus Christ, and to celebrate and glorify his atoning sacrifice for each one of us. It is interesting how as I study the Atonement of Jesus Christ, I begin to realize that it is the one thing without which nothing else matters.

So…The Book of Mormon. If you are not Mormon, you have likely never read the book. Maybe you have never given it a second thought, or maybe you have heard that it is false…wicked, or controversial. But here is the amazing thing about the Book of Mormon: you don’t have to judge the book by what you have heard. It comes with a promise, that if you sincerely read the book with an open mind and real intent, then you can pray to know if it is true, and you will receive an answer!

Listen to these words from the introduction of this amazing book: “We invite all men everywhere to read the Book of Mormon, to ponder in their hearts the message it contains, and then to ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ if the book is true. Those who pursue this course and ask in faith will gain a testimony of its truth and divinity by the power of the Holy Ghost.”

There is a scripture in the Book of Mormon that tells the story of Alma, a missionary teaching about the gospel of Jesus Christ. He explains in the most beautiful language what it means to be the people of Jesus Christ, and then he issues a powerful challenge: “Now I say unto you, if this be the desire of your hearts, what have you against being baptized in the name of the Lord, as a witness before him that ye have entered into a covenant with him, that ye will serve him and keep his commandments, that he may pour out his Spirit more abundantly upon you?” I love that.

Now, may I take one step further back, and issue this challenge: What have you against reading the Book of Mormon? If it is true…and I tell you that it is…how can you stand not to know that for yourself? How can you afford not to know the truth of something that means happiness for you and for your family? You can get one online at this website. OR, I myself have several of these books sitting right here. You need only ask, and I will send one to you. A free Book of Mormon…from a genuine Mormon. Now that is a giveaway you shouldn’t miss.

The One Where She Was Snarky Two Days in a Row

Should I be worried? Proceeding on the assumption that Facebook knows me better than I know myself (which, albeit a stretch, is not entirely outside the realm of possibility), I am becoming increasingly bothered by the messages which appear in the sidebar of my Facebook profile. These are “smart ads.” They have been custom-selected for me, based on…well, I actually don’t know. My age? My photo? My number of friends? The sarcasm level of my wall posts? I visit my friends’ profiles, and their ads say things like, “Join the Thomas S. Monson fan club!” or “Enjoy adventures in Yosemite!” But not mine.

First, I have been invited to participate in a schizophrenia study. In fact, in recent days, “invited” has been upgraded to “strongly urged.” I may qualify to receive compensation for time and travel (up to $4000). Hmmm. $4000? Mama needs a new microphone…I’m going to have to seriously consider that one. Can you get schizophrenia from low self-esteem? Because it seems I also struggle with wrinkles, obesity and a Troubling Sleep Disorder.

The good news is that half of Hollywood women harbor a secret wrinkle remedy which, if I can somehow learn, I can look 25 again. I can lose 5-50 pounds using the secret Acai blend favored by Rachel Ray and Oprah (yes, I invoked the “O” word…it must be true). As far as the Troubling Sleep Disorder goes, this one is kind of sticky. I actually didn’t know it was troubling. I should probably ask DK about that one. I always imagined he thought it was cute how I walk and talk in my sleep. Although there was that one time where I went walking in my sleep all through the Hotel Monaco in Salt Lake City. That was slightly troubling. If I hadn’t been wearing any pajamas, I suppose I couldn’t qualify it with “slightly.” It would have been just plain troubling.

But even if I do have a Troubling Sleep Disorder, do I really want them to send me this?


I’m not sure it is a good idea to cure sleep apnea. After all, isn’t that the dream?…to peacefully die in my sleep at that point when the schizophrenia, wrinkles and obesity have finally won the day?

The One With the Stroke of Genius

Cox High-Speed Internet did not come up with this idea themselves…it is just too good. But someone, somewhere, had this amazing brainchild: When people have problems with their internet, or with accessing their e-mail, you offer live chat. And when they take you up on your kind offer, you route their chat to people in Mexico, India and I don’t even know where else. Maybe Nicaragua…Guam. Timbuktu. Anywhere where you can pay a nine-year-old 37 cents an hour to sit in front of a computer screen and practice their English using a pre-determined set of automated responses. It is wonderful, and I think I am going to adapt it for parental use.

Mom, I’m hungry. Would you like to initiate a Live Chat at this time?
Um, I guess? I’m just hungry. We appreciate your business. Please be patient, as you are currently number 18 in our queue. 17… 16…
Okay, I’ll just make a PBJ. Excellent. Thank you for choosing us as your parental providers. Is there anything else we can help you with this evening?
Well, I need help on my Spanish homework. Would you like to initiate a live chat at this time?
I thought we were already having a live chat. Thank you for your patience. You are next in the queue.
Mom, I just need you to look at my Spanish paper. We are going to need a little more information in order to help you. Please have your class description, textbook, Spanish-English Dictionary and a note from your teacher handy. What is the specific problem you are experiencing?
I need you to proofread my essay. I am sorry for any inconvenience this problem may be causing.
It is not a problem. I just need you to look at it. I am sorry, but we can’t reliably provide advice on third-party products.
It isn’t a third-party product. I just wrote it myself. Please unplug everything in the room, wait for the count of 30 and then plug it back in. I will wait here until you have completed this.
I’m just going to go ask Dad to look at my paper. Excellent. Thank you for choosing us as your parental providers. Is there anything else I can help you with this evening?
You didn’t help me with anything. We truly value your patronage. Have a good evening.
>>Victoria has closed the chat and left the room.<<

What an idea. In the words of Steve Martin in the movie Roxanne: “I think it's brilliant! What an idea! And I was there! He took the idea! He saw it ripe on the tree, he plucked it, and he put it in his pocket. It's…it's… dare I say... genius? Ah, no, NO! But maybe, ooh! ah! maybe it is! Maybe I'm in the presence of greatness, Maybe I just don't know it. But I saw it...”

The One With the Steep Learning Curve

Yesterday I found out just exactly how very not smart I am. It only took a piece of software (granted, a very large piece) to reveal my mental inadequacy. Logic Studio has two manuals. One is 700 pages, and the other is 1040 pages. As learning curves go, this one is Mt. Everest. But I am starting to get it. The program is still mocking me...and no, my microphone is not sufficient to capture Rachel’s amazing vocals... I am going to get better at this, I promise, but in the meantime, I have made a passable attempt at recording my latest. Want to know the how and why? See my Sunday post a week and a half ago, in which talk about the song and my friend Janna, for whom I wrote it. If you like it, please send me a little love (and any spare brain cells) by commenting on this post.

*Update: As of today, Monday, April 13, I am on page 800 in the 1040-pg. manual! I have highlighted and post-it-noted up the whole thing, and I think I have figured out some stuff...looking forward to fixing up this recording this week:)

{I am hesitant to put this one in, because a) it was recorded before I got a good mic... listen to Evening Lullaby for a quality comparison! It is huge. b) I have some big plans for this one... melody and accompaniment changes. It is going to be BEAUTIFUL. But the words are particularly meaningful to me, so until then, here it is.}

My Life
(for Janna)

What if one day you woke up
And the life you knew was gone?
Trust betrayed,
Alone, afraid
All you relied upon.

I thought that I was living
My life in such a way
That hurt and sin
Could never win, and
Pain would never stay.

Is this my life?
All this hurt and broken dreams
Where is the plan?
Why is nothing as it seems?
Is this my life?
How did I get here?
How can I get back again?

Looking through the ruin of the life I used to love
I see pieces of the girl I used to be.
Heavenly Father, if you're listening,
Please help me find my way.
Show me just a glimpse of what life holds for me...

Is this my life?
All this hurt and broken dreams
Where is the plan?
Why is nothing as it seems?
Is this my life?
How did I get here?
How can I get back again?

Kneeling in the darkness,
I can't hear a single sound.
My eyes are searching,
But they cannot see.
Then suddenly the Spirit whispers to my broken heart,
“Jesus suffered even this, for thee.”

Then glowing in the darkness
I can see his plan for me.
Like jewels that glitter brightly
For as far as I can see.

I can leave the dark behind me
As I feel the rush of days
Making strength of every weakness...
Turning anguish into praise.

This is my life
This is where I'm meant to be.
The road is hard,
But I wouldn’t change a thing
This is my life
His precious gift
And it's beautiful to me.

This is my life
This is where I’m meant to be.
The road is hard
But I wouldn’t change a thing
This is my life
His precious gift…

This is my life
This is my life
This is my life…
And it is beautiful to me.

The One With the Winners

Winners. This guy here is a real winner. He didn’t even know he was in a pie-eating contest. That is just the way he eats. Did you notice the piece of crust stuck to his temple? I’ve got to be honest: this photo is grossing me out enough that if you stop by tomorrow or the next day, it may be gone. Oh... and my dad used to have this corny joke (okay, so a lot of corny jokes): The first place prize is: a week in New York!!! And for our runner-up, the second place prize is... TWO weeks in New York! Now, I’ve been to New York City, and a second week would have been just dandy. And of course, none of this has any bearing on the business at hand, which is the Giveaway!

So DK supervised the official drawing today...and the winners are... *drumroll please*... NAN, and MARILYN. Congratulations! To all the rest of you who so kindly visited my blog, entered, commented, and visited again... thank you, and I’m sorry, but you didn’t win. Please keep coming back anyway. I will try to make it worth your while. So, Nan and Marilyn, the only thing left is to tell me which package you want. Photos, or Domestic Goddess?

The One With the Missionaries and the Mormon Crack

This is it. My hands-down, no-contest, favorite Sunday of the year. No…you didn’t miss something…it’s not Mother’s Day. It’s General Conference weekend for my church. I’m not going to lie…part of the charm is watching church in my pajamas from the comfort of my big soft couch. But even better, is the wonderful talks and encouragement. Someone told me once that she couldn’t take counsel from a bunch of old men, because they just couldn’t possibly understand the issues of people today, let alone women. It made me very sad that she was missing the message that they had, because she had a pre-conceived notion that they had nothing to offer her personally. My experience has been quite the opposite. If you want to see for yourself, go here. They have the very coolest live streaming, and you can watch all the different sessions.

Secondly, our conference morning tradition is Marshmallow Popovers and scrambled eggs. Hard to beat. Well, I covered the “old guys.” The “young guys” part, is that Elder Crane is indeed being transferred after six months of being part of our family. Go ahead…rip another little piece of my heart out, why don’t you? So I think Skippy and I are going to make a treat for the missionaries this afternoon. These “Scotcheroos” are a recipe I swiped from a friend’s blog, the Duffy Doings. We actually don’t call them Scotcheroos here in our house. Around here they are universally acknowledged to be “Mormon Crack.” Sorry for the drug reference, especially on a Sunday…but they are seriously addictive. I have been strung out on them for lo, these many months…

Mormon Crack

The One With Acres of Fruit

This has to be one of my favorite desserts in the world. I had to make enough Fruit Pizza for 60 people, and as it turned out, it was about enough for a hundred. I got to bring home a whole pan, which was cause for celebration around the house, since the kids and the missionaries helped assemble the pizzas and didn’t get to eat any…this is super fun to make with the family, because they can put all the fruit on. Feel free to make this in a round pizza pan and slice into wedges...I do it this way because I can’t stop myself from cooking for an army.

This is what it looks like before the glaze. You can use refrigerated cookie dough…but of course I don’t recommend it. It only takes a couple of minutes to throw together some nice sugar cookie dough, and I promise you that you will taste the difference. You can even make your sugar cookie dough ahead of time, and refrigerate it. Just bring it to room temperature in order to press it easily into the pan. My sugar cookie recipe isn’t included on the Fruit Pizza Recipe...but I will post it tomorrow. Because you really ought to make some pretty sugar cookies for Easter anyway, right?

In fact, if you are really, really nice, I will post a couple of variations on my sugar cookie recipe that will make you cry, they are so good...have you ever had a Glazed Lime Cookie? It is the best thing. Did I mention I’m not really a chocolate person? Oh!...and the thing that really elevates this tart to a thing of glory is the beautiful citrus glaze over the top. I’m telling you, this would WOW as your Easter dessert! Enjoy a little slice of heaven...

Here is the recipe:
Victoria’s Fruit Pizza

Sugar Cookie Recipe
(check in a later post for cool variations!)

*Oh, and this is cute Elder Crane in the last picture…he has lived with us for six months this week, and is probably about to be transferred to a new area. He is an awesome missionary! Love love love him.

The April Fool’s One

This is me (as a child), 18 years ago...today is Ethan’s 18th birthday. Yes, April Fool’s! I was having labor induced anyway, so I asked the doc, please, can’t we just do it on March 31st? (This was my fourth son...surely he could cut me some slack) Um, no…that’s Easter. Okay, fine. But you do realize it will be April Fool’s Day, right? Dr. C: You’re not superstitious, are you? *Insert eye rolling here*

So April 1 in the morning, they started the pitocin, and by about 10 a.m. when the doctor rolled in to check my progress, things were moving along well. He checked me, looked very serious all of a sudden, and called for an ultrasound machine. April Fool’s! Baby had turned entirely breech since he had last checked me at 8:00. He successfully performed an external version, which is a lot less fun that it sounds, and then headed back across the street to his office.

At noon when he came back, he checked me again. I was waiting to hear, congratulations, you’re fully dilated; let’s have a baby. But no… April Fools! Ethan had turned breech again. Another external version. This time nurses giving fundal pressure, and doc breaking my water…attaching a scalp monitor to the baby, and then taping that around my thigh so many times, it seemed that he thought he might be able to lasso the baby so that he couldn’t turn again. (That probably wouldn’t work, by the way)

Well, Victoria, for this baby to turn breech twice during labor, he must be a lot smaller than we thought…maybe in the 5-6 pound range. April Fool’s! Eight and a half pounds. Oh, and I know you’re really sore down there right now, but you’ll feel much better tomorrow. April Fool’s! You actually fractured your tailbone during the delivery, and you won’t be sitting straight for a few months. I didn't know you could even do that.

Tell me again…what was wrong with having an Easter baby? I guess the real joke is, today is his birthday…but he gets to spend it having his butt kicked at Marine boot camp… April Fool’s, Ethan!