The Husband Tag



Where we met: We met in London. In the parlor of the London Centre. He walked in with a bunch of friends, I was laying on the couch trying to get over my jet lag. I thought he was so cool and funny.

How long we dated before we got hitched: We knew each other 9 months before tying the knot.

How long have we been married: 8 years.

What's my favorite feature about him: His way of thinking, his five o'clock shadow, his knees and calves.

What's my favorite quality about him: His priorities are the right ones. Our little family always comes first. School, work, internship, and church calling all take a back seat. That doesn't mean we don't have Ben-less days around here, but it does mean that when he is around he makes it count.

What's his nickname for me: Share, Shara, Hun, Sweetie.

His favorite color: BYU Blue or maybe black? This one is hard to figure out. I don't even think he could give me an answer.

His favorite food: Every type of food you can think of. He is a master at finding excellent restaurants or awesome recipes to try out.

His favorite sport: Golf hands down. Although he seems to know the scores and results to every major sport out there. You name it, if the game was important he knows the outcome.

Who said the L word first: I think it was me. These details are sketchy in my mind. I'll have to look it up in my journal.

First kiss, when and where: About one month after spending every day together. It was night time in London. We were walking home from the Paddington Library together. He decided to hold my hand and kiss me the same night. The street name was Prince Court. I cried. Partly because kissing him seemed like the right thing to do (or perhaps it just felt right), and partly because I had a boyfriend back in the states that would need an explanation later. Ben knew this information and still took the chance. Very brave if you ask me, but hey, I wanted it to happen.

Favorite couple thing to do: Go out on dates. We mostly go out to eat at some top rated restaurant. Don't confuse that with top dollar. Cucina Toscana was SLC #1 Italian 2008, and it also won #1 overall. Settabellos -I think is #1 for pizza joints. These are our favorites at the moment.

How many kids: 2 and 1/2

His hidden talent: He is a good writer, although most already know that. He is also good at Rummikub, competitively speaking. He tries to limit his games due to how freakishly good he is at it. He has many others though. Like how good he is at putting tights on Rosie, or gardening, taking care of cars, and cooking. I play the sues chef more than he does these days. Wow, he is good.

His age: 31 years

His favorite music: He likes something from most generations but as a whole I would say alternative, such as Coldplay. I'm also surprised at the number of Butt Rock hits that he knows. Those come from his high school days I think.

What I admire most about him: His goodness. His desire to learn regardless of subject (like one semester he took a auto mechanics class, and oh yeah, he took First aid and CPR. He took them for the practicality of knowing the information, which has come in handy). Finally, his desire to make me happy, he is very good at this.

His favorite pastimes: In no particular order; golfing, reading, and spending time with the family.

Will he read his: Only if I tell him to check the blog.

Oh Brave One























My cowboy dad entered into surgery about 20 minutes ago. 3-4 hours from now he will emerge drowsy yet cancer free, and oh yes, minus one sick gland.

I'm so happy that he was able to come to Utah to have the surgery done here. I feel like I can be more a part of the recovery. I remember many days and nights when I was sick I'd just call his name and he would right every wrong in my eyes. I doubt that I can right every wrong, but I'd like to try, or at least do what I can. (If that means taking his wife shopping so be it;). What ever it takes right?

Last night my dad was acting stoic, cracking jokes, and enjoying the family here in Utah. I'm guessing even though the next week or more of his life will be spent in bed, he will still be fun and acting silly with the grandkids, trying his hardest not to look or act sick.

Dad, Pacha, Grandpops, Oh Brave One. Good luck today. I love you.

A Very Happy UnBirthday To . . .

A Happy 31 years Ben!!



Seriously, who has time? December couldn't get any busier could it? In 8 years of marriage we have only celebrated Ben's birthday once on his actual birthday. Ben has been in school for so long that he has either been studying for a final, taking a final or giving a final on his birthday. And good luck trying to reschedule a date night in December. There are so many ward functions, concerts, and family parties to attend that why even try and cram it all in, and even if you did, how do you find a babysitter? How can a birthday be truly special when it is just smashed in between finals and other parties? Not possible I tell you.

For approximately 6 years we have been celebrating Ben's birthday two months early to the day. We felt like there were already too many birthday in November (on my side) and thus we chose the slower month of October to really spend some time together. Slowly but surely we have managed to persuade our extended families to also celebrate early with us as well. This is no small task I assure you. My family decided a few years ago to get on the celebration bandwagon and they have almost forgotten that his real (he calls it his "biological") birthday is in December.

This year, the Welch family finally consented to a birthday dinner and cake on his October UnBirthday. Ben and I managed to fit in 4 night get away with just the kids up at the cabin as well as some nights out on the town with just the two of us, oh and some birthday shopping, and a Sunday family birthday dinner. Now tell me, would that really fit in the average December schedule?? I think not.

Just to be clear. Ben, my dear, I will celebrate your birthday whatever month you want it. And if you feel like moving your birthday to even earlier in the year that is fine by me. So long as it is not in August;)

The Vote
November 4, 2008

Dear Wiley,

In the days leading up to the election, you were learning about how our government functions. The school was getting the kids interested in the elections and even letting them simulate participation. The older kids wrote debates, and kids could campaign for their favorite candidate. Every student also got to vote.

On November 4th, you came home with pride in your eyes. You couldn't stop talking about your day. You were so glad that you got to vote. You told me all about the debates. (I actually was at the school to hear two of the arguments.) You were one of only two students that voted for Barack Obama in your classroom. I'm so proud that you voted for who you wanted to, and that you were not afraid to be different and to think differently from the "crowd." This attribute will serve you well in the years to come.

That night, while Dad and I were upstairs hanging shelves in the playroom, you were the one downstairs watching the numbers come in on CNN. You kept running in and giving us the update on who was winning the election. Finally, you came in to tell us Barack Obama had won the whole thing and you were so happy that you voted for him.

When I asked you why you voted for Barack Obama, you got out your yellow, 1990s GameBoy Pokemon game and told me there was a Pokemon character that looked like Barack (which, I can verify, actually does look like Barack), and that there is a Pokemon card with the word "Rock" in it.

Wiley, my sweet boy, you voted for Barack because of your love and devotion for all things Pokemon. Dad and I laughed and laughed. We all stayed up and watched John McCain's concession speech and Barack Obama's acceptance speech together. You listened to every word.

Wiley, please stop growing up. It is moments like these that I realize that you are not my little "Frogger" anymore. I worry that my time with you is passing too quickly. Even at age six you have found your little voice, and this is not the first time. Thanks for being the boy that you are, -- sensitive, outgoing, strong in your convictions, a leader, and so full of energy (as any primary worker can attest). Thanks for the little hugs and kisses that you offer me just because you are happy. Everyday with you is such a gift, I just wish I acted like it more often. I love being your mother. I promise to buy you more Pokemon cards if you just stay my little "Scooby."

I love you,
Mom

Dress-Up Flashbacks
























Click on the picture to see it larger.

I could write a page on each one of these dress-up moments, but I won't. I just want to say that I have had some fun dress-up moments over the years -- whether with old roommates, my husband, and especially with the kids. P.S. Just for the record: some of these ensembles never left the house -- so don't be too shocked ...

Dress-Up Continued. . .

I love to dress-up -- not just in a dress or some other formal wear, but also to dress-up in something totally different. As such, Halloween is one of my favorite times of the year. Here are just a few dress-up moments from the past few months.

This is Ben and me this year. We went as LEGOs, just in case your imagination didn't tell you that we were Legos.

FYI we won the "most creative" trophy.

Wiley was a Magician this Halloween. He performed his tricks (with his usual comedy banter) at two different venues -- the Welch Family Halloween Party and the Dyer Halloween Party. Wiley did well at both performances. I just wish I had them both recorded. We "ohhed," and "ahhhed," and laughed the whole time. He ate it up. Most of his tricks are sleight of hand -- making things disappear and such -- mostly packaged tricks like you'd buy at a truck stop. But the grand finale is all his own -- he turns into a black rock. Houdini has nothing on our boy.

Sweet Rosie went as Ariel from the Little Mermaid this Halloween. How Ariel would keep a puppy alive "under the sea" is a Disney mystery. But Rosie doesn't go anywhere without puppy, so what do you do? Also, careful viewers will notice that Ariel is wearing a "shade" with her seashells -- yes, they make shades for toddlers.


















This is us at the Ward Sock Hop. We had a great time. They even had two teachers come and teach some dance moves. By the way, Ben's costume is his real letterman's jacket from high school. He also rolled up some Altoids in his sleeve to look like cigarettes.
















The Welch Family Fall 2008

















Just for a point of interest, I thought I might reveal where my love of dressing up came from.

My mother, my Aunt Julie and Aunt Liza have been dressing up for years at various family reunions and singing hilarious songs. Every year my parents also host a "Tacky Party" -- a party where everyone comes dressed in tacky clothing and presumably makes tacky comments. I can't think of a year that my parents didn't dress up for Halloween. We've even had themed Christmas dinners where costumes are a requirement.

Thanks mom for passing on the dress-up gene. Rosie and Wiley also have it.

Ben's New Mistress


This, of course, is me. In my hay day, I used to turn the head of every guy in town -- especially Ben's. But recently, there have been sightings of another woman on Ben's arm -- some dark-haired temptress -- a femme fatale, if you ask me. Well, my curiosity finally got the best of me and I hired a private investigator. After weeks of following Ben, the P.I. finally got an exclusive photograph of him with that little vixen.









So here she is (on the right). Now I understand why Ben has had such an extra spring in his step. He thinks he's so clever. He must think he is actually going to get away with such naughty behavior. But we'll see who gets the last laugh. Until then, well, all I can say is -- he's got good taste. She is a knock-out.

I mean, can you blame him?

Rosie -- The "da Vinci of Destruction" or the "Rembrandt of Wreckage"

My darling daughter has a mischievous side -- perhaps even a nasty side -- that is long overdue for a spot on the blog. Usually, I try to laugh off her naughty episodes by taking a picture (see below). That said, I promise these pictures in no way represent the real damage she has done to herself, to me, to our house, and to enumerable pieces of furniture. Furthermore, these pictures also cannot represent how I felt each time it happened. Some of them I'm still trying to laugh about; however, some of them still make my blood boil.

So, without further ado, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, here is the evidence.




A pretend kitchen toy sink with pretend dishes -- pretty normal, right? What you can't see, however, is that Rosie emptied an entire bottle of lotion on the dishes, counter, inside the cupboards, and carpet. She claimed that she just needed "some soap to wash the dishes with." Right.



Rosie loves yogurt. And usually I'm keen on letting her indulge her love (after all, I'm a yogurt-lover as well). However, I usually let her have only one yogurt at a time -- and usually it's the generic brand, not my designer yogurt with special bacteria that is supposed to help pregnant adults stay regular. As you can imagine, three-year-olds don't need help being regular. Let's just say that following this episode, we had a child with a red bottom for the next 24 hours.




One day I came up to my bedroom only to find that she had pulled back my bed covers, used permanent marker to "decorate" the pretty sheets, and then pulled out the blue play dough to finish off her creation. These sheets were thrown away. By the way, those pink boots were her favorite -- and believe me, they were, as the song says, "boots made for walking, and that's just what they'll do." Practically every day, those boots walked all over me.




While in Germany, we hiked a castle tower to get to the look-out. It had over 280 stairs. Rosie decided that her shirt made her hot and so she took it off. (Wiley had done the same.) Since we were the odd ones out already, I didn't protest. (Besides, we were in Europe -- the land of Speedos and nude beaches, right?) This is Rosie making her "Ariel" pose a couple hundred feet above ground.




Rosie has the will of a full-grown adult. Wiley has learned when to submit to the master (me) but Rosie will just go on and on if only to make a small point. She went through a short phase where she just wouldn't sleep on her bed. She wanted to sleep on the floor. Ben and I would just put her back in bed once she feel asleep. But even in her drunken sleepiness, she still managed to find her way back to the floor by morning time.




Rosie knows that makeup is absolutely off-limits. I know she knows this because she locks the door when she tries to apply it. One time when I knocked on her door she hid in the closet. I had to use a Q-tip to get in only to discover she had been playing chemistry set with my powder makeup. She was mixing and pouring colors together. The carpet will never be the same. This also might explain why I can't ever get my makeup to look right . . .




Have you ever seen a laptop with the keys off of it? One devilishly delightfully afternoon, Rosie, with the help of her cousin, Afton, managed to peel-off the keys on Ben's laptop in record time. Moments later (seriously, it was less than three minutes), I found them sitting on my bed throwing the keys and springs across the room. I screamed. I gasped. And then I spanked. (Honestly, wouldn't you?) Ben spent over two hours hours reassembling the keyboard with a pair of tiny tweezers. Amazingly, all but two keys made it through the delicate reconstructive surgery.




This is Rosie's version of tiger stripes. No more explanation is needed.




This is a piece from Rosie's abstract expressionism phase. Like Pollack, she likes large canvases (such as the walls of her bedroom). Anyhow, these were Crayola washable markers so with a lot of wet wipes and lots of elbow grease (mostly Rosie's), we eventually got things cleaned up.




What is going on here you might ask? Well, not long ago I was shopping in the unmentionable section with my mom and sisters. We were all trying on new bras and Rosie wouldn't take no for an answer. She went out of the dressing room and picked out the prettiest pink bra she could find. Only she didn't call them bras -- they were "swimsuits." She proceeded to disrobe and try-on the "swimsuit." Later, she even went as far as to try on a g-string, but it was so huge she had it up over her shoulders. I took a picture of that, too, but I thought I'd spare you and her that image on the blog -- at least for now. But don't worry, I'll use it when I have to later in life.

There are countless other moments, some of which I have photographed, some I have not. All are crazy moments. I can't possibly be the only parent having these laughable, scream-able moments, right? Please tell me I'm not alone. Also, if you have any carpet cleaning tips or wall cleaning tips I'd like those as well. Oh, yeah, how do you get ball point pen ink out of leather chairs? Or what about dry-erase marker out of wooden headboard? Help, help, help.

If nothing else, you can understand our trepidation about having another daughter in a few months, right?

"Too-Teen" -- A Typical Wiley Story

We spent part of our Conference weekend with my family and part with Ben's family up at the cabin. Wasn't it fabulous? At one point Wiley looked up at me and asked why I was crying. First off, I always cry -- I can't help it. Second off, I was hearing something that rang true to me. Conference for me is like having a little one-on-one evaluation of your own spiritual progress and relationship with Heavenly Father. I loved it and promise to be better at just about everything.

After the Sunday afternoon session, Ben's parents had planned a nice dinner for a long-time friend and guest from England. We had a talk with Wiley and Rosie about behavior at the dinner table, you know that one . . . use your napkin, don't dominate the conversation, take turns being the listener, no rude manners, etc. We've had it dozens of times, and I'm sure we'll have it dozens of times again. But here is what happened. We sat down for dinner, said grace, and Wiley (who'd been warned not to utter a single word unless it was to Ben or myself, and who had been positioned at the table furthest from the guests) immediately piped up.

Wiley: "Bob, where are you from?"
Bob: "I'm from a far away place that is green and beautiful, with wonderful blue skies."
Slight hesitation from Wiley -- he's thinking.
Wiley: "You're from Switzerland?"
Laughs all around, I think the laughing just put fuel on his little fire.
Wiley: "Hey Bob, did you know you sound just like Harry Potter?"
Bob: "Thank you, I'll take that as a compliment."
Hysterical laughter now. Wiley figures it's time to risk one of his infamous jokes.
Wiley: "Hey Bob, why did the chicken climb the building?"
He asked this as if he were just getting started on his comedy act for the evening.
Bob politely answered -- I don't remember what he said, I was too busy begging silently for the meal to already be over. Wiley just has a huge grin on his face, he must think he is so charming ...
Wiley smiled triumphantly: "So he could meet Spider man." He made this joke up himself.
Less laughter now. Wiley can sense he's losing the audience now, so he goes back to ribbing the guest with insults.
Wiley: "Bob, do they play golf in England?"
This got a large laugh because the Welch boys are serious golfers.
Bob just hung his head with that look of "did you prompt him to ask all of these questions" look.
We all know that the U.S. beat England in the recent Ryder Cup Championship. It was just hilarious that a six-year-old boy would ask such pointed questions.

Wiley did ask a few more questions and even Rosie started in on a "chicken" joke. And then the really bad stuff happened. Let's just say that when the verbal jokes didn't pan out, Wiley started on the "physical humor" -- you know the kind I mean. He farted. Loudly -- magnified by the solid wooden bench he was sitting on, which, as we all know, happens to be the best acoustical instrument for such noises. It also happened to come during a lull in the conversation.

Dead silence.

Wiley was dismissed. When we got home, I got this unsolicited letter from Wiley just before going to bed.






For those of you who don't read six-year-old writing, here is the interpretation.

Dear Mom,
I'm sorry for tooting at the dinner table.
I love you.

From,
Wiley Welch

When we arrived home after many complaints from Wiley saying he was hungry, I consented to bread and water. (I'm so mean, but not that mean, Grandma offered them peach cobbler after their brief sojourn in "time-out" in the hallway, and I didn't protest.) I think Wiley was so grateful to me for allowing him a piece of bread that he wrote me this note.

Kids are the best aren't they?

It's Official!


Baby three is on it's way. I am 20 weeks officially tomorrow. This child looks like it is participating in a good old fashion nose picking. The Ultrasound tech assured me that it just has the hand up.
Baby's expected arrival date is February 18th .


Are you sure there is only one baby in there? I asked several times, tell me there really is only one baby in there. Oh ppphhhheewww. One baby only.


It felt like years were passing after measuring all the body parts, counting limbs, fingers, and checking the heart etc.

what is the gender already???


This baby was feeling very modest today and the tech even snapped a few pictures of the baby crossing it's arms and legs. After a short break of getting up and walking around we tried again and this time we found out . . .




be sure to click on this picture for a close up.

We are having another GIRL!!!!