The Race:

The Dirty Dash was delightful in every way. We enjoyed our muddy 10K adventure to the fullest.

Before:

This is just moments before the race started, we clicked a few pictures to document our banditas costumes. Yes, we were wearing hero eye masks (because our identities are our most valuable possessions). Yes, we also wore capes because we thought they were look cool as we went racing by with our capes waving in the wind. (Did I mention you are supposed to wear costumes? well, yeah, everyone did. My son asked me afterwards why there were so many freaks there. Funny thing is I was one of them.)

Middle:

We paused in the middle of our epic course to prove our zest for adventure through photographs.

We don't look very dirty here because we had just gotten done with the sludging portion of the race. We sludged through the banks of Deer Creek.


End:
I can't even begin to tell you how much fun this was. It was like Woodstock for Runners. There was a huge turn out. Fun music to keep you running, tons of obstacles, lots of mud and water and lots of running.

 The Rinse:
After we stood in lines like cars to be power washed.My hubby made a video of the power wash. I uploaded it cause I thought it was so funny, but then decided to spare you those soggy moments.

Doesn't it look fun? Anyone want to do it next year with us?

It Rained. . .

11 years ago today it rained and it rained hard. The only reason I know that is it was the day we all became an eternal family. We have many pictures with us holding umbrellas. But, after the temple ceremony the clouds decided to part and the sun started to shine.

The last 11 years have been the same as on our wedding day. We have some rain, and we might have to use umbrellas every once in a while. But in the end it always starts to shine.

Bliss, at least in this family, is enjoying those times even when it is raining, learning to love the dark gray clouds. Sometimes it even means playing in the rain.

Happy Anniversary to us.

The Routine

 There is part of me screaming Hallelujah. Pat yourself on the back Shara, cuz you survived the summer. I wanted the summer to pass quickly. And it did.

But I sure do love these kiddos. I'm going to miss the lazy days of summer where anything goes. The bless-ed schedule begins this week. Homework, lunches, soccer, piano, dance etc. Regular bedtimes begin again. The routine. Ah the routine.

This morning Wiley was very concerned about Rosa. Did she have her lunch? Was her name written in her backpack? He told me that he would find her during recess and check up on her. I whispered, "I Love You, have a good day" as they jumped out of the car.  Wiley walked a few yards then turned around and blew me a kiss. I blew a kiss back and cried the rest of the way home.

Ah the routine. The routine.

Glimpses of summer

Summer is flying by. I'm trying hard to enjoy all the fun moments but might I add that there are only 7 weeks left. Yippy yahoo, hurray! I love my little family.

Things selfish moments I am looking forward to:

I want my house back.

I want my nap time back.

A house that will stay clean for longer.

Running errands with fewer kids.

Taking a shower w/o a knock at the door.

A set schedule.

Things that I will miss.

Older kids that help with the babies.

Homemade ice cream.

Wonderful weather.

Grilling almost every day.

A flexible schedule.

 

Saying Goodbye


My cute parents entered the MTC today. We are all so excited for them. They spend a week there doing mission training and then fly to Bolivia next week. I'm so jealous. Doesn't it just sound like such an adventure? (Although a hard working adventure to be sure.) My mom is going to be fluent in Spanish or determined to try and be. Jealousy is just seeping out of me. How cool to do the mission thing with your spouse?!  

It will be sad not to have my parents around for family events and holidays but the three years will pass so quickly (I hope). We are also happy for an excuse to visit South America.

I'm really looking forward to the blessings that come with missionary work!

Birthday Girl turns 1!

 One is a big deal. Right. It also helps if you are sharing the party with two other family members too right? So the party should be fun. . . .

 Uncle Aaron shared his birthday party with Hazel.

So did Aunt Becca.

Hazel, you are so adorable. You are so gentle and easy going. I guess you have to be if you are the youngest of four. You love your older siblings and like to follow them around the house. You are also one smart girl. You taught yourself how to go up and down the stairs. I didn't even have to do the stair lesson with you. One day you just started climbing the stairs. And just recently you decided that you should learn to go down the stairs, so you did that too. I think you were tired of being left behind at the top of the stairs. All you want to do is be with your siblings. So cute.

Your brother and sisters love you to bits. Thanks for joining our family. Happy Birthday little one.

Fountain of Youth

My younger sister and I were shopping recently and a sale associate was assisting us. At one point in the conversation the woman asked me, "Are you her mother?"

Yeah, I'm pretty sure I was sucking in air. My eyes got huge. I may or may not have made a fist with my hand and caulked my arm. I looked back at the sales associate and said with my sweetest voice that I could muster through my teeth, "She is my younger sister."   The horrible woman was trying to age me 26 years.

At this moment I should have just tried to laugh it off, or at least the nervy woman should have laughed it off and apologized. I don't know where this woman learned manners but in her attempt to try and clear her name she then said, "Oh,  . . . its not that you look really old (referring to me), well it is just cause she looks so old, (referring to my sister) You know how mothers and daughters can look so much alike."


Dang woman.


Needless to say I've been seeking the fountain of youth as of late. 

di·a·bol·i·cal
adjective /ˌdīəˈbälikəl/ 

My seemingly sweet Kindergartner was found with these items in her back pack. What evil plan does she have in the works? What is that whoopee cushion doing in there? Screwdriver, magnifying glass, rubber band, notebook,  . . . she has something up her sleeve.

di·a·bol·i·cal   adjective /ˌdīəˈbälikəl/ 


Web definition: devilish: showing the cunning or ingenuity or wickedness typical of a devil; "devilish schemes"; "the cold calculation and diabolic art of some statesmen"; "the diabolical expression on his face"; "a mephistophelian glint in his eye"

My Little Mess Monster.

My mess monster's latest obsession. . . . MARKERS.

Under a Bushel

So my parents are moving thus the last time they visited us they brought a truck-load of my memories with them. (I guess they didn't want to keep track of my old junk anymore). Those boxes of junk now reside in my bedroom. My not-so-happy-about-that hubby told me to downsize the memories before we store them. What? Choke. Cough. Sputter. After some careful consideration it seemed fair enough right? The question is what do I get rid of? These are not just memories, but proof of my

coolness
charisma
grace
athleticism

or in other words - evidence that I may have had a talent or two at one time. To whom am I needing evidence for? Well, I guess the kiddos and my delicate ego. Wiley always seems shocked when I mention a sport I played. Just this morning, Rosa tried on a pair of my ballet slippers and they fit her. She couldn't believe that my massive feet were ever her petite size.

So where do I draw the line? Do I toss out my favorite swimsuit from 1992? Actually, it was is my favorite suit of ALL TIME. It is 19 years old and proves that splashes of neon were all the rage! This suit is my favorite because it was my first big-girl suit. (It has a lining and little padded cups.) As a 9th grader I felt pretty special sporting a fake chest. Hey don't judge me. Didn't we all want to have a bigger chest at that age? The elastic is dried up and dead but on a brighter note I can fit one leg in. AWESOME.

 Do I toss out my beloved trophies? They represent hour upon hours of after school workouts. Notice that my school gave out mugs, or beer steins. Weird right? What message were they sending to the students? But heaven forbid that I toss out porcelain that says I was the MVP. When Wiley hits high school he is gonna want to see this. Right?  Won't he want to see my trophy that says "Super Citizenship" 1989-90, my pin that says "Student of the Month",  my blue ribbon that says "PARTICIPANT" . . . of course he is!

What about the pile of 1,500 or more stack of Spanish flashcards. I had five years of Spanish (7th grade to my junior year) and can barely put a sentence together. Oh and lets not forget two years of Spanish in College as well. Let's just say that I don't retain well. Perhaps Spanish is not a gift, but I do have an accompanying paper award that was given to me in my Sophomore year that was for "Most Improved" that says otherwise. Donde es el bano? Al le izquierdo?

A picture of me in 3th grade jump-roping. Cool right? I was in a very elite jump-roping performance group. Our major performances were held in the lobbies of hotels such as the Sheraton and at school assemblies. Yes, I was a Beartooth. Bouncing. Bear. So few can put that feather in their caps.

I have journals for my posterity.  I was a very prolific writer. Loads of them are filled with juicy details that give my descendants a little glimpse into my extraordinary life. How could I part with a single item?

 
Yes, over the years I have honed some unusual talents. Basically the talent just seeps out of me. It's a good thing I have them all documented and boxed neatly in my room.

I have joked many-a-time that when the bell went off in heaven to come pick out your talents that I must have been dosing off under a tree somewhere. . . I eventually got to the talent table but all the cool talents were taken and I reluctantly picked up what was left over. But even though my talents have been unusual ones I have had a sense of pride about them.

So what is the gospel lesson to be learned here? Should we hide our talents under a bushel? I say NO. They must be shared!!  

Pause. Thinking hard. . . . now I just need to find the perfect venue in which to share them. Jump-roping lessons anyone?