Sisters

As the sixth of six sisters, I know how much sisterhood can suck.

 

Like how you can cry for hours in your room after dropping your sister off at the airport. Or how you can feel like punching her when she says something hurtful--but probably true--about you. How she can ruin your life by telling you Santa Claus isn't real when you're only five years old.

 

How you can feel like you've lost her forever when she makes friends who are way cooler than you are.

 

And yet, years later, you're still her friend and the others are long gone.

 

 

Isn't that what sisterhood is? A friendship that can't be broken by miles or change or upheaval. A friendship bound not only by love and affection, but also by family and blood.  While other friends have come and gone, I have always had my sisters. And I am forever grateful for that.

 

Now that I have two girls, I hope they discover the joy--and annoyance--of sisterhood the way I did.

 

Right now their relationship is pretty simple: Blue Eyed Girl loves Brown-Eyed Baby with all her little three year-old heart. She gives her kisses and hugs. She sings to her and tries to give her her pacifier when she's crying.

She also hits her with toys and lands on her face while doing somersaults. It's what sisters do.

 

I hope in years to come that they play dress-up together, collect My Little Ponies, and make mud pies outside. I hope they share clothes, get their ears pierced together, and stay up late talking in their room until I have to come in and shush them. I hope they cry when they're apart and laugh until their sides ache when they're together.

I hope they grow up and take longs walks together, talking about life and boys and the women they want to become, sometimes getting caught in the rain and running to a neighbor's house for refuge. I hope they take road trips together and pass the time by making up ridiculous stories.

I hope they are bridesmaids in each other's weddings. I hope, if they are ever pregnant at the same time, that they do not rip each other's heads off and fight over maternity clothes. But if they do, I hope they whisper sincere apologies and go on to snuggle each other's babies close to their hearts just hours after they're born.

 

Sisterhood can suck. But it is so awesome.

 

My Sisters are the Best,

The Brown-Eyed Girl

The Dinosaurs

Warning: There are some very messy dinosaurs on the loose.

If they get into your house, they may engage in some of the following behavior:

Staying up late watching movies

Emptying your drawers

Making attempts at oral hygiene

Eating all your candy

 

Your initial reaction will be to blame your kids.

 

Don't blame your kids.

 

It was the dinosaurs.

 

Who knows where they will strike next.

 

Don't Drop Your Guard,

The Brown-Eyed Girl



The Little Things That Get Me

I firmly believe that it's the little things in life that bring true joy.

Growing up, this scripture from the Book of Mormon became our family motto:

"Now ye may suppose that this is foolishness in me; but behold I say unto you, that by small and simple things are great things brought to pass..." (Alma 37:6)

I am my happiest when I slow down and enjoy the little things. Here are a few that I have enjoyed lately:

 

 

 

(I take a lot of pictures of Brown-Eyed Baby sleeping because it happens so rarely.)

 

 

What are your small and simple things today? I hope you take the time to see them.

 

Loving the Little Things,

The Brown-Eyed Girl

Being a Grown-Up

A few weeks ago, in the middle of watching "The Good Dinosaur," our living room suddenly went black. And by black I mean so dark I couldn't even see my children sitting right next to me.

My heart plummeted and my thoughts went dark, too, like Oh my gosh, what happened are we under attack is it just our house or are the neighbor's lights on I can't see anything what if there are monsters in the shadows...

At the same moment my kids clung to me, shouting, "Mommy, I can't see you! What happened? Why is it dark?"

Feeling their little arms wrapped around me, I realized I had to shut off my own overactive imagination and, for my children's sake, act like an adult.

It kind of made me miss the days when I had a bigger hand to hold, when someone older and wiser than me shushed my fears, tucked me safely and snuggly into bed, and turned the light off for me.

I may be 32 years old, but I have never felt the passage of the years. I can't pinpoint that moment when I ceased to be a child because so often I still feel like one, a little girl masquerading as a grown woman and the mother of three children.

When did I become an adult? When I turned 18? When I ventured away from home for the first time? When I bought my first car? When I got my own insurance and went to the dentist without my mom? When someone first referred to me as "ma'am" instead of "miss"? Or was it when the midwife placed Brown-Eyed Boy in my arms, when I became responsible for someone other than myself?

Or maybe pieces of my adult self formed through those experiences, one by one, instead of all at once.

In that case, I think my pieces are still being placed. Because though I am obviously an adult physically, mentally...I think I still have a lot of growing up to do.

That night when my kids and I were plunged into darkness, I squared my shoulders and put on a brave face. I grabbed their hands and led them--carefully--through our pitch-black toy-strewn living room, found a flashlight and lit some candles. As that flicker of light fought against the dark, I breathed a sigh of relief along with my children.

But I never let them see how scared I was. And, hey, that's part of being an adult, right?

Just like eating all the leftover frosting and watching My Little Pony.

Not that I'd know anything about that.

Still Growing Up,
The Brown-Eyed Girl

Leap Day

In the words of Phil Dunphy: “You’re given this gift of 24 extra hours. You can’t waste it at work or school. You have to do something extraordinary, something shocking.”

I can't say that we did anything extraordinary or shocking on Leap Day, but I definitely wanted to make it special.

So I kept Brown-Eyed Boy home from school.

 

And I tried to say "yes" more than I said "no."

As a result, we stayed in our pajamas most of the morning. We built a fort out of couch cushions. We played a game at the arcade. We ate Nutella and crepes (or skinny pancakes, as they are known in our household) for lunch. We visited Mr. Brown Eyes at work and ate ice cream with dinner.

And we had a picnic at the Phoenix Temple.

 

 

It was a good day.

Until our power went off in the middle of "The Good Dinosaur" and I had to walk through the pitch blackness searching for a flashlight, two terrified kids clinging to me.

Other than that, it was a beautiful extra 24 hours that I am so glad we had.

Happy Leap Year!
The Brown-Eyed Girl

50 Golden Years

At the end of last year, my parents celebrated fifty years of marriage.

Fifty years is a long time.

My parents have eleven kids, so their fifty years of marriage has probably felt like 100.

We, their darling eleven children, threw them a party at the beginning of the year. While it was nothing extravagant (my mom hates being the center of attention) it was so special that I wanted to share it here.

 

We had fun with the gold balloons. Some helium-inhaling may have been involved.

 

 

Their cake was a replica of the one at their wedding. The cake topper is the original.

 





Baby Blue-Eyes might possibly have stuck her fingers in the frosting for a little taste before the cake was cut.

 

Shout out to my sister-in-law for all her hard work on the food.

 

That "50" is made out of family pictures. Awesome ones from way back in the day when none of us knew how to dress or comb our hair (not that we necessarily know how to do that now). We may have laughed at a picture of a certain sibling picking her nose.

 

She denies it.

 

We know it's true.

 



I don't think my parents could have possibly imagined, 50 years ago, the legacy they would leave behind.

Their children (minus one)...

 

and their grandchildren.

 



And that's not even all of them.

It's a beautiful thing.

My parents' marriage hasn't been perfect. There were times as a kid when I wondered if it would even last. But through the rocky times they have taught me that two people in love, devoted to God and each other, can make it through anything.

My mom also taught me that there are some things in a marriage that just aren't worth fighting over.

It was the best piece of marriage advice I ever received.

So here's to my parents, and 50 years of cooking, vacuuming, scolding, hugging, bandaging, driving, reading, cherishing, teaching, holding, wiping, scrubbing, crying, laughing, loving, and a whole lot more "ings." You guys are amazing.

I sure do love these people,
The Brown-Eyed Girl

Hello Again

I tend to fall off the face of the earth after I have a baby.

For these last two months I've pretty much done nothing but snuggle this little bundle of love:

And change lots and lots of poopy diapers.

But since I'm back to work now and have rejoined the human race (in a manner of speaking), I thought I would fill you in on some of the other fun we've had since Brown-Eyed Baby was born.

Halloween - the first year we didn't throw a huge party at our house because, remember, I fell off the face of the earth.

The GIANT fish I caught at the river by our house.

Christmas cookies - the frosting is the best part

Mr. Brown Eyes decked out his ambulance in Christmas spirit

 Making a gingerbread house

A cozy winter night - and our living room full of baby gear

STAR WARS IMAX 3-D!

The dog is my husband. All I can say is I love him.

 Christmas Morning! Ok, this was actually Christmas Eve because Mr. Brown Eyes worked on Christmas. So we celebrated a day early. As you can see, the kids really hated that.

 Baby's first Christmas. All she wanted was milk.

My New Year's kiss

Baby days are so bittersweet, so full of joy and struggle. But I wouldn't trade a second of it.

At the same time, it is good to be back, human race.

Off to change another poopy diaper,

The Brown-Eyed Girl