8 Things About Me -- TAG AGAIN!!!

Here are the Rules:
1) Post rules on your blog
2) Answer the six '8' items
3) Let each person know by leaving them a comment

8 Favorite TV shows
1. The Office (it's the only one I watch)
2. 24 (but not till the season is over--I can't stand the suspense)
3. Prison Break (same as above)
4. American Idol Tryouts (I seriously CANNOT get into it week after week, but I love the tryouts)
5. The News (go ahead and laugh)

Okay, so I had to REALLY stretch it to get to 5. I can list three more I used to watch and enjoy:
6. Supernanny
7. Clean Sweep -- inspired me to toss things I really don't need
8. Antiques Roadshow. I don't know why I like it, since I am not a fan of old stuff.

8 Things I did Yesterday
1. Attended Draper Temple Open House
2. Died of embarrassment at the totally inappropriate comment Annie made in the bathroom stall after the Open House. I can't even repeat it.
3. Had a J Dawg for lunch. It SERIOUSLY doesn't get better than that. I don't mind the hour drive either.
4. Bought a new church bag. I know it's sad that's what stands out, but I really wanted a new one.
5. Spent the day with Tim and Beth-- so fun!
6. Stood by in awe as Tim totally fixed my computers and then networked them. Why can't I learn these things?
7. Made a very tasty roast with sour cream dill gravy. Thanks Oma for that amazing recipe!
8. Read old Balderdash clues with Tim and laughed so hard my sides ached. Such fun!

8 Things I'm looking forward to
1. My taxes doing themselves--okay, so it's not going to get done without my help. Fine.
2. My next family visit--missing them already!
3. Organizing the piles of stuff in my house. Nesting ROCKS!
4. That first day that feels like Spring--you know, where the birds are singing and the air FINALLY feels warmer.
5. Green grass
6. The hot date I just KNOW Ryan is planning for our 11th anniversary next month.
7. Laughing really hard again soon--it was soooo fun. I LOVE to laugh.
8. I'm fine with pregnancy for now, but I'm excited to meet baby boy Droubay in June!

8 Favorite Restaurants
1. Old Spaghetti Factory--still a fave of mine. After all these years. Mizithra cheese, mmmmm
2. NYPD in Park City--really good pizza. The closest to East Coast Pizza I've found in Utah.
3. Benihana and / or Tepanyaki
4. Famous Dave's
5. I'm with Kimber, McGrath's is pretty dang yummy.
6. Bombay House
7. J Dawgs
8. Any REALLY good Mexican, but I don't have a fave yet. Any suggestions on places to try?

8 Things on my wish list
1. Less than a half hour of pushing, with a fully functioning Epidural and no follow-up stitches. Sorry for the TMI.
2. A new TV that is digitally compatible so I don't have to figure out the converter box.
3. I agree again with Kimber -- a better economy -- it's really frightening!
4. A piano to own and not just borrow.
5. The ability to pause time every now and then to take a break.
6. A deeper bathtub.
7. The solution to whining-- for me and for Annie. I don't know that I'll survive unless I find one.
8. A garden that weeds itself.

8 People I tag
1. Kelli "new mommy"
2. Stephanie
3. Miriam (again, since you didn't do the last one, you naughty girl!) :) just kidding
4. Kacee
5. Marcie
6. Heather
7. Courtney
8. Jessica

Bedtime Confessions

Oh, this is priceless. Bedtime is one of my favorite times. Well, for many reasons. First of all, it's my personal sigh of relief for the day. Fun and relaxing things come after it: hot baths in which I read more than one or two paragraphs at a time--that is, until I fall asleep. . . , back rubs from my husband, sitting on the couch and talking or belly-laughing at something hilarious Ryan has said, getting a phone call from a friend, basically what it boils down to is adult time and/or alone time. I feel a little guilty saying that, but I'm just wiped out at the end of the day.

Another thing I love about bedtime is how cute my kids are about it (for the most part). Don't worry, there's plenty of tears and emotional meltowns too on occasion, but as I said, for the most part, they are soooo cute at night-time. Take tonite for example: I was snuggling with Annie. I had just finished singing "the Rainbow Connection" for the billionth time in the last 4 year or so--don't think she could have cared less as an infant. This is funny because any time I start singing during the day, in the car, or what have you, she says to me, "mom, please be quiet." Rude! I know I'd get chucked out of any American Idol audition, but that doesn't mean I want to hear about it. I'm smart enough to stay far away from any solo, performance, concert, etcetera, but I don't need the reminder that I'm awful, for heck's sake! Anyway, I think it is funny that she won't hear a note during the day, but oh, at night time, it's a REQUIREMENT for sleep. Anyway, I digress. . .

So I had just finished singing and we were snuggling and I said, "I love snuggling with you, Annie. I'm going to be so sad when you are a big girl and you don't want to snuggle with me anymore." She patted my head, smoothing my hair most tenderly and responded VERY excitedly (with eyes big as saucers and nods of the head): "Mom, when I grow up and I'm a big girl, then I can use your lives!!!!!!!!!" Now, for those of you who don't know, "lives" is Annie for "knives." Yes Annie. When you are a big girl, you can use my knives. That's exactly where the discussion was headed. thanks.

Then came the confession.

Annie: Mom, when I was a little girl, I used your knives once. What's that thing you use in your left hand to go like this? (followed by a charade-like demonstration of knive-sharpening).

Me: The knife sharpener?

Annie: Yes. I used that.

silence.

Me (to myself): My daughter is saying "damn it" (see previous post) and playing with knives. nice. What is next?!?!?!?!?!

Annie: We don't play with knives, huh. . .?

Me: No, we don't.

Annie: (Cupping my face this time) Mom, I'm so sorry I scared you. I won't ever scare you again.

Me: Thanks, Annie.

Yes, bed-time is great. Great for big hugs and monster, snake, and bad dream concerns. Great for prayers that entertain even the most agnostic of souls. (My favorite was when the first few lines of the sacrament prayer--FROM MEMORY, I must add--were uttered as her bed-time prayer). And, yes, great for confession.

WHAT did you say??????

First of all, Happy New Year everyone! We had a GREAT Christmas, and I'll post more about that later. And I apologize for the lack of posts last month. But I found Facebook, need I say more? But first, I'd like to say a little something about my morning. I'm PSYCHED! My four year old flawless, princess, angel daughter Annie just said "dammit." Yes, you heard me correctly: dammit.

I suppose it could be worse. I've never professed to have the cleanest language in the world (and, friends and family with children my kids' age, I completely understand if we're banned now), and I suppose there are worse things she could have said. But I've tried super duper hard to not say naughty things in her presence. I can think of one time, A LONG TIME AGO, when I hurt myself and said "dammit." Followed by "dang it, darn it, dog gone it, shoot, egads, gobble-dee goop, dang it, dang it, dang it, dang it!" because my logic was this: if I yell out 10 acceptable I-just-stubbed-my-toe words, perhaps that would decrease the chances that the one she'd repeat would be the naughtier of the bunch. Well, you can see now that it was a nice try, but naughty words are just more fun, apparently. sheeesh!

So, I explained that it was a naughty naughty word. (What will I do if it gets worse?) She said "sorry" and thus the morning continued without incident.

But I've fastened the proverbial seat belt and I'm hanging on tight for more. You see, this is not the first time she has said something that has horrified me (and I'd like to reiterate that I understand she could have said worse--but she's FOUR for crying out loud, and she was a tiny innocent baby like three minutes ago!).

Some examples: There was the time in Wal-mart when she asked the overweight lady behind us if she had a baby in her tummy. This was right after Aunt Kelli announced the baby in HER tummy, so I cut her some slack because it was obviously on her mind. But I don't know that the lady (whose response was, "no, I'm just fat") cut her the same slack. And then there was the time she tapped me on the arm in the grocery store and said, (loudly) "MOM!!! LOOK AT THAT BIG LADY OVER THERE!!!!!" . . . sigh.


I know other parents and children have gone through this. I remember a time myself when my parents invited someone over for dinner and the guest complimented my mom on her au gratin potatoes. Anxious and thrilled to offer advice and let her know how easy it would be to acheive the same results, I blurted out "Oh, it's SO easy! It's just a BOX MIX!!!!!" My parents were a little embarrassed perhaps.

Anyway, if any of you have advice or a funny story about those horrifying child speech moments, go ahead and leave a comment about it. I look forward to reading. . . . .

"Dih-Doo!"

Okay, so I didn't get a "Thanksgiving Post" done last week, but since it hasn't been a full week since Thanksgiving Day, I figure I can still do it now.

I'm grateful for a lot of things, make no mistake about that. But what my fingers are burning to type about is that cute little Carson of ours. It was Wednesday night. I'd made three pies (turns out I should have made four--that Cherry pie didn't go very far) and I was pooped. No pun intended here, but Ryan was in our room changing Carson's diaper and when he finished, I heard Carson tell him thank you. Only it was "Dih-Doo!" I laughed so hard. Who says thank you for a diaper change, I wondered? But "dih-doo" is kind of his thing right now.

Now don't get too excited, when Annie was less than a year old she used to line up all her animals (or whatever genre of toys she was playing with) in some form of order. Tallest to smallest, you name it! I remember rubbing my hands together with a big smile on my face thinking, A - HA! She'll be neat and orderly! Like Aunt Gretchen! HAH! I have to threaten all sorts of toy-loss and other calamities to get her to clean up now. So, I'm holding no fantasies about how grateful Carsie will grow up to be.

But it was still tender, charming, and cute to hear him thank his dad for the diaper change. And if memory serves, it was not the cleanest of diapers. In fact, I might have heard Ryan gag. Maybe he's pregnant!

Anyway, Carson is going through the "thank you" phase, apparently. What great timing! What better time is there, I ask you, for a tiny boy to be focused on gratitude than at Thanksgiving? "Thank you" has come in very handy for us. It is what I say with my hand outstretched to get him to hand me all his bath toys to teach him to clean up after himself. He says it at the dinner table. He says it to his sister when she gives him the least desireable of all the toys she's playing with (her current version of "sharing"). He has even thanked both Ryan and myself for getting him out of his crib in the mornings. Come to think of it, however, I have yet to hear him thank us for putting him IN his crib. I guess everything must have its limits.

Well, "dih-doo" to Carson for letting me be his mom and for coming into my life! I'm very grateful for my family and all the blessings we have. Hope you all had a great Thanksgiving (as we did) and may you survive and enjoy the coming Christmas season!

The Redecorator and an Early "I Spy" Holiday Treat

Four year olds. Are they all like this? Is it just the girls? Is it just MY four year old girl? She loves to redecorate. I've touched on this before, but I thought I'd highlight it in its very own post. This is a sampling from today:


Do you see how she has incorporated Halloween (ghostie candelabra) and Thanksgiving (hand-made turkey hat from school, lovely fall-themed floral arrangement)? Too bad I didn't wait a few minutes, because after I took the picture and left the room, she kept a-going. I returned to find a naked barbie pole-dancing on the candelabra. Good Grief! If she only knew. . .

Well, on second thought, perhaps the redecorating itch is just one of her talents from birth, because I remember another incident from over a year ago. The following picture is from when Carson was not very old. My breath literally caught in my throat when I returned from the other room. I actually had to check him to see that he was breathing, AND I also had to uncover his face before I snapped the shot. Kids.


And in the spirit of the rapidly advancing holiday, here is a special early holiday game. Don't worry, I'll find time next week to be thankful in my upcoming First Annual Sarah Droubay Thanksgiving Post, but 'til then, I'll just join the myriad of radio stations, department stores, Wal.Marts, and others intent on celebratin' early! Here are two photos of last years' Christmas tree after my dear sweet redecorating Annie got to it. If you feel like playing, leave a comment detailing what YOU spy: Perhaps I've missed something!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY RYAN!!!

Ryan's not really big on birthdays, but I'm going to make it public anyway! I just wanted to spotlight him a little and tell you a few of my favorite things about my husband:


1. Hands down, he's a GREAT dad. Since our first baby was born, he's been very hands on--diaper changes, baths, putting them to bed, getting them dressed. And he loves to play with the kids and teach them things. He likes to sing to them at bed-time too and I think that's VERY cool.

(this picture of him with baby Carson is one of my favorites. What a hot dad!)

2. He's funny as heck. Ever since I met Ryan, I've just loved his sense of humor. He can make me laugh harder than anyone else (well, the Office Staff at Dunder Mifflin come close!) He has a great internal Sarah mood-o-meter and when I begin to stress or freak out, he's always quick to lighten the mood and make me laugh. I really love that.

(here he is goofing off with Annie and Dillon)

3. He's a hard worker. He works lots of long hours in the summer time and doesn't always have a lot of time for the things he enjoys to do, but he always finds the time to do the things that need doing around the house. I'm glad the kids have a dad who works hard for them and for our family.

(here he is mowing the lawn with his buddy Annie Goose! Tell me she's not learning how to work from Dad)

4. He is very forgiving, easygoing, and calm about my short-comings. I can't think of a dumb thing I've done where he hasn't said, "it's okay," or "don't worry about it," or something like that. And what's remarkable is that he still does this even though I usually do not respond to his whoopsies in a similar fashion.

(see, here he is kindly demonstrating patience as I take yet another photo of him)

5. I just think he's cute! Check out some of these cute pics:

(here he is with Oma, Opa, and his Dad. I think he looks alot like Carson)

(Lake Powell with his Dad. He's soooo cute! Even with face paint. Even in High School!)


HAPPY BIRTHDAY RYAN! I LOVE YOU!!

Classic Sarah Pregnancy Story

I don't know how the rest of you are, but when I'm pregnant, strange things start to happen. It was not bad with Carson, but when I was pregnant with Annie, I had all sorts of weird dreams, food aversions, and the like. Probably the most odd thing was that once I'd cooked a certain meal for dinner, I could not eat (or even think) about that food or meal again for weeks. There is one thing--a pork medallion with sour cream and chive sauce with sesame seeds on top--that I still cannot think about. I thought it was all pretty strange, but I'm assured that this is normal for pregnant women. And there are probably weirder things out there than I have to deal with.

But here's my gripe: Isn't it bad enough we have to grow to triple our size (I know that's not really how big we are, it just seems that way), be moody, and not to mention go through the delivery process? Why must we also be subject to the strangeness that only adds to why others in our lives find themselves wanting to avoid us? Beats me.

So, here's my latest classic example of weird. (and funny, I guess, now that it's two days later and I've gained a smidgeon of perspective since then)

It was Saturday and we were headed to our little buddy Dillon's b-day party. I decided to BMOB--it was one of those "gotta have the diet Dr. Pepper from the market" days (see "tagged" blog). So off we went to the Market. I went inside to procure the drinks. There were three pre-teen/teenage boys ahead of me at the drink-filling station. So I waited (patiently at first, not so much as the minutes lagged on). I began to notice things about these boys: they were dirty--which I at first attributed to their age, but later, when I was thinking about it, I thought of our cousins Zach and Dallin who are this age and I've NEVER seen them look or smell anything remotely like this. Maybe their parents have, but I can't imagine them being this poorly groomed. But alas, I digress. . .

Anyway, I started to notice their dirty fingernails. And untrimmed fingernails, I might add. Their clothes were dirty, hair probably unwashed.

And then it happened. . .

Right there in the middle of the Vine Street Market, I began to gag.

Yes, you heard me right. I began to gag. I tried to keep it to myself, but I kept thinking about how they were touching the buttons I was going to touch, occupying space I would occupy. These are not normal thoughts (but as I said, strange things start to happen when Sarah is pregnant). One gag lead to another. I did not know how I would control it. I began to think, I should probably go to the car and ask Ryan to get the drinks, but it seemed at this point I'd been in the market already 20 minutes (probably only 5 at max). I didn't want to lose my place in line. So anyway, there I stood, with my hand over my mouth, gagging away at these disgusting pre-teen boys.

And then the next emotion hit. I started to look at their clothes and think about how their mommies or daddies probably bought them and how much their parents love them, and how awful for those parents that I was standing there thinking their precious children were soooo gross. Who did I think I was? I've been known to skip a shower here and there, and sometimes my fingernails are long and dirty. Of course I DO try to wear clean clothes. But nevertheless, I started to feel sooo guilty.

And then I began to cry. I thought to myself, "you've GOT to be kidding me! Get ahold of yourself! What is wrong with you?" Again, I tried to hide it and for a good minute or two, I stood there waffling between utter gagging disgust (and trying to hold in where THAT would lead us. . .) and crying silently out of self-hate and despair for the horrible judgments I was extending to someone else's precious children.

It was awful. I really don't know why I stayed in the Market.

But finally, they left and I stepped forward to take my turn. Remember, they'd been there awhile and it seemed to me that it took them forever to leave. Well, the same could be said for the stench that accompanied them. Now I'm pregnant, remember, so some of this odor's apparent potency could be blamed on that, but holy cow! Whatever or whomever was to blame, it was awful! I really don't know how else to describe it. I thought I would die. So once again, I'm gagging one second, and then thinking about how hurt their parents would be if they knew some snotty pregnant lady was gagging at the smell of their children and my eyes teared up again. I was barely hanging on at this point.

It was at this very moment that my friend Frank (who I didn't know was there) stealthily stole up behind me to scare me. His sudden greeting was to be the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back.

I started bawling. It couldn't be stopped. So there he stood looking quite startled (and perhaps frightened himself) as I blubbered my nonsensical story to him. I think it went something like this: "I'm pregnant Frank, and these kids took forever. They were smelly *sniff sniff *and dirty *sniff sniff*, but they have parents who love them, *sniff sniff* and they bought them their clothes, *sniff sniff* and I felt bad and . . ."

I'm shaking my head now just thinking about it.

I'm sure he thought I was crazy, and then went home and told his wife she was never to be pregnant ever again! Or maybe he just shook his head and laughed to himself, "hah! pregnancy!" Who knows! His wife did tell me on Sunday (with a smile and a giggle) that he told her about it. So apparently, he wasn't too traumatized. That's good!

So I got the drinks and returned to the car. Ryan just gave me that "NOW what?" look. I started to tell him the story and started bawling again! In fact, I couldn't think or talk about this event for several hours without breaking into tears. Good grief!

I wonder what the next few weeks and months will bring. . . . . . .