Backyard Fun

Our backyard is unique.  Upon first seeing it I was a bit disappointed because there is no grass to run and play on.  Having grown up with no neighbors to the right or left of us I had not only the acre my parent's house sits on, but the alfalfa fields to run around in.  Knowing what I know now I'm sure the farmers loved that I'd smash down little trails through their fields.  Part of the compromise that city dwellers make is less yard.  It's something I'm trying to come to terms with.  Of course since we're renting I have no say in the landscaping which is quite beautiful actually.  Just not a country girl's dream yard I guess.  Ava on the other hand...

I don't know why we didn't think of it before.  We had already been to Liberty Park in the afternoon but Ava still had a need to be outside.  I get it.  As a child it was much better to play outside than in.  Still is, really.  Anyway it was sprinkling out but I sent Ava out anyway.  Then I remembered her boats she takes in the tub with her.  So I brought them out while Brielle was napping.  We tried the boats, but they kept capsizing.

So we tried her prized pink ball next.  It worked much better.  Ava's face is great in this picture.  The suspense is killing her.  Will it make it down all the way?

 Not quite.  We had to get out her microphone stand to help it along.

We tried the boats again after a while.  They definitely are not sea worthy.  That's okay though.  Ava had a blast.

Who needs grass anyway?  In the city that's what a park is for.

Cache Valley Easter

Ava's cousin Ellie invited Ava over for a sleep over at her house while we were in town for Easter.  Brielle and I came along too.  Holly and I had girl talk and the girls had great fun.  Ironically, Ellie is not pictured because she was still sleeping when I took this picture.  I think it's funny that both my girls have their fingers in their mouths, while the twins have their binkies.  Cousins are great!  Although I will say this: the term sleep over is such a misnomer.  I hardly slept a wink between Brielle's insatiable hunger and Ava's tornado legs.  In the morning when we woke up Ava looked confusedly at me and said, "What are you doing here?"  I don't know if she thought we were at Grandma's or our own house.  Silly girl. 

Gotta love Easter.  Candy galore.  Ava didn't have much competition as there were only six or seven other kids in her age group.  As you can see she is not exactly rushing. 

I love going home and seeing people from my hometown.  It leaves me feeling great affection for the people and the place.  I'm not sure I could go back to living in a place that is at least twenty minutes from the nearest grocery store.  Or braving snow drifts up to the bumper in the winter time.  It's a lovely place to visit though.

Belated Brielle Blessing Photos

Confession: These photos were not actually taken on the day we blessed Brielle.  Between the bathing and dressing and feeding and everything else we never took a single photo.  Lame I know.  But we wanted pictures with her in her dress anyway.  Confession: I'm not sure why I have my head tilted so far to the right.  I think it's in response to Ava annoyingly bouncing around and grabbing onto Brielle's legs while we were taking the shot.  Yes, I'm certain that's it.  If you look at my smile it says Hurry and take the picture.  Our first born is driving me crazy!

 Brigham and Brielle.  Brielle and Brigham.  What can I say?  I love 'em.

I like this picture even though Ava is not looking at the camera because Brig and Ava were laughing really hard over something.  I can't even remember what it was.  I couldn't get the girl to look at me though.  P.S. We blessed Brielle two months ago.  Most of Brig's family was there and both of my sisters were there and my parents.  We had lunch afterward and it was a very nice day. 

Sunday Walk

Her little hand in mine, we set out together
Her yellow flip flops slapping against the sidewalk
She says we are on a walking date
Just the two of us
We giggle
She stops every few feet or so
To point out the color of a flower
Or an abandoned snail shell
Or an interesting looking bug
Together we drink in Spring
Drink hungrily with our eyes
The vivid purples and pinks and reds of the tulips
Drink deeply smelling the sweet flowering blooms
Arching above us in extravagant sprays
We drink in the sunlight and the green and the crispness in the air
A thirst born from wandering too long
In a wintery desert
We touch a plant that I have always called Rabbit's Ear
Though I've no idea if that is it's real name
She says "Hello!" and "Good morning!" and "Hi there!"
To the woman pulling weeds, the family on their bikes, a man running
I smile to myself
My trusting, friendly girl
My first baby as she has taken to calling herself lately
I wonder inside of myself with a love that is so intense it's almost painful
That this beautiful being is my daughter
That what she wants and needs most from me
Is to simply be with me
To talk, to laugh, to touch
Through her curious eyes I see the goodness
The mystery, the blinding beauty of the world
I pray that she will always hold that same sense of hope
About others, about the world within herself
She kisses the palm of my hand and indicates
That I should then press it to my cheek
She got this from a book she has read in pre-school
I know what is coming and I smile in anticipation
She looks at me with those clear blue green eyes and says
"Whenever we are apart, you can put your palm to your cheek, Mom
And it will be as if I'm kissing you.  And you say to yourself
Ava loves me.  Ava loves me."
I press my fingers to her sun warmed hair
Look at her face trying to fix this moment in my memory
To save for the years to come when she won't be five years old
When her faith in the world and in my omnipotence wanes
The bittersweet irony of motherhood is this
You try to equip your children with the tools they will need
For the life they will live out there on their own
Pushing them forward
While desperately grasping at these little moments in time
Bright hot sparks of their childhood
Holding them to your heart in an effort to dull the ache
Of the knowledge that what you've brought into this world
Will leave you one day as is only right, only natural
We walk back home the way we started out
Her hand in mine
My heart in her hands

- Denise Cooper Smith -

Super Important Topic: Booty Bling

I know, I know, you've been waiting with bated breath for my thoughts on this recent trend.  For full disclosure's sake I have to say that I am no Joan Rivers.  Four out of seven days of the week I'm in what most people consider pajamas nearly all day.  Unless I'm actually going to spend a significant amount of time around people I usually throw on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt while I play mommy all day.  I'm sure I'd be the perfect candidate for What Not To Wear.

That being said: booty bling...I don't get it.  Someone got a little carried away with the bedazzler.  The rhinestones and crystals adorning these jeans are not just in any old place, but smack dab on the bum.  Liberace would have been gaga for these jeans, I just know it.  For the most part I've witnessed this trend among the thirty and younger set.  I don't see it much here in Salt Lake City, but I do see it a lot in Bountiful in the shop I work in. 

For one, I don't appreciate having my eyes drawn to your backside.  Those jewel encrusted pockets are like an invitation for me to gawk at a place I normally don't gawk at.  As my mother says everyone has a bum, what's the big deal?  To a large extent I agree, but there are various shapes and sizes involved.  Which leads me to my point.  If you have a bum that is not anything to brag about, why in the world would you wear these jeans that draw so much attention to the area that all they are missing is a large neon arrow pointing to your derriere?  On the other hand if you just have a fantastic booty why do you need large shiny gemstones glued to your rear-end?  Gilding the lily if you ask me.  I get that rhinestones are pretty.  I'm practically a bird when it comes to liking glittery shiny things, but even I have no appetite for this trend. 

The pushers of these jeans have not only convinced teens and young moms to wear them, but sadly I've seen women pushing fifty and men sporting this look.  I don't care if you are 55 and look twenty years younger, congratulations on that but you still don't get a pass to wear hideous jeans that are best left to a fifteen year old.  And to the men out there: it's bad enough I have to tolerate seeing every square inch of your chicken legs and small flat bums thanks to skinny jeans.  Having my eyeballs assaulted with huge golden studs in the shape of an iron cross on the back side of your saggy over-sized jeans along with a huge pouncing tiger appliqued on your right thigh is where I draw the line.  Have a little self awareness.  Right now my thighs rival the circumference of an oak tree.  I am aware.  So much so in fact that I resist wearing cropped black spandex pants.  They look terribly cute under a long tunic and boy howdy how comfortable they must be but I refuse to reveal if my thighs contain a 16 oz. container of cottage cheese, or the economy sized containers they hawk at Costco.  So please, do me a favor...unless you are a flamboyant piano genius leave the rhinestones and other adornments on a piece of Cookie Lee jewelry.  My eyes thank you for your cooperation. 

Orange Julius Recipe

There are a handful of recipes that I have memorized, this is one of them.  I've been making it since I was 13 or 14.  I've been buying a lot of orange juice concentrate lately just for this recipe.  Ava is a little tyrant when it comes to this.  Just a couple of weeks ago she held my phone hostage with my mother on the line until I agreed to make it for her right then.   

One day when I was 15 or 16 and had apparently had a rough day at school I came home and decided to make orange julius.  Now most people who know me well will not be surprised by this story.  First thing I did was take a butter knife and tried to work half of the orange juice concentrate out of the can.  It was super frozen and was not budging.  After a few good college tries and a few cuss words under my breath I proceeded to inflict my mom's prized glass blender with the wrath of the butter knife wielded by my furious hand.   Blinded by my rage I did not think to consider what the result of a metal knife colliding with glass over and over again would yield.  Suddenly the blender was in shards scattered around the kitchen counter.  

Immediately all anger went out of me and my oh crap instinct shot through my body like electricity.  There was no hiding it.  I faced the music when my mom got home from Logan.  It was one of the few times she acted thoroughly put out at me.  I blame this episode of violence and subsequent acts of violence on inanimate objects on the Clark/Carlsen gene passed on from my Grandpa Denzel.  Heaven knows how many household objects have come to a quick end at the hands of my normally gentle grandfather.  My mother has also known the satisfaction of a broken vacuum flying through the air out the front door and onto the front lawn.  That will show it, Mom.  I've also seen her stomp the life out of a wide brimmed gardening hat.  I tried not to laugh.  She was pretty angry.  One time I chucked the Xbox remote control against the wall while Brig was at work.  Of course once again I failed to have the foresight as to what would happen and was left awestruck as it burst against the wall raining down pieces of plastic confetti.  I panicked and like a guilty Xbox murderer I booked it over to Fred Meyer's to purchase a new one so as to cover my tracks.  I ended up confessing the very same night.  I felt bad.  I could go on and on about the things I've broken in my childish tantrums but I'll stop there.  I'll let you recover a bit from the shock that I am not a perfect person. ;)  Oh and don't be concerned for the children.  I take my Zoloft daily now. 

Oh right, I was going to post the orange julius recipe.  Sidetracked.  Sorry.  

Orange Julius

1/2 can of orange juice concentrate

1 Cup Milk

1 Cup Water

1/4 or 1/3 Cup sugar (depends on how sweet your tooth is)

a cap-full of vanilla extract

10 ice cubes

Add everything to the blender, except for five ice cubes.  Blend until ice is crushed.  Then add remaining five ice cubes and blend until smooth.  Enjoy.  It's quite delicious and tasty if I do say so myself.  A good tip is to run the top of the can of frozen orange juice concentrate underneath warm water for a few seconds for easier removal.  It may just save your mother's blender. 

Oh and here are a few shots of me and my sweet little succubus (after I typed this I looked up the meaning and it was in no way what I was trying to convey, I will never again call my suckling child a female demon who seduces men.  Girl Scout's honor) girl taken by moi.  All I'm going to say is there are times when I look at a picture taken of myself and realize as if I am seeing myself for the first time how incredibly pale I am.  Give me some fangs and I'm practically vampiric.  I call this series of pictures A Vampire and her Succubus. 

If I knew anything at all about photoshop the above photo would be a likely candidate for adding on protruding fangs.

It Occured To Me

For all the new amenities they have put in family cars these days they neglected to put in one thing that I think would benefit all.  As I was trying to make my way from South Temple to 1100 East with Ava singing Scooby Dooby Doo over and over again while Brielle screamed her head off because she was a half hour past her normal feeding time it seemed I was doomed to hit every single red light.  I was strung tighter than a wire and it occurred to me that what I really needed was a way to stop the noise.  I've never ridden in a limo but I have saw a movie or two in my time featuring scenes involving limos.  What I needed was one of those privacy windows the drivers can put up that is sound proof.  With just a press of a button I could have the silence I needed to focus on getting us from point A to point B without exposing my children to my sailor's tongue.  It sounded like a better and better idea as I thought it through.  Sure, some would say that it would be neglectful and callous to shut your shrieking offspring off like that, but really there was nothing I could do for those two.  Ava wouldn't listen to my repeated requests to stop the racket and Brielle couldn't be fed unless I wanted to pull a Britney Spears and somehow have the dexterity to breastfeed and drive at the same time.  I imagined myself alone in the front half of the car surrounded by...silence.  Meanwhile my little angels could focus on reaching jet-engine level decibels.  Great idea, right?