Gym Time!

I LOVE going to the gym! When my kids were small, it was due in very large part to getting a little kid-free time. But now with all my kids in school all day, that is no longer a motivation. I've always really liked knowing that my body was strong and capable. And since I climb far fewer trees these days than I once did, a gym is the easiest way to accomplish that. I've seen how quickly a body can betray, and so while mine is still working well, I intend to work it!

A few months ago, I let my membership at a local rec center lapse. It's the gym I've used for years, but it was no longer meeting my needs. I intended to just focus on my half marathon training on the roads and trails and combine that with push-ups and other things I could do here at home.

But then a swanky new gym opened in the downtown of my cute and adorable little town. It took over the old hardware store and is that perfect combination of raw old brick walls, distressed but gleaming old wood floor, and lots of  dark metal. It's opening happened to coincide with my decision to get back into weight lifting again. (I don't think I've really focused on lifting since before I had my daughter. She's six now.)

I love my swanky new gym! It's a 24 hour facility and doesn't always have staff there, so the other day I used my key card to get in only to discover the whole building dark and empty! This, btw, is one of my definitions of heaven. A whole gym, completely tricked out, and all to myself!!

I then spent the next 10 minutes mentally writing a book involving the murder of a woman who is all alone in a swanky new 24 gym. All this while lacing up my sneakers, picking out my treadmill, programming it, queuing up my running playlist on my iPod, and just settling in.

Heaven, y'all.

On the TV screen in front of my treadmill they were showing some sort of championship basketball game for high schools. Basketball is the one sport I don't mind watching. And it was a NJ high school playing against an Indiana high school in a very close game.

I was all alone, so I cheered loudly at every basket the NJ team made. I booed out loud at missed or lousy calls against the NJ team all while running with my ear buds in.

It was after one particularly hard-won basket, I threw my arms up in the air and yelled "YES!" for the NJ team, and noticed an older gentleman had come up the stairs at some point and was exactly in my blind spot.

See?? Total potential for a murder mystery! I have no idea how long he'd been there, but he was clearly amused at my enthusiasm for high school basketball.

I finished up my miles on the treadmill and then moved over to do my first arm work out with the weights in a reeeeaaaaally long time. So long, in fact, that when I attempted to put my previous lifting weight on the barbell for chest presses, I was....um....overly optimistic.  So much so, that I could not lift the bar back up and had to slither out from under it, off the bench, and on to the floor.

A friend of mine once commented that I reminded him a little of Lucille Ball from "I Love Lucy". At the time I bristled a little at the comparison. But as I've thought of some of the stories I've told him from my life over the years, it's fairly apt. Anyway, as I was slithering out from the bar none too gracefully, that's all I could think of.

The guy at the gym was nice enough to pretend he didn't see me make a fool of myself that time. I managed to finish up my workout without any further shenanigans, thank goodness.

I'm happy to report that my subsequent visits to the gym have yielded no such stories and have simply been boring.

Not so good for anecdotes, but much better for my ego.

Twoo Wuv

Todd and I have been married for a little over 17 years now, and we've known one another in varying degrees for the better part of 34 years. We've reached an age where a lot of our friends have married, had kids, and are beginning to divorce. Or in some cases, have already divorced and are remarrying.

I can't say that will never happen to us. Mostly because I've learned to avoid definitive statements like that. I've eaten my words far too many times after uttering "I'll never...". That being said, I genuinely like Todd. He is such a good man and I'm always so amazed at his generosity of spirit. 

The other day, I asked if I could borrow his iPod for the day so I could go running. (Technically, I own an iPod, too, but mine is big and clunky and no fun to run with. His is delightfully small AND has my running mix loaded on to it.) But he and the kids have been listening to the musical "Hamilton" on the way to school each morning. When I remembered that, I waved him off with the kids and told him that I would just run later that night when he got home or run without it during the day. No problem. 

Todd is so busy at work with meetings that we often have zero interactions throughout the day. So he leaves the house at 7:20 am, and I don't see him again until 7 pm. (You can take the businessman out of New York...) However, 20 minutes after leaving the house that morning, he pulled back in the driveway. I assumed he'd forgotten something, so I opened the front door to find him coming up the walk with his iPod, as he hurried back to his car to get to work after handing me said iPod he said, "We've listened for the morning, now you can use it to go running today!"

Such a simple little thing. But a reminder that he cares, and is willing to go out of his way when he can to make my day a little nicer.

Yesterday was a hard parenting day. (That's the second one in a week and with a different child. We haven't had those in a while, for which I'm grateful, but two in one week was tough.) I was emotionally spent by afternoon. I knew I couldn't call Todd because he's always either in a meeting or heading to one, and I didn't have the energy to craft an email about everything that had gone on and what I was feeling. But I needed to loop him in. We exchanged a few simple texts. He was having a hard day, too, though in different ways. Then last night right before bed, he gave me the last hoarded piece of his Valentine's Day chocolate and prayed wishes for an easier day today.

It takes so little to show someone you care about them. And while neither Todd nor I are perfect at anything, even and especially that, I appreciate the small and simple ways in which he tries.

If there were any secret to a happy relationship, it's those small and simple acts of caring. Those little things that say, "Hey, I was paying attention to you enough to know that you could probably use this." 

I am fortunate enough to be told daily by my husband that he loves me. I am kissed each morning as he leaves the house and each night when he comes home, but I haven't been able to stop thinking about these two small examples of caring from the last few days. They were sweet and thoughtful and unexpected and so very appreciated. 

Guess all those hearts with "MTS + EAB" drawn all over my 9th grade algebra book cover were worth it, even if I did end up having to retake the class. ;)

Sometimes "this" is a date to Jeni's for ice cream.

Conversations with Smiths- Part 24 or "My Son is the Interpretive Dance Penis in the High School Musical"

Hello, do you think that you could give me Bens phone number so I can get Pippin info?

Oh wait, does he have a phone?

He has no phone number. He is in the wind. Much like the anatomy he will be playing on stage.

Conversations with Smiths- Part 22

I've mentioned before that an alternate title to "Conversations with Smiths" could easily be "Poor Todd". Bless the man and all that he puts up with from the rest of us.

Also, for the record, and for context. Benjamin is totally better at doing make-up than I am. Not that it's a high bar or anything. In fact, a toddler could step over it. He's been doing dance and theater since Kindergarten, though, so he's a pro. Other than the occasional swipe of mascara and lip balm, I just don't wear it often enough to be good at application. My sisters who are makeup experts look at my blank face with lamentation whenever we go to visit them.

However, make-up is necessary on stage, darn it.  So a few times a year, I have to suck it up and paint my face.

Me: Benjamin, I'm going to a stage make up workshop in a couple of weeks.

B: Oh! Will they be doing age makeup??

Me: No. They're doing "looking fabulous when you dance on stage" makeup.

B: Hm. [Knowing he doesn't actually need that.]

Me: Could be useful for you.

B: Well, I guess if you won't let me be a stripper, drag could be the way to go.

Me: Drag is much classier than stripping. You have to entertain, not just titillate.

B: Good point. And to do good drag, Brendan said you need to know how to do your contour makeup correctly.

Me: True. Although, you're welcome, for those already fabulous cheekbones you have. Anyway, it's good to keep your career options open, right?

Todd: SHHHH!! Will you two behave? We're at church!

(Church hadn't started yet, btw, but we were probably not adding to the overall reverence of the pre-service ambiance.)

Conversations with Smiths- Part 21

I have a difficult time paying attention in church. Okay, I have a difficult time paying attention anywhere. Benjamin and I sitting next to one another is a particularly bad combination. Sometimes Todd separates the two of us if a speaker is particularly challenging to listen to.

It's a problem.

Adding to the problem is that our current congregation has a tradition of being pretty lousy at special programming for major holidays. Perhaps it feels worse for Todd and me because we grew up in churches with fabulous holiday programming. We've been here eleven years, you'd think we'd stop getting our hopes up by now. But, no.

This past Sunday was particularly painful because one of the few Christmas carols we were going to sing as a congregation was skipped when the undoubtedly nervous speaker rushed to the podium and began speaking before the organist made it to the organ. So the Bishopric let her talk and decided to skip the hymn altogether.

I was not pleased. And then the speaker as she told a scripture story described some of the people as "not righteous and wicked".

And Benjamin and I went into "we have the attention span of gnats and are obnoxious to boot" mode and this happened.


Benjamin: #NotRighteous #Wicked 

Me: #SameThing #Redundant

Benjamin: #SacramentMeetingTalk

Me: #NotReallyPayingAttention #ShouldBeSingingTheFirstNoel #Bitter

Todd [leaning over in between Benjamin and me]: #SHHHH!

Benjamin: #Roasted #DadBurn

Conversations with Smiths- Part 20

'Tis the Season for White Elephant gift exchanges!

Todd and I used to attend so many of these each year, that I began keeping a box in the basement full of things to give at such a party. That way throughout the year as I was cleaning out, I could easily donate to the box and then not have to scramble to find something ridiculous the day before the party. It was already in my handy-dandy box!

We haven't really gone to as many of the type of parties where white elephant gifts are exchanged over the last few years, which means I haven't really looked in the box for a while.

Last night my boys informed me that after the play they were going to, the party was going to have a white elephant exchange and what on earth could they possibly give???

They looked amazed when I told them of "The Box". Without checking the contents, I brought it upstairs and put it on the table so they could find what they wanted, which is how the following conversation happened:

Benjamin: Are those condoms??

Me: Crap! Yes. But, you can NOT give condoms past their expiration date as a white elephant present!

Nathaniel: But, why not? That would be hysterical!

Me: You can NOT give out expired condoms to anybody, but especially teenagers.

Benjamin: Because they're not as effective. Ha! They're even "ultra-thin", so twice as likely to break!

Nathaniel: But white elephant gifts are supposed to be useless. So, why can't we give those?

Me: Nathaniel, teenagers who are in possession of a condom and also in need of a condom aren't very likely to double check the expiration date in the heat of the moment.

Nathaniel: Hm. Well, most of them are too young to be having sex anyway. 

Me: Yes, but if you take 36 condoms to a party, odds are good they aren't all going home with the same person. Also, you are a freshman. Do you really want the rest of your high school career to be colored with the memory of you as "that kid who brought 36 expired ultra-thin trojans" to a party?

[Me quickly scrambling through box to make sure there's nothing else inappropriate for them to take.]

Me: Good grief, there are so many condoms in this box!!

Nathaniel: That's honestly something I never expected to hear my mother say. 

Me: Then you haven't known your mother very long.

Benjamin: Nathaniel, you should just take the bottle of hot sauce called "Rectal Rocket Fuel".

Nathaniel: I don't know. That's kind of embarrassing. 

Conversations with Smiths- Part 19

Benjamin has been doing ballet for 5 or 6 years now, but other forms of dance for far longer. His ballet teachers have been trying to convince him of "proper ballet attire" for nearly as long. Since all the other dance forms he does are far more casual, he resists. Oh, he'll don a white t-shirt, and maybe some black athletic pants if black ones happen to be clean, but black ballet tights and a dance belt? No.

Just no.

[A dance belt, btw, is a balladore's version of a jock strap. Imagine, however, that a jock strap and a thong got together and hybridized. Visual confirmation NSFW.]

I am sure I'm biased, but Benjamin is a beautiful ballet dancer. (So is Caleb, but Caleb totally doesn't care about ballet other than to torture his poor teacher.) I can't be totally biased, though, because one of Benjamin's current ballet instructors wants him to audition for a summer ballet intensive that he seems to think Benjamin will have no trouble both being accepted in to and given a big scholarship to attend.

My son is feeling very flattered at the idea of such a thing and is planning on auditioning at one of the regional auditions in a couple of months. His teacher pulled him aside last week and said, "So, you know you're going to have to wear ballet tights and a dance belt to audition, right?" While I wasn't there for this conversation, I have this teacher for a dance class also, and I can imagine the gleam in his eye as he said it. There was probably internal clapping going on, too, as he thought, "Aha! I got him! He'll HAVE to come to class properly dressed NOW!"

This was the conversation Benjamin and I had following:

B: Mr. Adam says I need dance tights and a belt for the audition.

Me: Did he cackle maniacally as he told you? Or say, "Neener neener neener?"

B: No.

Me: You know he was doing it on the inside. 

B: Yeah.

Me: The time has come, my son.

B: It is the coming of the great and dreadful day of the dance belt!

Me: You poor thing.

B: There shall rain down hellfire and brimstone and dancebelts!

Me: I'm sure it's not that bad.

B: I don't even know if everything will stay in place given my lack of bottom.

Me: Maybe it will help your bottom look better.

B: I'll be in tights

Me: Yes. Well, we'll have to make time to go shopping for dance belts and tights one of these days.

B: Hellfire and brimstone and dancebelts. [heavy sigh]

Conversations with Smiths- Part 18

It is election season again here in Franklin County, Ohio. Voting here is a big deal. It should be a big deal everywhere, but it is particularly big here. Although, a little less so since this isn't a presidential election year. Thank goodness! We still get mailings and door signs and people knocking starting in September and oh the number of phone calls we get. I pretty much tune out everything candidate related until mid-October, then pick up the guide written up by the Ohio Women's League of Voters, do a little additional research, and THEN decide for whom I'm voting.

I do have some very definite opinions on the issues we get to vote on, though, so those I have decided well in advance. The other day I received a phone call that went like this:

Caller: Hello? Mrs. Smith? 

Me: This is she.

Caller: I was wondering if I could give you a little more information concerning issue #-.

Me: No, thanks. I'm already planning on voting for it.

Caller: Oh, that's wonderful! Would you like a yard sign to show your support?

Me: No. My husband is likely voting against it. This is usually the case, so we try to keep the yard a neutral zone.

Caller: I see. That sounds complicated.

Me: It's not bad.

Caller: Well, thanks for your vote, Mrs. Smith. 

Me: No problem. I'll try to trip my husband on the way out the door on election day.

Caller: We would certainly appreciate that, Ma'am.

Conversations with Smiths - Part 17 (Or "The Walls Have Ears")

(There is an explanation for this conversation at the bottom of the page if you're interested, but could be classified as "TMI".)

 This occurred when Todd and I were speaking on the couch in the living room while Lilyanna was playing on the floor nearby. She was being loud enough in her play that I didn't realize she was listening.

Lilyanna: Momma, what does "horny" mean?

Me: [sotto voce muttering at being heard] It means something has a lot of horns.

Lilyanna: But you don't have a lot of horns, Momma. You said you were horny. What else does it mean?

Me: The other meaning isn't really polite for little girls to talk about, but I promise we discuss it when you are older.

Lilyanna: Like when I'm six?

Me: Probably twelve.

Todd: At this rate, maybe ten...

Me: Twelve.

Lilyanna: I think when I'm seven.

Me: Twelve.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Why did nobody warn me of the crazy hormonal surge that would happen as I approached 40??? Oh my goodness, for months I've had to have this constant mantra running through my head as I go out into the world, "It is NOT OKAY to grab strange men from off the sidewalk/in the store aisle/anydarnplace and have your way with them, Emilia! It is NOT OKAY!"  My body, however, does not seem to have gotten the memo. Good grief, this is crazy! It is way worse than teenage-hood, and that is saying something. (To be clear, no strangers have been grabbed thus far. So my brain is winning.) Still, I'm walking around in a nearly chronic hormonal miasma.

I heard on the radio last week that there is a new medication for women who suffer the opposite problem at this age and later I said to Todd, "Can you imagine if I took that medicine right now??  I would never let you leave the house!!"

Ugh.

Anyway, as I was discussing this with a similarly aged friend on Friday night, she was so happy that it wasn't just her, and I was equally relieved for the same reason. Another friend overheard our conversation and said, "Oh, I have something that could help with that." And all I could do was blink at her as I realized that I don't really want help with it. Is it distracting to be this randy at all times? Yes. But it's also kind of fun. And my similarly affected friend agreed. I don't know what this says about either one of us, except that if we're going to have to go through these crazy hormonal changes, we might as well enjoy them.

The realization makes me suddenly more compassionate towards people who suffer from manic depression. The depression part sucks, but the highs are just so high! Who would want to give that up? (I don't advocate not taking prescribed medication if you and your doctor think it will help you be able to function best in life, but I get not wanting to take the medicine.)

I assume that this will all crash at some point. Or perhaps it will just gradually trickle down. Either way, the meantime I will continue to appreciate this little part of being alive and in reasonably good health.

However, I apparently do need to be a little more circumspect about where I relate these stories to Todd. Because Lilyanna listens a little too well sometimes....

Conversations with Smiths - Part 16

Me: So, last night before bed I brushed my hair like I typically do right before bed.

Todd: Uh-huh

Me: This morning when I woke up to teach seminary, I put my hair into a messy bun. But I discovered that there was a horrible clump in my hair.

Todd: And?

Me: There was a partially melted dark chocolate covered almond in my hair.

Todd: Really?

Me: Yes. Is there something you want to tell me about last night?

Conversations with Smiths-Part 15 (Or "I Have the Creepiest Kids Ever")

Every couple of years my husband gets bored and switches jobs. So far, always within the same company and it's always other people coming to him and fighting over who gets him next. (This is a good problem to have.) But we also try to be open to all the possibilities, which means the idea of moving.

It also means that every two years I remind him of my list of acceptable places to live. Because I really am okay with picking up and going whenever. But I have a few places I'm not willing to live.

We've never really let the kids in on the conversation of where they would or would not be willing to live, but we were discussing it with them in the room this last week.

Todd: We could live in South or North Carolina if I work for [lists several companies]. 

Me: Or we could go back to NY and live in the city for a couple of years. Or England!

Todd: Well, yes, we could, but those would not be as easy.

Me: But it would be an adventure!!

Todd: [Gazes at me with more patience than I deserve.]

Me: I prefer North. The Yankee in me is traumatized by even thinking about living that far south of the Mason-Dixon line. Besides we have way more friends and relatives in North.

Nathaniel: Wherever we move, it just has to be a state without the death penalty.

Me: [Stares at Nathaniel]

Me: [Finally recovers enough to talk] Um, why would you need to live somewhere without the death penalty, Nathaniel?

Nathaniel: Because....Reasons. You don't need to know any more.

Me: Oh my gosh, you are so super creepy sometimes.

Conversations with Smiths- Part 14 (Or Why Emilia Keeps a Journal)

While we were in Europe, instead of writing in my journal, I chronicled our trip on postcards representative of the things we saw that day, so even though I had my trusty journal in tow, it didn't get opened much on our trip. When we arrived home, I discovered my entry from the plane ride en route to England. I'm SO glad I recorded this conversation!

This took place in the car on the morning we left the house of our friends, the Shropes. And after our bemused families and significant others sat and watched as my friend, Dave, and I pummeled each other for hours.

Me: It was so fun to wrestle like that again!! I never get to do that anymore!

Todd: Do you need to do that more?

Me: [Questioning eyebrow, wondering where he's going with this]

Todd: I'm not offering myself, mind you.

Me: Oh, really? Are you offering to get a wrestling partner for me?

Todd: Sure.

Me: Do I get to pick out what he looks like?

Todd: Sure. You can even pick out what color speedo he wears.

Me: Oh my gosh!! Best 40th birthday present EVER!

I don't turn 40 until next year, but Todd's been asking me what I would like for that milestone birthday. Unless he proposes something better in the meantime, I may need to remind him of this conversation in a few months. ;)

Conversations with Smiths-Part 13

I have always claimed to know nothing about football. It's not a baseless claim, despite the fact that I was in marching band for 2 years of high school and therefore attended all the Friday night football games.

Also, despite the fact that I dated a football player (although, it was off-season). He was very nice about and I think even a little amused by my ignorance of the sport. I regularly referred to him as My Big Dumb Jock, and he was nice enough not to point out that in this particular area, I was the dumb one.

And then in college I was surrounded by other music majors. The majority of us had been in marching bands, but we didn't talk about football. Until I started dating a guy (also a music major) my sophomore year who was appalled at my lack of football knowledge. We started dating in November, and he almost immediately began trying to teach me about it. I was not an enthusiastic student. I did, however, agree to watch the SuperBowl that year. I brought homework to do and only really looked up during the commercials, such was my enthusiasm for the event. 

He managed to teach me one thing. I think we were at a diner when it finally sunk in. There may have been sugar packets involved in the explanation. But, the one piece of football knowledge I have retained is this: A sack is when the quarterback is tackled behind the line of scrimmage. 

At the wedding of this ex-boyfriend, my husband actually thanked him for working so hard to teach me that one thing, because he wasn't getting anywhere with furthering my football knowledge.

That's it. That's all I know. I know the definition of a sack. It's like my party trick. I now live in a land obsessed with college football, and when accused of knowing nothing, I pull out my one piece of knowledge. (Also, I knew that this year OSU managed to do very well with their 3rd string quarterback. But you can't really live here and NOT know things like that.)

Or at least I THOUGHT that was all I knew. Until last night.

Benjamin: So, while I was sitting outside the trainer's icing, I heard this really weird thud come from the football field and there was our one shining hope for a decent football season. He's an incredible linebacker and now it looks like he's out for the season!

Me: Oh, no! What happened? 

Benjamin: They think his ankle is fractured. It was an incredibly hard sack.

Me: [getting all excited!] But that wasn't a sack. He's not the quarterback.

Benjamin: Yeah, but it doesn't always have to be the quarterback for it to be a sack.

Todd: [reading the definition of "sack" from my phone] "Sack-In American football and Canadian football, a sack occurs when the quarterback (or another offensive player acting as a passer) is tackled behind the line of scrimmage before he can throw a forward pass.

Me: Yes, but linebacker isn't an offensive position.

Benjamin: [glowers at me]

Me: Face it. I know more about football than you. [I totally don't, but it's fun to egg him on.]

Benjamin: You really don't, Mom.

Me: Apparently, today I do.

Benjamin: Okay, what's a wide receiver?

Me: Someone who catches the ball...you know, but far away from things.

Benjamin: I'm just not going to talk anymore.

At which point Todd and I high-fived and we continued with dinner. Also, it should be noted that I had NO IDEA that I knew what linebackers and wide-receivers were! They must put something in the water in Columbus....

Conversations with the Smiths- Part 12

Me: "So, tonight Benjamin has to be at the church at 6:15 to go over the music for the choir on Sunday, then Caleb has scouts there at 7, and the older boys have to go over to Rosie's house for the campfire, also at 7. AND Nathaniel's hippie commie high school parent meeting is also at 7. So, I'll take the kids at 6:15, leave Caleb there at 6:50, take the other boys over to the campfire, then go to the parent meeting. Can you just go and catch the first 10 minutes until I get there, and then you can pick up all the boys and take Benjamin to dance?

Todd: Or.....I could just go to the parent meeting.

Me: WHAT???? After what happened the last time I sent you to a parent meeting at the beginning of the school year??

[It was before preschool for the same child that is now starting high school. But still, he told me nothing and I spent the whole year in utter confusion. The teachers and parents would look at me perplexed and say, "But we covered this at the parent meeting at the beginning of the year. Don't you remember?" Grrrrrr.]

Todd: That was a LONG time ago!!

Me: He skipped two grades in the meantime. It wasn't THAT long ago!

Todd: I promise I'll take notes.

Me: Hm. You promise?

Todd: Yes

Me: Really good notes?

Todd: sigh YES

Me: Fine. I guess you can go instead. But they'd better be excellent notes!

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Epilogue: Not only did he take good notes, he took them in Google Drive, so he could share the file with me. He brought me the dates and agenda AND he even asked a clarifying question or two that he knew I'd want the answer to.  He has redeemed himself nicely. Although, when I asked if he wanted to go to the regular high school parent meeting tonight since I went last year for the other son, he totally balked. Ah, well.

Conversations with Smiths- Part 11

I think we can all agree that an alternate title for the "Conversations with Smiths" could be "Poor Todd". The man puts up with a lot from us, bless him.

A few nights ago while at the pool with friends, I was explaining that I'd had reunion with my childhood friend, Dave. Dave and I became very good friends at the tender age of 9. We are as different as can be, but found mutual satisfaction in long walks and hikes and beating each other up. Now, when I say beating each other up, I'm not being euphamistic. We were rough on each other. There was biting, scratching, hair pulling, tackling, wrestling. Hours of my youth were spent in hand to hand combat with this boy. And we both loved every minute of it!  (Well, maybe not the hair pulling. I still don't love that.)

Todd even took pictures to document.

Anyway, we spent the night at the house of our dear friends, the Shropes, the night before we left on our European travels, and I persuaded Dave (a relative of theirs) to come visit. I'm not sure my family or his (with the exception of his sister who had been there for the childhood/teenage version of our friendship) knew what to expect of this reunion. But what they got was a front row seat to a knock down drag out between the two of us. My children were amused at first, then disturbed, and eventually they fled. Todd continued to chat with our friends as if his wife wasn't pinned under a full grown man who she was kicking in the head to be let go of.

As I related all of this to the friends at the pool, one of them turned to Todd and said, "Was that the weirdest thing you've ever experienced?"

Todd without missing a beat said, "Being married to Emilia? Ha! Um, no."

Conversations with Smiths- Part 10

Remember yesterday when I mentioned that we tend to get a leeetle bit off track during scripture study time?

We had just read this scripture:

18 Lift up thine eyes round about and behold; all these gather themselves together, and they shall come to thee. And as I live, saith the Lord, thou shalt surely clothe thee with them all, as with an ornament, and bind them on even as a bride. [1 Nephi 21:18, but quoting Isaiah 49]

Nathaniel: Is this scripture telling us to tie up our wives?

Todd: What?

Caleb: Hey, Dad, I guess you need to tie up Mom.

Todd to me: What is he talking about?

Me: Binding up brides, naturally.

Todd: Um, Ok.

Me: Ha. Good luck.

Benjamin: That's true. If Mom doesn't want to be tied up, there's no way Dad would be able to do it.

Nathaniel: Mom would beat you up if you tried, Dad.

Caleb: Yeah. Mom would win.

Todd: [who thought he was being too quiet for the kids to hear, waggles his eyebrows at me] Well, I didn't know you were into that sort of thing.

Me: [Smirking at him with one eyebrow raised] You don't know everything about my past.

Benjamin: [The one sitting furthest from us, but the only one who heard] Ahh! [Looking completely horrified! Eyes bulging wide open, face frowning, and then curling himself into a ball on the couch to whimper.] Don't want to know! Don't even want to think about it! Aahhahahaha! Scarred for life. Life, I tell you!

Todd: Oh, stop. We're your parents. We have sex. Get over it.

Benjamin: Ahhhh! Make it stop!!!

Nathaniel: And THEN you can use the tied up brides as Christmas trees; you know, with all the ornaments you hang on them after you bind them up.

Me: PLEASE, stop talking, Nathaniel.

Todd: [snapping the scriptures closed and sighing peevishly] I guess we're done with scriptures for tonight. I don't know why I even bother some nights. [looking at all of us who are giggling and snorting]

And again we must say, Poor Todd.

Conversations with Smiths- Part 9

We Smiths spend a lot of our family together time in three places; the car en route to wherever, the dinner table, and in the living room for family scripture study and then family prayers.

Family scripture study is a challenge for any family for a number of reasons. It's difficult to get everyone in the same place at the same time. Also, it's difficult to read when you have family members of all different ages and reading/comprehension levels.

In our case, though, the problem seems to be that it's a problem because we're all together. Once one person loses it, everyone but Todd quickly follows leaving him to try desperately to rein us all back in, poor man.

Tonight was a good example.  While reading Isaiah 49, we got a little, um, distracted.

Caleb: In Primary a few weeks ago, they asked us which of the 10 commandments we knew. I said, "THOU SHALL NOT PASS!"

Me: Did anyone get it?

Caleb: [Name of one of his friends] got it. But none of the other kids...But all the guy teachers laughed a lot.

Benjamin: Yeah, knowing the men who are teaching in primary, I can totally see that. Except maybe for Brother A. I don't know if he would have...nah, I mean he's seen Zombie Prom, surely he's seen Monty Python and the Holy Grail!

Nathaniel: "You shall not pass" is from "The Lord of the Rings"!! [He was totally appalled at his brother for not remembering this, btw.]

Benjamin: Oh, yeah! Eh. Same difference.

Caleb: Right, like when Galdalf used the Holy Hand Grenade to defeat the Balrog!

Me: Or when the Eagles saved everyone from the killer bunny!

Nathaniel: Or when the Ents-

Me: The Ents who say "Ni!"

Nathaniel: Right, when the Ents who say "Ni" kill the Balrog, because Ganldalf counted to 4 with the Holy hand grenade, and then turned into Gandalf the White.

Caleb: And then Gandalf stood on the bridge asking everyone what their favorite color was.

Benjamin: Grey! No, White! Ahhhhhh!

Nathaniel: Actually, the Ents who say Ni, killed the Beast of Ahhhhhh, too.

Todd: [Groaning]  Guys, come on! Can we please focus, here??

All of us: [Still laughing]

Poor Todd.

Conversations with Smiths- Part 8

This picture has nothing to do with the story. But it amuses me.

In the car driving home from the orthodontist:

Benjamin: [grabbing MY water bottle] Thirsty!

Me: You know that's empty, right?

Benjamin: [looking sad and dejected] Stupid heavy metallic water bottles. They trick me every time!! I'm SOOOOOO thirsty!

Nathaniel: [practically drawling with dryness] Just drink your tears, Benjamin. Drink your tears of sadness.

Conversations with Smiths- Part 7

At the dinner table:

Benjamin: Smock, smock, smock!

Nathaniel: Smock, smock, smock, smock, smock smock!

Caleb: Smock, smock, smock, smock, smock, smock, smock!

Me: STAAAAAAAHHHHHPPP!!!

Todd: [looking at me confused] What's wrong with you?

Me: ALL DAY LONG they've been following me around saying the word, "Smock"!! I've never had a problem with that word before, but now all of a sudden it's like nails on a chalkboard for me!!

All the children: smock, smock, smock, smock!!

Me: AHHH! [covering my ears and shuddering]

Todd: Why are you guys saying, "Smock"?

Benjamin: [Explains cartoon above, since he'd been reading the entire Calvin and Hobbes collection]

Nathaniel: we also discovered another word that works. Watch this!

All the children: Quark, quark, quark, [ etc.]

Me to Todd: That one doesn't bother me as much. It just sounded like I was being followed around by a bunch of baby ducks. Also, this is why I look like I do at the end of the day when you get home from work.

All the children: [look smugly satisfied with themselves for nearly driving their mother crazy]

Todd: You need a swear jar.

Me: Ooo! 25 cents per smock! I like it!

Nathaniel: I do not agree to these terms.

Caleb: Mom, we could also make it so you have to put money in for all your British curse words. You know, since you were supposed to stop saying them before we go to England. [looking at me knowing full well I really haven't stopped at all.]

Benjamin: [counting on his fingers, presumably up to $1] Smock, smock, smock, smock!

Caleb: quark!

Me: [softly pounding head on table.]

Conversations with Smiths- Part 6

I'm a fan of good vocabulary words. As is my sweet husband.

He used to have a word of the week he would hang up on the inside of our front door for the kids to learn and use, so dedicated to the task of making sure our kids had a good vocabulary was he.

The other night, I was able to teach everyone at the dinner table a new and very useful word. (It would have been exceedingly useful in Part 5 of this series of conversations)

*All names of friends have been changed to protect the identity of those who are both hot and not.

Me: Wait, so what was the name of the friend you were hanging out at the pool with last night? I thought that was John, the human bologna.

Benjamin: No! That was Joe.

Me: Really? Who's the human bologna, then? 

Benjamin: Jay.

Me: Hm. Oh, wait. Joe is the one who is bff's with Mellie who is a total diva and Brady doesn't get along with at all, right?

Benjamin: Exactly. Joe is Michael's brother.

Me: Michael who?

Benjamin: You know, the one who played the older brother in the first show we did this year?

Me: Really?? Wow. Poor Joe.

Todd: Why poor Joe?

Benjamin: Because Michael is hot.

Me: And Joe just...isn't. He's squidgier.

Benjamin: Yeah. Michael is fine.

Me: And callipygian.

Caleb: What does that mean?

Me: Callipygian: having well-formed buttocks.

Benjamin: He really does.

Me to Todd: He really does.

Todd: [shaking his head at the both of us]

Nathaniel: Is this discussion really happening? And why do you know this word?

Me: I read. It's a good word to know. Now that you know it, I expect you to use it in conversation this week.

Nathaniel: I don't think I have those kinds of conversations.

[We then went on to use the word at least a dozen more times in context before dinner was over. Vocabulary for the win! Incidentally, Caleb has been the best at incorporating it into his vocabulary.]