Would You Rather?

I know most of you have heard of the "Would You Rather?" game. I think there might even be a book out baring that same title. The questions in that book are probably something like, "Would you rather be the poorest, most beautiful person on earth, or the richest, most ugly?" (For the record, and after much thought, I would have to go with ugliest, most wealthy, because you can always buy a new nose and a tummy tuck, pay for a personal trainer and pretty much buy your way to beauty. But usually, in the book, it will throw in a stipulation. Like, you would have to remain the ugliest person for the rest of your life if you wanted to remain rich.)

Tough choices. And that is usually the point of the 'Would You Rather?" game. Not in our family. It became less of a game and more of a comedy source once my younger sister, Desi, began inventing the questions. Here are a few Desi-esque, "Would You Rather" questions:

Would you rather do my chores for the rest of your life, OR go to Disneyland, but you could only stay at Disneyland for a few hours so you wouldn't get to see everything?

Would you rather walk on a bunch of nails, OR eat so much ice cream it made your tummy sick?

Over and over she would create and ask. Over and over we would mock and laugh (yes, we were so mean to her. But I think it made her a stronger person today, right Desi? Desi? Deeessssi?). She did not understand why we thought her questions were so funny. She felt she had crafted good, almost equal options. And that made it so much funnier. To this day we still play that game, and no, the questions haven't changed. They are just as ridiculous as before. But that's how we like it.

I hope that explains the absurd "Would You Rather" question for my contest. I thought it was an open and shut case. I suppose I underestimated how much some of you love brussel sprouts, and what selfless, giving people I am acquainted with. The fact that many of you had to pause before answering, makes me love you a bit more. I would take the lottery winnings in a heartbeat, and I even like brussel sprouts!

Oh and here are the winners:

First 3 commenters: Jessica, Liz and Desi (Monica's comment was entirely unrelated to the post, so it didn't count)

And the final 2 based on answers: Amy (because she is having her first baby and I think I might be more excited than she is!), Krista (because she mentioned Girl Scout cookies), Michelle (because she found the loophole), Ericka (because she said she missed me), Heather (because she is wise and would invest the lotto winnings), Pam (because she likes brussel sprouts), Susan (because she's honest), Niki (because her comment was the longest) and Andrea (because she changed the rules, and because she has been sick and so I feel sorry for her).

What's that you say, I can't count? I am aware that is, well, all of you. But it is my contest, so I changed the rules (again). Seriously though, what was I thinking? I can't make a decision to save my life. So....you all win.

The 1st 3 winners will be receiving their gifts soon, and the rest of you might have to wait a few months. If you know me at all, you will know that this might cause a crafting overload. And I'm not sure how long it will take me to recover from it. That said, I am actually looking forward to crafting (yes, I said it. Out loud. Maybe I'm turning over a new leaf? Um, doubtful)!

ps. Hey Desi. Would you rather I leave up the first picture, or the second?

Gift It Forward

One of my friends posted this on her blog and I thought it was brilliant. I also think she is psychic. You see I had just closed thepioneerwoman.com (love her, she is my idol), and after helping myself to a daily dose of her awesomeness, I was thinking how much fun she must have giving stuff away. I mean the woman is a crazy contest holder, throwing prizes like Kitchen Aid Mixers and IPod Shuffles at her loyal readers. I just kept thinking, me too. Me too. I want in on all that contest havin' fun. But there were a few kinks in that thought.

1. I have like 3 readers, so the competition wouldn't be all that fierce (although, from an odds standpoint, this kink would be mighty beneficial!).

2. I have nothing to give away. Hhmmmm, perhaps I could give away some of my junk (and not like junk in the trunk-although if there are any takers.....), because maybe one of you might find a treasure in all that junk. Or not.

3. I'm too boring to craft a fun contest.

See the problem(s). That brilliant idea died hard. Until I saw the "Gift It Forward" post on my friend's blog. And I'm in. So here's how it works:

"The first 3 people to leave a comment on this post will receive a handmade gift from me during this year. When and what will be a surprise. There's a small catch...You knew there would be didn't you? Post this on your blog then come back and leave a comment, telling me you're in. Fun, huh? Remember, only the first 3 comments receive the gift."

Only, I don't like some of those rules. My contest, right? So I'm changing them. First change: I'm giving away 5 handmade gifts. Second change: You don't have to post this contest on your blog (although the Gift It Forwardness of it all would go by the wayside, and then you would have to deal with the guilt of killing a good thing. I'm just sayin'). Final change-and this was the hardest to figure out: I'm still going with the 1st 3 commenters as winners, but I feel you need to work for your prize. Soooo, you have to participate in a little game we call, Would You Rather (Desi, this one's for you). Answer me this (and you have to give me a reason for your choice): Would you rather win the lottery, but not be able to spend a dime on anyone other than yourself? OR Eat only brussel sprouts for the rest of your life? Seriously, that's the question. If you don't believe me, ask Desi. This is how we roll in my family.

Oh and the last 2 handmade gifts will be chosen based on answers. I'll pick my 2 favorites. So have at it. This here contest is open until I say it's over. How's that for set in stone rules!

Ps. There will be no returning said handmade gifts, regardless of how ugly they turn out. You will keep them and you will love them. That’s part of the risk you take entering!

Do as I'm doing; follow, follow me

Cora likes onions. She is MY daughter and she likes onions. It hurts me a little, but it also fascinates me.

Last night was the first time she had taken a bite out of a fresh onion. I loath them raw, so that opportunity would usually not present itself in our home, but we happened to be dining out. Cora picked up the onion my sister, Michelle, had taken off her salad (runs in the family, what can I say?). Cora asked what it was and if it was good. I glanced at my sister and knew she too was resisting the urge to hurl insults at the onion and rip it from Cora's little hands. But, because we are adults and that is what adults do, we masked our hatred and encouraged her to try it because onions are "soo delicious" (I felt for the sake of expanding Cora's palate, my little white lie was justified).

She tried it. She liked it. She took a second bite and proclaimed, "YUMMY!"

Now, if I had mentioned my aversion to uncooked onions before she took a bite, the outcome would probably have been different. It would have been unlikely that a bite would have even occurred. And if it had, she would have immediately spit it out and added onions to the list of food items to avoid in the future. Why? Because I rule her world.

I know. I know. Sounds odd saying it, but it is so true. Our children idolize us. They want to say the things we say and do the things we do. They want to impress us and make us laugh. They want to mimic us and make us proud. But I am well aware that this time is fleeting. Soon, my opinion will take a backseat to any and all of Cora's classmates, and my fashion that she currently tries to copy (for the life of me I do not know why, as the term fashion forward is NEVER spoken in our house), will be as mocked as the Golden Girl's wardrobes.

Am I taking advantage of this time in my daughter's lives by setting an example I want them to emulate? Am I teaching them to be kind to everyone, or are they instead picking up on my road rage induced rant that teaches them words like, "frickin moron?" Am I teaching them that they are beautiful and have endless self-worth, or will they instead learn to shutter at their reflection in the mirror as mommy does all too often?

I try to shield them from the harsh realities of living paycheck to paycheck, but I also want them to appreciate the value of a dollar and not expect money to be freely given to them. I want them to enjoy their childhood in a carefree environment, but I also want to instill a good work ethic and teach them to handle responsibility. I want them to be confident, but not stuck up. Nice, but not a pushover. A good leader, but not a bossy brat. I want them to fit in, yet stand out. Be willing to follow, but not be a follower. Be smart, but not nerdy. Athletic, but not a dumb jock. I want to remove every burden, every heartache, every stumbling block from their path. And yet, in the same breath, I want them to experience all of those things so they become stronger, wiser, more humble because of it.

My days are spent endlessly worrying that I am failing them, screwing them up permanently. Not teaching them enough, or teaching too much of the wrong things. As parents, our burden is great and our time is short. I must pack as much influence as I can into the few years I have a captive audience. And there are no do overs. I am helping to shape a future adult. How I teach and parent now, will have a lasting impact. What if I fail? What if all I hope for my child is not realized and everything I fear for them is? And why did our parents, teachers, mentors not warn us about this aspect of parenting?

I knew children would be exhausting and expensive. I was warned about the sleepless nights and the endless diaper changes. So why no warning about the endless worrying? Why did our parents not tell us that, once you have created a life, the magnitude of that responsibility will keep you up at night? Because maybe it didn’t keep them up at night? And maybe it doesn't keep you up at night either. Maybe my fears are completely irrational.

But I have a hunch that I am not alone here. That this unbelievable task bestowed upon us the moment our children took their first breath freaks you out a bit too. And if I’m right, how do you calm those fears? And do they ever go away? Will I be 60 years old and still worry as much as I do right now?

I guess, if in 30 years I am still lying awake at night pondering these same things, I will be grateful. Because, as children often do, I think it makes me a better person. And if not better, at least more aware of the type of person and parent I am striving to be.

Words of Wisdom

While changing Claire's diaper in preparation for naps the other day, she enlightened me on an unknown Idaho law. I thought, for your own good, I would pass this newly acquired knowledge on to you.

"Mommy, if you eat poop, you go to jail."

And now you know.

Traditions

Valentine's Day was an important holiday growing up. Each Valentine's morning we would wake up to a gift from the "Love Bug." Quite like Santa or the Tooth Fairy, the love bug was never seen, and would only appear when little eyelids had finally drooped shut.

My mom, er, the Love Bug, was quite creative when money was tight and handmade crafts were the only option. The idea for our handmade valentines this year was borrowed from one of the Love Bugs originals. But before we get to that, I want to share my favorite Love Bug memory.

It was Friday, February 13, 1998. My trusty Geo Metro was, well, not so trusty, and had left me stranded in Caldwell on my way back to Boise from Payette (the full story of breaking down on Friday the 13th spans into the next month, when I again-yes, 2 Friday the 13ths in a row-broke down on the highway in almost the exact same spot). After calling my parents and attempting to assure them I would be okay and had a bed at a friend's dorm that had been offered to me for the night, my mother insisted on driving to meet me in Caldwell.

I was in the heart of the most difficult years of my life. I, like many fresh out of high school, was struggling with what path to take. I was still hung up on my jerk-of-an-ex boyfriend, and it seemed finding true happiness was an improbability. My self-esteem was wavering and a bucket full of shootings stars could not calm the growing fear that dreams might not always come true. So when my mom pulled up with a backpack full of supplies, I was torn between chastising her for not treating me like an adult and letting me handle the problem on my own, and crawling into the security of her warm car and allowing her to drive me home.

We compromised. She forced me to accept her 72-hour kit and delivered me to my friend's dorm room. After I had gotten settled, I began rummaging through the backpack. Wedged between the peanut-butter crackers and the spare toothbrush was a small pink paper heart. In traditional Love Bug fashion, it was a simple gesture. The construction paper heart wished me a Happy Valentine's Day and was signed, "With Love, The Love Bug." My friend, certain my car troubles had pushed me over the brink, comforted me as my tears blurred the writing on what would become my favorite Love Bug gift of all time.

I have yet to begin the Love Bug tradition in our home. But in a few years, my daughters will wake up each February 14th in anticipation. Until then, I have tried to begin a few of our own Valentines traditions. Making homemade valentines is one of them.

I had grand ideas this year, and they certainly looked different in my mind. And although I liked the valentines we made last year a bit more, I was pleased with the results this year (as was Cora).
I believe someday I will be able to convert the image in my head into reality. I suppose I have many more years of February 14ths to attempt it. Anyway, hope this Valentine's Day finds you feelin the love. If not, know that I love you. Does that help?

Whirlwind trip

We ditched our kids on Sunday morning at 8am (thank you, thank you, thank you, Rachel and Grandma and Grandpa!!), hopped in Mark's truck, and while he slept (he had just gotten off work), I drove to Portland. This is what we returned with:
His expression masks his excitement. He is really thrilled that I finally caved and let him purchase this murdercycle, um, motorcycle (Krista, I will be forever in your debt for that one).

All bike talk aside, Mark and I had a great weekend away (okay so it was more like a few hours, but I'll take what I can get!). We were able to hang out with my sister and brother-in-law and my adorable nephew, Soren, before catching a few hours sleep and driving back home. Mark drove all the way back, so I was able to read almost an entire book!

Although brief, it was a nice and much needed escape!

WARNING: GRAPHIC CONTENT AHEAD

If you just ate lunch, please walk away from the computer now. Or at least, close this window. Trust me.

There is a song by country singer, Trace Atkins called "You're Gonna Miss This." I'm not a big Trace Atkins fan, but I've heard this song enough to remember the lyrics. I think he might have been a bit off base in his song about cherishing childhood.

I'm gonna miss this (yes, it's what you think it is!)?
Really Trace, I'm gonna want this back?
I'm gonna wish these days hadn't gone by so fast?
Sure, Trace. These are some good times. Whatever you say........