This month's visiting teaching lesson:

I have to start this post by saying that I've always been blessed with amazing visiting teaching companions who teach me so much about so many different things. I met my current companion in the bathroom at church just after we moved here. She told me right up front that she hadn't been visiting teaching in over four years. She had a good excuse though- she's a mother of triplets, plus three other kids. I don't know how I got to be the lucky one who was assigned to her when visiting teaching became a possibility in her life again, but we have had a lot of fun together over the past four years (and nobody had better try to break us up!).

This morning we had an appointment to visit one of our sisters. Cindy was coming from a physical therapy appointment at the other end of town. I dropped the boys off at her place so they could play with her kids while her husband worked from home, then drove to meet her at Jackie's. Sometime after I arrived (as I was basking in the glow of actually having gotten there first even though I was 20 minutes late!), the phone rang. It was Cindy, and she had just gotten out of her appointment and was not going to make it in time. I heard through the receiver, "So enjoy your visit with Katie!" and then goodbye and that was it. Jackie and I had a great visit, and then I went to pick my kids up at Cindy's, where she was just arriving home. I couldn't help but notice how un-bothered she was that she had missed the appointment. I knew that if I had been in her position I would have berated myself for HALF THE DAY. But not Cindy- her appointment had run late, and she seemed to understand that it was physically impossible for her to be in two places at once, so she called to let it be known and left it at that. And it really wasn't a big deal at all! Like I said, we had a great visit without her and all was well. The sky didn't fall, we didn't say terrible things about her behind her back, and the Church is apparently still functioning. So that was my visiting teaching lesson this month: you can't be in two places at once, life goes on even when you can't make it, and there's no need to beat yourself up over little things that are just not your fault. Beautiful.

*Cindy- How can it be that I have not a single picture of us to go with this post!?

I carried a watermelon

I thought I would take the very sad occasion of Patrick Swayze's death to blog about my obsession with the movie Dirty Dancing.  It always has been and always will be my favorite movie of all time.  When I was younger, my friend Christina's mom taped it off HBO and edited out the commercials and the racy parts so that we could watch it over and over and over again in each other's living rooms.  We knew all the lines:

"Look, spaghetti arms!  This is my dance space, this is yours."

"Go back to your playpen- Baby."

"Where is my beige, irridescent lipstick!?"

"If you love me, you have to love all the things about me."

"Me?  I'm scared of everything!  I'm scared of what I saw, of what I did.  Of who I am.  And most of all, I'm scared of walking out of this room and never feeling, the rest of my whole life, the way I feel when I'm with you."

and the classic...

"Nobody puts baby in the corner."

Christina and I practiced the lift on our sofa cushions.  Oh we SO did!  The lift has to be the best moment in all of moviedom.  Both the lake scene and the final scene.  And oh, when she misses it when they do the Shelldrake and she does that funny thing with her thumbs!!  And the soundtrack- don't even get me started.  I'll just say that Hungry Eyes is a very integral part of my running mix.  I think I may have to watch it again, you know, out of respect for Patrick Swayze and all....

My personal hymn looker-upper

In Relief Society yesterday the opening hymn was Love at Home.  I always feel a little self-conscious when we sing well-known hymns since most people who've grown up in the Church know them by heart and I usually still need a little help from the hymn book.  When the singing started I had to peek over the bench at someone else's book to find out the page number (What?  Listen when they announce the hymn number and turn to it right away?  Huh?).  I started to think about my friend Eva, who always used to flip my hymn book to the right page for me when I was brand-new to the Church.  Even when the number wasn't announced, she knew every single one by heart.  

We kept singing Love at Home and I kept thinking about Eva and her family.  I thought about the time I had to stop by her house late at night to get something for school the next day.  When I looked past her into the living room, there were her parents and brothers and sisters, all in pajamas and with hair still wet from the shower, reading the Book of Mormon together.  I remember her mom's homemade jam, and how one time they decided to remodel their kitchen, so they checked out videos from the library to learn how to do it themselves.  Who does that!?  And here is a picture of my wedding cake- made by Eva's mom (and I REALLY appreciate her decorating skills now that I have tried my hand at wedding cake baking!)

I was so happy when Marley was born on Eva's birthday.  Her two little girls are so lucky to have her for a mom- someone to teach them, love them and flip their hymn books for them:).  I love you Eva- Happy early birthday!

Fun Facts About Fleas:

1.   An adult flea can live 3 months without "feeding" (on your blood).

2.  NOTHING can kill a baby flea egg.

3.  Baby fleas eat what is called "flea diet", which is adult fleas' poop.

3.  The number of fleas you observe crawling on your dog represents about 5% of the total flea population currently residing in your home.

4.  A diaper pail full of stinky diapers is like a little flea Disney World.

So I took the dog to the vet a few weeks ago.  Several days later I was brushing him and I noticed bugs crawling around in the brushed-off fur.  I had a little freak-out on my front porch.  I still have vivid memories of contracting head lice on a trip to Egypt when I was five.  My mom tried various methods to get rid of them and the only thing that worked was a dip in the Atlantic ocean.  And we can't afford a trip to the beach right now, much as I would love to take one.  I can still see the red handkerchiefed head of the maid who infected us.  I don't think my mom has forgiven her yet- I bet she still remembers her name.  Anyway, because my past trauma centered around lice, and because I had never seen a flea before, I assumed that the bugs were lice.  

An internet search reassured me that canine lice can't be passed to other species, and that all I had to do was bath Mustang with a lice shampoo and that should take care of the problem.  So that's what I did.  Except they came back.  So I bathed him again and they came back again and I bathed him again and they came back AGAIN.  I remembered a story that my grandmother used to tell about when she got head lice in college and they wouldn't go away and someone told her the only thing to do was to shave her head.  I contemplated shaving the dog.  My grandmother told me not to do it because he would be "terribly embarrassed".  That I would have liked to have seen.  But I decided to call the vet first, just to make sure that there wasn't some other, less drastic solution.  The vet said I needed to burn the dog's bedding.  Our bedroom carpet is the dog's bedding.  I am not setting fire to my carpet.

So two nights ago Eric and I were getting into bed and I saw a black speck on the sheet and it hopped.  And I knew then that Mustang did not have canine lice, he had fleas.  About this time I also figured out that the little bug bites all over my legs and tummy were actually flea bites.  

It took the entire afternoon and evening to vacuum every inch of carpet, every baseboard, every piece of upholstered furniture.  Then we sprayed the house and the yard and washed every curtain, towel, sheet and article of clothing not in drawers.  Today I mopped the floors twice and they are still sticky with extract-of-chrysanthamum residue.  It does smell kind of good though.  There are still several loads of laundry to wash, curtains and bedskirts to iron, more vacuuming and possibly another round of spraying ahead.  I'm thinking of buying a special kind of dirt that's made of either crushed up seashells or microscopic freeze-dried plants (depending on which online source you trust) that will kill any more fleas who venture into our yard.  The crushed up seashells/plants make tiny cuts on the fleas' bodies which causes them to leak fluids, get dehydrated, get constipated and die by fecal poisoning (all completely true).  I almost feel bad for them.  No I don't.

9.14.09

A morning prayer-

Me: Heavenly Father, can you please help me to get more sleep?

HF: No, not right now.

Me: Well can you at least help me to find a good under-eye concealer?

HF: Okay, sure.

Me: Thanks.

A bedtime conversation-

Me: What is the DEAL!?!?  Why can't I make a decent chocolate chip cookie for my son's school party?  All the other mothers will think I'm stupid!

Eric: I think you need to relax.  Do you think you're being too perfectionistic?

Me: NO.  I'm not being perfectionistic- it's not even my fault.  It's the universe's fault.

Thanks for the clarification

So I was getting the kids ready for school this morning and Brigham asked me to read him the lunch menu so he could figure out if he wanted to take or buy.  If he hears the words french fries, cheese sticks or "chilled fruit bar", he buys, otherwise, he takes.  Today's choices for entrees were: country-style steak with gravy, and pork chop.  I noticed a little star next to pork chop, so I looked for the footnote to see what it meant.  "Contains pork products".  So glad that Child Nutrition Services could clarify that for me!

Thanks for all the advice on the anesthesia question- it sounds like getting put out is the way to go.  I'm still a little worried about it, mostly because I was assured that one of the medications in the IV will erase my memory of the whole thing.  Why do I need my memory erased if I'm going to be asleep anyway?  That seems strange to me, but oh well.  It sounds preferable to cracking, grinding and sucking, at least.

Adventures in Oral Surgery

Today I went for my pre-wisdom-teeth-removal consultation. I was, of course, running late. I had dropped the kids off at school at nine and planned to stop at the grocery store before the 10:30 appointment. I got sucked into the mouthwash isle on the way to the checkout. Who can tell what to believe? Alcohol-based or Alcohol free? Is it worth the extra 3$ for "nighttime protection"? I stood there imagining a little army of plaque-warriors doing battle in my mouth while I slept. I picked up a 6$ bottle that's supposed to be able to dissolve the "biofilm" of gunk that brushing and flossing alone can disrupt, but not completely eliminate. I put it in my cart. I turned back to the shelf and reconsidered. I heard a crash. I turned around to find the $6 bottle on the ground, gushing clear liquid. Marley was smiling sweetly at the pharmacist, who had witnessed everything. I apologized and asked for some paper towels, and stood awkwardly while he refused to let me help clean up the spill. I was going to be late to the oral surgeon! But I couldn't just walk away while the poor man cleaned up my mess! I had to stand there and "help" by making small talk! By the time I got in the car I had 10 minutes to make it a distance I knew would take me 20.

I arrived at the office 13 mintues late (had to get lost at least once, or I might have an identity crisis). I saw on the door that the doctor's first name was Uday. Not a good omen. The lobby was sort of disturbingly plush- more like a nice hotel lobby than a dentist's office. Hi! So sorry I'm late! No, I didn't print out the paper work online. Mind if I change my baby's stinky diaper on the floor? Can I hold her screaming in my lap while he looks at my teeth? Thanks!

Actually, Uday turned out to be not sadistic at all, and even very nice. And Marley was mostly calm, having already accomplished her morning's mischief. Now I just have to decide whether or not to be put under. All four wisdom teeth are coming out, and I'm told they don't look like they'll present any special challenge. Eight shots or one IV? My hatred for IV's is strong. I'm also kind of scared to be put under, since the only time I've ever seen someone come out of anesthesia was when Brigham had his tonsils out and he was like a posessed demon-child for a good hour afterward. I really don't want Uday to see me that way. I jokingly told him that 8 shots couldn't be worse than giving birth, right? He said that some women have told him they'd rather give birth. Really? Reeeeeeeaaaaally? Have any of you had this done? What did you do and how did you like it?