At last, the waiting is over.

My baby turned 8 today.

"I'm not a baby, mom!"

Hey, this is my blog, I'll write what I want. Go away.

Anyway. It's her birthday. She's extra excited, because not only is she being tortured by having to wait until dad gets home to open her presents, but turning 8 also means she gets to be baptised this weekend. We are all super excited about that. Tons of family will be here, and it will be a general riot of a party. I can't wait!

Here she is with the earrings and pendant her Grandpa Hibbert sent.


I took pity on her tortured soul and let her open them before school. Unfortunately, since it has only been three weeks since she got her ears pierced, she has to wait a few more weeks to wear them.

"I can still wear the necklace though!"

Don't you have homework or clogging practice or something you should be doing?

"But this is about me, I need to make sure you say the right words!"

Hmmm. Good point.

How about these words: HAPPY BIRTHDAY MEGAN!!!

I Give Up -- Now with Video!!

This is yet another post about Megan and her teeth. The first one was a gem - a video of what happens when the dentist uses a little too much anesthetic for fillings.

Megan is in that stage of life when teeth become loose and fall out, making way for larger permanent teeth. She has lost several teeth now, and I have yet to pull one out. Her dad has pulled one or two, our friend Amidey has pulled two, and I have pulled none. That's right, A BIG FAT ZERO.

You've heard this story before. Twice. I bet you can't guess how this one ends.

So another tooth got loose. Megan worked on wiggling it. I worked on wiggling it until her eyes got wide and she pulled away and covered her mouth "ow, mom!" This went on for over a week.

Then the Evil Tooth Pulling Queen came to visit. And I set aside my maternal pride and asked Her Highness to just pull the stupid tooth already. (I was secretly hoping she would fail.)

She had it out in about 5 seconds.



And now I shall bow before the most high goddess of tooth removal. I am not worthy!

A Piercing Scream Ripped the Air. Twice.

Alternate Title: The one with disjointed thoughts and run-on sentences.

Okay not really on the screaming. Anyone who blogs knows that coming up with a clever title that relates to the post contents is the hardest part of blogging. Well, maybe not THE hardest part, but it's right up there with finding time to sit down and blog, thinking of cool things to blog about, inventing provocative poll questions, waiting for videos to upload, embedding code in posts without mangling it beyond functionability, and being real without embarrassing family members to death and losing their trust so they never tell me anything again.

Anyway - while at first glance the post title above may not seem to be related to this post. Keep reading, and hopefully you'll see how in my twisty, windey way, I tie it all together at the end. You can even suggest alternate titles, and I'll put the best ones at the top of this post.

So, I've been moaning publicly about my lack of feminine qualities lately. I think this issue is on my mind because I've been hanging out with cute people who are more stylish and skinnier than I am. This actually pretty much sums up going to church. About 90% of my ward is younger and thinner and more hip than me. It's that dratted comparison game - I always lose and can't for the life of me figure out why I continue to play. If only we'd purchased that other house we were considering in that older neighborhood in Orem, where most of the ward would be in their 50's by now, I wouldn't be going through this painful introspection today!

Now what was I talking about before? :slaps cheeks lightly: Come on girl, focus...

Oh yes. While I've never been a lover of lace and bows and frills, on clothes or anything else, I remember an era around 1-7 BC (Before Children) when I was skinny and I did enjoy dressing up more and owned a few cute stylish clothes and wore pierced earrings and painted my fingernails and spent time on eye makeup and performed the batting of eyelashes when cute boys were around and once even tweezed my eyebrows! So I know that I do have it in me, somewhere. Somewhere deep.

I had my ears pierced in High School, right before the Junior Prom. Over the years my parents gave me various pairs of earrings and I loved them all. Every now and then I'll run across the box where I store them, and reminisce and feel a little sad that I can't wear them anymore due to the fact that I let my post holes heal over during early motherhood after baby Karianne yanked on my earrings one too many times and I removed them.

There is the pair of pearls I wore for my wedding. And the green jade dangly ones dad gave me when I graduated from college. There is a lovely pair with freshwater pearls dangling from short chains - except that this pair is now a single lonely earring due to the other being lost one night while I was bidding an enthusiastic farewell to my future husband (but neither of us knew it at the time) outside my dorm. But because this is a family-friendly website I'll just leave that story be. Ahem.

And then there are the several pairs of earrings that I have brought home from my mother's vast jewelry collection in the last year: dainty porcelain roses, delicate silver butterflies, and sparkling zirconia with matching pendant on a thin gold chain. I've brought them home, planning to give them to my girls someday, but secretly wishing that my ears hadn't healed shut and I could wear them myself.

And then a friend told me that getting ears re-pierced through the same holes doesn't hurt like the blazing suns like I thought it would, and I began thinking about actually doing it.

Do you think I should?

Too late. I already did. And while I was at it, I took Megan and got her ears pierced too, since she's been nagging me for over two years now and I figured that I might as well reverse my earlier wise parental edict that girls must reach the completely arbitrary age of twelve before paying people to poke holes in their ears, which will probably have the effect of spoiling her rotten and teaching her that family rules are debatable and starting her on the slippery slope into a rebellious teenager-hood and I'll have guilt and grief over this decision. But hey, at least I'll look cute while it happens.

I'm so glad I got my priorities straightened out on this issue.

Here is the photographic evidence of our mutual mutilation at the mall.

One ear down, one to go, and she's still smiling! (It's all an act, folks. That thing stung. But I didn't want the bossy little asian chick with the gun to see me cry. She scared me a little bit.)

Megan is so excited and takes heart because mom made it look so utterly easy.

Ouch!

OUUUUUUUCH!

Megan decided that she would probably live, and sucked it up for the pictures.

And this is how I came to understand that I am a real woman after all: because I am willing to endure pain and torture for the sake of fashion and I am teaching my youngest daughter to do the same.

There's a lot of personal policies being thrown under the bus lately.

Stay tuned for the next exciting installment of my feminine metamorphosis: Lisa Shaves Her Legs!

You're just a. . . MEANY!

Megan is my dancer. I call her Angelina Ballerina (if you are unfamiliar with the story, click here), because she is always dancing in and out of the studio, from pirouettes on the softball field to clogging naked in the bathroom after a shower. She lives, sleeps, and breathes dancing. Of all my children, she alone is completely confident and at home on the stage.

Today she was helping me in the kitchen, and I noticed from across the room that her movements slowed until she was standing there, the broom forgotten in her hand. Her twinkling eyes had a faraway look in them, and then, her face stretching into a beatific smile, she lifted her arms above her head, elbows slightly bent, so that her fingertips just touched high above her head. There's a French word for that pose, I'm sure. The forgotten broom fell to the floor with a loud SLAP! but Megan didn't notice. Then, she bent at the waist, and her arms came down as her knees bent into a deep curtsy for her adoring fans.

I chuckled and applauded, and she snapped out of her daydream, looking a little startled, and then laughed with me.

I said, "did you know that you can get your name changed by filling out paperwork and going before a judge? We really could change your name to Angelina."

Megan's eyes widened a little, then looked uncertain. "Could I just change my middle name?"

"Sure. Megan Angelina N********. What do you think?"

Megan's flawless brow creased in thought. "But I like my middle name the way it is!"

She retrieved the broom and continued sweeping absently. Then, "Mom? Can a person have more than one middle name?"

"Sure," I said. "Some people in other countries, like Mexico, have three or four middle names."

Megan beamed. "That's what I want! I want to change my name to Megan Elizabeth Angelina N**********!

Tonight, Megan was telling her dad her big plan. Tom's eyes twinkled as he smiled. "But Megan, if you did that, your initials would be M.E.A.N."

This of course, brought on much giggling.

"And even worse, " Dad continued, "If you married a man with the last name of Young, your initials would be M.E.A.N.Y!"

Megan's eyes shone with tears of glee as she twittered in the circle of her dad's arms.

"But Dad! If I add Geraldine as another middle name, my initials could be M.E.G.A.N!"

Wow. It's hard to keep up with intellects like that.

Treason and Betrayal

Last night Megan was complaining that her loose tooth was bugging her, so I tried to pull it out. I got my shortish fingernail under the edge and pulled. I even twisted a little bit. I pulled till her eyes got big and she said, "OW!" And then I decided that it wasn't ready yet.

Today Megan wanted to call her friend Scottlynn to play. Because I had Den Meeting and physical therapy this afternoon, I said she could go to Scottlynn's house if that was okay with her mom (Miss Amidey).

I should have known better than to send my loose-toothed child into the Den of the Evil Tooth Pulling Queen. By the time I got home from doing my duty in the Church, I found these pictures on Amidey's blog:

That Woman did it again! And My Child let it happen! A pox on them both! Okay I guess I'll let Megan off the hook because she's underage and didn't know better and I have taught her so very well to obey her Elders. Or is that Elderly? Well, people with gray hair anyway.

So later this evening Megan came to show me the tooth in a ziploc sandwich baggie. "Mom, since I know you are the Tooth Fairy and since you always forget for three days, can I just put this tooth on your dresser and get my dollar out of your coin jar?"

So ya had to spoil that little ritual too, huh, ETPQ? I think I'll send Megan over to your house to collect her tooth bounty from now on!

Teethies

Sometime after her last dentist checkup, Megan lost her two front teeth last year. One of them was pulled out by her dad, and the other was pulled out by her dance teacher, Miss Amidey. She's been waiting for them to come in. And Waiting. And waiting. Santa disappointed her when he didn't bring them at Christmas. Her notes to the tooth fairy have apparently fallen on deaf ears (or would that be blind eyes?).

At last, one of the new "teethies" have erupted.

It actually peeped through a few days ago, and just like the rising moon, it's really moving fast now that it's up!

But that is not all, no no, that is not all! On the other side, she has another loose tooth! See?

Here's a video to demonstrate just how loose it is:



Miss Amidey?! Hello! She already got her turn pulling out a tooth! I come in a distant THIRD if that! I'm her MOTHER, for crying out loud! I gave this child life, nurtured her, kissed her boo boos, and PAY for her ding dong dance lessons for the love of Pete, and I don't even get considered for the tooth pulling honors?! There is no justice in this world, I'm telling you.

Sleepy Feet

My least favorite part of the day is waking up tired kids who stayed up too late the night before. Some days I don't, because I just can't face the whining. Some days I just stay out in the garden and enjoy the peace before it gets hot.

But I recently re-committed to doing family scriptures at 8:30am, so when I neglect to wake people up, I now have guilt. And I'm not talking about your run of the mill I-ate-the-last-cookie kind of guilt. We're talking Real Guilt. Guilt as in not-following-the-prophet-I'm-going-to-hell brand of Guilt. And this sort of guilt must be avoided at all costs. Especially because I ate the last cookie yesterday so there is nothing with which to assuage said Guilt.

Reading the scriptures together in the mornings is a good thing on several levels, a minor benefit being that if the kids are up at a reasonable time, they'll go to bed at a reasonable time. That's my theory, at least. I'll let you know how that one pans out. I'm not terribly optimistic, but a mother can hope. Wish? Dream, maybe?

Speaking of dreaming; Megan is the worst at waking up. She moans and groans and whines and sometimes she even cries. This behavior is calculated to make me avoid waking her up in the mornings. Sometimes it works. But today I was more afraid of The Guilt than I was of little girl whining, so I hardened my heart, girded my loins for battle, and reluctantly opened her door.

This is the sight that greeted me.

So much for the hard heart.

I still woke her up though. I tickled those feet.

Sunburn

The moral to this story?

Just because she's seven doesn't mean she's qualified to put on her own sunscreen.

Dance Recital Video: Ballet!

Megan is also in ballet, and her class did two songs.

"We Are Siamese" is her first song. She is the blonde in the back left - under the "A" at the beginning of the song. She is at the front of the stage at 2:15 with the words "plenty of milk for you, and also some for me".



The second song is "Daughter of a King". Again, Megan starts on the back left under the "F", and then moves all around during the song (one disadvantage of being tall - she'll never be on the front row). A prize for anyone who can keep track of her for the whole song!



Megan loves dancing so much that she wants to be a professional ballerina and dance teacher when she grows up. I should have named her Angelina!

Dance Recital Video: Kids Clogging!

Here's Nathan and Megan's first clogging dance: "Thank You For Letting Me Be Myself"





Here's their second dance: "Get Your Head in the Game"



Pretty good for first years, dontcha think? Say yes.

The Great and Terrible Day of the Dance Recital

Nathan, Megan, and I began clogging lessons in September... and worked on these songs for four months before the performance on December 15. It was scary, it was fun, it was exhilarating... and all too soon it was done. Fortunately for you, my loyal fans, my dad captured it all on tape. Unfortunately for you, I don't have the vids posted here.

And this is why:

I tried in vain for a week to get the video of our recital off the camera and onto this blog. Well... technically I was successful in getting it uploaded to google video (it took overnight!!!). The bad news is that somewhere in the process, the video and sound got off synch... so it's maddening to watch because the legs don't kick when the music says they should. So I'm not putting it up. Perhaps I'll try again with YouTube and see if it works better. No promises.

For now, all you get is pics of us before we went on stage:


Nathan and Megan's clogging number was at the beginning of the program, and then Megan had one song during which she frantically changed into her ballet costume (not as hard as it sounds; she has her white leotard and tights on under this ensemble, so all she had to do was strip the pants and shirt off, and put on a blue tutu). I wish we'd gotten a pic of her as a ballerina. She was a most adorable one.

Jessica and Me. Yep, we're it. Our class started out at six ladies, and four dropped out by mid October. We were just ornery enough to stick with it, and we had an absolute blast. I think we spend 25% of each class laughing uncontrollably -- usually the teacher and Jessica are laughing at me because I cannot master the new incredibly difficult step she has just taught me. Or else I just slipped and fell flat on my fanny. Good times.

Nathan and Megan dancing "Run Run Rudolph" in formation.

Here's a closeup. Notice the creepy alien eyes. Okay, my kids are not really aliens. I'm just too lazy to fix it since I've already postponed this silly post for three weeks. Deal with it.



Okay... somehow the vid of Nathan and Megan's dance got on here, so I'll leave it. The video does kinda catch up to the music near the end of the dance. Nathan starts out at the middle back, the tallest kid at the point of the V. Megan is on the far left side of the screen. She's the tallest girl with the pile of blonde curls on her head.


As scared as I was beforehand, dancing in recital was one of the funnest things I've ever done. Afterward I felt a little sad that after four months of working my tail off to learn the steps, it was over in 3 minutes on stage. At least I have the consolation that class starts up again next week. Yippeeeee!

Do you think it will be a problem that I've done almost zero exercise and gained at least five pounds since recital?

Funniest Video Ever!

Yesterday Megan had to have a few fillings. Afterward she and I had this conversation:

Just in case you can't understand her speech, here's the transcript:

Me: "Okay Megan, tell me what happened to you."

Megan: "Well, I was at the dentist appointment, and they had to make my teethies fall asleep."

Me: "So now what's wrong with you--" She attempts to crack a grin...

Megan: "I can't get this side of my mouth to go up!"

Much giggling and laughter follows. The kid looked like she had a neurological disease. Every time she tried to smile, her mouth would pull off to the right side. It was disturbingly funny. Yay for camera phones!

Happy Halloweenie

Nathan informed me this morning at 7:15 that he was a nerd. "Whatever you say," I said, preoccupied with trying to get kids off to school. "No, mom. I'm going to be a nerd for halloween." Ooohhhhhh. I get it. So we tucked his pantleg into a sock, buttoned his shirt up all the way and left a tail hanging out, and found him some glasses and a notepad for his shirt pocket. Susan helped him fix his hair so it was sticking up in the back... and whallah! Nerdville.


After many weeks of daily indecision, Megan decided on an angel. (Witch was runner up.) With borrowed wings and a pipe cleaner halo, she was the cutest little angel this house has seen in many a year.

Oh, and notice that her face is working again. It's a good thing. Otherwise she would have had to be a mutant swamp monster or something.

My favorite thing about these costumes is that they were FREE! Improvised from stuff we had around the house and a little creativity (not much needed, thank goodness, cuz I don't have much).

Viva la Halloween!