An Observation

Nerds candies, when dropped to the kitchen floor from counter height, scatter with magnificent efficiency.

And then a conversation.

Morgan: "I'm sorry, Mom. I just made a mistake. I'm sorry."

Me: "I know. Everybody makes mistakes."

Morgan: "Just don't say you already mopped."

Mother's Day Math

I'm pretty sure I've discovered the formula for a great mother's day. It goes something like this:

1 really, truly amazing husband
+
[loving kid]^4
+
2 perfectly cooked slabs of baby back ribs
+
1 peaceful afternoon nap
+
[1 video chat] x [the whole Bogardus family, including Elder Spencer who had dinner at Bethany's house . . . when does that ever happen?]
=

Ideal!

For the record, Jeremy will never again be allowed to plead incapability when it comes to cooking. His ribs proved otherwise. Thanks to Brendan and Chris for sharing the recipe.

One more mother's day math problem for you to puzzle over. Aiden told me he thinks Zeke will live to be 15 and 14 quarters. The funny thing about that is he thinks of quarters in terms of money. I'm not quite sure how you translate that into time, so I'm curious to know how that will work.

The Marvelous She

Dear Mom,

The longer I am a mom, the more I sit in wonder at the things you did and the kind of mother you are. If I were to catalog a few of the ways you amaze me, it would look a little something like this:

I marvel . . .

. . . that your fingernails were always shaped and cuticles tended.
. . . that your eyebrows were always plucked.
. . . that I don't remember you ever leaving the house with your wet hair in a sloppy bun.
. . . that you ground flour and made whole wheat bread weekly for years.
. . . that you canned peaches and pears and cherries and pear butter ALL BY YOURSELF.
. . . that Dad always had his dress shirts ironed.
. . . that you clipped coupons.
. . . that your photo albums were consistently updated and labeled.
. . . that the house looked clean.
. . . that the car looked clean.
. . . that the clothes looked clean.
. . . that you agreed to have cats, a bunny, a dog, and even a rat.
. . . that you always had a supply of birthday wrapping paper.
. . . that, speaking of birthdays, you decorated the house and made a special cake every year.
. . . that you read books to us.
. . . that you made sure we had vegetables with both our lunch and dinner.
. . . that you helped with school projects before the Internet was invented.
. . . that you recognized our talents and encouraged us to develop them.
. . . that you taxied for and sat through soccer, basketball, softball, baseball, dance, swimming, piano, plays, band, and whatever other extracurricular activities were going on.
. . . that we never ran out of toothpaste or shampoo or deodorant or contact lens solution or band-aids.
. . . that you sewed wearable clothes.
. . . that you found ways to spend time with each of your kids individually.
. . . that you let me stay up and watch Magnum P.I.
. . . that you tied ribbons on birthday and Christmas presents.
. . . that our sheets were washed weekly, without fail.
. . . that you had wise suggestions on how to deal with childhood conundrums.
. . . that you kept up on traditions and made holidays fun.
. . . that you stayed on top of the budget, filed everything, and payed bills and taxes.
. . . that you got us to church on time and were often even early to take care of your callings.
. . . that you managed to feed us with fast food and cold cereal being a rare treat.
. . . that you managed to feed us without a microwave for most of my childhood.
. . . that you parented without a TV for many years, and never with the benefit of Disney channel.
. . . that you sent out birthday cards to everyone and made sure they arrived on time.
. . . that you listened to us without looking like your mind was somewhere else.
. . . that you allowed us to have sleepovers.
. . . that you shopped and provided for us without the perks of Costco or Walmart.
. . . that you succeeded in producing four functional, happy, productive adults.

I'm convinced the older my kids get the more things I'll add to this list. It just never ceases to amaze me all the things you did, and do, so well. I aspire to achieve even a few of the things here. That would be the best way I could say thank you and show you how much I love you. Happy Mother's Day!

Love, Me

It's Closer than I Thought

You know the saying, "Home can be a heaven on earth"? Well, apparently I've discovered the key to achieving this feat, at least according to one member of the family. I finally signed up for the food co-op called Bountiful Baskets. Each week, or less often according to your family's wants and needs, you can make a contribution for a fruit and veggie basket. I have thought about joining for a long time but never committed until last Saturday. After navigating the crowd of produce enthusiasts, I brought home a hefty box full of watermelon, strawberries, bananas, apples, grapefruit, spinach, cucumbers, onions, zucchini, mushrooms, herbs, broccoli, cauliflower, and even an eggplant. Marissa immediately started sifting through the bounty and said, "This is HEAVEN!" Me: brushing my hands off, and done.

[If you're interested in more information about the co-op, check out their website at www.bountifulbaskets.org.]