My Next 30 Years

Today I turned 30. To celebrate, I'd like to take a look back at my last ten years with a quick review:

Age 20: Graduated from Dixie College, worked at Houston's in Kanab, went one semester to the University of Utah
Age 21: Moved back to St. George, met Sam, got engaged
Age 22: Married Sam, moved to Santa Clara home
Age 23: Finished college at SUU
Age 24: Baby #1 - Matt
Age 25: Ran my first marathon
Age 26: Baby #2 - Milo, moved to current home
Age 27: Baby #3 - Cooper
Age 28: Can't recall anything, survived?
Age 29: Ran second marathon

But being the realist that I am, I have to concede that while these were all pretty big events in my life, they weren't without some hardships, as well. So, since I HATE blogs about perfect husbands, children, hobbies, color schemes, and yummy treats, I have to interject some realism into my "20s List" (to help out all those folks that, like me, need to know that everyone else does NOT have a perfect life).

Age 20: Was so confused about where to go after Dixie, I felt lost
Age 21: Felt like I had to compete for Sam's affection, I won, but what was this, "The Bachelor"??
Age 22: Felt like a failure for not getting married in the Temple
Age 23: Gained a significant amount of "we're in a comfortable routine now" marriage weight
Age 24: Did not know what the joys of motherhood were all about with a new baby that screamed for hours and hours every night for two months
Age 25: The year of the mouse invasion in our home - I didn't sleep for weeks
Age 26: Found out I was pregnant when Milo was 5 months old, cried for months because the smells in our new home made me want to vomit and I felt like the old owner's dirt, and bird droppings, would never leave no matter how much I cleaned
Age 27: Threw a flower pot at my husband in front of his friends because I was very emotional
Age 28: Was consumed with three little kids, two of which weren't ready for Nursery at church
Age 29: Ran a marathon and didn't lose a damn pound

Life's not always great, but I am so thankful for the opportunities I've had to finish my education, have a family, and live in a place I like. As Tim McGraw would say I'll "drink a little lemonade and not so many beers, huh, maybe I'll remember my next 30 years." OK, so the beers haven't been a problem, but I can always "do it better in my next 30 years."

A Shamu Christmas

A Shamu Christmas...and no, I am not talking about the way I, myself, continue to feel after the holidays.

No, we did spent part of the holidays with Shamu and friends at Sea World in San Diego. Grandma Mary treated the Andrus family to condos and two-day tickets to the marine habitat. And we all know there is no better way to observe sea creatures than in their natural cement ponds behind glass panels.

I must say, this is by far the best Sea World trip I've experienced since my last trip there circa 1993. There was nary a speck of bird poop and not a single seagull attacked my churro. Upper management at Sea World got smart and installed this crazy wire strings (I can only describe as resembling something that might come out of the top of a Who's head from Whoville) that come out of the top of every light pole and possible bird nesting sanctuary at the park. Die evil birds!

Matt, Milo, and Cooper were great for the trip, surprisingly. They sat in awe of the whales and dolphins jumping out of the pool, clung tight to us at the shark exhibit, and sat quiet during "The Polar Express" 3-D film. We hardly had to chase Cooper around the cement bleachers during the sea lion show. But keeping track of three little ones in a crowded park is exhausting work. We managed, though, and are thankful to Grandma and Grandpa Andrus for the fun trip.

All of Sam's brothers and sisters were there. One evening we made gingerbread houses. That was an experience. Between the timeshare's strict quiet policy and trying to calm kids' tempers and tears over Hurricane Katrina type dismantled gingerbread homes, we just had to laugh. Believe me, building gingerbread houses can be quite a dramatic experience.

The kids saw the ocean for the first time. Matt even braved the cold 50 degree water for a swim. He did have a look of total fear, though, when a wave crashed over his head and he lost sight of the beach. Milo and Cooper, however, were content to play in the sand. In two-year-old Cooper's words as he looked out toward the ocean: "Not me, Mom. Not me."

We came home two days before Christmas as we wanted to be near our tree and enjoy the kids waking up to their presents. I realized this year that I am clearly about traditions. I want to be home at Christmas. I want to enjoy the day of Christmas Eve putting last minute gifts together and enjoying the anticipation. I want my kids to wake up and see what Santa left on the couch.

Christmas Day was nice....eerily quiet as it was just us....but nice. We went to Mesquite later Christmas Day with Sam's sister, Shaquel's, family. We missed having a large gathering of family, but it was good to realize that just our little family can make it just fine on our own, too.

A Knife and a Boy

I got a call from Principal Mitchell the other day. "You may not know this, but Matthew brought a knife to school today."
OK. First meeting with a principal with my first child who hasn't even made it through his first half of kindergarten yet.
Mr. Mitchell: Matt, why did you bring the knife to school?
Me: (silently praying for a reasonable answer)
Matt: I wanted to show my friends.
Mr. Mitchell: What were you going to do with it when you showed your friends?
Me: (still in fervent prayer)
Matt: I don't know, cut weeds.
Me: (whoa, good answer, son!)

And so what followed was a little explaining about why we don't bring knives to school, how they can hurt, ladeda....Whatever happened to those good ol' days when you could bring a 12 inch knife to school for Show-n-Tell, pull a bullet out of your pocket on the playground, or your dad could drop you off at school with an unloaded gun on his back windshield rack?
Too many people have just ruined the fun for the rest of us, I suppose.
But, it's OK...Matt can't be trusted with a knife or even running with a pencil in his hand. (I'm just overprotective about that kind of stuff...blame the local news).
I blaimed Sam for the incident at first. After all, Matt said he found the knife out by dad's truck. Then he showed me where by dad's truck.
Yea, it was my fault. I used the knife to cut string to hang Christmas decorations outside and forgot to put it away.
Bad Mom.
Hopefully, Matt and I have both learned our lessons. But, somehow with three boys I don't think this will be my last encounter with Mr. Mitchell.

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving was with my side of the family this year. And I'm publicly admitting that T-Day is the best at my Grandma Fuller's. Lots of food and lots of variety. I'm the oldest grandchild and the nearest cousins are about 10 years younger than me. This is the only time I see them. They're all just beginning college now so it's fun to see them in that stage of life.

Sam wasn't able to come because he had no one to cover the towing company. Poor guy, he ate a microwaveable burrito at the New Harmony gas station in between tows. So thankful he's a good provider for our family and he's willing to be responsible and work when work needs to be done.

Laguna Seca

In October, I, along with my mother-in-law and father-in-law, flew to Monterey, California for one of Sam's last races. It was really a nice trip because:

1. I didn't have my children (love them dearly, my sweet ones, but I don't think I'd been away from them overnight since...well, ever maybe?)

2. We weren't stressed to get here or there.

3. Ate out the whole time...yes! Finally got to eat at "Bubba Gump Shrimp." Sam has at least three t-shirts from there so it was nice to finally see where he was spending money. I'm not much into seafood, except for popcorn shrimp. The only popcorn shrimp was in a kid's meal. And yes, I did slurp down the blue Jell-O that came with it.

4. Walked John Steinbeck's famous Cannery Row - thank goodness it no longer smells of sardines.

5. Took a tour around 17-Mile Drive and Pebble Beach.

6. Cruised down Highway 1 to Big Sur and through Carmel-by-the-Sea...was looking for Mayor Clint Eastwood but didn't see him.

7. Took a stroll around paddock area before the race and saw a lot of the drivers and cars I've seen on TV. And there was a rumor that Frankie Munoz was there...ah, who cares? I'd much rather have seen Patrick Dempsey or Matthew Fox, both of whom have raced in the American Le Mans Series and both of whom Sam has met, along with Ashley Judd.

8. Enjoyed the race - all seven minutes of it until Drayson was pushed off the road. No big deal, just a $250,000 repair is all.

9. Enjoyed staying in a hotel.

10. Was ready to be Mom again after four days away from the boys. Thanks Mom and Dad!

Sidenote: The racetrack is Laguna-Seca. We were watching "Herbie Goes to Monte Carlo" the other day (yes, still love Herbie and my kids do now, too) and Sam recognized the track at the beginning as Laguna Seca's. Man, my husband is so smart!

Crockpot Lovin'

I love crockpots. Yes, I said crockpotS...I have two. And I use them both regularly. Crockpots are the smart way to cook a meal. So, it really bothered me the other day when, at 8 am on a Sunday morning, the man peered over my shoulder in the kitchen and said, "Wow, crockpot again."

How dare he. He knows my love of crockpotting runs deep. You see, I have a fear of meat cooking. After some pink chicken incidents early in my marriage, I've gone overboard and tend to blacken and burn meat for added protection. If I can't boil or crockpot it, you probably ain't gonna be eatin' it at my house. Boiling meat is only so good. But crockpotting, ah...the flavors blend, simmer, fill my house with warm aromas and remind me, in a whiff, that yes, I, too, can be a homemaking guru.

So, I defend my crockpots. Whatever...I don't need a Bosch or Williams-Sonoma cookware. In fact, the only cookbooks that catch my eye are one with titles like "365 Days of Crock Pots" or "Crock Pot Cooking Made Simple." Really, come on.

You can't mess crockpotting up! It's impossible. So, I'm deeply disturbed when Sam rolls his eyes at my cooking. He's lucky I'm even trying. In fact, I'm renaming it. Perhaps it'll rev his engine up if I refer to it as cooking in my "Crotch Pot."

Caramel Apples