The Men in My Family and Cars

In my family, the mere mention of a car, in anyway brought instant attention by my father and brother.  For example, I could simply say, “I need to go to the store to buy shampoo, but the car is low on gas.”  Having used the word “car” and “buy” together in any way, this would be interpreted as it is time to “buy” a new “car”.  Without hesitation, both my Dad and brother would be in heavy conversation as to what automobile is the best at this time.  I throw in the “at this time” because they have a favorite for each year.

The other interesting thing about this obsession with purchasing cars is that they take such meticulous care of their cars there is no need to purchase a car… ever.  Meticulous doesn’t do this justice. 

To be brief, here is an example of what I mean by meticulous.  There was a hard fast rule that we were never to eat in my Dad’s car.  Of course I never did.  I knew better.  I would have to be an idiot to attempt eating anything in my Dad’s car.  Right?  There was the time he came in from the garage with a single sesame seed on his index finger.  A single sesame seed!  Not even a piece of bun attached to it!  A single seed!   How does one clean their car so thoroughly as to find a single sesame seed!  Who does that?  Well, this was routine for my Dad.

The research they found necessary to search for the perfect auto would rival any master’s thesis.  And this search is not restricted to the immediate surrounding area.  Any vehicle worthy of the purchase within the 48 continental United States is deemed within reach.  A 15 passenger van was purchased in Michigan to be used by my somewhat large family in Utah.  A white Volkswagen bug was purchased in Las Vegas for use by my niece in Michigan.  No car is safe when the men in my family are out looking.

I must admit that it does come in rather handy when you are looking for a car because two more dedicated research analysts you will never find.  And I have been the beneficiary of their in depth studies on more than one occasion, so who am I to deny them this obsession?  And when in need of their services I simply mention in passing, “I’m going to run to buy some milk.  I’m taking the car.”

I  am participating in a campaign for Bucks2Blog about Chicago Hyundai and was compensated, however the views and opinions are my own.

The Discovery of The Potty

Raising children has many milestones.  Rolling over, the first smile, giggling, crawling, the first tooth, and walking.  The list is endless, however, all will agree that the discovery of the potty is huge.  To be clear, I’m not saying the “use” of the potty, but rather, the “discovery” of the potty.  Sure, eventually all children will be potty trained in their own time, but it is their discovery of this magical device and their creative uses of it that make me smile.

We lived in a three level apartment complex.  With two young children, we chose a bottom level apartment to expedite the going in and out of everyday.  We were also the only family with children and we hoped to keep the pitter patter of little feet to ourselves.  Our neighbors above were very nice, and they loved and admired our two darling daughters.  I remember the afternoon when everyone’s plumbing backed up.  Both apartments directly above us could not use their toilets.  And sure enough, ours was not working either.   It was fairly obvious that the problem was something in this vertical array of three homes.  Discussion began of our calling a plumber, but was quickly thwarted by the fact that neither of us could afford a plumber.  This discussion was quickly back on the table as soon as someone needed to use the bathroom.  An agreement was made that depending upon what was found causing the obstruction… this would determine who was paying the bill.  Everyone agreed, including me, knowing that I certainly had not done anything to warrant a full scale three story blockage.  As we stood to see the plumber’s verdict, all eyes were upon me as he held up small plastic figurines of Grover, Big Bird, Bert and Ernie. Later, and $125 poorer, it was in fact, me that caused the blockage.  I had given birth to children.  Children who had “discovered” the potty. 

I am participating in a campaign for Bucks2Blog about plumbing repair and was compensated.  However, the views and opinions are my own.

somuchmore

When we are young we talk about things we are going to do one day.  Everyone has dreams.  I was going to have a candy store, just like Willy Wonka.  I was going to be an ice cream sampler, or tester.  I was going to make people laugh.  I must be very hard headed, but it wasn’t until my third cancer, breast cancer, that I finally got it into my thick head that I better get working on one of my dreams.

With a bilateral mastectomy, and my choice to not reconstruct, my daughters pointed out that if I were to date again, I would definitely need a butt and thigh man.  And a shirt was born.  “LOOKING FOR AN ASSMAN”  And a new business was born.  I found a good friend who lent her expertise to building our company website, somuchmoreonline.com.  An enormous project in my eyes, but very “do-able” in her eyes.

And the phrases just kept coming… My two rather well endowed daughters frequently would ask me why boys don’t know that they can see their eyes move up and down from eyes to chest as they try to hold a conversation.  This inspired:  “I lost both breasts but men look me in the eye now.”

My daughters and I are forever trying clothes on and asking the age old question: “Does this make me look fat?”  Which inspired my favorite:  “Does this shirt make my boobs look small?”

And then… our #1 seller:  “Of course they’re fake.  The real ones tried to kill me!”

The name of our company, somuchmore came from my telling an acquaintance that I had lost both breasts to cancer.  They were completely shocked, and honestly, more upset than I was about it.  I simply pointed out that “it was all right” and that “I am somuchmore than a breast.”  Aren’t we all.

I am participating in a campaign for Bucks2Blog for an ecommerce solution company and was compensated.  However, the views and opinions are my own.

Blog? What's A Blog?

I have no idea why we call it a “blog”.  Or who came up with the name “blog”?  And even as my daughter is explaining that a “blog” is a type of “web log” I am very slow putting it together that they took the ‘b’ in “web” and connected it to the “log” to come up with “blog”.  Further explanation of how I maintain my blog included such terms as “blog URL”, “back end”, “Google doc” and “bounce rate” only add to my  confusion.

URL?  She says it is an address for my blog?   It must be an acronym?  Perhaps “Understood Residents Logistics?  My internet investigation indicates that URL is a “Universal Resource Locator”.  I am kind of close.

And I can access my blog on the “back end”?  How would I go behind my blog?  Is there a back door that I can go through to get to my blog?  Apparently there is a back door.

After working several years in a warehouse setting, when I heard “Google doc” I honestly picture all the blogs showing up on an internet dock of some kind, to be shipped to various locations, or Understood Resident Logistics.

And “bounce rate”?  As a mother of seven children, my first thoughts go to either how fast you can dribble a basketball, or a dryer sheet. 

But it’s funny how when you find out you can make money blogging, it all becomes so clear.  “Of course I blog.”  “My URL is…”  And I also know how to go behind my blog.  Heck… I even know how to access my “dashboard”!  When money’s involved, it becomes somuchmore.

I am participating in a blogger campaign by Bucks2Blog and was compensated, however, the views and opinions are my own.

Tricky and Over Done

Going back to school to obtain your masters degree is a challenging, yet rewarding goal.  First and foremost, your earning potential greatly increases.  In addition, your opportunities for advancement increase.  And if you’re lucky enough to work for an employer who will help pay for the tuition, then why not?  Well… going back to school can be tricky… and it can be over done.

In 1979 I left San Diego for BYU in Provo, Utah to begin my college education.  Although I thoroughly enjoyed the change in climate… I became directionally impaired without the ocean as my compass.  My goal was to obtain a Bachelors Degree in Physical Education and become a PE teacher who was not overweight and out of shape.  All in all my first semester went very smoothly aside from an annoying cough I had acquired.  During Christmas break, it became apparent that I was too sick to return to Utah.  This is where “going back to school” became a profession. 

I transferred to UCSD for the following semester.  A beautiful campus and I managed to complete another semester before taking another break.  This time I was out for a year… a year of doctors and hospitals.  But after the year I was good to go… and back to school I went.

I flew west to one of my best friends… and the BYU Hawaii campus.  I changed my major to Recreation Management because I was unable to maintain the physical requirements to be a PE major.  This change in major allowed me to take… among other things… hula and basket weaving.  Both fulfilled requirements for a Recreation Management major, however, when you take classes of this caliber you are expected to ace them.  I managed a 4.0 with this daunting schedule… both semesters. 

I then returned to BYU Provo and put another year under my belt. 

Then a serious detour from my college education… but one of the best decisions I’ve ever made… I got married.  Naturally, children followed and my degree was getting farther and farther from reach.  I did attempt one last going back to college at Weber University in Ogden, Utah.  Once again, I changed my major.  I chose Communications and Public Relations which seemed more applicable to my life.

So my goal of obtaining a Bachelors Degree in Physical Education has been a journey of twists and turns, taking breaks and going  back.  I don’t miss being a PE teacher.  I was one.  I satisfied that dream by raising seven extremely active children.  I have completed enough time as Mom managing recreation for these same children.  But now as I delve into the public speaking arena… I must admit that a Communications and Public Relations degree would prove helpful.  And I’m only one year away.

The newspaper had a picture of a 93 year old woman who had just recently graduated from Weber State University.  At 50, I’m a little over half her age.  Maybe I could go back to college and finish up.  And while I’m there I might as well get that Masters Degree.  Maybe I will.

I am participating in a blogger campaign by Bucks2Blog for a full time MBA school and was compensated, however, the views and opinions are my own.

A Smile and somuchmore...

We have had the same dentist for over 15 years.  I truly love the man.  He is funny, and kind… just what you would call a genuinely nice guy.  Always smiling and always concerned with what is going on with our family.  He’s also one of those people who appear ageless.  We don’t see him daily… just every six months or year at the most… so you would think we would notice changes as the years go by.  We never have… until this last visit.

He looked completely different!  He looked happier.  He looked younger.  More confident.  We all noticed the change, but we could not figure out what it was specifically.  I told him he looked great!  He politely thanked me without acknowledging the change or giving us any hints as to the cause. 

The appointment continued with the usual conversation, made difficult with his hands in my mouth, and then he offered some information.  He had been working on perfecting his smile with Invisalign… the clear plastic tray similar to a retainer… but used to straighten your teeth.  I thought this must be the change… however… I had never noticed that his teeth were crooked… much less require braces.  He’s always had a pleasant smile.

Again, he continued with his work and then it happened.  He mentioned casually that he had lost 60 pounds! I never thought of him as overweight… but holy cow!  He looked incredible!  Apparently you have to remove the tray in order to eat… and brush your teeth prior to putting them back in your mouth.

Why is this not sold as a weight loss product?  My friends ordering her trays today! 

She’ll have somuchmore to smile about!

I am participating in a blog campaign from Bucks2Blog for a cosmetic dentist in NYC and was compensated. However, the views and opinions are my own.

Yeah... He's All Right

There is somuchmore to dating when you have siblings. 

There’s the younger sister (a little too young to date just yet) who answers the door… and stares at the cute boy with her eyes glazed over… so completely dumbfounded that she can not speak.  She requires being guided out of the room with the instruction, “He’s not hear for you honey.” 

There’s an even younger sister who asks if he knows how to “poop in the potty”.

And a brother who when answering the door can’t remember the name of the boy… and after running through a list of previous suitors that would rattle the self esteem of any young man… none of us can remember this boy’s name! 

Or to keep it simple, you can have the little brother who just shows up naked to answer the door!

As the youngest sibling and now of age to date… it can be overwhelming… and heart touching to see how your brothers and sisters react to it.  The inquiry, interrogation, judgment, and background checks.  And this is mild compared to the examination and possible strip search of the boy who thinks he might date her.

First, what will she wear?  As her Mom, of course I want her covered and dressing modestly but, gratefully, I’ve never had to worry about this issue.  I have been blessed with children who do dress appropriately, but you would never know this by the scrutiny placed on what the youngest wears.  Never had there been a worry about her clothing until now… dating…and they would prefer she dress in long johns and turtleneck… underneath sweatpants and a hoody!

Second, they’re thinking, “Who has the audacity to think they can take her out?”  She was recently asked to the Homecoming dance.  As the news spread to her siblings, the first question out of every single one of their mouths was “Who is he?”  Her 18 year old brother, who recently graduated from the same high school and who knows the boys, pursued with “What’s his name?” and then “What’s his last name?”   I guess were judging entire families now as part of their investigation.

I smile at how blessed she is… and I smile because I know she loves it.  I’m sure it is not every sibling who places such high standards and demands on the dating of their little sister.  In fact, her sisters and brothers all plan to be there when she is picked up by this boy.  I hope they don’t make him cry.

And just as sure as I think we’ve heard from all of her siblings, I remember that we hadn’t heard from the oldest brother until the phone rings.  It’s him.  He wanted to let me know that he had looked up the boy on Facebook… the ultimate investigation apparently.

He says “Mom, I recognize the kid.  Yeah… he’s all right.”  Thank goodness.

A Shallow Use of Time?

I just spent the evening shopping with my daughter.  To those who brush off shopping as a shallow use of one’s time, I say that there’s a lot more to shopping than spending money.  I know this, because we have just as much fun whether we have money or not. 

This feeling goes back to when I would shop with my Mom.  We would talk about anything and everything as we walked through the mall.  We would giggle and laugh at outrageous fashions and ridiculous prices.  We would try to guess how much an item would cost.  We would gasp with excitement at an incredibly reduced clearance item.  But it was all of the in between that made it such a special time.  Talking about friends, boys, school, music, and whatever was happening in our life.  I shared more with my Mom trying clothes on in the dressing room, than I ever did at home.  Occasionally, there would be a goal such as a new pair of jeans, or a dress for a dance, but for the most part we were just spending time together.  And we loved it.

Now, with having raised five daughters, I realize we have spent and still spend, a lot of time shopping.  Again, people might say it is a petty or worldly waste of time… but I disagree.  We walk together smiling, locked arm in arm talking… and talking… and talking.  I have hurt myself laughing several times, when one of us tried on something that although it looked nice on the hanger, looked positively ridiculous on a real person.  Two new granddaughters have already added to our shopping memories.  We now know that despite the guarantees of a diapers leak proof barrier, these promises do not hold true while in the mall.  I could go on and on, but the point is that when my daughter said “Hey let’s go shopping!” it meant that she wanted to spend time with me.  She wanted to hang out with me.

Sure, we all do have our weaknesses.  No jacket within a five mile radius of my daughter is safe.  She will find it.  I, on the other hand, can name every mall with a See’s Chocolates location in the state of Utah.  And shoes… well… shoes are a universal weakness that runs deep in us all.  It’s genetic. 

Jackets and shoes are the things that are petty and worldly… and probably the chocolates… but the shopping?  It’s somuchmore.

Due Tomorrow

It’s time for bed, and your child asks if you have a poster board for a school project.  To which you reply, “I’ll pick up one tomorrow”.  And then your child gives you the all too familiar, “But it’s due tomorrow.”

I have seven children so we have experienced “due tomorrow” a lot.  But no matter how inconvenient it is, or how frustrating it can be, those nights have always turned out to be some of the best memories that we still laugh about today.

We’ve had to run to the library, in our pajamas, with hopes of gathering enough information for a report… due tomorrow.  We’ve had the whole family up half the night in the backyard trying to make a catapult… due tomorrow.  We have had a son write an entire semester worth of poems in one night!  We have even done a complete science fair project the night before.  After trying to make my daughter understand that you can not just whip together a science fair project… after dinner… for the next morning…she won!  No lesson about the consequences of procrastination there.

I have often contemplated that I could make a fortune carrying project, report, and science fair supplies in my home.  Just stop on buy and pick up that poster board, glue stick, or report cover.  Come on buy to print those color pictures!  Pick up two live plants which have been growing with rock music playing in the background, and two plants that have been growing with classical music playing.  Sold complete with a science fair board!  Open 24 hours!  I would clean up!

My youngest and I had a “due tomorrow” moment last night.  A project that she had known about for the past two weeks had to be completed… tonight.  It was a sort of getting to know you theme.  She had to find a way to display items that would describe her values, goals, wants, and needs.  It included a one page paper explaining each of the items.  In an effort to be creative (and not have to run to the store) I had a bag from our favorite chocolate store, which does describe her wants.  She began pinning and taping things that were all about her.  She had her name tag from Baskin Robbins showing where she worked.  A playbill to show how she loved theatre.  Ticket stubs from her favorite concerts.

I finished cleaning the kitchen and was off to bed.  I had just laid down when she asked me to please come proof read her paper.  Exhausted and blurry eyed I came out to the computer and started reading.  My name is… I work at Baskin Robbins… I value my religion… my goals include going to college… I want to pursue theatre… And… I need my Mom.  Tears came to my eyes as I saw taped to the middle of the bag was a picture of me.  I need my Mom.

You raise your kids to be able to be independent and take care of themselves one day, but if you’re a Mom, there is nothing sweeter than…  I need my Mom. 

On my list of needs?  I need her too.

Once again, our night of panic, because it is due tomorrow, turns out to be somuchmore than a project.