Halloween, You're Not Setting Me Up For Success.

I grew up in a household where we recognized holidays.  I would rate that we celebrated in moderation.  Christmas was definitely at the top of the list with a decked out house inside/out, homemade goodies at will, parties, etc..   Halloween & St. Patty's Day tied for last place.

To give my mom credit, she had her traditional cute decorations, homemade pumpkins made out of orange construction paper taped in every window in the house.  Costumes were not as big of a priority. My mom had a huge "dress up" basket in the basement of costumes she made for school plays, church productions, or Madrigal concerts.  The five of us kids would rotate each year wearing a clown/jester costume, deer, cowboy/girl, 50's girls, punk rock star, and dracula.  I have fond memories stuffing my costume in my backpack on Halloween so I could have it ready for the annual Hannah Holbrook school parade.  Toward the end of the school day we slipped into our costumes and marched in and out of classes showing off our duds to visitors who came to watch.

After school we would walk home in our costumes and then sit and wait and count down the time we would go out with our pillow cases and trick or treat around the neighborhood.  If you took candy out of the equation, I really did not enjoy trick or treating.  It was typically freezing, raining, or snowing.  You had to wear your coat over the costume (doesn't that defeat the purpose?) and there were always houses that enjoyed scaring the bajeezes out of children.  Why??    I usually went with my younger sister Lynette.  When we would approach a dark home with haunting music, she would remind  me it was all fake and then squeal and giggle when an unsuspecting stranger would jump, scream, or lower a stuffed sheet (i.e. ghost) off their balcony.  To this day I hate haunted houses, horror movies, and scary books.

Fast forward to 2011.  Unfortunately, BOTH Mike and I are not big fans of Halloween or anything related to it.  When my oldest sister, Cyd lived close by we would party every year because my oldest niece was born on Halloween.  They had awesome parties, decorations, games, food.  Unfortunately, my children were non existent or too young to remember.  Once they moved away, it went downhill from there.

Poor, unfortunate children.

Costumes?  I typically buy costumes the year before on clearance.  Last year Lauren found a witch costume she loved (thank goodness). It was either that or a ninja costume.  

Decorations?  Don't ask.  Let's just say my kid's dropped hints like, "A pumpkin would look nice on the front porch".

Trick of Treating?  Adam and Megan have reached the, "You are too old to go trick of treating".  In our home, sixth grade is the official cut off day.    This year I didn't hear too many grumblings from Megan who was invited to go (really?? 9th graders??) but stayed home and manned the door.  Adam on the other hand has been dropping hints since the first of October. This is my child who has not worn a costume and "been himself" for Halloween for the past 5 years.  Who typically goes to 3 or 4 doors and says, "I'm done".  Now that he's reached his "you can't go" deadline, he decides Halloween is fun and something he wants to do.  With a little compromise, he invited a good friend up and they hung out at the "cool" neighbors home who splurges on hotdogs, hot chocolate, and movies in their yard and snuck away for an hours to knock on some doors.  Does that count for pre-missionary work?  Knocking on doors?  Rationalization, I know.

Speaking of knocking on doors.  We had some pre-teens knocking on our door at 9:45 p.m.  What the heck?  It's a school night punks.  Mike was really nice and told me to chill.  I asked him if he gave them the raisin oatmeal granola bars I had set aside for those that looked 16 and older.  He didn't respond.

Halloween Resolution.

I am going knock my kid's socks off and go waaaaay overboard.  Make up for lame-o Halloween memories.  Killer party, haunted house, homemade costumes, regular sized candy bars for the neighbor kids.

Slap, slap.  Marla, let's be real.   After writing all that, it's not gonna happen.  Baby steps.  Next year, party and a few decorations may suffice and bring my "mom status" up from lame to okay.  Disclaimer:  Whatever is written in a blog does not count as a promise.

Onto what really matters.  Here's 2011 Pictures of my awesome kids and sexy husband (mullet and all).

FIYA FIGHTA

I was organizing some videos today on my computer.  I found myself laughing, crying, saying "awwww", talking back to some of them, and realizing how time doesn't stand still and to enjoy every second we have with our kiddos.

I have over 100 clips, but here are some of my favorites for today.

FIYA FIGHTA

ADAM'S SKATEBOARDING SKILZ

ADAM PRESCHOOL PROGRAM KISS

MEG'S TAE KWON DO KICK- KA POW, OW.

Eighteen Flippin' Awesome Years.

It's official, eighteen years with the man of my dreams.

The beginning 
My journal states that I met Michael, October 3, 1991 in Ensley, Alabama where we were both serving as missionaries for our church,   His name wasn't mentioned the first time I met him, but my journal pages following are filled with experiences we had with members or investigators in the area or P-Day activities (such as me gloating that I kicked Elder Palmer and Wood's butt in racquetball).   Another time I wrote how he told me my status as a missionary was going down.  I wrote that I gave him a piece of my mind and explained I wasn't here to impress my Zone Leaders.   I really didn't like him at first.

Michael was an AWESOME missionary!

Even though Michael was "full of himself", obnoxious, and a bit energetic, we ended up being really good friends.  I was always impressed with the way he could walk into a strangers house and become instant friends, helping himself to contents in their fridge and then inviting them to church.  He had an infectious laugh, dimpled smile, charming southern accent.  Of course, being a missionary I didn't recognize those physical qualities until AFTER I got home (*wink, wink).  What impressed me the most was his testimony of Jesus Christ.  He was an amazing missionary.

Fast forward.. Elder Palmer is transferred into another area (his last).  While serving in Greensboro (Catfish Capital of Bama), I received a surprise visit in March of 1992 before he left to go back home to Gilmer, Texas.   He tells me that President Matthews wanted him to bring down some Book of Mormons since we were running low (we were).  It wasn't until later that I put two and two together.  A few weeks after, President Matthews came down to our area and handed us a full box of books during a Zone Conference.  That lil' rascal!

Michael's "official" missionary visit before heading home.

A few weeks later after Michael went home, I received a letter in the mail telling me about his venture home, his future plans, how he admired me for "this and that" and ended the letter stating he would like to date when I get home.  SCCREEEEECCCCHHH!!  What the heck?

Yes, I thought Elder Palmer was a GREAT guy, he was charming (but he was with everyone).  I didn't see that one coming.  My companion at the time would say otherwise (especially when we put two and two together about his "official visit").  I immediately wrote him back telling him that I was flattered, but I had another 8 months to serve and to get on with his life.  I heard from him a handful of other times during the next 8 months, but nothing that would make me SCREEEEECH!!

Sometime during November 1992, a few days before I was headed home from my mission, I got a call.  My missionary companion said, "Bubba" is on the phone.  "Bubba?"   When I answered it was Michael, "Heeeeeeyyyyy!  You are coming home!  Are you excited?  I'm in Utah.  Can I come to the airport?"

Me:  "Seriously?"  Who is this guy?

I tell him no (awkward silence).  I didn't share this with him, but my biggest fear at the time was, "What are people going to think if Elder Palmer was to show up at the airport!?"

*Gasp*

I am freaking out at this point.  Breaking the awkward silence I invite him to my homecoming.  Michael will tell you that I completely ignored him at my homecoming, but he still had the courage to ask me out on a date.  Freaking out again!!  I'm home one day, going on my first date with an Elder from my mission, and.... I kind of like him.

Our first date was a hockey game and video after with his best friend, Elder Low from our mission.  We had a blast, I had a side ache from laughing, and I REALLY noticed the infectious laugh, dimpled smile, charming southern accent.   Our night did not end with a kiss (that may have put me over the post-missionary edge), but he saluted me at the door.  I held in my laugh until I went inside the house and burst out laughing.  That's right folks, a salute.  Even more endearing.

Dating Days.

From that day on, we continued dating, were engaged and were married and sealed for all eternity on September 8, 1993.

Reflections
I look back at our 19 years of marriage.  Along with some really great times, we've had our share of challenges.  Getting through college, cancer, children with disabilities, and balancing our lives, including staying connected with a husband who travels 50% of the year, and a wife (that's me)  that has little patience and is guilty of  get easily frustrated.

Thank goodness for the gospel of Jesus Christ, the knowledge of eternal families, sacred promises we have made to God and each other, and a darn good marriage therapist.

What I LOVE about Michael

Hilarious
Michael has a zest for life, and is one of the most positive people I have ever met.  He often makes me laugh, even when I don't feel like it.  It's not uncommon to get a call from Michael that will start like this.  "You are never going to believe what I just did..."  or  we will be driving along with our thoughts to ourselves when he will unexpectedly burst out into laughter.  When I get him to stop laughing he will start with, "I just had this random memory of when I was 13 and I...."  Never, never a dull moment.  Ask my kids who won't go to bed without turning on all the lights, checking under their beds, behind their door, in their closets.. looking for dad.

This picture pretty much describes the last 19 years....

Amazing Everything.
Aside from being an amazing husband, Michael is the ultimate Father.  He deeply cares about each of our children, will do things for them that they have no idea he orchestrated, and invests so much time and energies to make sure they are happy, safe, and loved.  Michael also deeply cares about family.  He is always wondering about his parents, brothers, sisters, my family, nieces, nephews, cousins, aunts, uncles.  His heart is definitely bigger than Texas.

Hard Worker

When we met, Michael's goal was to bypass college and become a UPS driver (good pay, good benefits).  Coming from a family where college was expected, I shared that if he got a degree it would open more opportunities.  Even though he had fears of failing, he listened.  When we were dating, he took a psychology class at UVU (I always wondered why he chose that) and got an A.  He didn't turn back and before Megan was born he earned his Bachelors.   Michael is one of the hardest workers I know.  At one point in our marriage he was working 4 jobs and going to school so I could concentrate on finishing up my schooling and internship.  Because we had one vehicle, he would take the bus to Weber State without complaint so I could have the car.   I never doubted that Michael would be successful at whatever he put his mind to.  

Simple, Supportive, Fun.

I love that Michael strives to have a simple, uncomplicated life.  He cares about serving God and his neighbors, his family, work, and having fun.   He literally bends over backwards to support me as a mother and my crazy volunteer quests.    He loves golf, recreating, and watching the Dallas Cowboys play (win or lose).  Michael isn't afraid to cry or show emotion.  He has seen "The Help" twice already and recommends it to all of his friends. He stayed up reading the Twilight Series and wanted to discuss and analyze the characters before going to bed.   The kids love to tease him about crying in the "Justin Bieber Movie".   I call him "my Phil" from Modern Family because of his quirky antics and soft heart, but he gets mad and tells me he is more like Jay.  Nope, Phil.

When Michael's excited..everyone's excited!

Love you honey!  Happy Anniversary :)

P.S.  Thanks for the flowers & handwritten note.

Ripe & Pungent. Blog Worthy, Indeed.

I saved a spot on my first blog entry for my sister's email she sent of her adventures back "home" to Qatar.  I asked for her permission to post and she sent me an edited version which included an unedited preface which I also included.  I have been encouraging Cyd to start her on blog because of the intriguing experiences she has on a daily basis living in Qatar.  Bonus: She is an entertaining, talented person which comes out in her writing.  If you think her email is blog worthy, chime in.  All six of you.

Preface.

All this hoopla over something that sounds dumb now!  Here you go.  No pressure to re-print.  It's not that funny anymore.  In fact I had a flashback whilst writing this.  On the shuttle during my dry heaves I spotted it.  Vomit.  Vomit on the floor of the shuttle bus.  Near the exit.  I'm once again proud to say it was not Woolley vomit.  But I was so overcome with my own sensory overload, and need to protect my own, that I did not warn fellow passengers as they draped their abaya's through it as they exited the shuttle.  Carry on wheels ran over it.  Men stepped in it.  Women draped their drapeys in it.  I could only tell my crew to exit through the other door, close my eyes, plug my nose and breathe deeply.  "Don't ask why just exit the other way!"  Anyway, that's pretty sad and funny at the same time.  Thanks for enjoying my writing.  It makes me smile.  But seriously, it doesn't seem that worthy of a blog!  If you do reprint, please feel free to edit as you wish.  I am seriously scared of marginalizing the already marginalized.  BLAH!  Cydney

Ripe and Pungent

We are happy to announce the safe arrival to Doha 6th year in a row.  All 416 pounds of luggage accounted for.  Once aboard our flight in Houston, we were immediately welcomed by the ripe and pungent body odors of our international fellow travelers.  Indians, Africans, Arabians, Asians, Spaniards, yes Americans, Canadians, and others, oh and Garett's flatulence added to the spicy mix of stifling body odor smells.  Luckily Jenica brought her aromatherapy sprays.  I also retreated to the toilet areas where I found alcohol wipes.  I swathed my arms, neck and chest multiple times in an attempt to camouflage the assault on my nostrils.  The flight was overbooked and toasty  warm for 15 hours.  I think I'll email this suggestion to Qatar Airways:  Please deep clean all upholstered seats after each transatlantic flight.  Fabreeze just won't do.

Now, imagine pungent smells coupled with 95 degrees and 70% humidity once we exited the plane in Qatar at 8:00 p.m..  It was a sensory smorgasbord that welcomed us home. With my new retainers in place, sweat clinging to my underlings and sweat dripping down my face, yes, I did dry heave a few times.  And no, I did not try to conceal the dry heaves in public.  In fact, I plugged my nose with my index finger and thumb as we rode the shuttle to the arrival area.  After traveling  24 hours and making it thus far without vomit, the Mother drops all social skills for survival skills.  Success.  

Even though I was resistant to returning to Doha this year, and even had a last minute plan to put the kids on the Houston flight while I returned to SLC for two more weeks of play (I am not exaggerating, I really almost did do this, ask Jenica), it did feel like we had returned to our "real home" once we hit the streets in the taxis and were left to our own Woolley family odors.

Of course I completely recognize that I may have offended every member of the human race next to me by all the heaving and plugging said nose in public.  I am sorry.  Will probably feel more sorry later on this week after jet lag has subsided.  But hopefully, those I offended with my uppity survival techniques, are emailing their families tonight - sharing stories of their safe arrival and the ripe American family that smelled like sour milk, 8 year old boy farts, sweet bath and body lotions, peanut butter pretzel breath mixed with coconut M&M's . . .shall we just call it sweet and sour Americans?

Love you all!  Thanks for the great summer!  XOXO

Unorthodox Form of Stress Relief?

A question comes from the back of the car this morning, "Mom, what were you doing outside last night?"  I ignore the question as I  brace myself before taking a peak at the lawn.  Not too shabby.

"Oh, mommy was mowing the lawn."

Last night at about 8:16 p.m. I was cleaning the kitchen, post-dinner and starting the process of getting the kids in bed. I was a bit annoyed that no one was in sight to help after I "slaved" to prepare a nice meal. Buck it on it, I need a break. Some "me time". Pronto. I march outside.  "Good, there's a little light left in the day."   Check the gasoline level, pull the rope, and away I go.  8:47 p.m. finished in the dark.  Did I get everything?

I remember when we first moved into this neighborhood I was outside mowing and edging the lawn. A man from our neighborhood pulled up in his car to talk to my husband. I overheard him say, "How did you get your wife to do that?" I chuckled at Mike's response (something to the affect of) "I don't GET my wife to do anything. She loves this."

Yup, mowing the lawn to me is like yoga to others.  Why?

It may be because having a deep green, well groomed yard was important to my father.  Growing up with had the perfect grass (along with a weed-free yard & spectacular garden).   The lawn was so perfect that it became the mini-scrimmage area for the neighborhood.  That is, until my dad was tired of us tromping the ground and put a barrier of trees and flowers between us and the Wisers (our neighbor).   Waawaaa... that ended that.

It may be because I LOVE the smell of freshly cut grass.  Every time I step outside and get a wiff, it carries me back to my carefree youth which was spent mostly outdoors.  My mom having 5 children, often encouraged us to go out and play.  Once we were all outside, you could hear the door click locked.  Don't blame her.   Soccer practices til' dusk, eating a fresh peach while laying under our fruit trees, playing hide and seek with neighbor friends, exploring the gully, riding our bikes up and down Northern Hills Drive.

Or.. mowing the lawn is so therapeutic due to the simple fact you start with something that needs some care and with a little action get a positive result and you know you get to do it again soon.

Gotta go run and edge (and fix my mistakes).

Multitasking Fool

So, I'm sitting here waiting while my daughter has her orthodontics appointment and asked myself, "self, what can you do for the next 30 minutes?" Angry birds? Tempting. Text husband. Check (that took .45 seconds). Write in blog? Hmmm. So here I sit, me and my iPhone (greatest invention ever) writing down random thoughts.

Blogger, you have just opened up the world of multi tasking during short waiting times such as.. Waiting to pick up the kids at school, waiting for.., Oh dang she's already done.

Rethinking my angry bird choice.

I'm back home now.  Have a few seconds to add a picture and finish my thought.  So, back to the orthodontist.   Let me be clear.  Love our orthodontist, Dr. Joseph Feller.  Great bedside manners (very important to the Staples' sisters), positive staff, great incentives.

Love and mushy comments aside.  Every time I go in,  I can't help but count the number of patients, multiplied by 30 minutes, multiplied by $4,000+ per patient over an 18 month period.  After all that brain power, the first word that comes to mind is.  (Forgive me).    Damn.  (you know you were thinking it or at least "dang").

I hear that Mormons have good brainwashing powers.  If that's the case, I am brainwashing at least one of my kids to look into orthodontics school.

So, does FOUR followers mean I should officially blog daily?

4 followers.  That's big time.  4 me.   Bonus, I know all 4 of them.  25%  are relatives.

Been a busy Saturday doing nothing but... sleeping in until 10:00,  watching my youngest soccer game, implemented 3 sessions of brain highways, got my groove on (i.e. cleaning), watched this over and over and over with the kids (I like to hear them ALL giggle), and finished the day at orange leaf ( yum-o).   The day is almost over, but I have this nagging urge that I must write something today.

No words of wisdoms, no funny stories, no pictures of my child's soccer game.  I know, lame.

Wait,  I did get a hilarious email from my oldest sister on her 24 hour flight adventure with her 3 children back to their home in Qatar.  Yes, she lives in Qatar with her family and has done so for the past 5 years.  I'm past the "ARE YOU CRAZY??" stage and think it's the perfect fit for them, even though I miss them like crazy.   My talented brother in law, Kevin works for Virginia Commonwealth University (VCU) School of Arts Department.   So, why Qatar?  Qatar founded "Education City", a fourteen million meter (don't ask me how big that is) campus with six of the world's largest leading universities.  VCU happens to be one.   My sister and her family stay there during the school year and come back to Utah for a few months during the summer break to..(reconnect with family and friends, hang out and kiss the floors at Costco, and get all their bajillion checkups for the year.  Their trip back home begins with packing their life into 8 duffle bags with a weight limit of 50 pounds each and spending the next 24 hours getting back "home" trapped in the air.  They call it a success if all their bags make it and no one pukes on the plane or a fellow passenger takes off their shoes and plants their feet on the two arm rests (true story).

I'm awaiting an email from Cyd to get her written permission to post her email on here because  I thought it was most blog worthy.  Plus, who else knows anyone that lives, works, breathes.. in the freakin' middle east?  *hand raised*  Me.

I have saved this spot _______________________________________________. (for the email).  No pressure Cyd.  Oh wait, you are not one of my FOUR followers.

Til tomorrow.

All That Matters Today.

Well, it's official.  I have started my own personal blog.  I've been a blog stalker for several years now off and on.   Some bloggers are my personal friends, but if I were to be completely honest, most blogs I follow are people I don't know.  Weird?  Maybe.  Awkward silence.

So why do I follow and read about stranger's inner most thoughts or feelings, view pictures of loved ones, or watch videos of important events?  99.9% of the time I visit blog to gather information.  It's been a valuable resource when doing research and educating myself on issues related to what matters most.  Should I obsess and  wonder what strangers will come read my most inner thoughts and feelings, view pictures (if I dare) or videos (if I double dare) of happenings in my life?  For now.

I know most blogs have some sort of theme or purpose.  Some bloggers journal their daily happenings describing themselves, their kids, their lives.   I'm still trying to figure out what kind of line I should draw in the sand when it comes to filtering out personal information, pictures of my children, and how much to REALLY share what happens day to day.  I'm not exactly sure what or if there will be a main focus other than it will be things that matter to me most.   which in the end comes down to 3 things.  My relationship with God, my relationship with my family, and myself.

Let's start with what you won't find here.  A picture perfect life.  Sometimes I want to punch those "perfect" (but are they really?) blogger mom's in the face.   Hmmm, so much for the filter.  

In the future look for content that has to do with our day to day journey.  Possible topics may include:  disability rights,  my religious beliefs,  Brain Highways, albinism, the joys and struggles of marriage, childhood memories,  and random thoughts or feelings on what is exciting, bothersome, annoying, or intriguing.

More to come about all that matters to me.