Tell You [a] Little Story

Thank you to whoever sent us this. We love it! Will the gift giver please identify yourself so I can thank you properly?

Steve works at a law firm where his bosses are pretty (ok, extremely) well-connected. They know everybody . Politicos, big-money, you name it. So it didn't seem that strange to us when Steve came home from work one day with two unusual, hobnobby invitations. The first was to his boss' house for a "little party" for the law firm with special guest Governor Janet Napolitano. That's tonight. We're still invited to that and I'll report back on how it goes. The second invitation was to celebrate the renaming of ASU's College of Law in honor of Sandra Day O'Connor. Steve's boss has some thick ties to ASU, so we figured he must have gotten all his attorneys invited to this "private dinner" with Mrs. Nancy Reagan, the president of ASU, and Justice O'Connor. "Oh, that's nice," I said, "but we can't bring a baby to a big affair like that. We'll have to decline." "Well, let me ask around about it first,&q

Please come over to visit and admire our new, fresh, CLEAN carpet. We could walk around in circles in our bare feet. We could sit on the floor to play Scrabble or Nerts or Mental Juditsu. You could wrestle with any or all of my three rambunctious boys (I'll watch). We could take turns vacuuming and watching the "clean" button light up on my vacuum cleaner. We could lie down and make carpet angels. If you have a baby, you could let him free to crawl whithersoever he pleased. There are so many, many ways to enjoy our new carpet. Really, you must come.

In a total and complete exercise in obsession and compulsion, I have started a Tour Through My Tape Cassette Collection of Great Mixes of Yore. And I have some pretty great mixes on tape. While other teenagers were building volunteer hours as candystripers at the local hospital, or studying to try to get good grades on the AP History test (whatever!) or developing their talents or SOMETHING, I was spending many an hour perfecting the art of the mix tape. Rewind, fast forward, rewind, record, find the next song, oops, went too far, rewind, perfect! Laborious, I tell you. A time sucker-upper. And I was great at it. (Diana was super great at it, the best, the queen of mixes. Credit where credit is due.) I was really quite against the transition into CDs. My future husband told me once, "I am thinking about converting my music collection to CDs." My reaction: "Why on earth would you want to do that? What a waste of money! Each CD costs at least $15, and that's ridiculous

This is Steve. Probably if you are reading this (SarahDianaAlyssaAliceMomJocelynAngelaPepperCourtney) you already know that. Steve has been in New York City for six days and--HOORAY, HOORAY, HOORAY--he comes home tomorrow. HOORAY! Here are a few of the things that I missed while he was gone: --> Him never criticizing me, just pure love, support and encouragement. How did I get so lucky? --> Him reading The Hobbit to the boys for a long, long time before bed (because he wants to read it as much as they do) and saying, "Remember the rules? No questions, no comments, no interruptions until we're done." --> Help getting the kids ready for school. --> His great, clean smell after he showers after riding his bike home from work. --> Doing "family" things (i.e., dinner, prayer, family home evening) as a complete family unit. Here are a few things that he missed out on while he was gone: --> One third of his daughter's life. --> Aaron, upon bein

Broccoli and breastfeeding don't mix.

Or is it just today? Milk and vomit and pee and poop and water and apple juice and Sprite and blood and tears. Up to my eyeballs. I think that about covers it.

We have a lady named Olivia who comes to clean our house every two weeks. Olivia is lovely. Olivia's English is poor at best. (Steve and I have come to terms with the sad but true reality that employing Olivia will preclude either of us from serving our great nation as Secretary of Homeland Security or Secretary of Labor. So don't even try to nominate us.) We have a son named Isaac who dirties our house every day of the week. (As I write this, Isaac is taking orange highlighter to the green couch.) Isaac is lovely. Isaac's English is understandable to some, but not so much to the lovely Olivia from Mexico, who understands precious little English, even when it is clear-spoken and well-articulated. Each time Olivia comes, Isaac follows her from room to room and talks to her incessantly as she washes the windows and sweeps the floors. He doesn't care that there is a Great Communication Divide. Every two weeks, I can count on being cheered by a clean house, and a delightful

Steve. . . . . .honed his domestic skills: loading the dishwasher, making a delicious lunch of pulled pork with rice and a green salad, shopping at Sprouts, cooking sundry rices and grains for future use. . . .played football with Da Boys. . . .planned how he will fill his days and nights with adventure and quietude during his impending trip to the Big Apple sans wife and children. Elliot. . . . . .continued his love affair with his football mouthguard. . . .spent two hours on a chore that should have taken him, oh, about ten minutes. . . .caused his mother to reflect for the first time about a certain condition called ADD and caused his father to prescribe a diet of no processed foods, just in case. Aaron. . . . . .hammed it up for the camera. . . .didn't care that he is the only boy in his Broadway "Showstoppers" singing and dancing class. . . .asked if he could take a permanent marker and draw the Nike insignia on some of his white socks that don't have anything on