Audition Day.

First, before we begin, I'd like to share a play I wrote. It's called "I Pick Up Legos All Day and I Still Find Pieces Under My Pillow." By Haylie Bowler.

Mother #1: steps away from computer while showing a sparkly smile."I blog every chance I get!"

Mother #2: incredibly attractive brown-haired mother of five walks up to mother #1. Smiles. And then...

[SMACK!]

THE END.

Today was a rough day. Audition day.

Oh, the agony!!

Any mother who has a child interested in theater (or any performing arts for that matter!) should get a subsidy from the government for regular intense therapy.

It all started with Addie. In the last year-ish she has dived in and embraced everything [tasteful] that happens on-stage. I'd like to say it's because of her culturally well-rounded, artistically refined and talented parents. But, most likely, it has more to do with some divine nature mixed in with very talented blood lines that (cough) skipped a generation. She was born singing. And, at a very early age, even her tone-deaf parents could recognize her affinity for all things that carried a rhythm and melody--even if it was a leaky faucet. Her ears perked up and she honed in on any musical sound that would play. Something near and dear to me are the memories of those spiritual pokings and proddings from The Holy Ghost to sing to her as a teeny tiny baby to calm her--as if my voice could calm anything?--but I did it anyway (as painful as it was). I can look back now and know that that crazy calling of Primary Chorister actually was intentional and inspired. Not just a Bishopric playing darts in the Bishop's office after hours (do Bishops even have after hours?? Lynn?? Lynn?? Where are you? Oh wait...) I digress. By the age of 2 1/2, she could recognize different singers' voices on the radio--even if it was a song she had never heard before. She knew that singer's voice.

All of that has lead to a passion and desire to act and sing, especially in the past year. Of course, the crazy parents that we are, helped her foster that love and signed her up for voice lessons and a musical theater class to help her get that creative outlet. And now that has led to a handful of opportunities in the past year to audition for parts in plays... school plays, city youth theatre plays, hale centre theatre plays and the like. All with the same result: a call-back but no part.

Oh, the agony!!!

Speaking of agony, I don't exactly know how to describe the agony that sets in after you release your child to the wolves. Because that is essentially what you're doing when your daughter says, "hey, I think I'd like to try out for that play" and you say, "meh, ok".

They muster up the courage to walk across a large room ALONE, without you, park it in front of several individuals whose only job is to listen to and critique every movement and sound that your child produces in a set amount of time while you, their giver and protector of life and the one who permitted the whole situation to occur in the first place, just sits. and waits. and waits. and waits. (Um, ya...I think I'll take up crochet! Booties anyone?)

and then they say we'll have the call-back list. some...time.

and then it's posted. 

"YESSS!!!! I. GOT. A. CALL. BACK, MOM!!!!!!! WOOOO HOOOOO!!!!!!", exclaims your child as they fly higher than a kite right past you and out the window.

and then more waiting.

and then some more torturous auditioning.

And more crocheting.

and then more waiting.

Oh, the agony!!

(Again, I have no idea why my kids are OK with drama and when/where in their short lives they were introduced to it. Not me (cough, cough)! And it certainly doesn't come from this guy):

Hello! That's where the cute comes from! I digress...

Oh, the agony!!

and then something happens...

either the happiest day of your/their life occurs...
or the pain equivalent to death like your iPhone accidentally dropping in the toilet.

And she still goes back for more.

So...today.
Today I saw a maturing little maid who made me proud by gracefully accepting a role that was different than the one she had originally intended for.  So, I admit, auditions are getting a little better.

Oh, the agony!!

However, because she is the oldest and leads well, sister Hollynd has also discovered a love for all things acting, pretending and musicaling (I know that's not a word. Just go with it.)

Oh! The agony!!!

This introduces a whole new dynamic in the torture we call auditioning. Think about it: what if one daughter makes it and the other one doesn't? Or...what if they try out for the same part? What if neither one gets picked and I have to teach them the art of drowning their emotions out with chocolate? (Wait. Did you say chocolate?)
I'm telling you. T-H-E-R-A-P-Y... THERAPY!!

Hey, look! I think I just made up a new song. T-H-E-R-A-P-Y... THERAPY!! T-H-E-R-A-P-Y...THERAPY!! [sounds of dogs howling in the background]...

Oh! The agony!!

See, maybe I should get into musicals!

OK, OK.... You talked me out of it. I'll just leave the musicals & dramatics to my kids.

I'm going to go eat some chocolate.

Mother of the Year

I'm a mom.
I've been able to say that for 11 years 3 months and 14 days.
I remember before I was a mom I would observe and pick out many situations involving kids that I swore I would never do. Maybe an occasional opinion (ok, judgement) would leap off my lips about what I would see,

"That's disgusting. Did she even put a bib on that baby before she fed him?"


"I would never send my kid to school with holy shoes"

"I would never let my kid act like monkeys in my house"


I look at my oldest. 11 years 3 months 14 days. What have I learned? Never say never. I blow air to pfffft into my bangs and say my 20 year old self, you didn't know boo. I laugh at you.

At least you married an awesome manly man who will stay up as late as it takes for your daughter to get 100% on her spelling test the next day.

Livin' the Dream.

St. George is magical

Awesome French fries, fry sauce, hamburger and diet coke at some smallish town I can't even remember the name of and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since.

Missing Grandpa and Grandma Braswell. A lot.

Walking around barefoot the morning after we arrived and realized I was walking outside on the concrete and I didn't even notice. It was THAT warm.

Blossoms.

Sleeping on a double bed with Lynn AND Taft. Waking 3 times during the night with baby and a couple times because Lynn was snoring because he has a cold.

Strep throat and antibiotics from Dr. Taylor.

Swimming 8 hours in 2 days.

Sacrament meeting at the Seniors Ward and sweating bullets because we were the only ones in there under the age of 60-ish and I have hyper children. Then a sweet lady stopped me on the way out and told me I have really good children. Phew! We sure fooled them, didn't we?

Walking home in the sunshine.

Daffodils.

Major hyper-been-cooped-up-all-winter children.

The blessed Golden Trough with Papa & Nana.

I finished Hollynd's Kit Kittredge hat. FINALLY.

Awesome grandma housecoats and dresses discovered in one of the bedroom closets and trying to figure out how to sneak them back home to wear.

Admiring Lynn's 5 o'clock shadow he gets when he is on vacation. Never happens otherwise. Man, he is hot.

No water pressure.

Wondering how I'm going to ever go back home and not be depressed that it isn't 70 degrees.

Staying up past midnight playing those stupid "...with friends" games.

Harmon's donuts.

The five hour nap I took the first day here. Lynn snuck Taft out of the bedroom and took all the kids with him swimming. I almost cried when I woke up I was so happy.

Zenith TV and the "computer space command" remote.

The big D lit up on the bluff.

All this means we were in Dixie for the weekend.

The Black Hole

Just helping Addie clean out her backpack yesterday.

A Christmas light?....AND a chain?

Oh, that's where my lip gloss went!

Me: "Addie, what is this?"
Addie: "Oh, that's a cool hair thing I found on the road"

I don't record this to embarrass my daughter. Really, she would probably laugh hysterically at what I've written and then say, "wait. I don't get it. What's so funny about what's in my backpack?"

And that why I love her to pieces and want to remember how she is right now.

Addressing January.

Sometimes we play Van Halen REALLY loud.

In other news...

January is the pits.
I find myself not wanting to do anything mostly because I have run out of things to do in the house that are remotely "fun" and it hurts my brain to try harder to find something even more "fun" to do. By the way, any suggestions for convincing my children that laundry is "fun", send them my way. Meanwhile, I'll stick to trying to convince Oakley that it's not that bad to go to the bathroom outside...when it's only 3 degrees.















I know, it seems that my creative juices have failed in trying to find something free to do but really it's THE WEATHER. I mean, for Pete's sake, it's January (for Pete's sake, people, it's STILL January!) tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock ..tick..tock.......tick........tock..................tick...t.i.ck...........toooock............tiiiiiiiiick................................. What was I saying?
Oh yes, January... It's still here!
It kinda' feels like eating ice cubes for dinner. Cold, crunchy...and unsatisfying. Did I mention cold?

However, even still, in the midst of having a January pity party, I must say I'm glad I have a warm husband and children with a good sense of humor--(even though they are blind to the OBVIOUS humor in doing laundry...eh, hem....)
Yes, you knew this was coming: I'm also glad we have cold months to appreciate the hot Summers. You just can't do this in weather where your spit turns to ice before it hits the ground:

And so, for those two reasons I guess I owe January an apology. (Boy has this entry made a 180 degree turn!)

I owe an apology to January. Sorry January.

Van Halen is sorry too. Forever they will be grateful because if it weren't for you they would be stuck back on my computer in the vast catacombs of my iTunes library never to be played again. But, because of you, they will forever have a place on the ipod under the playlist called "GET THE ENDORPHINS GROOVING AGAIN MUSIC--Don't play until January".

I'm going to go now and find my blanket. I'm cold.

Reflect

It's January and a resolution I don't want to make keeps weighing heavily and won't go away--even when I tried to hit it with a bat. So, you know what that means... I lose, resolution wins.

Goal: enjoy life more and by being grateful for the little blessings. Remember those blessings before the inevitable happens: I wake up as an old angry grandma that forgot how to waterski.
Resolution: record more of my perfectly imperfect family life. For me and my hubs. For my kids.

So here we are!

My voice was completely gone yesterday. In efforts to try and make me feel better (I think), McKay told me I sounded like "either that one Avenger guy" or "the bounty hunter on Star Wars" he couldn't decide but it "made him freak out" nonetheless. Hollynd told me to please stop talking because it was scaring her . She said I sound like the voice changer app that does the alien. Thanks kids! But one thing sticks out to me: regardless of my mutant voice, at the end of the day, they still hug me and love me. For all my faults and imperfections and the fact that I can't keep the laundry room counter clean foe the life of me--like, ever!----um, they don't care! All they need and crave for is security and love and to give that love back. There's something to be said for order, routine and guidelines but the longer I have been a mom and the more I watch my husband's example, the more I see that "getting it ALL done today" is not only impossible but it hurts.

So bring on the random items placed all over my house and the 523 socks unmatched socks still sitting in the laundry basket. I'm going to go make some play dough with my kids.

...maybe.
.......and hopefully I won't have a heart attack tomorrow ;)
.................that's where saying prayers become REALLY vital.
.........................so my kids won't need therapy when they're 21.

But who doesn't need a little therapy every once in awhile, right? :-)

I will now take this opportunity to take advantage of the creepy Star Wars alien voice gifted to me from my friend named "stupid cold"---

Hello, evil random item placed on my dresser! Take your friends and leave!