Cella Clan

Escape

2009-05-04T09:58:00.000-07:00

This week I am leaving for Canada to visit my Canadian Family. Things have been pretty hectic around here for a few weeks and I just need a get away. Never mind that it will still be cold as heck there! While Mexico would be a much nicer climate to relax in, I wouldn't have my family, now would I? I love my family. I love that no matter that we have grown up thousands of miles apart I still consider us to be close. We still disagree and even have our tiffs, but we love each other. We were given to each other for a purpose. I miss them dearly and have often wondered why we have to be so far apart. I have even considered moving there. But ultimately I stay, because this is home. My sisters and I will shop til we drop and stay up til all hours of the night blabbing about nothing and everything. Oh, and sushi! We will do sushi! My dad and I will have many a deep talk about the philosophies of life and hopefully he will run with me, so that I can stay somewhat in shape for the race. My niece will mother the baby, every moment I am sure. And Max will have two jungle gyms to play on, namely Josh and Jake! I am so happy to be able to go see them.

Bimbo. Really?

2009-04-29T16:29:00.000-07:00

BIM-BO: (slang)
-an attractive but stupid young woman, esp. one with loose morals.
-a physically attractive woman who lacks intelligence, and has sex appeal.

The other day as I walked through the parking lot on a beautiful sunny day, I looked over and beheld a rather larger girl, with mascara smears and pink lipstick, wearing a shirt that proudly proclaimed: BIMBO. Hmmmmm.....Interesting.

It's not that I haven't seen far worse. I mean Bimbo is a relatively subdued version of what the word actually means. But I couldn't help but wonder, "What type of woman wears that type of shirt?" Instantly the stories of so many of our women sisters and the price they paid in search for equality came to mind. I almost instantly chastised myself for being such a prude. I mean the whole concept of Women's Rights means a woman has the right to choose what she wants to be when she wants to be it, right? "Let it go," my inner voice said. But let it go, I did not.

What is it with these women who take pride and delight in calling themselves hooker, whore, slut, and the very unattractive word used to describe a female dog? It's not cute, or funny. Its demeaning. And quite frankly the only people I know who use those terms regularly, or as dear terms of endearment for their fellow female friends, are trash (of all ethnicities) or the wanna be bad girl that feels a rush of rebellion when doing so ("hee-hee! I'm so naughty!"...NOT!).

Harsh? Ya, probably. But come on! I'm not a prude, or anything close to it. But I expect to be treated with respect and so, for the most part, I am. I say things I regret, stick my foot in my mouth; but referring to myself, or any other woman friend as something that has no value, someone who our society views as less than, just seems utterly ridiculous to me. Aren't their hundreds of thousands of other words that could be better used when referring to a friend? Or better yet, why not even combine a word or two; use some wit.

I know, I know. It was only a stupid T-shirt. A bit too much thought and emotion devoted to it, huh? Maybe. But the fact is that if women want respect then they must require it. How can you really get it wearing a shirt with that self-proclaimed title?

I love to read this blog!

2009-04-26T13:43:00.000-07:00

If you haven't checked it out already then do it soon! ilovetoeatgoodfood.blogspot.com
Don't remember how I came across it but it has great recipes with photos to go along! Yummy!

2009-04-26T13:10:00.000-07:00

Max put himself to bed today. Isaac came and quietly told me to follow him. As I peeked through the crack in the doorway I saw this: Max had climbed into Davis's bed, pulled up the covers, and had fallen asleep. Upon closer examination I realized he had been "talking on the phone" as he drifted off. So sweet.

And yet another...

2009-04-26T12:56:00.000-07:00

Max found and used an entire tube of tooth paste. He had been upstairs just a giggling. I heard him. Even thought to myself, "Oh, how sweet!" I told myself he was playing with his brothers. Then Spencer dropped to the ground rolling with laughter. "Mom! You gotta come see this!" he said, still laughing hysterically. I knew I was in for it then. He told me as I was walking up the stairs that max was covered in toothpaste from his head to to his toes. I naively I thought, that it couldn't be THAT bad, could it? Well, It WAS that bad. His pants were encrusted, his belly a slippery sticky mess. It was jammed under his fingernails and in his dark lashes. The mirror had been thoughtfully covered in tiny hand prints, and as I stood there he beckoned me to come to him and showed me his masterpiece. Oh, how I love my Max. The pictures do not even come close to portraying how messy it really was!

Davis, "D", "D"-Dawg

2009-04-26T12:37:00.000-07:00

This little guys was born ALL boy; scruffy hair, messy face, dirty fingernails and all!

Easter

2009-04-17T22:45:00.000-07:00

Easter

2009-04-17T22:20:00.000-07:00

Easter is a special celebration. It has always been important to me to do everything possible to take the focus away from the Easter Bunny and all of the associated mumbo jumbo and help my children understand what the day is really all about. Well.....not this year. I failed miserably. My sweet sister-in-law, Melissa, even reminded me about the Resurrection eggs I did for the kids last year. I even went as far as to tell her I would do them again at our family party. And do you think I did it? Nope. Totally spaced it. Easter was nothing but a "hopping" party. Eggs were dyed, baskets were brought, parties ensued, swimming & wall climbing were experienced, eggs were found. That was it. The kids had a blast though, and there's always next year right? :(

Why the Fascination?

2009-04-17T21:48:00.000-07:00

Why are little boys so fascinated with tampons and pads? As a little girl I did not play with tampons, pads, or any other feminine hygiene products. Maybe it was just programmed in my DNA to despise such types of products. The fact that one day I would be forced to deal with such things as moodiness, bloating, nauseating cramps, and a serious loss of iron may have silently warned to me leave them alone for as long as I possibly could. My boys will never experience such pleasantries, which may be why they actually seem to gravitate towards them. I find that these products even bring out their creative abilities. Tampons become pop guns, and pads turn into very large band aids. Even my husband has found a use for tampons: Got a bloody nose? Hey, just put a tampon up your nose! Each and everyone of my boys has had their "special moment" with feminine hygiene products, and Max is no exception. Last year he went through an entire box of tampons; 72 count to be precise and popped each and everyone out giggling each time. A few days ago he moved onto pads. The great thing is that this is one stage that does NOT last long!

Home Sweet Home

2009-03-20T12:32:00.000-07:00

Do you ever have the feeling like you are longing for home...yet you ARE home? Sometimes I feel like I am missing something, someone. Yet, I am home with my husband my children, surrounded by my things. Everything is familiar to me, even belongs to me. And after pondering this feeling for years I have finally been able to acknowledge where this feeling comes from. It comes at times when life is most hectic for me, when I am hurting emotionally or physically, when I am needing comfort for some reason or another. I am longing for my real home; my Heavenly Home. My soul starts to long for the peace that comes from that special place. And whether my mind remembers it specifically is completely irrelevant, because my spirit does. Learning to recognize this and to be able to acknowledge it for what it is has been life changing for me. It has helped me to be able to comprehend a little bit more that we are "spiritual beings having an earthly experience". Now, if all this is true, and my heart tells me that it is, then wouldn't it make sense that when we are feeling especially homesick our Heavenly Father would send us something to remind us of home, something to connect us with home? I believe that he does. I believe that he has done that for me. Only it has not been something, it has been someone. I have felt privileged to have been sent special people that I have connected with. That even with in a few moments of meeting I have had that crazy feeling of "I know you from somewhere". In my youth I questioned these types of feelings wondering if maybe I was a bit crazy. But as a gracious Heavenly Father has allowed me to experience more of these types of experiences I have been able to acknowledge them for what they are: my life line to home. These special friends have come at different times in different ways and yet the feeling is the same. "I know you. I have always known you". And in understanding that my Heavenly Father is so mindful of me (and what may seem like my insignificant problems) that he would prepare someone else's life to coincide with mine, that we would meet at the right place, and the right time, and in the right way, overwhelms me with gratitude. And I am learning always to trust him. So this is to the few special friends of mine that I have always known. Thank-you for finding me and recognizing me, loving me despite all of my faults and shortcomings, for being able to see who I "really" am, and for making me feel "at home".

Another Max Mess

2009-03-08T15:56:00.000-07:00

I was sick with pneumonia; couldn't even get out of bed for 2 days. I finally had the sense to seek medical help and was diagnosed with "Walking Pneumonia". I had just started antibiotics when I awoke to this. "Kill me", I thought. No seriously, Kill me. Max had learned overnight how to push the bar stool over to the other side of the kitchen. And his cupboard of choice was my grain cupboard. He opened sacks of barley, oats and wheat and I am sure giggled delightfully as he poured them onto the floor watching each single grain bounce and dance a hundred times before standing still. Next, he moved onto the baking cupboard and found the powdered sugar. I imagined his smiling face as he stuck his chubby little fingers into the bag and threw fistfuls of it up into the air. Each powdered puff landing a little onto his lashes and nose. And AGAIN I was faced with the dilemma of screaming, crying or fetching my camera. That face. How I adore that face. I could look at it a hundred times a day and never tire of it. As I was snapping the shots Tim happened in on the mess and said to me, "Why are you taking pictures of this!?? This isn't cute! This isn't something we should celebrate! This isn't something for your blog!!" I kind of chucked and was on the verge of either laughing hysterically or sobbing. And I said, "You know, this isn't funny now. I know that. Boy do I know that. I have a fever of 102. I have been in bed for 2 days. I KNOW THIS ISN"T FUNNY! But I am desperately hoping that someday it will be. Maybe someday I will be able to look at ALL of these messes and laugh. I need to believe that some day all of this crap will be funny!!!!" A bit crazy I am sure I was, and I'm pretty sure I scared the poor guy because he slowly left the kitchen and let me be. Spencer must have seen he was losing his mother to the dark side too and he started to help. And as I finished the kitchen I moved to the basement where an entire bag of shredded wheat had been dumped/crushed on the couch and floor. Heaven help me.

Love Day

2009-03-08T15:45:00.001-07:00

Today we celebrated Valentines Day (2/13/09). We had our family dinner and called it our LOVE DINNER. The kids each helped me decorate the table and put the food on it. Then we each were able to express one thing that we LOVE about each and every member of our little family. The candles were lit and their expressions were full of excitement. They felt so special. I love days like this.

Changing My Ways...

2009-02-28T13:46:00.000-08:00

As of late I have been contemplating the meaning of happiness and how it pertains to our everyday lives. Is happy being married, financially stable, having children, reading, having food to eat? If "Men are that they might know happiness" then I must eventually define what happiness is to me.

My dear mother has been given the privilege of living next door to an especially strong and courageous woman. This woman is from Rwanda. She escaped in the middle of the night while literally running for her and her granddaughter's life. She had spent hours, days, months in hiding while trying to just stay alive. This woman has expressed awe and wonder at how we American mothers look at our children and teach them how to enunciate words, how we teach them to potty train at 2, and how we groom then flawlessly. Where she comes from those types of behaviors and not permitted simply because they have time merely to survive, and certainly not to thrive. And yet she is happy. Happy to be alive, happy to live in our amazing country. Happy for shelter, and food, and friendship.

So why then do I find my self not happy to have these same blessings in my life? Don't get me wrong; I am appreciate of them. I am grateful for them. And yet sometimes I sit quietly and yearn for more. More of what has been the question on my mind. I have a lovely home that keeps me safe and warm. I have a soft clean bed to lie in while I sleep. I have clothes that not only keep me covered and warm, but are actually current in that latest styles and trends. My cupboards are filled with all sorts of food. Not just rice and beans, but every kind of food imaginable from multiple types of cereal to exotic things like sushi paper. My children are healthy and growing in every way. My husband loves me and likes me. What then could I possibly be missing, especially when compared to this giant of a woman who has endured more than I can ever hope to imagine?

The conclusion I have come to is this: I am not, nor have I ever been, living in true survival mode, where my only goal in life is to live. Literally just survive. Maslow's physical, and safety needs have more than been met. I have been blessed with more than this woman could dream of. I have been blessed with all the necessities and many of the non-necessities of life. And while I can be grateful for that I must want more. "Where much is given much is required" has been a reoccurring thought in my mind. I must want to help my neighbor more. I must want to be a better mother. I must want to be a better friend, and be a better woman. I MUST WANT MORE BECAUSE I HAVE BEEN GIVEN MORE. I must seek to magnify each and every talent/quality I have been unworthily blessed with and I must use it to bless my own life and the lives of others.

Having reached that conclusion I have committed to changing my ways. I am seeking happiness. True happiness. Not that kind that comes from buying a new car or a bigger nicer house. Not the kind that comes and goes. I am seeking my very own personal happiness. The kind that comes from being a litter better and trying a little harder. The kind that comes from holding a sleeping baby and listening in awe to each miracle breath he takes. The kind that comes from setting a goal and reaching it after months of hard grueling work. I will find happiness as my children speak kind words to each other, or as my husband, tired from work offers to do a days worth of dishes for me. I will find happiness daily in all of the small but great things in my life; my child's laughter, meeting a new friend, slobbery kisses from my baby, sweet kisses from my husband, reading a book, a moment of quiet. I am happy. But I will still seek happiness, day in and day out I will seek it.... and I will find it.

My children hate me....Oh well!

2009-02-02T17:53:00.000-08:00

Today my children hate me. Am I hurt, you might ask? Not in the slightest!

Last night I came home to yet another hurricane in our front room, up the stairs, kitchen, and family room (don't even get me started on the bedrooms). Of course I knew how it had been left, so on the 20 minute drive home from my lovely in-laws I prepped the kids (yes, Tim too). I made it quite clear that when we got home there would be allowed a 20 minute pick-up time. They could each go through each room that had been ram sacked and pick up their individual belongings. I was sure to let them know to pick up and put away everything that may be dear to their little hearts. I explained that the repercussion of not doing so would be that anything left on the floor became my property and I would be throwing it away. No amount of jumping up and down, crying,or pleading would stop me. I repeatedly went over this with them. Did I already mention that the drive was TWENTY MINUTES LONG? Surely my point had been made, right? I knew that those busy little bees would just rush right in and gather all of their precious belongings, right? Nope. Not even a one.

At the end of the 20 minute time I walked through each room and picked up items one by one sliding them into the garbage bag. Tim's socks (dirty socks, I must add), Tim's shoes, Spencer's cowboy boots (his most prized cowboy boots), Isaac's pajama bottoms, wii remote controls, more socks, paper, toys, you name it. I chucked it in the bag. As you can imagine the screaming started. Spencer wrapped his arms and legs around me pleading to not throw away his favorite boots. He exclaimed over and over, "Those are my most favorite thing in the whole wide world! How could you do this to me? How could you do this to me?!" All I could do was shake my head. Davis cried. Spencer cried. Tim and Isaac sat silent on the couch. Neither of them was going to give me the satisfaction of letting me know it upset them. Whatever. Didn't matter to me whether they said a word. I finished gathering all of the items and promptly walked out to the big city garbage can, heaved the bag in to it, and let the lid slam. Then ever so kindly as I entered the house I told them all it was time for bed. No matter what the responses I was going to stick to it and I was was going to remain cool and calm. Isaac, being my most stubborn child, walked right up to his room and didn't say a word (I'd like to think it was because he was afraid for his life, but he was probably just trying to tick me off more and there was no way I was going to let him know it was working!), and Spenc and Davis sobbed and sobbed. And do you think it tugged at my heart strings one little bit? No way, no how! That wasn't going to make me break! I sweetly kissed them hood night, explaining that when Mommy says something I mean it, and now they would know that the next time I warn them, they had better choose to listen. Then I promptly went outside and pulled the bag out of the garbage. I'm such a sucker.

My Warriors

2009-01-30T20:37:00.000-08:00

I have wondered often why I would be given four very strong willed, independent, and stubborn boys. I know nothing about boys. I love basketball but could never tell one position from another. I would rather run barefoot through the snow than sit through a game of college football. I have certainly never suffered the habit of resting my hands down my pants while watching television. And then there is that sweaty boy smell. You know what I'm talking about; the smell of sweat mixed with dirt and graham crackers.

I am a "girlie girl". I have always loved anything that sparkles. I don't mind the upkeep of coloring my hair or having my nails done. A new tube of lip gloss can make my day. A spritz of perfume can rejuvenate me. I would never think of slugging a friend if I am upset with them because we girls talk (and talk and talk and talk) about those sorts of things. I have no problem immersing myself into an elaborate, and dramatic tale of vampires and werewolves (ya, you know what I'm talking about ;)). I am as girlie as it gets.

And yet here I sit with four rough and tumble, sweaty, stinky, (and yet still irresistibly darling) little boys!! Many times I am overwhelmed with their constant excitement. As I finish one room in the house, making sure every corner is spic and span, I find that they have destroyed two more rooms with legos and pillows (of course used to wack each other); sheets spread across chairs in the middle of the room, a formidable fortress to be sure. And then there is the ongoing problem with aim. The complete inability to stand still for a brief moment, and save me the daunting task of bleaching the toilet and all surrounding areas almost daily!

It is when I am drowning in self-pity that I am reminded of a special, actually several special experiences I have had through out the years:
I sat reading my scriptures during my freshman year in college. As I came to the section in Alma where the story of the stripling warriors is told I was overwhelmed with emotion. I read and reread, feeling the spirit touch my heart deeply and yet not fully understanding why this specific story would evoke so much emotion from me. Tears streamed down my face and the pages became a blur. I prayed for greater understanding.

Several years ago Tim brought home poster size paintings of a few Book of Mormon stories. One was of the stripling warriors readying themselves for battle. He pinned the posters to their bedroom walls where they could look at them and be reminded of the stories that accompanied them. One night I gathered my boys around me and began to read to them the story of the stripling warriors,

"And now I say unto you, my beloved brother Moroni, that never had I seen so great courage, nay, not amongst all the Nephites...For as I had ever called them my sons (for they were all of them very young) even so they said unto me: Father, behold our God is with us, and he will not suffer that we should fall; then let us go forth....Now they never had fought, yet they did not fear death; and they did think more upon the liberty of their fathers than they did upon their lives; yea, they had been taught by their mothers, that if they did not doubt, God would deliver them. And they rehearsed unto me the words of their mothers, saying: We do not doubt our mothers knew it...And now it came to pass that when they had surrendered themselves up unto us, behold, I numbered those young men who had fought with me, fearing lest there were many of them slain. But behold, to my great joy, there had not one soul of them fallen to the earth; yea, and they had fought as if with the strength of God; yea, never were men known to have fought with such miraculous strength; and with such mighty power..."

As I read to my little ones I was once again overwhelmed with the spirit. And for the first time I made the connection. I had been given my own stripling warriors. They had been sent to me with great purpose. I was to teach them to not doubt and to have faith that God would always deliver them. I felt excited, grateful and scared all at once, and yet it was so very clear to me that this was my duty, my responsibility to prepare them for the battles that lay ahead. This was the very reason I had felt such emotion before; my soul had remembered. My Heavenly Father had placed great faith in me, and I determined not to let him down.

The other day was a very hectic one, even by my standards. A gallon of milk had been poured on to the kitchen floor, fight after fight had ended in time outs, with a stern warning of "Don't look at each other!! Don't talk to each other!! Don't touch each other!!" Cry after cry, scream after scream, tantrum after tantrum I became ever more distraught and overwhelmed at my inability to be a good mother. I sat on the stairs and dropped my head into my hands and sighed. As I sat wondering how much more I could take my Isaac came up quietly behind me and wrapped his arms around my neck. "I love you mom" he said. In the midst of playing video games and battling with his brothers he had noticed me there. And with all of his eight year old abilities he was trying to sooth me. I pulled him in close to me and said with yet another sigh," I love you too Isaac." And the thought came to mind: Warriors. They are my warriors. The "fight" in them needs to be there and I needn't be so frustrated by it. One day they will fight with great cause. They will fight in their rightful place at our Saviors side. It is my job to teach them compassion, mercy and love, without breaking their inherit warrior spirits. I was reminded that this time is but a season, and it too shall end and then will the next begin. As I felt his arms squeeze a little tighter, I thought, "I must be doing something right!!" My warrior is strong yet tender, mindful of my troubled heart.

I am so grateful to be the mother of four very strong willed, intense boys. I am humbled knowing that my Father in Heaven has entrusted me to be their mother And I hope with all of my heart that some day, even after all of the mistakes that I make, my boys will know of my love for my Heavenly Father, and with courage and strength will grow into the valiant warriors they are meant to be.

Boys Will Be Boys?

2009-01-10T10:09:00.000-08:00

My kids seem to be drawn to the clippers. I put them away and they climb great heights to reach them! It would be one thing if it had just happened once. Sounds reasonable that each kid goes through the event of cutting their own hair. But my kids have done this on multiple occasions. When Spencer was three I made the mistake of leaving the clippers out after I finished cutting their hair. I came upstairs to see a very funny looking child. We shaved it all off and if course it grew back...eventually. I cut his hair again, this time being sure to put them away...high so he couldn't reach them. Silly mommy! Boys climb. Boy, do they climb! He climbed to the ceiling (in our linen closet) and repeated the whole process. Ugh!!

Now, Davis is three. He took two big wacks out of the front of his hair a few months ago. I didn't want to cut it all that short so I waited for it to grow out a bit and then cut it so he didn't look like he had a buzz. As I was getting them all out of the shower I asked him to just run down and grab me the baby's bottle. I heard a "BZZZZZZZ..." and screamed, "Davis turn those off right now!!!" Too late. Damage was done. Is this where someone tells me boys will be boys? Now, while Spencer delighted in me having to shave his head bald, Davis was downright broken hearted. He sobbed and sobbed, and repeatedly said, "Now I look like a man!" I'm not sure what that meant, but I do know it meant something awful. He was very worried that Spencer would tell him he looked like a man too, so after he was in bed asleep and his brothers got home from being out with Daddy I gave them all the pep talk of how "we don't make fun of your brother, he is very upset, make him feel better, blah, blah, blah". They snuck upstairs to peek at him and they both came down sobbing!! "He doesn't look like our brother! He will never look like our brother again. I don't like to look at him!" were just some of the sweet words they said. Jeez! And they say that girls are the ones full of drama!! Later, when I went in to do my nightly check- in, I found that Spenc and Isaac had surrounded Davis in all sorts of "gifts" (zoom in close and you will even see an infamous sock puppet!). They must have really felt bad for him!!

Beauty and the Beast

2009-01-06T21:31:00.000-08:00

This was several years ago, but I ran across it and laughed so hard I thought it worthy of a post. All shots are EXTREMELY photo-shopped! For the "pretty one" she straightened my nose smoothed my complexion, arched my eyebrows, and drastically plumped my lips. Boy would I love those lips!! The devil one is awesome. Reminds me of the devil guy in that really old movie with Tom Cruise called Legend. And the other one is me as a fat girl. My girlfriend and I stayed up until about 3 am one night messing around with these. I think I seriously peed my pants laughing at some point! Thanks Kristi!

Thanksgiving: A Lot To Be Thankful For

2009-01-06T21:00:00.001-08:00

I think we have started a new tradition. My dad came out last year for Thanksgiving and it worked out so great that we decided to do it again. I had begged my sister for several months to accompany him but I finally gave up and quit nagging, when I got all sorts of hems and haws about it. To my delight she did come! She surprised me at my front door. I was really really excited. At this point in the game there isn't a lot to go and do when my Canadian family comes to visit. I mean we have shopped at every mall, seen Temple square like sixty-fourty-nine times, and a girl can only take the Joseph Smith story so many times!! So now we mostly just stay home and talk. Boring you say? Certainly not this time. Sarah brought with her an amazing new toy: Her Mac laptop and we played with a few techniques for quite a while. I seriously could not stop laughing!! The photos are very self explanatory! Thanksgiving dinner was at my house. My very close friend (not to mention cousin) drove all the way up from Southern Utah to spend it with us. I absolutely love that girl. Kamie and I should have been born sisters. Her two teenage boys were also the highlight of my boys day. Spencer can not deal with the fact that her husband is not his uncle (actually his cousin) and so he insists on calling him Uncle Brett. He really loves Brett. Might have something to do with him being a "real cowboy". My brothers and theirs wives (and kids) came too. So here comes the corney and mushy part: I really love my dad. I admire him more than any other man I know. I know not only would he die for me, but he lives for me. I am grateful for him beyond words. And I am so thankful for him being here with us.

I love love love this baby!

2009-01-02T16:59:00.000-08:00

I am 100% completely and utterly head over heels in love with this guy!

Spencer turns FIVE!

2009-01-02T16:38:00.000-08:00

Spencer turned five on November 16th. He was so excited to have his Jazz birthday party. He4 invited his friends of all ages, and we had Utah Jazz gear everywhere. Each guest was asked to wear Jazz colors. We had Jazz colored balloons and plates, and drinks. The cake was actually cupcakes, in basketball form. Tim came up with some basketball games and besides that we basically let them all run wild! We aren't sure where this came from, but he has a serious love for cowboy boots. His Grandma Marie bought him a "dress-up" pair last year, along with a cowboy outfit, and he has worn them practically everyday since. They were getting a bit small so I went to a real Cowboy store (ha ha: Pederson Farm Supply) and bought him a new pair. They were leather with beautiful stitching and were even two toned. He loved them!!....at first. But by the end of the next day, he had chucked them to the back of his closet and had his old pleather ones back on. Seriously. It was "the box is better than the gift" syndrome. Oh well. Lesson learned. His favorite gift was the one Uncle Todd actually made for him. It consisted of PVC pipe glued together with plumbers glue in the shape of a bull, and a long rope made into a lasso. I think it may have cost him all of 5 bucks to build, and it was worth every cent! He played with it, practicing his lassoing techniques, for hours that day, and still plays with it. In fact, it even caught on with Dad! Tim has been going around the entire yard looking for things to lasso. Guess I know what to get him for his next Birthday!

2009-01-02T16:09:00.001-08:00

So, I did really good for the first few months of blogging, but as soon as the holidays hit I basically just quit. I didn't mean to. Each week I told myself I would get things updated and each week I got a little further behind. So I will try to get caught up a bit. Bare with me while I backtrack....
One morning Isaac came to me looking for one of Dad's old socks so he could make a sock puppet. (He is my crafty, always making, baking, or fixing something boy!) I thought that was a great idea and so eventually the whole gang was making sock puppets. I'm not sure how but the neighbor kids ended up making them too. Now, what good is a sock puppet without a puppet show? So the boys took off down the street to invite all of their friends to see the puppet show. As I was brushing my teeth I looked out my bathroom window to see them across the street hiding behind a storage bin, and performing their show while my good friend and her girls watched form their front door. I giggled a bit, and shouted for them to come on home when they were done. They promptly told me that they couldn't because they had three more shows scheduled. A few more minutes went by and I went to see where they were. As I walked out my front door I was totally surprised! They had six lawn chairs set up in our culdesac. And those lawn chairs weren't empty! They had gone door to door inviting each of my neighbors, who were kind enough to oblige them. We all sat and watched the show which was just a mixture of grunts, yelling, laughing, and the sock puppets wacking each other. Then we gave them a standing ovation, and in turn (who knows why) the sock puppets began belting us with candy of all sorts. (A blow pop really doesn't feel good being hurled at your face). It was quite entertaining to say the least.

Strawberry Oatmeal...Yummy!

2008-11-06T09:08:00.000-08:00

So, I already know I am OCD about letting my babies feed themselves. At least with anything relatively messy. But today I went out on a limb and let Max feed himself strawberry oatmeal. I was feeding him, and in between bites he had taken another spoon, scooped up a bit of oatmeal, and ate it! I figured it was time to let him go for it. He actually did a great job! Most all of it made it into his mouth, instead of the top of his head and floor. He was very, very proud of himself.

2008-11-06T08:50:00.000-08:00

2008-11-06T08:45:00.000-08:00

Family Halloween Party

2008-11-06T08:14:00.001-08:00

Twas the night before Halloween and all through the house, no one was quiet, not even a mouse! Lets just say that our family parties are never dull, and this one was no exception. Every year we get together on Halloween, so that the cousins can trick-or treat and see each other in their costumes. This year we changed it up a bit. We got together the night before Halloween so that we didn't have to do so much dang running around, trying to squeeze everything in to one night. Everyone dressed up (except Grandpa Roy, who we will easily excuse, and Grandma and Grandpa, serious party poopers!!) But by far the best costume, which I think will give me nightmares, was James (with Melissa coming in at a close 2nd) . Can anyone say "Chester the Molester"? James and Mindi planned an awesome donut game that was a big hit. The kids had so much fun. The just giggled and giggled watching each other other try to eat the donut off the string. Davis got locked in the bathroom for a while. When I found him he had been sobbing and, of course, wiped all of his skeleton make-up off. Poor guy. It was a great night filled with chili and soup, lots of diet coke, and some goodies too. :)

Life Is Not Fair. Period.

2008-10-27T15:17:00.000-07:00

Life is not fair. My mother has spoken that very profound phrase to me for as long as I can remember. But somehow knowing that is true did not make walking in on this any easier. One of the older boys opened the fridge and left it open. Max found the eggs and the rest is history. Of course once they saw the disaster my two partners in crime had to come check it out. I have child locks on every cabinet. My fridge has locks on it, my pantry door locks. All this is done in hopes of preventing a catastrophe. But somehow my children always out smart me. I had to pee ok? Can I not even go to the bathroom with out something like this happening? Once again it was, "Get the camera, or break down and cry". Obviously I chose to get the camera. Clean up was just the funnest!! Slimy eggs slipping into each crevice and seam in my hardwood floors. It took what seemed like hours to clean up, and then I had the thought, "SALMONELLA!!!" So I then wiped down the whole thing in bleach water. Just as I was ready to have that break down and cry Spenc made me smile. He came down the stairs and told me how hard he worked on his hair. I'll let that image speak for itself.

Halloween is here!

2008-10-26T12:32:00.001-07:00

So here we are all dressed up for another Halloween. This is one of my favorite Holidays! I was feeling a bit cheap this year so I decided to reuse my Snow White costume, and lo and behold, I realized I had my very own Dopey!! I checked every website and every pattern hoping to find a Dopey costume, bit I had no no no luck. I finally resorted to Savers. I bought a womans sweater, shortened the arms, sewed on wooden buttons and patches. I found a hat (yes I know its not the right color) that pushed his ears out, and since I couldn't find big rubber ears anywhere I thought the hat would do. It ended up being perfect. He looked just like Dopey.

At the ward party the little girls squealed when they saw me. They just knew that I was the real Snow White, and asked to have their pictures taken with me. It was honestly so fun. How would that be to have a job being Snow White and do nothing but make little girls smile and giggle all day? What a job.

Isaac was a nerd. He looked awesome. He actually looked just like Alfalfa from the show 'Little Rascals'. Davis was a wonderful, very scary skeleton, and Spencer was true to himself and went with the title of Hip-Hop-Dancer. Tim was busy scrambling ingredients together for his famous Chile and at the last minute ran out of time to get his costume ready. I introduced him as "Hottie Hubby", but he seemed to think it was funnier to say "psychopathic wife beater" Ok.........?

It was a great night with lots of really great costumes. And of course we get to do it again two more times before the month is up!!

Grandma Helen

2008-10-22T21:01:00.000-07:00

Grandma is having a tough time right now. She has been slipping further and further from us for quite some time. She has been refusing to eat which has completely depleted her level of potassium. She was found collapsed on her apartment floor and then rushed to the hospital. She was later moved to the nursing home under hospice care. Although she is refusing to eat Tim and Bryan did a pretty good job of convincing her to eat some Twix and some Butterfinger. Grandma was always a softie for the sweets. She was barely coherent when we first visited her in hospice. She was unable to read the 500 notes Tim kept writing her (Thanks Tim :) ) . But when I left for a moment she turned to Tim, Bryan and Melissa and told each of them one by one that she loved them. We asked her how old she was and she simply stated, "Fourty Six". Grandma could hardly make out a word we said, but she still cracked a few jokes. It made us all laugh. Tim and I took the kids to go see her on Monday night. She was actually doing much better. She understood what was being said and knew who we were. Grandpa was with us. I think that really calmed her nerves. I love her so much. I want her to be able to stop being miserable. I want her to be able to move on and progress to a place where she can run and hear, and be silly and laugh. I think that if she is waiting for something, that she is more likely waiting for someone. I think she is waiting to see Bonnie. Bonnie will be here soon. I believe we all need closure. My Grandma waited weeks before passing on just to say good bye to her son. Maybe this is also the case here. :)

My Little "Men"

2008-10-22T20:40:00.000-07:00

Like father like son....s. Isaac came into our bedroom on Sunday morning and asked to wear one of Tim's ties. Tim said sure and tied it beautifully for him (the underside tucked down into his pants about 6 inches). Pretty soon Spencer calmly walked into the closet and began eying the ties. He carefully picked one out and said that he needed a church tie. Last, but certainly not least, came Davis. He too looked though all of Tim's ties and picked one out. I finally went down stairs to find all of my little boys (and one big one) dressed in their Sunday best and all in daddy's ties. These shots are priceless!

Hey Timmy you're so fine! You're so fine you blow my mind! Hey Timmy! Hey, Hey, Hey Timmy!

2008-10-15T20:07:00.000-07:00

I know what you are all thinking, but just stop it!! This finely dressed man is all mine. Shortly after we were first married I discovered something that I had never imagined possible: My husband, my beautiful perfect husband insisted on wearing basketball shorts, with church socks and his shiny church shoes. This outfit, believe it or not, is actually new to the Cella household: Superman "T" shirt with slacks and church shoes. How was I to know it could ever be this good? Here's to you babe!

My little helper

2008-10-12T10:43:00.000-07:00

So, for many of you this may be a repeat, but since i haven't actually posted this to my blog I am going to go ahead and show this again. Max is just shy of 15 months old. My painter was working on painting the bathroom so I set up the baby gate. The last thing I wanted was for my kids to be in there with 20 questions for him while he was trying to work. I was installing a new light fixture and needed some help, so the painter (Mario) was kind enough to oblige me. It only took a few minutes. When he went back into the bathroom all I heard was, "Oh my Gosh! Oh my Gosh! Oh my Gosh!" Poor guy. Davis had pushed down the baby gate and this is what we found!:

Spencer's First Day Of Pre School

2008-10-06T22:49:00.000-07:00

Spencer started preschool last month. He was so excited. He has talked about this for the past six months non-stop. He made sure he looked "cool". I had to spike his hair the right way and make sure his clothes were the cool ones, not the not cool ones. And we absolutely had to have his backpack ready. He felt so big and grown-up as we walked into the school that day. He just beamed with pride and excitement. Davis was very excited for Spencer's big day too. He also made sure his hair was combed just right, and that he had on "good" clothes. He too made sure that his back pack was ready.
Spencer had no problem saying good bye to me. He gave me a gigantic hug and just said, "see ya later, mom". Then he was gone. Davis didn't take that so well. I tried to prepare him for Spencer's leaving, but I just couldn't get him to understand. He was heartbroken. My heart broke a little too.

I am a Blogger???

2008-10-06T22:10:00.000-07:00

Well, I guess I am officially in the world of blogging. I am semi retarded when it comes to stuff like this. I actually created this blog site in March of 2008, but as you can see, I have done nothing with it, until now (much thanks to my beautiful Wendy!!). I am really hoping that I can actually maintain this and have some follow through, something I have really been focusing on lately. This is for all of my wonderful friends and dear family. I hope this keeps you up to date with the latest happenings in my crazy world.