Mamma Mia. Here I go again.

So I've been having a Mamma Mia the movie marathon over here. I think it's my new Mother's Day week tradition. That and crying uncontrollably at unexpected times. And eating Australian liquorice by the pound. You know you've reached some kind of hormone ... situation ... when Abba brings you to tears. That "Slipping Through My Fingers" song gets me every time. (I would put a YouTube link on here, but I'm writing from my phone. Look it up. Have a Kleenex handy.)

Aaaaanyway.

I was doing school time with Chancho this week when this little nugget caught my eye:

Apparently this is how a child identifies a mother: doughy face, dopey grin, frumpy hair, blue shirt, looking for something.

What do think?

NAILED IT!

Have I ever mentioned how I love being a mother? Are you new here? I especially enjoy being a stay-a-la-casa mama. I don't care if the world thinks I'm wasting my time. I don't care if people think I'm "not working a day in my life."

Not today, anyway.

I'll be honest, it's not always sunshine and liquorice. I have those days (Saturday morning) when I'm screeching at my children, "I don't WANT to freak out at you guys! QUIT! HITTING! EACHOTHER! Get your finger OUT OF YOUR NOSE!" and then I notice that my back window is wide open for the neighbor's listening enjoyment. Or those days when it's February and I question all of my life choices. But overall I think I have a pretty good gig.

It's not for everyone, but it's for me. The problem is that it passes too quickly. For example, I was taming the shoe pile by the front door today when I noticed my shoe next to Macey's:

When the [bleep!] did THAT happen?!

All I could do was to belt out the Abba and blubber: "Slippin' through my fingers all the time! I try to capture every minute!" Stupid Abba. Stupid giant flip flop. Stupid hormones. And then I stuff another fistful of liquorice in my mouth.

Let's hear it for motherhood. Way to perpetuate humanity, gals.

Happy Mother's Day!

(And, of course, my homage to motherhood wouldn't be complete without giving some recognition to this lady:

She taught me everything I know about mothering, forgiveness, faith, sacrifice, humility, cake, Star Trek, and Neil Diamond. And she brought me into this world, so YOU ALL owe her a big thank you.)

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Baptism story & a recipe, as promised.

My oldest child was baptized on Saturday - my Macey Bella, whose middle name was chosen BEFORE the Twilight craze, for the record.

I love baptisms. Watching Macey's baptism was sweet with just a little bitter. She's growing up too quickly for my taste. Besides that, I love witnessing something so pure and so happy in this world that tends so much toward the negative and dark.

You know how people like to debate religion and argue about the details? And it always leaves you feeling nasty when you are a part of it? I have never left a baptism with that feeling. Just happiness. I think there's something to that.

Remember how last time I promised a yummy recipe? Well. You are in for a treat. Ingredients:

Sweet coconut frozen yogurt
crumbled Reese's Peanut Butter Cups
crushed Heath bars
chocolate rocks
mango and strawberry flavored boba bubble thingies
one enormous red mountain
sunshine
happiness

Combine and let sit for one hour.

You may find yourself asking, But where do I find all of these ingredients, and in the same place? At The Adobe Icebox in Ivins, Utah! Get yourself down there. Get yourself a cup of yogurt with all the fixins. Sit at the foot of the Red Mountain and marvel at the beauty of God's creations.

Don't forget to tell them Elise sent you.

They'll be like, "Who's Elise?"

And you'll be like, "Psht! Who's Elise?!"

And then it might be awkward for a second, so just pay for your frozen yogurt and don't make eye contact.

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Wherein Elise checks out.

Elise has temporarily checked out. She had a mental breakdown which was timed perfectly BEFORE her trip to California with her girl-friends. Why is Elise talking about herself in third person? She can't say, other than that viewing her life from someone else's perspective helps her keep things in perspective.

It has been a busy, busy, busy (did I mention busy?) couple of weeks. Let's not bother with catch-up. Let's just talk about California, because it was super fun and I want to relive the experience.

We camped on Doheny State Beach. It wasn't camping so much as it was sleeping in a tent at the beach the middle of Los Angeles and showering infrequently. I think I would make a terrific bum - I couldn't have been more pleased with the situation.

We didn't bring any menfolk with us, therefore our meals consisted of grapefruit, salads from Trader Joe's, and Thai food. And we talked about our problems ad nauseum. We put the nauseum in ad nauseum, I'll tell you what. We watched "The Lucky One" and then discussed the wild Alaskan husky dog-ness of Zac Efron's eyes at length.

I just love hanging out with women. Especially this amazing group of women:

And I will mention them because they deserve mentioning - the seagulls. Oh my LANTA, the seagulls:

They were very Hitchcockian.

After this weekend I have a new favorite beach. Corona del Mar. It was clean, beautiful, flanked on all sides by multi-million dollar homes. A line from "Tangled" kept running through my mind the whole time we were there: "Yep. I'm used to it. Guys, I want a castle." Mark my words: When I die, heaven will be Corona del Mar with a concession stand that serves Kneaders French toast every morning and Pedro's Tacos every night.

Now I'm home. Today is Macey's eighth birthday. She's getting baptized on Saturday. Where is time going?! Anyway, tune in next time, I'll have photos of Macey's "bath-tism" and maybe a yummy recipe.

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Fun aunt Lisa

Welcome to the "Lisa the Fun Aunt" Rollercoaster Thrill Log Flume Magic Motion ride. Please keep your hands, arms and legs inside the ride at all times.

Please remain seated until the ride comes to a full and complete stop. Permenacer sentados, por favor.

I don't know about you, but I am exhausted.

In other news, my husband left for Florida without me.

Jerk.

My kids and I are joining him at the end of May after school gets out. Meanwhile, he sends photographs to psych me up for the impending move. Check out this gigantic Floridian bird:

I send texts back to him along the lines of "That's nice, honey. I'm going to change a poopy diaper and then drown my sorrows in a quart of salsa." (Who eats salsa when they're lonely? This girl.)

I'm SO ready for Florida.

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Eulogy for a dear friend

 Let us all take a moment to reflect over the passing of a dear friend:

The copyright on its bottom said 1986. There were many good years when it graced the headboard of my oldests sister's water bed, until finally it made its way into my cupboard and my life. This Smurf mug brought me a lot of happiness. It met its demise surrounded by family and friends when it was accidentally pushed into the sink during a family potluck. You will be greatly missed, Smurf mug, particularly during Stephen's Hot Cocoa season.

That's all for today. I just couldn't throw it into the trash without saying a few words.

Oh yeah, I also wrote this. You should read it. Happy Easter, everyone!

Want to see some gnarly feet?

I'm not going to write about boogers today.
Not going to, not going to, not going to....

I love having children. I realize that what I wrote last week may have been construed as "My children have ruined me," because that is almost what I wrote verbatim, but I do love them.

I taught Chancho to ride his bike without training wheels a few days ago. Here was my logic: Let's take a four-year-old who is already fascinated with speed and destruction and various combinations of the two and put wheels under him. Mother of the year right here.

I don't think I've ever seen him as happy as he is pedalling around the cul de sac. When I took the above photo I asked him to make his "toughest dirt bike face." That's what I got. Pretty gnarly, I think.

By the end of the day these were his "feet":

Also quite gnarly. There are feet under all of that street grime, right?

For the record, I love my children. I love explaining the meaning of the words to Beatles songs to Macey and having her get it. I love Olivia's lisp. I love Chancho's crazy dirt bike feet. I love watching Tess work her dad's iPad. My kids are all right.

I think I'll keep them.

P.S. Here's what I wrote this week. Are you guys on Facebook? You can "like" St. George News on there and then my stories will immediately come up on your wall, along with lots of other local news that you would've otherwise had no idea about. You should try it, it's a good time.

I don't want to be gross.

This week I wrote about spring cleaning over at St. George News. What you won't see in this article is my somewhat immature booger wisecrack because it was edited out. 

I think my kids have ruined me. 

I used to be disgusted by things like boogers and toilet contents and vomit. Now it's just a part of my day, like high heels and manicures are for fancy people. For example, I took Chancho and Tess to the park in Little Valley today. A while into it I noticed that Tess was chewing a piece of gum - a piece of gum that she must have discovered on the ground or stuck under the slide or something. Disgusting? Absolutely, but what can you do? I pulled the gum out of her mouth and threw it in the trash immediately, of course, but it didn't freak me out like I know that it should have. Maybe because she's done it before - the gum thing, I mean - and later that day she was doing this:

She is obviously a healthy, well-adjusted child.

This morning I babysat these legs:

  

They are attached to my nephew Nathan. They're not so much legs as they are flailing balls of baby flesh, but I digress. Nathan is a barfer. Some babies do that - they vomit more than others. I don't hold it against them, it's just one of the many defects in their tiny, undeveloped bodies. Anyway, this morning Nathan threw up on my shoulder. A nice thick, white, slimy baby spit up. But I didn't hustle to clean myself off like I would have a few years ago. In fact, I half-heartedly wiped it off of my shoulder and kept playing with him for a while before I finally got in the shower.

What this really is is a cry for help. I don't want to be gross. My fear is that one day I'm going to look in the mirror and find that I've turned into one of those girls who eat ants just to shock the other campers. I knew a girl who did this when I worked at Beaver High Adventure Base that one summer. Her name was Erin and she ate ants. Not the little ants, either - she ate the fleshy, horse-sized ones. She claimed that they tasted like green apple Jolly Ranchers. I wonder if she's still alive.

I don't want to be an ant eater, guys. Will you remind me of this when I post pictures of my own zits and tell stories about boogers? Thanks.

seven posts for the price of one!

Has anyone else noticed the Erasure revival that's been happening on the radio? Do I listen to too much George FM? I'm hearing an unusually high volume of Erasure lately, particularly songs from their album The Innocents, which I listened to on cassette tape ad nauseum in my old Honda. It wasn't even my tape. It was Monna's. I wore that tape out.

Almost everything I pin on Pinterest is food. What can I say? I'm passionate about collecting recipes that I'll never try.

Chancho is currently sitting on the toilet yelling, "MOM! I'm out of toilet paper!" and I'm letting him sweat it out. The kid knows it's under the sink.

Would you guys like to hear something gross but that might make you feel better about yourselves? I gained 7 pounds in California. SEVEN. I didn't know that was physically possible. If a pound is 3500 calories, then I ate an excess 24,500 calories. That's a lot of churros.

Here's what I wrote this week. I dunno...like I've said before, I feel like I have someone shooting at my feet yelling, "BE FUNNY!" Ugh.

Calories in a churro: 240. I Googled it. I sure as heck did not eat 102.08 churros. Perhaps it was the gummy bears, M&Ms, turkey legs, Belgian waffles, or the soda.

Chancho just got out of the loo, where miraculously he found the toilet paper. It's a miracle.

one more day

So...we packed up our luggage. Checked out of the hotel. Got on the freeway. And then got back off of the freeway and went to back to Disneyland again because we couldn't help ourselves.

My kids made me take this picture:

Or did I take it because I'm secretly a Star Wars nerd? You'll never know for sure. Everyone loves these things:

Obviously.

We waited in line for an hour for what I though was a ride, but only turned out to be these ladies:

Tess crashed...

...so we came home.

Back to reality.

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I'm never coming home.

The time changes tonight, right? I'm in California, which is already an hour behind. So I'll be moving my clock forward an hour to Utah time. And then on Monday when we come home I'll move forward another hour. My head is going to explode.

We've been here:

Doing this stuff:

And this stuff:

And this stuff:

And today, some of this:

I love this kid:

This kid's got some chafage:

This little guy is one of my favorite DJs:

And this one loves when her food comes in a car:

This was my humongous chicken bacon avocado sammie. It was all right.

Finally, these are the Siamese gummy bears that have been providing my children with endless entertainment:

I never want to go home.

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