Dear Santa

We recently attended Lucy's school Christmas Program. Having grown up in California, the land of being politically correct, this was shocking to me. A school CHRISTMAS PROGRAM??? What happened to Hannakah, Kwanzaa, The Chinese New Year???? Do Wisconsin schools not have HOLIDAY PROGRAMS that are non-discriminating??? That seemed strange to me.

As it turns out, Lucy has yet to learn about Hannakah. She has NO IDEA about a manorah, or draddle, draddle, draddle. She has no idea what Kwanzaa means. Chinese New Year- forget about it.

When I was growing up, in California, the land of feelings, hippies, and cultural awareness- I never saw a Christmas Tree in the classroom. We didnt talk about Santa Claus. We colored pictures of Manorahs, played with draddles, learned about St. Nick, and read ethnic history lessons on the meaning of Kwanzaa. I didnt mind. Some of my friends were Jewish. Draddles seemed cool. St. Nick was way fancier than my vision of Santa Claus. And Kwanzaa, well who doesn't love beating a steel drum in a circle of friends???

So. When I received a letter from Lucy's school inviting friends and family to their ANNUAL Christmas Program, I was intrigued. People in Wisconsin aren't afraid of insulting other cultures? Hurting any little Jewish child's feelings? How could that be? It couldn't be true. I had to see it for my own eyes!

The week of the Christmas Program, Lucy walked around the house singing CHRISTMAS CAROLS. Where did she learn those??? I had to ask.

Me: "Lucy, what are you singing?"
Lucy: "Rudolph"
Me: "Wow, you are a beauiful singer. Where did you learn the Rudolph song?"
Lucy: "At school. Today we even got to practice in the gym!" And off she sang, running and playing with Hudson. Who was now singing "Rudolph" too.

I sat thinking, to myself, that maybe a Christmas Program still exsisted in the world. Still skeptical, I waited to see for myself.

The night of the program, Lucy picked out her very own version of a Christmas outfit. She looked great. At least she thought she did. She was so excited to show everyone her classroom and sing her songs.

When we arrived, I noticed a Christmas Tree in the front entrance, tinsel and paper chains hanging- counting down the days until christmas. This was definetley and Christmas Party!

We were ushered to our seats where we listened to children sing Frosty the Snowman, Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer, Feliz Navidad, and We Wish You a Merry Christmas!

Lucy stood proud in the front row, belting the words she could remember, and waving to us Schueys in the back row. I was so proud of my little Christmas Elf.

this is G wrangeling Hudson, who wanted to be on stage singing with sissy.

After the singing was done Lucy took us through her classroom, introduced us to her teachers, and showed off all of her art work and school projects. One project that caught my eye was a letter to Santa that hung on the Christmas Wall. Not only was there a Christmas Wall, but there were letters to Santa!!!!

There wasnt a dradle, a manorah, or a kwanzaa candle in sight.

I am officially a (has been) Mormon, now non-denominational liberal, married to a Lutheran, and living in a Catholic run, public school district. Im not offended. Just disappointed really. I mean, who is going to teach Lucy how to spin a dradle or make a kwanzaa feast? I mean, do I have to do everything?

Happy Christmas and Merry Hannakah

With love-

Fear of God

I was doing laundry the other day, shocking- I know, and I found this crinkled up in with Lucy's clothes.

I carefully opened it and was a little bit confused. Since I work on Sundays and G wont allow us to worship with the Mormons, it is up to big daddy G to get the kids to church. And by that I mean- it is really up to Grandma Schuey.

Confused, but interested- I took this (beautifully) colored picture of Issac and Abraham to Lucy, you know, for explanation.

This is how the conversation went.

Me: "hey Lucy, what's this?"
Lucy: looks up and then back down at her dolls, "that's babe-ra-ham and Isaac. God made babe-ra-ham put baby Isaac on the stones."
Me: "really? Why did God do that?"
Lucy: "because God said so. But it's okay mom, a goat came and babe-ra-ham put down his knife. And him and Sarah got to keep baby Isaac."
Me: "why did they get to keep baby Issac?"
Lucy: standing up, she placed he hand out like a crossing guard and said, "because God came and said STOP."

As a (has been) Mormon seminary student I understand this story of faith and sacrifice. But as a mom this story made me think twice. What a terrible story to tell 4 year olds. Mormon, Lutheran, or not, how scary. To think that a daddy would sacrafice his son- ON STONES. WITH A KNIFE!

But then I thought, could I use this to my advantage? To instill the fear of God in my kids, literally.

Just a thought.

Peace and love-
Mama

The Little Red Hen

Since experiencing a serious life change, my mom has been adapting. She is a damn chameleon. She is working on living a positive life, full of exercise, and free from carbs. I'm proud of her. She is strong and rising above. But I can not, will not, support her new carb free life. Mostly because I am jealous of her self control. I have to draw the line somewhere! A girl needs her cheat days!

After visiting my little sister in Utah, my mom returned home with a simple, no knead, 4 ingredient, homemade bread recipe. Its no surprise that she went to Utah and came home with a recipe of some kind. That's what the Mormons do. Feed you. Bless you. And feed you some more. Thank god too, cause my skinny mom needed some bread. Some blessings. And some more bread.

Anyways. When my mom walked into my kitchen with this recipe and ended her carb free hunger strike- I was like hell ya. Lets bake and laugh and eat.

It was all fun and games until we realized that the bread dough needed to rise over night. Bummer.

I woke up yesterday morning feeling like I had just had the worlds funnest one night stands. After having a slumber party with my kids and my mom, I woke up to just my kids and a text message from my mom....


Mom: don't forget- put it in a cast iron pot with a lid

Me: Um. I don't own a cast iron pot. I'm not a pioneer. And the last time I was at girls camp was circa 2001.
Mom: Use a f*cking pot. Follow the directions
Me: Um. Okay. I'm not making any promises. A pot is very different from a dutch oven. What is all this flattening and proofing and rising business???
Mom: OMG. You can saves lives but you cant bake bread? Just put it in the oven and bake it @ 500 degrees

This is what happened.

rising and proofing

no dutch oven- no problem. i just used the insert from one of 100 crock pots, and prayed it wouldn't crack and/melt at 500 degrees

inside my 500 degree oven

out of the oven. note the melted lid handle. yep. that happened.

it must have been delicious. as evidenced by the scraps left for me on the counter by the animals at my house
thanks guys. i feel like the little red hen.
 

It looks like I can save lives AND bake bread. Hells. Yeah. Oh. And mom, a little lesson in one night stands...If you stick around the morning after you might get to enjoy some homemade, delicious, Mormon bread.

To my little sis Jillian and her Utah family- thank you for the bread recipe. I will think of you and pray before I enjoy this delicious, righteous treat. But. Please don't send anymore recipes. My ass doesn't need the empty carb calories. I live in Wisconsin and I have no self control.

From Wisconsin, with love,
-A

 

Flies and Honey

I decided to go into work tonight for three reasons: over time. to avoid hellish bed time antics with thing 1 and thing 2. and to avoid watching the presidential debate.

2 of those 3 things did happen. I made some extra cash. I didn't have to fight with the little Schuey's to go to bed. But. EVERY TV in the ICU was tuned into the debate.

Arg. I hate when I have to contain myself in public just because hospital policy says so. It is so f-ing annoying.

If Human Resources tells me one more time that I have to stop yelling at the TV in my patient's rooms and telling people how stupid they are- I am going to freak the F out.

Wake up Republicans. You are about to vote for the anti-Christ. He is a rich, hippocritical, pretentious a-hole who interrupts worse than my 4 year old. Hey jackass, the PRESIDENT is talking. SHUT UP!

He obviously learned nothing in Mormon Sunday School. Or Seminary. The golden rule means nothing to him. The still small voice is not helping him to choose the right.

C'mon Mitt, pull your magic underwear out of your ass and move on. I'm bored already. The (has been) Mormon in me is ashamed of you.

Politics aside, what happened to charity being the pure love of Christ?
Or service being the hands of heaven on earth?
What about feeding the poor and healing the sick?
What about honesty, stewardship, integrity?
I do believe that Jesus himself taught his disciples to be fishers of men.To love one another, as he had loved them. To lead by example and spread the word of God. The word of Love. Service. Gospel.

Hey Mitt. Word of advice. You are going to have way more missionary opportunities, and perhaps higher ratings, spreading love and empathy than you ever will casting judgement and blame.

My grandfather, an amazing Mormon Bishop, used to say, "you catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar."



Peace and Love,
-A

Ghetto Spooky

A few weeks ago my good friend Keri, who happens to also be the health unit coordinator for my ICU, asked me and big daddy G to check out a Haunted Bed and Breakfast she had heard about. With G's birthday in October and us always looking for an excuse to get a baby sitter and disappear- we were all in. I didn't really ask Keri much for details. That was a mistake.

Keri made all the arrangements, I just handed her my credit card. I figured she had her shit handled. Its basically what she does for a living. She is a COORDINATOR. Hello. Duh. Yeah. Uh. Huh.

Anyways. I took some time off of work last weekend and we left the kids with enough food and water to last the weekend. We were anxious, but excited to get away. G is usually up for anything. I, however; am a scardey cat who is afraid of her own shadow. SO.  I was anxious. G was ready for a cocktail.

Twitter post @mamaschuey: On my way to a haunted mansion for a romantic getaway with big daddy. I hope the ghosts like my new lingerie. #imafraidofthedark.

We met up with our party of friends to start our spooky weekend. Our 4 couples basically booked the whole haunted mansion. This mansion, and it's ghosts had no clue what they were in for. And apparently, neither did we.

This place was beautiful. Beautifully restored, manicured, and maintained. Ghosts and all. But the ghosts weren't as spooky as the location of this beautiful, haunted mansion. No one mentioned it was smack in the middle of the Milwaukee Ghetto. I bet you all the ghosts that haunted this mansion actually died on the streets out front.

The good sports we are, we figured it couldn't be as bad as it looked. The place was packed with people. And by people, I mean none of them looked dangerous enough to offer me drugs or try to shank me. They didn't even offer us real alcohol. It seemed harmless. Really.

Twitter post @mamaschuey: I guess these ghosts are Mormon. Huh. Who knew? #imthirsty.

 

We toured the mansion and all its spooky beauty before we were forced to endure a live production of a dinner theatre that was meant to reenact Sherlock Holmes and his trusty sidekick Watson. What really happened resembled more of a bad PBS special on Sherlock Holmes and old London, England. If Mitt Romney caught wind of this act, he would for surely pull all funding. Just saying. Hokey. But a real nice theatrical college try.

Since the night was young and G was getting older by the minute, there was no booze, and no real ghost sighting, we all decided to head downtown for a good time. Forgetting our ghetto location, while sitting outside discussing our new plan- many people reminded us that we shouldn't hang out on the street.

Smarter then the rest of my friends, I decided to hail a cab. You cant really hail a cab in the ghetto. So I used my iPhone to track one down. Smart.

While in our 20 minute, expensive cab ride out of the ghetto and towards the promise land of alcohol and college kids, the cabbie insisted that we not try to walk home but call him back for a safe ride. Very nice of him. The conversation went a little like this..,

Garth : "So I shouldn't walk down the street at all?"
Travis (Keri's man): "Not even me? For a quick smoke?"
Cabbie: Looking at G and Travis, "Maybe for a quick- no. Not even you. You smoke on the porch!"

G getting the low down lecture from our trustee Pakistani cabbie. Can you say BFF?

 

Unsure if I should laugh or cancel my reservation, I decided to get drunk instead. That way. I figured I would snore through any attack by ghosts or gang members. Win. Win.

Not. Back in our gorgeous Victorian bed and breakfast suite, I started to hear unfamiliar sounds. Scared. I wouldn't use the mirror riddled bathroom or leave the bed- fear of the lava eating ghost monsters. I laid in bed, trying to sleep through the scratching and pounding sounds that would turn out to be just Travis- being an asshole. Mind you, G did nothing to protect me. In fact, he pushed me towards the side of the bed closest to the ghostly sounds. LOVE.

Hung over and exhausted the next day, we all gathered around the dark Edgar Allen Poe themed breakfast chamber for bad coffee and french toast. We all shared the spooky happenings of our nights: some of us got lucky, some of us got spooked. Others slept like shit. It was money well spent. Really.

Happy 37th birthday to my handsome husband. I love you. But next time, you get to sleep by the ghosts.
xoxox
-A

Deal Breakers

On the surface my life seems to be slowing down. Settling down. I am no longer living in fear of the next earthquake that might shatter my world. I'm sure glad the (has been) Mormon in me had enough food and water saved for these last few months. Because, I hardly left the house. And when I did, I usually forgot to put a bra on.

My parents divorce is the new normal. The new normal feels weird. Wrong. Inconvenient. But. Its my life. My new life.

It would be nice if all the water I have been treading these past few months made my legs look like a pro-tennis player. But we cant have it all, can we? I will survive. I am surviving.

All this change is changing me. Helping me to appreciate the people in my life. What they have to offer- their flaws, but also what they bring to my life.

It has been a year since this picture was taken. A lot can happen in year.

There is no certainty in the life. No one thing is permanent. I never know what tomorrow will bring.

I can say, however; that I believe that my love for my children is as permanent as it can get. Despite my constant frustration with their little attitudes, I love them. Forever. But. They better never do drugs. Or listen to country music. Those are deal breakers.

I believe that my parents love me. Always. Their choices are their choices. Any disappointment I have doesn't change my love for them. I am who I am today, because of them. Both.

But. They better not ever do drugs or listen to country music either. Deal. Breakers.

peace and love,
-A

Book of Mormon Girl

Due to my insanity and insomnia, I spend a lot of my time zoned out watching late night television. Every now and then, I stumble on something interesting. This is a clip from the Daily Show with Jon Stewart. He is interviewing liberal Mormon, and author Joanna Brooks. I was able to relate to her. Her humor, perspective, approach. It was refreshing. But, who is she voting for? That is the real question.

The Daily Show with Jon Stewart
Get More: Daily Show Full Episodes,Political Humor & Satire Blog,The Daily Show on Facebook

Skittles, a Deuce, and NYC

What do Ricky Martin, Matthew Broderick, and a very intimate security check have in common? Oh, A LOT.

I am back from my amazing trip to NYC. 4 days of Broadway magic and big city fun. But, while I was livin la vida loca with Ricky Martin in "Evita" and laughing at Mr. Broderick in his new comedy, my kids spent 4 whole days with dad. And it shows. So while I was reminiscing with Mormon humor during the vulgar (but hysterical) musical "The Book of Mormon"and getting the most intimate security pat down on earth, from a very large (unattractive) female TSA agent, the kids were eating Popsicles, drinking juice boxes, and staying up so late that the red #40 just poured out of their ears.

With today being Monday, it is the perfect day to wake everyone up early, go to the gym, and make everyone eat their fruits and vegetables. And brush their teeth. And hair. And wear clean underwear. And most importantly, work on our vocabulary skills.

You see, this morning, I was in the bathroom. Going to the bathroom, when Lucy asked me,

"Mom. Whatcha doing? Are you on the toilet dropping a deuce?"

Perfect. Thanks Garth.

Thanks Garth. For letting me get away for a few days. I really enjoyed drinking vodka, staying up late, sleeping in, and being responsible for only me. It was rejuvenating. And thanks for keeping the kids alive. Even if they survived only on pizza and red #40. And learned a few new words.

I'll take it from here.

Oh crap. Gotta run. Hudson is throwing his blueberries at his sister. And Lucy is calling him a boner.

Has everyones brain turned to skittles? Do you think they have rehab for toddlers? I should look into that. Or maybe a skittle remover???


Excuse me while I hide in the bathroom, not taking a deuce, and listen to the original soundtrack from "Wicked" and dream I'm defying gravity in OZ.

I'm in heat

The heat has been rising everyday. I have lived in Wisconsin for 10 years. The weather still kicks my ass. Every day. Mother nature will never satisfy me. My husband believes that nothing will ever satisfy me. Unless mother nature has a perfect day planned and my husband has no need to irritate me, than no. I will probably never be satisfied.

The heat makes me cranky. OK. The heat makes me crazy. Crazier than normal. Certifiably crazy. My kids wilt in the heat. Literally. The wilting makes me nuttier. It makes me feel like I have skittles for brains. I can not function. It makes me empathetic towards the wicked witch of the west. Awhhhhhhhh. I'm melllllllllltiiiiiiiing!!!!

With that being said. The heat hit 101 degrees today. But- according to Weather Channel app on my iPhone, it felt like 111. Awesome. You know what my kids wanted to do? Play outside. And wilt. More awesome.

Apparently the heat makes other people a little cuckoo too. Take good old Mitt Romney. It came out recently that he has been hiding money in off shore accounts in Bermuda. Hot? He denies doing anything wrong. Crazy? I love a good honest lie. They make perfect sense. I wonder if he is paying tithing on that secret money?  Maybe he should spend more time banking in AMERCIA.

More craziness. The Mormon Bachelor made its premiere on YouTube. I guess the Mormons are in heat too. I can't wait to follow along. Perfect. Pass the popcorn. And turn up the AC damn it!

Even hotter and crazier, my little sister Jillian is here to visit from Happy Valley, Utah. She is melting in the heat too. Because it is so hot, we decided to go to the grocery store. Even though I have central air at home, unless I am naked, I am not cool enough. The frozen food section is a way better place to hang out, eat Popsicles, and avoid the heat- barefoot.

Oh and, did anyone else hear that Katie Holmes finally filed for divorce from that nut job Tom Cruise? Has to be the heat. It is making everyone do crazy things.

Sewing 101

After Lucy asked me to make her a Witch Costume, I went onto Amazon.com and ordered a sewing machine. If my Lucy wants a mom who can do anything, well, damn it, that is what she is going to get. Here, my friends, is sewing 101.

Sewing Machine: $16.99 (thanks to all the Amazon points I racked up ordering ridiculous Chelsea Handler books on my Kindle)

1 little girl dress pattern: $2.99 Jo Anne Fabrics

Loud, Obnoxious, Pink, Heart print fabric (right up Lucy's alley on fashion taste): $3 clearance

My Grandmother's sewing box, complete with no actual sewing tools, just my mom's kitch. thanks mom: priceless

look closely, pink, retro 70's sewing box. awesome

Scissors, blunt- in need of better blades: free, since I stole them from my mom.

dad sharpening my "free" scissors. unsure about the weird ghost in the picture. thanks dad.

Afternoon of bonding with my mom- a glass of wine included: priceless. In fact, I laughed so hard, only Stoli (my mom's dog) could hear me. Yes. Her dog is named after her favorite vodka. I know. Really.

wine.

fun.

So in all seriousness, my mom did give me a few pointers on making dresses and costumes for little girls. All tips she learned when she used to make me and my little sister Jillian wear ridiculous matching dresses to church. Dresses that she made. Really. I know. A Mormon thing. You wouldn't understand. These are all things my mom did before she named her dog after her favorite vodka, or maybe during, I don't know. Blurry memory I guess. Damn Vodka.

Finished Dress. Minus the knick knack/rick rack I need to place on the hem- thanks to my shitty/blunt scissors.

Yes. I know. I am one step closer to "Mother of The Year." Yes. I will accept a trophy. Or more wine. Either way.

"Oh My Heck!"

You can remember that one of my goals for the new year was to swear less. I have not met that goal. In fact, I am probably swearing more. Don't get me wrong, I am trying, but my kids make me crazy!!!

In attempts to swear less, I have been working on alternative "swear words/phrases." These phrases remind me of my Mormon friends. I even find myself saying things that they do, in hopes my habits will change and I will stop dropping the F-Bomb.

The reason behind this goal is simple. Lucy, my 3 1/2 year old, is saying things like:

"Grandma, where are my f***ing oranges?"
"Kane, pick up your S***!"
"Oh, Jesus Christ!"
"Son of a b****!"
"Oh Damn It!"

You may be shocked. You may be appalled. Quit judging me. I am not perfect. Neither are you. I am working on it.

Anyways, here are some of my new phrases.

"Son of a monkey!"
"SUGAR!"
"Oh, Sugar!"
"Are you kidding me?"
"Get out of town!"
and my personal favorite, an homage to my Mormon heritage- "Oh My Heck!"

What do you think? Leave me a comment and share some of your favorite phrases?

peaceandlove.
mamaschuey.

Drinking the Kool Aid

As of late, I have found myself having conversations with friends, my husband, my mom, Aunt Darlene- about religion, faith, and 'God.' In fact, at work- the topic is discussed often. This is usually due to the fact that we see and deal with patient's as they face the end of life. Religion and faith is thick in the air. Everyone having different, but similar beliefs.

Being a 'has been' has given me a different perspective. Why do we need religious leaders? Why do we need to feel like "we" are right and "they" are wrong? And why, do we need special underwear?

If the bible is 'true' and Christianity is the 'true' religion, I think that we have all really screwed up. I don't think that Christ meant for us to live by a rigid set of rules. He certainly didn't want us to live with quilt. And, I really don't think He or St. Peter cares what kind of underwear we are wearing.

I think religion should be like preschool. Let's all get along. Play nice. Let's sing when we are happy. And cry when we are sad. Lets remember to help those less fortunate, be charitable. Be good. Be honest. Be thankful. Without the quilt. Do what you want, with pride. Don't hide who you are. Quit confessing of all of your sins. Start rejoicing in your triumphs.

And, if we get up to the pearly white gates and St. Peter asks us what underwear we are wearing or what Kool Aid we are drinking- I'm gonna say: striped granny pannies and cherry (with vodka?) Now can I come in or not?

Food for thought... Neopaganism? Might work? What do you think?

Whoever you are: Catholic, Buddhist, Jewish, Atheist, Pentecostal, Lutheran, Quaker(?), or Mormon. Whatever Kool Aid you are drinking. I dig it, just don't make me drink it with you. Unless you have some vodka.

Peace be with you.

-mama s.

Thanks Mom...

This is a reblogged post from my mother's blog. It was so beautiful, I had to share it. I love you mom. I love you Grandpa Howard. May we all remember to take a moment every day and "pay it forward." He made me proud to say I was Mormon. Because of him, I can not deny that part of my life, and never will.

Howard

Those who knew Howard loved him. If you didn't like my dad, there was something wrong with you. He was as kind as they come and was an example of Christ's love. Always. I don't remember a bad thing about him. That is a blessing.

I was at BYU and dad was helping me move in and there was a lady out of gas. Howard gave her a $10 bill and said don't worry about paying me back. Just pass it on if you get the chance. We were driving down Mission Blvd and there was a guy with a baby and he had a sign that said, "will work for formula." Howard and I drove to Lucky's bought a case of similac, went and picked the guy up, and the baby (no car seat) and took them to their apartment. As a bishop, I know of countless times that families would approach the church for assistance through his calling and Howard would often just help himself. He loved to help. He was hopeful that people would learn from their mistakes and make better decisions moving forward. He never walked passed a Salvation Army kettle with out dropping in all his change....I know that Cody still does this, drops in change ~ and he is broke. It is Cody's way of remembering Howard and honoring his memory. What a lesson of love. Howard has a birthday on March 2. He would have been 82. He left us 4 years ago and I miss him everyday. I miss that he isn't here to see Lucy and Hudson. He would adore them. I miss him cause he would be so proud of Amanda, working on her graduate degree. He would be proud of Garth and the father and husband he is to Amanda. I miss that he isn't there to give Cody guidance. Howard was Cody's father. I know Cody has a void that is large....He would be proud that Cody is working everyday. He would be happy that Jillian was enjoying BYU and Provo and has a return missionary boyfriend who plays for the Cougars! Howard would have loved Wisconsin. Big deer and good fish. Fishing off our doc on the lake and taking naps in a cozy chair by the window with the sun shining in. "Be nice. It matters and doesn't cost a thing." "You can catch more flies with honey than vinegar." "swearing is ugly on a lady. Don't say that." "Krissy, Don't slam the door." I love you Howard.

This is a re blogged photo I found on the Internet. You know, just surfing the web. It is a picture of the SLC Mormon Temple. Like I told my little (Mormon) sis, I like the Gothic feel of this picture. For obvious reasons.

The Way To A Man's Heart

I remember when I was little, my Grandma (GeGe) used to remind me- never let a boy put his hand on your thigh. She would then place her hand on my thigh and look me right in the eyes. Scary. When I would see her after school, she would ask things like, "Did you let any boys carry your books for you?" I would smile, and shyly say, "No GeGe, no boys carried my books today." She would Windex my feet (don't ask, just be glad that I don't do this to my kids) and then help me with my homework.

You need to remember that I was raised Mormon. I never felt the stigma of this, until years later. You see, I was grew up in Northern California- the second largest Mormon populated area, second only to Utah. Happy Valley. I went to school with all of my church friends. Spent Wednesday nights at "mutual" and summers at girls camp. Girls camp was not ANYTHING like you perverts are imagining it. It was worse.

As I got older, the interrogations from my grandma became harsher, the questions more unnerving. She would ask me if I was kissing boys, or if I had read my scriptures for that day. Unfortunately, my answer for both questions was, "No." She was both happy and disappointed at the same time. She would ask me if I needed a snack and I would nod. She would then continue to tell me that the only way to a man's heart was his stomach. I believed her. As I look back now, I think this was her way of telling me to never have sex, at least premarital sex anyways.

My whole childhood I struggled with this- everyone I knew who wasn't Mormon was talking about boys, make up, kissing, humping, and sex. When I went to church, we were taught in our Young Women classes, that sex was a holy sacrament between married men and women- for the purposes of producing children. As evidenced by: The Proclamation To The World. Forever I thought, and believed that sex was this scary thing that old married people did to make babies, only.

That all changed. I became an inactive member of the church when my family and I moved to Wisconsin. You see, the church is strong in California, strong in numbers. Out here in the Midwest, I was a member of a cult- and drinking beer, and having sex was way more fun. I learned to have my own voice, my own beliefs, I also learned how to make out with boys and dry hump (enter slippery couch in my parent's basement). You could call this the Evolution of a Mormon Slut? I also learned that the way to a man's heart is NOT his stomach. I mean no offense to anyone. This is where I make my point.

My little sister, Jillian, is still a strong and active member of the LDS church. She lives in Utah and attends BYU. I am very proud of my sister. Not for continuing with her faith, but for her strength in her beliefs. I admire her. She has always been able to say, and live by, "Whatever, this is me. Don't hate me cause you ain't me."

As my little sister prepares to celebrate her 23rd birthday, with her very first real (and Mormon) boyfriend, I found myself sharing a little bit of my relationship wisdom with her. I am no relationship guru, I have no idea how to make a Mormon relationship grow, hell- I don't even know how to group date and sit a Book of Mormon distance apart. I prefer to make out and/or dry hump like the rest of the world. But, I admire my sis. She has decided to save herself for marriage.

Anyways, based on a conversation that Jillian and I had a few days ago, I went through my house to find things that would cheer her up on her bday, but also respect her beliefs about sex. I love to give and get gifts that make me laugh. I turned my bedroom and bathroom upside down, in search of condoms. I knew that Jillian wouldn't need them, but due to curiosity, I wanted her to be prepared. The thing was, the only ones I found were expired. YES, Jillian they can expire. Always check. So, I moved on. I found a few other things that could help with her birthday weekend, but also encourage her to stay true to who she is and what she believes.

So, short story made long with nonsense, I wanted to wish my little sister a very happy birthday. Enjoy yourself, but not too much. Remember, Jesus is watching- Hand Check! Just kidding. I love you. I hope you and Darin have a good weekend. Stay safe.

Oh, and when you are ready, little sis, I will be here to tell you the real way to a man's heart. Sister to sister.

Time Out- What's That Smell???

Alternate Blog Title- "Adventures in Zion"

After a hectic holiday season here in Wisconsin, my mom and I jetted off to Utah (aka Zion) to see my sister and some long lost family members (who are trapped in Zion).

After making and freezing 4 nights of meals, laying out laundry, arranging daily activities, and of coarse- packing my own bag, I kissed my kids goodbye, and off I went. My very first vacation with out my kids. I was nervous and excited. After all, the kids were being left in the very capable hands of my husband (their dad) what could go wrong??? I promised my husband that I would call "ALL THE TIME," and that he would be fine. With a loooooong kiss and a wink later, I was headed to the airport- music blaring and my mom changing the radio station whenever she pleased (that's not annoying at all!?!).

Enjoying a nice glass of wine

My mom and I are terrible travelers, and we almost never travel without our husbands. Arriving the airport and fighting about parking, we grabbed our bags and were ready to navigate our way to Utah. Meeting resistance almost immediately. You see, my mom had purchased a ticket for my Grandma to fly with us, after falling ill with "the pneumonia," she canceled her plans and stayed back. Excited to have one seat in between her and I, my mom planned to stretch out, take a tranquilizer and sleep her way to the promise land. Errrrrrrrrrrrrr, that came to a screeching halt, when a little Kim Kardashian wannabe sat in between us. After fighting, and getting no where with the lovely stewards, my mom put on her Ray Charles sunglasses and attempted to sleep, despite little Kim K flopping around in her seat like some D class celebrity. I laughed, flipped on my kindle and enjoyed the peace and quiet. After a stop in Denver and few glasses of wine later, we had arrived. Zion was just as we had left it, full of young Mormon couples greeting each other at the terminal gate- hugging, with the proper amount of Book of Mormon distance between them.

Mom and I gathered our bags and waited outside, surprised by the mild temperatures, for my little sister, Jillian, and my "Aunt" Darlene to sweep us up and take us "home."

The sounds of, "Who the F--- wears sunglasses at night????" came screaming around the corner, no worries- just our ride everybody. Darlene and Jillian barely parked the care before they came running towards us, with their arms open wide. As Darlene and my mom screamed like school girls, exhausted from traveling with my mom, I put our bags in the car. Soon, we could hear the Airport Police start to yell at us for reaching our time limit in the loading zone. The 4 of us, jumped in the car and sped off, all the while everyone fighting for the attention to be heard- above the radio of coarse. My mom and I looked at each other and at the same time asked,

"What's that smell??? It smells like old McDonald's."
Laughing, Jillian and Darlene, threw their heads back and yelled, "WE GOT SPRAY TANNED!!!"

Hoping that they looked better than they smelled, we all laughed and shared in the excitement of our travels and planned our fun week ahead. You see, we all had a lot to do this week, to include celebrate the wedding of Darlene's daughter, Dani. xoxox

Arriving at Jim and Darlene's late, we all hugged goodnight and made plans to meet around the coffee pot in the morning. Jillian, mom, and I made our way to the guest bedroom. This is what we saw when we turned on the lights. Ahhhhhh!!!!!

OompaLumpa Jillian- You look Good!

Unable to sleep next the smell of "old McDonald's," Jillian was booted out to sleep on the couch, while my mom and I tried to get comfortable with what we called "Shiatsu" pillows that were unforgiving and hard to sleep on. Grateful for a "free" nights sleep, we fell asleep to the sounds of Jillian chattering away, about what- I'm unsure.

Wednesday 12/28
0900- Wake up to Jim making Coffee.
We sat around the kitchen table as Jim (Darlene's "darling" husband) catered to our every need. The coffee was perfect and the company was even better :)
At around 1100, we all piled in to two cars and set out to Salt Lake City. We were going to meet up with Dani and her fiance Zack, and then head to get mani and pedi's.

To Dani and Zack- you have an adorable home, decorated perfectly. Your little dog, scout, is the perfect first addition to your new family. I wish you all the best in your new life, together.

The Infamous Peach Cobbler, totally worth all the calories

We enjoyed mani's, pedi's and girl talk. Laughed until we cried, or until Jillian wanted to slide into a hole from embarrassment. Jillian then took my mom and I shopping in Downtown Salt Lake and we enjoyed a delicious lunch and the most AMAZING peach cobbler dessert of my life!!!! My mom, sister and I almost never enjoy time alone, just the three of us. We really needed it, and I loved being around them. They may make me crazy, but I guess, it is a good kind of crazy.

This house was for sale down the street from the nail salon. This is what I like to call, Mormon Marketing.

Outside the PierPont

Hurrying home, we had a Rehearsal Dinner and a Bowling party to attend!!!! Nothing says "I Do" like a few pitchers of beer, pizza, and some competitive bowling!!! Sarah (Zack's mom) sure knows how to throw a party, almost reminded me of back home in Wisconsin, you know- where the party is at!!!

My bowling shoes, with skinny jeans- good look?

Bowling rules, We needed rules, but one question- are pants optional???

Look closely, you will see, I WON!

Mom and Darlene with their balls- and too much alcohol

Two Worst Bowlers

Exhausted and excited for the Wedding day, Jim took us home, and put all of his ladies to bed.

Thursday 12/29 WEDDING DAY ITINERARY
0800- Wake up to handsome Jim and his infamous coffee, Thank you!!!

Early on this day, Darlene held a little team meeting between all the women. All having strong personalities and with sarcasm staining much of the conversations, Darlene initiated a "Time Out." Anytime someone felt the need, they could call a "time out" and reset the situation and/or conversation. It made for an interesting, and laughable day.

0915- Darlene took me to the Local Fire/Metro Station, where I met Battalion Chief Rampton and some of his men. They gave me a tour of their beautiful facility and gave me a souvenir t-shirt for Garth (he collects blue fire t-shirts). I bought lunch for the guys, and they all wished Darlene good luck on her big day. They were all gentlemen and I am proud to say that I am married to a wonderful man who belongs to a strong and proud brotherhood of heroes. Stay Safe Bountiful.

Thanks for the t-shirt, Garth loved it!

Having time to kill, and more errands to run, we dropped Darlene off at the hotel to spend time with Dani and the bridal party. Jillian took mom and I to get lunch in downtown Salt Lake. TIMEOUT: Jillian NEEDED an oil change in her car, and being the poor college student she is, Mom and I ate lunch while Jillian negotiated with the young men of Jiffy Lube. Laughing, mom and I both sprung a few bucks to fill up Jillian's gas tank.

On our way back to Jim and Darlene's to get ready, I thought,
"Hey mom, why don't we stop and get a bottle of Asti to help put us in the celebratory mood????" Agreeing with my brilliant idea, my mom turns to Jillian (our chauffeur) and says,
"Take us to the closest Liquor store please!"

Now, with Jillian being LDS (Mormon) and the fact that UTAH is a DRY state, meaning, you can only buy liquor at State Stores, Jillian grabbed her IPhone, and googled mapped the closest establishment carrying any kind of alcohol. TIME OUT- After about 45 minutes of searching, screaming, and laughing so hard I think I peed my pants- realizing that mom had the map upside down, we had arrived at the local watering hole- The Utah State Liquor Store. Walking in, and immediately feeling at peace, my mom and I split up, on a mission. We found Stoli Vodka for only $15 a bottle, Asti for $11.98, and Tequila Rose for $9.99. Basking in our triumphant purchases, we sped home (Jillian being the world's worst driver), to get ready for Dani's wedding.

Proof that holding tight to the iron rod will lead you home

3 women fighting for one shower, one bathroom, 2 mirrors, and all the make up, hairspray, and curlers you could imagine led to my mom and I drinking the entire bottle of Asti a few shots of Rose, and A LOT OF TIME OUTS. The wine and shots were delicious. You may shake your heads, but we got ready with 15 minutes to spare! For us, that is a miracle, just ask my dad or my husband.

Jillian and I, after fighting for bathroom time

Aunt Darlene and Gma Joanne

Riding in the Car, Jillian and I in the backseat, probably on a time out!?!

As we made our way back into Salt Lake to watch the nuptials of Dani and Zack, we sang to the radio and rubbed Jim's bald head for good luck!!!

Jim, his girls, and his handsome bald head

Dani and Zack had a beautifully simple wedding ceremony, and were married by Zack's uncle. They shared their first kiss and the party began! We enjoyed great music, delicious food, and tasty cocktails. My favorite being, the Whipped Vodka and Ginger Ale. It was like heaven in a cocktail glass.

Doing shots after my time out from Ransom's GF

TIME OUT.  I apparently upset the lead singer in Zack's band's girlfriend by dancing with him. She grabbed him by the tie and put him on a TIME OUT. Poor Ransom, hopefully she is good in bed, or he is in for a long road with that girl.

We all over stayed our welcome at the wedding venue and then took the party across the street to the bar where Dani and Zack first met. It was the perfect way to the end the perfect day. However, I don't think Zion (Utah) was quite ready to party (drink) with Wisconsin up in the house.

Inside the photo booth at the wedding reception, after too many whipped vodkas

Drunk, tired, and drunk, we went home and passed out. Again, congrats to Dani and Zack- the wedding was the perfect way to show the world of your love for each other. Your families are equally lucky to each gain a new member. Now, I think it is time to bring on the babies!!!! Scout needs a little buddy.

Friday 12/30

Connie, Mom, Me in front of Connie's Beautiful Xmas Tree

Mom and I wake up, refreshed and ready (remember we are professionals) Jim and Darlene both wake up and ask, "Where is the whiskey truck that just hit me???" We laid around the house in our jammies and looked through old photo albums. Darlene and I shared a lovely, bonding conversation while Jim and my mom took naps. Later in the evening, my mom and I drove out to see dear friends of ours- Connie and Larry. Connie's daughters used to babysit me and my siblings. I used to think that Melinda was the prettiest girl in the whole world and wanted to be just like her. She became a Paramedic. This was my first insight into the world of health care, I like to believe that from that spark of interest, I became a nurse. It was great to catch up with Connie and Larry, as always, the trip was too short. Lots of love to you both!!!

We returned to Jim and Darlene's to find the dinner table set, the wine glasses out, and Jim serving up a five star dinner. It was DELICIOUS!!!! I have now found my new favorite way to eat sweet potatoes. Jim- please send me the recipe!!!!

Darlene, my mom and I enjoyed a nice soak in the hot tub, prepared by Jim, of coarse. We talked about life, family, and the future. We all made plans to see each other again, soon. We hugged and said goodnight.

Saturday 12/31
After a fun filled, busy, trip in Zion- we packed up and headed back to the Frozen Tundra. Wisconsin was waiting, and so was the worst flight from SLC to Denver. Altitude+Turbulence= SICK AMANDA.

3hours of layover in Denver, a few ginger ale's, and two Phenergans (anti nausea tranqulizers) later, I found myself passed out the entire flight home. I awoke to the freezing temperatures that I had nearly forgotten. I was greeted by my 2 darling children and my bed, minus the "Shiatsu" pillows from hell.

It was a great trip. I loved bonding with my sister, we have a long ways to go and a lot of memories behind us. Jim and Darlene were amazing hosts. I can only hope that you allow us the privilege to repay the same courtesy.

Dani and Zack- Good Luck and God Bless. Buckle up, Marriage is a bumpy ride, I'm sure you will stay in the carpool lane and play frogger through all the traffic life throws your way. Remember that you can not sign on to forever with someone and not expect a few bad days. The bad will remind you of the good and help you to savor in the happiness of the moment. Your love is evident and strong, be good to each other, and always kiss each other goodnight.

Alright, TIME OUT- my daughter is coloring her bed with glitter markers and Hudson is eating dog food, I have got to go!

Happy New Year Everyone.
With love, From Wisconsin-
Amanda

P.S. The frozen meals are still in the freezer, along with 3 tubs of ice cream I didn't purchase. There are pizza boxes in the recycling, and toys EVERYWHERE. It looks like daddy did a pretty okay job without mommy?!?