These pictures ALMOST speak for themselves . . .

What do you get when you cross a resourceful, thirsty two-year-old with a transcribing mom? Behold, the result. Never mind that there were other people in the vicinity of the fridge (and the ensuing milk slick) who could have prevented this. Kellen was actually already cleaning it up himself when I got out there. He has been here long enough to know the drill.

And, yes, I did finish the clean-up. If you want something done right . . . well, you know.

Tiger by the Tail

I think these pictures speak for themselves.

Nine Years Old Today!

Do you see? Do you just see how grown up? What a difference a year makes. The second picture is from Kelly's reception last August. The first one is from the end of August of this year. I am just amazed at how quickly she went from a tiny, black-haired butterball to this sleek and tan young woman. Okay, okay. Maybe I'm exaggerating a bit. She's only 9. But I do remember like yesterday how she was my baby Kenzie. She is now a very independent, capable girl who is not afraid to try things. She has always been the toughest kid I have. With 5 brothers, I guess she would have to be able to take a hit and keep going. And she does. I'm very proud of how hard she tries at everything and how successful she is when she does it. She is bright, and sweet, and funny. Love ya, Kenzie!

The Feast

Morgan and Brandon wanted to take the pictures this year, but I forgot to have them do so until after we ate. So there's what's left of the feast. We really weren't fancy this year since it was just us. Brandon had the table set before I remembered we needed a table cloth, but I don't actually have one big enough for the table when the leaf is in it anyway.

Clearly, pictures of a baby eating a roll are the cutest thing we have going around here.

Goofballs!

Morgan and Brandon were always behind the camera, and Kellen finished early and left to play. That's why there are no pics of those three. Happy Thanksgiving!

Mousewatch

WARNING: This post is not for the squeamish.

No, this post has nothing to do with Disney or Mickey or anything. Ever since we moved into this house 3 1/2 years ago, we have been battling the dirty, little rodents. It's a new subdivision, and we were one of the first homes built, so when they dug up the field first on one side of us and then on the other, all the mice, crickets, and spiders came into our home. Lovely. Seriously. So we thought we had gotten rid of them, and then they started building a HUGE apartment complex in the field behind us. New rodent problem. Well, the apartments are nearly if not totally completed now. They aren't digging anymore, so why, I ask you, do I have mice again?

You know, if they're just going to be under the fridge, I'll throw a block of poison under there, and it usually takes care of the problem within a couple of days. I don't have to see them, and they don't have to see me. Inhumane? Perhaps, but there's really no "humane" way to kill an animal, thank you. Well, this time we somehow got one upstairs. First Morgan and then Brandon saw it in the girls' bathroom running across the floor. How it got up there, I don't know. I can't find any holes in the wall, but there is a tiny -- TINY -- gap, slit next to the sink cabinet that needs a little caulk. That may be how he got in. I didn't want to caulk it if he was in there, though, because then he'd just find a way to chew through my wall somewhere. Morgan saw him two days in a row in her bathroom, but we couldn't get him somehow. I don't know where he went, but we never could catch him. Tuesday night Michael went to get the above mousetraps, we baited them, and set them in the girls' bathroom. Nothing. Wednesday morning was the second morning Morgan saw him. He had no interest in the traps. We closed the bathroom door and avoided it for the rest of the day hoping to lure him out in the dark and seek refuge or food in the traps. I don't know what he was surviving on, because there is absolutely no food upstairs (house rule). On Thanksgiving morning while the turkey was cooking, Morgan and I were in my sewing room, and she saw a pile of my fabric scraps moving and then saw his tail. Didn't find him. That night Makenzie saw him in her room. Michael flushed him out, but then couldn't catch him. Back into the sewing room he went. This morning then, Morgan thought she saw him run out of her room, and then I heard Finn yelling that the mouse had just run into his room. Michael and I moved a few things, the mouse ran, and I got him with the swiffer -- stunned him and then trapped him.

Morgan took the picture. All this fuss over one little mouse, but I tell you, we all wore shoes upstairs all week in case of a chance encounter. I'm leaving the traps out in case there are more. It's too much to hope that there's just one, but it seems like it was -- he just could never find a home because there are 7 kids in and out of all those rooms all the time. So I'm thankful that's over with. See? Always something to be thankful for. I'll try to post some Thanksgiving pictures next.

Thankful

For those of you who don't know it, Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. It always has been, even when I was a child. We would go to my grandma's house about an hour away. There would be tons of aunts, uncles, and cousins there, and of course, Grandma. It was warm, and it smelled good. All the women would be crowded into Grandma's tiny hallway of a kitchen for last-minute preparations. We kids would go play outside in the snow-covered yard, adventuring, until it was time to eat. Then I would stuff myself on rolls and mashed potatoes -- a little turkey too. My aunt Nancy, years later after I had become an adult, told me how she remembered that I loved mashed potatoes, because she would see me eat so many of them on Thanksgiving. Some people think of Thanksgiving as a day of gluttony -- which it certainly can be. However, the way I think of it is as a day of being with family, feasting, and offering thanks to our God for the many blessings he has given us.

Whew! That was a long introduction. Yes, people, that was only the introduction. I wanted to list a few things that I am thankful for -- this being my favorite holiday and all -- before I go stuff that turkey and get it in the oven. This list isn't necessarily in order, but just in the order that they pop into my head. I feel like some of this may end up sounding cheesy and sappy, but I feel so strongly about gratitude and its importance. It can be easy sometimes to focus on what we don't have -- especially with Christmas looming just around the corner -- but Thanksgiving is a good time to reflect on what we truly do have.

• I am thankful for my family. I have been blessed with a kind husband who treats me with respect and dignity. My children are a blessing to me. They are helpful and loving, and they have strong testimonies. I have siblings and parents who love me. I have family by marriage who are good, kind people who seem to love me too. I have so many people in my life who uplift and support me. In a world where so many people are alone and bereft of any support, I am so grateful to be surrounded by those who love me, even if most of them are far from me.

• I am thankful for temporal blessings that make my life comfortable -- enough food to prepare a feast; nice clothing in good condition for me and my children and warm coats for when they have to go outside; a home that is a good shelter from the weather; two vehicles that are still running after all these years and now have no payments on them (woo-hoo!).

• I am grateful to have the restored Gospel. I know lots of people say that, but it has truly helped me avoid great unhappiness in my life. I am grateful to my parents for raising me in the Gospel so I could have a fighting chance. So many of my friends without the Gospel are not tethered to anything in this life, and they don't understand their purpose beyond the rat race, the tasks of this world. This world has some wonderful things to offer, but they pale in comparison to the things of the eternities.

• I am grateful for my ratty old piano. It was given to me for free. It needs to be refinished. It needs a new damper pedal (old one was broken off when I got it). It needs some of the wood replaced (the top piece is all buckled and cracking). It needs to be tuned. Yet, none of that seems all that important when I sit and play Christmas songs so Makenzie can sing along, or when I play "I Am a Child of God" and I hear Kellen singing from the other room. I have just enough minute skill to teach my children the basics, and I love to hear them playing ahead in their books, because they love music so much.

• I'm grateful for my ratty old sewing machine. (I'm sensing a theme here.) Even though it is older than Morgan (think dog years, people), it still runs without complaining, even though I have only had it tuned up one time in 15 years. I use it every day, and I get great joy from creating. Plus, it helps me give away some nice gifts.

I was thinking I would go on and on, but you get the gist. I am not a wealthy woman. In fact, right now I am a very non-wealthy woman as my husband is starting a company. Things are tight. We go without a lot of things, and yet, I don't feel the lack. We have a warm home and lots of people to snuggle with and laugh with. We are blessed with joy in this home. I defy any of you to listen to Liam singing "Bob the Builder" and not feel a little bit of joy. I hope you'll take time to count your own blessings, because even in the difficult times, there are so many blessings to count.

They call him the wanderer . . .

So this morning I got up early to work. My alarm goes off at 4:00 a.m., but I always manage to hit snooze a couple of times, so it was closer to 4:30 when I got up and wandered into the kitchen for a drink of water before I got started. I turned on a small light, walked around the island, and what did I find on the floor? No, not a mouse (thank goodness for that!). No, it was a little Kellen. He was cheek down on the tile, bum in the air, fast asleep with a cup on the floor behind him. Apparently he had wandered down for a drink himself, and just couldn't make it any further. I scooped the poor kid up and put him back in his bed. He was glad for that. You may ask why I am not posting a picture with this. It's because my motherly instincts automatically put the child back to bed. I thought on the way down the stairs that I probably should have photographed it, but come on, people! How many of you are quick-witted at 4:30 in the morning?