I feel pretty, oh so pretty

So listen, a couple of months ago I got an email from Emily Clark at Winkfotos asking if I wanted to be a part of her Mommy Models project. I know Emily back from a few years ago when she took my photo as part of a Sassy Scoops things we did when I was 17 weeks pregnant with Triple. She's funny, personable, and pretty much pocket sized, not to mention a talented photographer and entrepreneur. I like her. Even though I'm pretty picky about who I let call me "mommy", I just so happened to be in need of some profile pictures for various writing and media endeavors and I knew Emily does great work so I said absofrigginlutely. 

I'll give Emily credit, I was pretty specific about what I wanted and she delivered. I told her I didn't want to be photoshopped all to hell, I wanted my eyes to be their normal color (and not glowing, people this is a joke. You are not a vampire, neither are your children). I wanted the colors to be normal and not all saturated. I wanted to look like me, a good version of me, but me still the same. Emily laughed and hopefully wasn't offended and she managed to get it all done in about 20 minutes because I was 45 minutes late, that's how I roll embarrassingly enough. Here's the shot I used for my FB profile pic, you can judge for yourself:

I like it, like a lot. People, this is really how I look when I'm not in sweatpants and have fixed my hair for the day. Bow chicka, right? Too bad that only happens about one or two days a week. ZING! You can see the rest of the photos she shot HERE and you should probably go "like" Mommy Models on facebook, which is pretty sweet because there are giveaways and contests all the time. Should you be interested in your own shoot, give the MM team a call and TREAT YO SELF.  

Thanks Emily! You're a gem. 

*der, MM gave me this shoot for free in exchange for my glowing endorsement which is only glowing because it's true. 

In the spirit of Tina Fey

Yay, as I sit and work through the valley of the shadow of the eve, I shall fear no terribly written copy, for I shall write it over again, and write it over better I say.  

And, as the laptop doth burn a red spot upon my ample thighs with its battery warmth, I shall text message my friends and call them unholy, yet affectionate names. Because we women are fickle creatures, and like to degrade each other to show our troth and devotion. Ye trollups of the night, heareth thou what I am saying, eth?  

And lo, though I did eat chocolate pie, and did shoveth my face again with oreos, a fried egg roll, some tater babies, a Sprite, and let us not forgetteth the chicken and dumplings I did bring forth for dinner, I still feel an hungered, and will forage through the cupboards for more sustenance to feed my yearnings. 

I suffereth long over the computer screen. My eyes doth twitch from exhaust, my fingers swelled ripe with fatigue. And as I flitter from work to this epistle and back again, I doth realize that to my bed I should go, a tylenol pm I should imbibe, this section I shall finish and persevere again on the morrow.

Good night, fair maidens. And if thou art not a maiden or a madam of the eve, but a dude instead, I question thine viewing and encourage thee to take a deeper look at thy intentions and manliness forthwith. 

Until we meet again, at yonder later hour, same time, same place tomorrow? 

Farewell.  

we'll sip fine wassail together

Oh hey, my friend Holly is hosting a craft night at her house. If you are craft-ually challenged like myself, she has all of the supplies and is there to help YOU achieve YOUR holiday crafting dreams. 

You should come, I'm going, so are other popular people. In fact, only cool people will be there. So I hope you're cool enough to come too. We'll see. 

Find all the deets on Holly's blog which you can find HERE, and if you want to know when I'm going it's Wednesday the 30th. Boom. 

could he have done more?

Right now, I'm sitting in the dark living room, typing while my boys sleep. One is on the couch and the other in his crib. 1 pm church does not do our family good. I'm beyond overjoyed that we're changing to 9 am in January, because if I haven't complained about it enough over the life span of this blog-church extending past noon is just wrong. WRONG. 

Mostly my stomach is churning. I can't stop reading about this Penn State scandal. Shocked that Joe Paterno's sterling career and life legacy is now forever tarnished because he failed to do more when he was in a position of power. Disgusted when I read the details of some of the acts allegedly committed by Jerry Sandusky, to the point where my stomach is churning and my heart aches with pain for innocence lost and the disturbing lengths that people will go to in order to satisfy their perverted urges. No one should ever feel the pain of rape. Not children, not women, and not even men in the rare case that it does happen. 

I remember laying on the delivery bed just after I had my last baby, completely exposed to the world, my insides on my outside and everything on display while my doctor did some damage control. I remember feeling embarrassed, in spite of everything that had just happened and how empowering it had been to forego the epidural, to feel the rawness of my own strength and capabilities. Because I had been taken to the brink of death (or so it felt) and yet I couldn't just curl up in a blanket and love on my sweet new baby like I wanted to, my body had to be taken care of first and someone else had to do it. There was no magic pill I could take, no happy place to go to, no way to escape the reality of post-birth events. I had no control over what was happening, a placenta must be delivered, stitches needed to go in. I just wanted to be done. I remember feeling the same way at an early ultrasound appointment after being violated by a very large, prophylactic covered wand. It was humiliating even though no one batted an eye but me. Unfortunately, having a baby means people are continually up in your business. The baby has to come out eventually, which means there's no way around but through. And though it was a low point for me, it was still a situation I had put myself in. No one had made any of these choices for me, I had willingly submitted myself and my body to these events, and because of that it was okay. Embarrassing and really gross at times, but okay. 

It is no mistake that within the very source of our most undeniable power, the ability to create life and to experience physical connection with another human being, also lies the most potential for harm. We were given these bodies as a gift, to feel joy and to experience life, yet through this same outlet the most wounding damage can be done. I have a hard time understanding how a person could choose to violate another human being this way, a child no less. I cry when I think about the logistics of such an act, the life long scars the victim will carry, and especially how something so sacred and intimate can be used for such horror. It makes me angry. 

It makes me write stuff like this. It makes me vow to never let my children out of my sight, because how could I ever live with myself if someone managed to hurt them in such a manner? 

I don't know why I keep dwelling on this. I know the world is full of horrors that I cannot begin to comprehend in my suburban Utah existence. If the allegations against Jerry Sandusky are true, death would be too easy of a sentence. I hope he spends the rest of his miserable existence in general population at a federal penitentiary receiving the exact same punishment he inflicted upon his own victims and even that wouldn't be enough if you asked me. 

Gah. 

What are your thoughts on this story? Do you think Paterno could have done more? As a parent how do you protect your children from this crap? Is that even possible? I NEED TO FIND SOME FAITH IN HUMANITY!

Birthday Week documented via intsagram

I am tired today.

And crabby.

Birthday week is apparently wearing me out, or I'm just wearing myself out. Let's just segue into birthday week instagram photo montage mmkeh?

size 5 dipes

hanging on for dear life

 I tried hiding, but they found me.

On 2nd thought I didn't try very hard

also, pants are always optional in this home

 was it gorgeous yesterday?

or was it just my birthday?

but seriously

you better believe we're still outside as long as it's an option

in other news, the Fat One discovered the sandbox and there's no turning back now

 my bosom friend Kari sent me tomato paste in a tube

this is very exciting because PET PEEVE:

tomato paste in a can where you waste 90% of it

 my sister-in-law has great taste in birthday bags

I'm going to wear this one on my grownup birthday couple date

to the Tree Room where I've never been

 Paul baked me this cake and left me this note

and scrubbed my kitchen

HANDS OFF! HE'S MINE.

 easiest family night activity ever:

this printable bunting from Todays Mama (you know, the ones who gave me a free ski trip)

cute right? I know.

birthday dinner at Sweet Home Chicago

followed by cake and ice cream

Nub was more excited about blowing out candles than anything in the history of ever

and Baca and Pops photobombed both of these pics

nice

 how do you feel about corduroy?

formerly opposed due to the sound effects

but these may have indeed changed my mind

It's only Thursday you guys. Phew, there are 2 more days of birthday week left. I don't know if I'm going to make it.

30 is flirty and thriving

I've been thinking a lot about happiness lately. My happiness.

When am I most happy?

Right now Paul is in the kitchen baking me a birthday cake. This makes me happy. It's 9:15 on a Tuesday, and the man is baking me cake. If you don't find that scene to be a turn on, we have bigger issues to discuss. I'm holed up on the couch with the laptop, editing the college application essays of one of my favorite kids in our neighborhood while watching Parenthood on the telly. All of those things make me happy. I will be in bed by 11, tomorrow is my birthday. Boom. Happy.

Most of these things are incidental, but collectively they contribute to a greater good, a feeling of contentment even.

Tonight I put my boys to bed alone, Paul wasn't home yet and I was done for the day. Sensory overload. STOP TOUCHING ME CHILDREN. The Fat One has been teething for the past, oh, always. The Nub had no nap after playing like gangbusters for hours at "Ban's" house and though he did protest greatly, was out in 2 minutes. By 7:24 pm it was all quiet on the Verbie front. Even though I spent the majority of my day with good friends, celebrating birthday week and talking in a kitchen while eating cupcakes (thanks for those Jill), I was crabby.

But then my man came home, the scent of baking cakes perfumes my senses, and I'm pretty sure I'll wake up tomorrow in a better mood.

My 20's were hard. They were a decade of learning and hard knocks, momentous and life changing events. I graduated from college, moved away from my family, lived in the sun, made some of the best friends of my life, married my Paul, got pregnant 4 times, gave birth to 2 beautiful boys, got initiated into motherhood, lost a business, gained some maturity, cracked wide open my future, learned how to fight for the people I love, and to enjoy what I've been given.

It's taken me 30 years to get here, but I know what makes me happy and it's all of that stuff. The hard stuff, the good stuff, the friends and the family stuff. Even when I am knee deep in wallowing over some problem or hurdle that feels like it might eat me alive, I understand that whatever it is won't break me. That happiness is always an overriding choice and will eventually return when the problem is fixed, or maybe as the solution itself.

I am happy. I am happy and grateful for these people that I love, for this life that we lead, for the fact that God is generous and free with these blessings. I am happy that I made good choices when it counted and I feel like this birthday is a badge of honor. I survived my 20's, I learned a lot in my 20's. I think I still have much more to learn in my 30's, but I'm pretty happy with where I've gotten so far.

So here's to the next 10.

We'll re-evaluate at 40.

and so it begins

oh hai guys

it's birthday week you know

turning 30 on Wednesday, and I've announced it to everyone about 6 billion times. Church? Yes. Random relatives I never see? Yes. Family? Yes. Neighbors? Yes. You? Yes. Too much? NO.

But really, birthday week of the year you turn 30 is something special. 

To start, my Wendy friend went a little insane (she's on a lot of drugs right now, the good kind) and gifted me a bunch of stuff from our favorite store(s) but then also this jacket that I'm pretty sure is woven from the fibers of a baby seal's whiskers, or lots of baby seals, they are generous donors I've heard. Except my linebacker shoulders don't fit (think Chris Farley) and we must exchange for the next size up. Le sigh... such is the life of a farm girl. And then my mother-in-law, bless her tininess, came up big with a long enough and perfectly fitting teal boyfriend cardigan from Land's End. That Carol, she is good at the gift giving and I love her. You too Ken, I'm sure you contributed something. And then this morning I was in the bathroom with the door locked, girding my loins for the day (i.e. checking the twitter and ignoring my children beating on the door) when I scrolled through a tweet from Carina about this giveaway from Today's Mama that I had entered a while ago by doing this post. Remember that?    

you guys, YOU GUYS. I WON IT! Well, one of it, a lits bits of a ski and winter getaway to Park City Mountain Resort for 3 days. BOOM. Happy Birthday me. Sort of bummed I sold my snowboard a year or two ago when we were destitute for cash. Except not too sad because hey, rentals are included in this giveaway, and lessons, and accommodations, and $100 too. It wouldn't hurt me to take a lesson since I learned to snowboard by taking a lift to the top of the mountain and then falling/sliding on my arse all the way down to the bottom which took like 2 hours. That was not fun. But now I shall take a lesson and rectify all my bad habits. Yay. And we shall get the Nub on a board for the first time. How cute, right? My little, much cuter, Shawn White. Twin gingers.  

You know why I love birthday week? Okay yes, I like presents, who doesn't? You're a liar if you say you don't. But aside from friends who go on shopping sprees while high, and mother-in-laws who have your number, the best part is the validation. The calls and the texts and people high fiving you in Target (it happens). YES, people really do love me. I mean something to someone else. I am loved. The human race is better off with me in it. I matter. Connie's magnum opus of birthing out a 9 lb 12 oz, 22 inch long giant baby girl sans drugs 30 years ago on Wednesday was totally worth it. Right Mom?

Dang, I just like birthdays okay? 

And now it is midnight and I need my beauty rest. This giant chin zit I grew for the occasion isn't going to put itself to bed. 

 

fact: unicorns poop glitter

Oh Halloween, you were fun. 

I sort of want to be a unicorn next year. Don't you?

on the run

I've driven all over the g-dang valley today, from Highland to Spanish Fork to Lehi and all that frickin frackin road construction in between. In the back of my car? 3 coolers packed full of frozen beef. Lane and Connie were kind enough to kill the fatted calf they've been raising and grass feeding and tenderly massaging all spring and summer and then share 1/4 of it with us. Do you know how much 1/4 of a cow is? 3 coolers full, that's how much. It's a lot of roasts, steaks, short ribs, soup bones, and ground beef. And since we don't eat tons of beef anymore this shall last us a good long time and that brings me great joy. I feel bad the cow had to die. I don't feel bad about a succulent Sunday roast. It's quite contradictory, I know. 

The Nub had his first dental appointment today. I figured with my history of extensive oral (snigger) complications, it was high time. He behaved like a perfect gent, all watching the movie and opening wide. Cavity free. Bless. He is the cutest, that is, when I don't want to choke him out for being a 3 year old. 

The other one is giving me a run for it too. Up every few hours in the night, walking all over, taking headers into chairs and cabinet corners, tables, sidewalks, pretty much you name it he's hit his head on  it, coming out of it looking like we beat him for talking back. I won't lie, at 4 am when I've already been up with him once or twice the thought does pass through. I have expectations of my children, and one of those expectations is that they sleep through the night when they are capable of doing so. The Nub has been known to meet and exceed in this department, since he was 8 weeks old no less; the Fat One not so much. As we speak he's lumbering around the kitchen with my measuring spoons and tongs, whining and crying intermittently because WHO KNOWS WHY? Oh sweet mystery of life, you make me want to scrape out what's left of my brains with a melon baller. 

And now on to dinner. 

tonight: Rachel Ray's pasta with pumpkin and sausage

say what you will about RR (*cough she does grate on the nerves) but this pasta gets.the.job.done.

Tuesday: coconut-lime chicken OR crispy honey lemon chicken

Wednesday:vegetarian tortilla and black bean pie via Whitney

Thursday: mac and cheese with broccoli and cauliflower

Friday: pizza on the grill perhaps
Saturday: ?
Sunday: slow cooker roast w/potatoes and carrots

LIG on the homefront

I find that when I take the time to sit down and think about it, my world is quite literally (click it, oh please click it) bubbling up and overflowing with the sort of tender mercies that the crazies in my church like to get up to the pulpit and blub about during the first Sunday of the month. What's the first Sunday of the month? If you're Mormon you know that the first Sunday is a veritable free-for-all where members of the congregation refrain from eating for a couple meals (you may know this as fasting) and then have a meeting with no program. Instead members are invited to bear their testimonies, which more often than not leads to crying and stories about veterinary heroics involving feline leukemia (no lie), the occasional miraculous healing/conversion occurrence, the importance of paying tithing (10% over hurr), guarding our children against the evils of associating with non-member children, R rated movies, shirts with no sleeves, and thong underwear (but really, I'm joking), and other some such topics.  Aside from the fact that I still have not actually managed to fast the alloted time in over 2 years, I just don't think my heart or stomach is in it, this is my favorite Sunday of the month for the sheer entertainment factor alone. You should come sometime. Afterwards we'll club you unconscious and baptize you in a secret font we keep off to the side of the chapel for such purposes. You'll be hip to the Mormon know in no time at all!

But back to gratitude and blessings, it is November after all, we should be thinking of these kinds of things. The pilgrims saw fit to wipe out entire villages and populations thanks to their dirty smallpox and other equally infectious diseases, and yet they still found time to extend a (germy) hand of friendship, to smoke the proverbial peace pipe, and eat some succotash with the only Natives left standing. I'm summarizing but you get the general idea. That was nice of them. And since Thanksgiving is my 2nd or 3rd favorite national holiday (Christmas, 4th of July), I am especially overcome with warm fuzzies for their efforts. November is the kick-off for 2 months of appreciation and gluttony, interspersed with gift giving, my birthday, and stories about Jesus. What's not to love about that? Nothing. 

Really what I'm trying to say is that I've got it good, I know I do. There is food on our table, the internet on my trusty macbook. We are sometimes not so gainfully employed, but employed nonetheless. We have insurance, however lame it may be. Our children are healthy, very healthy. We may not sleep much at night thanks to the Fat One and his serious lack of understanding as to how that's supposed to work, but we are warm, the bills are paid, and even Gus the dumb dog gets to sleep inside at night. As I always seem to say, my life is good and I know it. 

Hope yours is too.

Have a great weekend, snow is in the forecast. I'm even sort of happy about it. Hooray!

ppppppps it's No Shave November for the beard growers out there. Women, take your pick as to whether or not you want to participate. Personally I find the stubble more annoying than not. Jean friction. However, I do love a good beard, have you seen my brother's lately? Nice. His play is even more impressive. Steelers vs Ravens on Sunday. You should be watching. 

to everything a season

Oh, hey Thursday. Funny how you're here already.

I go in phases with this blog (we all do, it's a vicious cycle). First of all, MLAK needs a makeover. It's the truth. I don't even love the title of this blog "My life as a Kalli"anymore. It was 2007 when I started typing out nonsense on here and writing about my hair and why chubby girls shouldn't wear strapless dresses. Now I still write about crap like that but add pictures of my above average offspring for your viewing pleasure, and mine, like this one:

Sometimes I think I should just shorten the title of this blog to MLAK because, why not? Also, I love my hooters and I love the design (thanks Laura!) but it's just time for a facelift and I think I'm over my whimsical woodland creatures phase. Working on it, in the meantime if you know someone who likes to do this stuff for cheap (i.e. free) you let me know mmkeh?

Pssst-Halloween was awesome. And I've hidden the Nub's candy because if he eats too much sugar he backs up like I-15. Me? I don't have that problem. Needless to say it's been handled. This was the 2nd year I dressed him up as something he'd never heard of because clearly costume decisions are all about me and not him. Remember Harry Potter? And a jedi this year? This kid doesn't even know what Star Wars is, and forget about Luke Skywalker. Perhaps we shall rectify this in the near future. Though I doubt he'll care much unless Curious George was a storm trooper.

As of now, my head hurts because I have these braids in and braids cause headaches. I've got to get dins on and go play in a church volleyball tournament at 6:30. I'm clearly thrilled about this. A bunch of old ladies serving underhand, can't wait. 

Dinner this week:

Monday-Papa Murphy's jack-o-lantern pizza-big hit

Tuesday-don't remember, I think we had leftovers

Wednesday-asian noodle stir fry

Thursday-fiesta sweet potato soup

Friday- no idea

Saturday-chili and cornbread in the slowcooker