Want to Marry a Chinese Professor? This is What Your Life Will Sound Like:

Rexburg is the New Arlen and Mike and Carly Are the New Hank and Peggy Hill

I've been really obsessed with "King of the Hill" lately. I'm re-watching all of the episodes on Netflix, and you should, too. I may even like it better than the Simpsons, and that is saying something. Not only is it so dang hilarious, it's also such an interesting commentary on the American family.  Here's why I love it:

1. Hank Hill

So, on the surface he's just some redneck, right? I mean the show totally plays up that stereotype. But beneath that exterior, Hank is a pretty enlightened man.  I love the way he accepts his son Bobby, even though he is obviously somewhat baffled and a little disappointed by him. I love the way he respects Peggy, and we get to watch him grapple with the redneckiness of his upbringing (we'll get to his shinless father later) and his desire to do the right thing by his wife. I'm on episode 68, and I've learned that Hank Hill will always do the right thing, even if he does the wrong thing first. He makes it right. By about episode 12 I realized that I married Hank Hill. There are a few differences (Mike hates football), but for all intents and purposes, Mike=Hank.

2. If Mike=Hank, then I guess that means Carly=Peggy--I WISH!

Peggy is my new hero.  Like Hank, she is a stereotype on the outside, but much more complex and interesting beneath the surface.  I envy her self-assurance. I find her naivete refreshing and, ahem, easy to relate to. She is such a good feminist. In the episode where she quits working (and jeopardizes her substitute teach of the year award chances) because they think Bobby has ADHD (he just ate too much sugar), and she gets caught up in playing guitar with a bunch of other feminists who just hate men (stereotype), I think it's awesome that she sings about her love for Hank at the very end. She doesn't let herself get pushed around by those stereotypical "feminazis." She chooses love.  And she does a mean Fat Albert impression (hey, hey, hey!) Unlike Hank, Peggy can't always be counted on to do the selfless thing. Again, this is easy for me to relate to. Maybe I am a little like Peggy, after all.

3. Then there's Bobby. There is nothing funnier than Bobby Hill when he has gout from eating too much chicken liver at the Showbiz Deli. Nothing. Okay, maybe his love of fruit pies (again, relate-able).

4. Cotton Hill. The man who lost his shins in dubbya dubbya two. There is nothing funnier than him yelling at his grandson to get him his "shin jelly."

5. These guys:

I defy anyone who watches an episode to tells me that Dale Gribble, Bill Dauterive, and Boomhauer don't remind them of someone they know. Also, how fun is it to walk around talking like Boomhauer? Right now at our house it's "dang old" this and "man" that. What a riot.

6. Kahn and Minh Souphanousinphone. I love how racist and obnoxious they are. I love how the show turns racism on its head, making the rednecks less hateful toward the Laotians and the Laotians more hateful toward the rednecks. It's funny and ironic and goes against the stereotype. It's an interesting commentary.

7. Arlen: It's totally like Rexburg. Small town. Good ol' boys. But full of clearly complex and extremely loveable individuals. I love it.

If you haven't watched "King of the Hill" in a while, you should give it a try.

It's Time to Give Up

I've been engaged in some soul-searching for the past, like, 24 hours, and I think I have finally realized that it's time for me to get a uniform. I know what you're thinking: "but, Carly! You're so young, thin, hip, and trendy! You don't need to limit yourself by sticking to a daily uniform! You can wear anything!" I thought that, too. But I was wrong. This may come as a great shock to you, but I am actually NOT young, thin, hip, or trendy! I am 33, needing to lose several pounds from having baby #4, a fuddy-duddy who thinks the Urban Outfitters catalog is pornographic, and still figuring out boot-cut jeans (forget about electric blue "jeggings").

I think I've been in a little bit of denial about my appearance. And I keep buying clothes that go against my inclinations, trying to "branch out" when really what I need to be doing is scaling back and wearing things that make me look good. So I have this wicked-yuge wardrobe full of things that I don't wear very much. Then I feel guilty and paralyzed each day when it's time to get dressed. I feel like I have all these cute things but I don't feel comfortable in them and don't know how to put them together. Getting dressed in the morning has become the fight of my life. I'm serious! (Let's hope nothing truly bad ever happens to me.)

So I have been reading about uniforms. Mostly I read this loooong blog post about a man scaling back on his pocket squares and ties. Even though I was somewhat shocked that a dude would put that much thought into his clothes, I was inspired. Why NOT have a signature look? Why NOT take the guess-work out of getting dressed every day? It may seem restrictive at first but it's actually quite freeing.

I tried it today. I was getting dressed and I said to myself, wear your uniform, and I did. And I didn't look back. And I didn't feel guilty or shameful about neglecting the other things in my closet. It ruled. Then I put Ruby in the same uniform. She looked so good.

Now I bet you want to know what my uniform will be. Mike guessed "black stretchy pants" but that was only my depressing pregnancy uniform in Taiwan. My 33-year-old-mother-of-four uniform is actually pants (jeans, khakis, neutral), a shirt (t-shirt, usually, but I am considering some button-ups), and a cardigan. This is what I wear most of the time, anyway. I just needed to own it, embrace it, articulate it, and hone it.

This is a good look for me. I wish I could have wild, curly hair, too. But that's another blog post.

Lately I've been suppressing my desire to wear cardigans in favor of doing something "different," but now I realize it's time to stop fighting. It's time to give up and accept my fat-hiding, practical, fuddy-duddy, nod-to-Mr. Rogers-when-he-comes-home-and-takes-off-his-blazer uniform. Who knows? Maybe if I start teaching again I will get some blazers so I can come home, take them off, hang them up, then put on a cardigan with patches on the sleeves and change out of fancy work shoes into comfy sneakers. It feels oh, so good.

When the weather is warm I will wear skirts and t shirts. Sundays will be opportunities to branch out and experiment (since I have to dress up for church and I enjoy it), but I will try to focus more on what looks good, not just on what is trendy.  This is a really grown-up decision for me. Even though it has come to fruition over the past 24 hours, I realize it has been developing in my mind over the course of a couple of years. I think it started a while ago, when the things in Lands End started looking good to me. It's okay. I'm 33. I'm a mom. I'm pear-shaped. It's time.

The next big grown-up decision? A hair uniform. But that's a ways off.

It's a.....

BOY!!!

How soon is too soon to give away our 4 boxes of baby girl clothes? Also, when should I start painting the pink girls' room a boy-friendly color? When can I break out the vintage cowboy fabric I bought at the antique store with the hope of sewing a blanket for a baby boy some day? I am so thrilled to have another boy! I love my girls, of course, but I was ready for a little dude again. It will remind me of the good old days when Holden was a baby and life made sense (except for at night time, when he didn't sleep). But anyway. I'm super happy, Holden is on cloud nine, and Mike is thrilled. The girls, well, they still have each other!

P.S. Because I have finally learned my lesson, there will be no name polls on my blog this time.

Pregnant Style

I feel like I am finally getting a handle on my pregnant style this fourth (and probably final) time around. Don't get me wrong, I am no expert, but I asked Katy for her best advice (she is prego, too, and she looks really good), and that set me on path away from "Tweedle-dee-hood" and towards some semblance of style. Here are some things she told me, along with some things I picked up all by myself:

1. Get some maternity t-shirts from Molly Me in black and white. These are inexpensive but they are thick and sturdy and flattering. Wear them in the summer, and put a cardigan over them in the winter. This was my favorite tip from Katy. I love my Molly Me shirts.

2. Get some elastic-waist skirts in several lengths and colors. You'll get a lot of wear out of them while pregnant and afterward. Target has some good options right now.

3. Accessorize. Katy told me this, too. Wear simple clothes in a monochromatic scheme (like a black t-shirt with a black skirt), then add pops of color with jewelry, scarves, and/or shoes. A good place to go for cheap accessories is Forever 21. Some of their necklaces only cost $1.50! It's a good place for trendy pieces and big, chunky necklaces/bracelets that you don't want to spend a fortune on. Also, there are so many inexpensive, cute flat shoes that you have no need to replace your high heels with nurse's shoes for church.

4. Don't confine yourself to maternity clothes. Other people have said this before. This is not big news. But honestly, I have only recently learned to follow this advice. A lot of tunic style shirts can be worn during the first two trimesters and you can also go up a size in regular shirts for part of your pregnancy, too. You can even get away with pants a size or two bigger for the first little while. A lot of dresses in stretchy fabric with an empire waist will work for a long time during your pregnancy. Downeast Outfitters has dresses like this. Maxi dresses are another really good option. These will come in handy post-pregnancy, too, when you don't want maternity clothes but your old clothes don't fit anymore.

5. Pool your resources. Trade maternity clothes with a friend, if you can. I currently have two huge boxes of maternity clothes that are a combination of my own and my friend, Tricia's. Everything that I think is cute and want to wear belongs to Tricia. It's nice to have something new to wear that I didn't have to pay for. And I think she felt the same way when she was pregnant and wore my things.

6. Having said that, don't feel obligated to wear maternity hand-me-downs from well-meaning relatives who were pregnant in 1989. Don't compromise your taste just because you are desperate. This is coming from someone who wore stretchy pants and polyester striped shirts for half of her pregnancy when she was desperate and living in Taiwan.

7. Go to thrift stores. It's so hard when you are between your regular clothes and full-fledged maternity clothes. You need to get some bigger sizes, but who can afford a whole new wardrobe in one or two sizes up? Enter Deseret Industries. This is a good resource for in-between pants and other clothes.

8. Get a good hair cut. I'm not necessarily advocating a short extreme hair cut, but something with a style, something with structure, that is easy to do, will make you feel good about yourself.

9. Pantyhose getting you down? Just wear leggings! I have spent many a Sunday morning crying over nylons that don't work while pregnant (this is not an issue in warmer months, obviously). If only leggings had been in style back then! Now they are back and I plan on wearing them to church every Sunday in October and November. Some people will tell you to try thigh highs or knee highs. I have also spent many Sundays hiding behind a dumpster pulling up thigh highs that kept falling down while Mike acted as lookout (this happened a lot in Taiwan because we had to walk several blocks to church). Knee highs are fine if your dress or skirt is long enough, but if anyone sees the top, and sees your flabby flesh poking out over the top of your knee-high, there goes your street cred!

10. Proportion is important. Basically, if your pants are baggy and full, you would look better with a more fitted top. Alternatively, if you are wearing a flowy top, a slimmer bottom is a good match. Just because you are pregnant doesn't mean you have to wear baggy clothes all over. Slim fitting shirts can be very flattering. You might as well accentuate your belly and try to draw attention away from other parts of your body that are also expanding (I am talking about my own problem with my legs, arms, face, and back side here. Maybe you are lucky enough to not get big in those areas while pregnant). Anyway, don't lose sight of proportion when you are prego.

What are your favorite pregnancy style tips?

Mood Boosters

I wish I had the energy or desire to share this news with creativity and pizazz, but I don't, so here goes:

I've got a 13 week old bun in the oven.

We are super excited and everything. This has actually been sort of a long time coming, with a set-back or two along the way. So this is great news and I should be on cloud nine, right? Unfortunately, the day after I discovered I was pregnant, I plunged into a mild but unpleasant feeling of depression that has been hard to shake. I feel alternately spiritless and guilty for not being happier and more grateful. But, things are starting to look up as I near the end of the first trimester. Plus, I have discovered some real mood boosters to help me:

1. Jimmy Johns BLTs with no mayo. Did you know Jimmy Johns will deliver just one sandwich? I mean, it costs extra, but who cares when the idea of getting in the car and doing the drive through is more than one can handle?

2. Having good food delivered to my door.

3. The sound of birds chirping. I used to hate birds, I think, because they used to fly into my house, come into the basement where my childhood bedroom was, and flap around my head. Also, Juan R. once knocked on my door, and threw a bird into my house when I answered. Shudder....Not to mention "The Birds" by Alfred Hitchcock. But, the sound of birds chirping (safely outside and away from my head) really lifts my spirits.

4. Going outside also lifts my spirits, unless it starts to make me feel guilty and wistful about not planting a garden this year (we will be gone for almost all of August, okay?)

5. Glee. I started watching the first season on a whim the other day and I am hooked. Talk about a show I can't watch with Mike, though! I don't think he could handle the way they burst into song so much. But I love it.

6. Talking to Melissa and other friends/siblings on googletalk all day long.

7. Sitting on the couch all day, staring out the window (or talking on googletalk), and then spontaneously lying on the couch and falling asleep. Basically, I am just really into my couch lately.

8. Cadbury milk chocolate and roasted almond candy bars, blue twin pops, and red powerade.

9. I'd like to say "my children," but actually they do not usually boost my mood, except maybe when they say something funny, or bring me some water, and then go away for a while.

10. Reading blogs, with the following exceptions:
a.blogs written by super moms who talk about how awesome and "crazy busy" they are
b.blogs with self-indulgent "vlogs," and self-indulgent professional photographs of the blogger.
c.blogs with pictures of people's houses that look like the inside of an Anthropologie store
d.blogs that contain graphic birth stories. When did telling your "birth story" in lurid detail become a thing?
e.blogs with really poor grammar, spelling, and sentence structure.
f.blogs about weight loss and exercise.

I guess I am just in a fragile emotional state right now, and these blogs really set me off, man.

We find out the gender on June 30th. The baby is due the week of Thanksgiving, thus dashing my hopes to participate in the Rexburg Turkey Choir. Maybe next year, Turkey Choir!

PS: don't waste money on an "Intelligender" test. You will be sorely tempted (unless you are one of those people who don't want to know the gender until the birth), but please mark my words: you won't learn anything new other than the fact that you are a sucker. Sadly, the fact that I am a sucker wasn't even news to me. So really, I lost $30 and I gained nothing. Don't do it.

Happy Easter!

No, I didn't take a picture of my children in matching poofy pastel dresses and light yellow sweater vests with baby blue bow ties. Nor did I blow out and dye eggs, affixing ribbons and flowers to them and creating a charming centerpiece for our Easter dinner table. I didn't "hide eggs," unless you count the two dozen or so that Mike and I put in our backyard as an afterthought. I didn't "make ham" or a bunny-shaped Easter cake. There were no signs saying "Welcome Spring!", paper mache nests filled with candy eggs, parties with children and charming bunny-shaped favors, or straw hats with ribbons. I did not even make an Easter egg banner from paint samples!

And guess what? We all lived to tell the tale of the Easter that wasn't, the year Mom dropped the ball. Of course, the things that really matter--Hershey's chocolate eggs--were in our home in abundance.

Now We Are 34

Dear Mike,
Happy birthday! You're a real upstanding guy. I like how you are into mushing right now. It seems like it might outlast your pack goat phase, and maybe even your tear drop camp trailer phase, too. Whatever floats your boat! Just don't ask me to scoop poop every day when you finally get your team of 6 dogs.

I'm glad you are a professor with a PhD. I know a lot of people wanted you to "work for the government" using your Chinese, but I'm glad you didn't go that route (no offense, government). Remember how you finished your dissertation in one year even though you were also teaching 12 credits per semester and had three small children, not to mention a super needy and demanding wife? You rule. I hope some day I can start teaching again and we can share an office and be like a super couple for students to look up to, just like I always looked up to Tom and Louise Plummer and dreamed of marrying a German professor. A Chinese professor is close enough, though. Probably even better, since we all know nobody studies German anymore.

Oh, and thanks for building that Shaker peg rail for me, and for fixing the carport, and doing wallpaper with me, and building a chicken coop, and making a fence in our backyard, and organizing closets all the time. You're good at that stuff. You also did a great job when you put the windshield wipers on our car. And thanks for getting up with Ruby last night when she had a bad dream about Holden destroying one of her paintings. Yes, I was awake and heard the details of her sadness. But I decided to lie still and let you take care of it. Thanks again. You did an awesome job.

So, here's to a great day. I will do my best to get you your traditional birthday hamburger. And possibly a slice of cheesecake? We don't want to get too crazy, though! Oh, why not?

Love,
Carly

PS Sorry I didn't refer to you as either my "best friend" or my "love" or my "sweetheart." But I mean, gag.

New Mud Area

We have a long hallway in our kitchen that serves as a sort of mudroom. It was always a disaster, with only five hooks and a messy shoe cubby that collected bags, papers, tools intended to go to the garage, etc. I decided to make a change, so we wallpapered the wall (which was horrifyingly hard), and then with the help of a friend Mike made a Shaker peg rail. I wanted to buy two from www.theperiodhouse.com, but it would have cost $150. Instead, we spent about $30. We bought a long board, cut it to length and used a router saw to make the edges nice, drilled holes, painted the board and peg separately, assembled it, then screwed it to the wall. I was skeptical about the whole process, and just wanted to buy something already finished, but this was a cinch and I am so happy that this rail runs the entire length of the wall. Now we have 20+ hooks and there's no excuse for clutter. I sort of want a different bench for this space, but that's another blog.

Me, a Role Model???

Recently, in her acclaimed "Momness" series, my sister Kacy put me on her list of mom role models. I think she was just trying to make me feel good, because look at what I've already done this week:

Yesterday I pulled my pectoral muscle while pushing my dog, Leo, away. Then later I pulled another muscle in my arm while driving and trying to reach the bucket of popcorn in the seat directly behind me. The other part of this story is that while I was trying to reach for the popcorn, I was yelling at Holden and throwing my hands in the air wildly, like a stereotypical Italian, and then I noticed the guy in the car next to me was completely staring at me. I mean, we made eye contact and everything. It was like looking into my conscience. I yelled "I'm yelling at my son!" through the window, but I don't know if he heard. Curse you, tinted back seat windows and short children!

I also signed Holden up for baseball because he said he wanted to do it. Visions of him in a cute uniform, making friends, getting exercise, and having success in the world of sports (a situation quite foreign to me, unfortunately) were dancing through my head so loudly that I forgot to listen when Holden later said "nevermind I don't want to do it." One hysterical fit, a fifty dollar check (torn up), 6 emails, and many embarrassing explanations about the "dates just not working out" later, we are back to where we started: no baseball. But wouldn't Holden have made a handsome baseball player? I think baseball players are the most handsome of all sports-dudes. Holden would have totally fit in. But I digress.

Ruby has learned passive resistance and is using it with much success at the store now. If she wants something--Nemo hand sanitizer, a second pillow pet, a second Toy Story "slanket"--and I say no, she just lies down in the middle of the aisle. No screaming, grabbing, kicking, etc. Just lying there in everyone's way with a very forlorn look on her face. This behavior earned her some cheetos today. I like to be sure to teach my children that if they cry and whine hard and long enough--or, in this case, lie on the floor of Wal-mart long enough--they will always get their way, even if it means ripping up a $50 baseball registration check.

Speaking of which, I bribed Holden with a lot of money to take piano lessons. This has been quite successful but I bet a lot of "good" moms would frown upon bribery.

Today, as we were rushing out the door and while I was frantically trying to print out my Downeast Outfitters coupon, Ruby opened a container of applesauce and spilled it all over the floor and herself. In like the 20 seconds it took me to print my coupon! I came upstairs, yelling for girls to put shoes on, only to see a disgusting applesauce mess all over the floor. The point I am trying to make here is that I stamped my foot like a small child and yelled "NEVER DO THAT AGAIN!" which made Ruby cry.

I bought COLORED BUBBLES. "Oh, this looks like a little harmless fun," I said cheerfully at the store to Ruby (who was lying on the floor). The girls played with it for one minute and returned with indigo blue spots all over their hair, faces, mouths, clothes, and shoes. I put them in the tub and the water turned dark blue. Oh, it's washable. But at what a cost!

The Pinewood Derby was last week. Here's where I stand on the pinewood derby: I don't want to be involved. I think Holden should do it all, but I am also conflicted because all the dads take it as a serious competition between themselves. Mike and I really don't think it should be about the dads, so we let Holden do whatever he wants, which this year was to glue an empty sprite can to the top of a block of wood. Oh, we gave him suggestions and ideas, but he really wanted a sprite can car. So we went with it. At the weigh in, the dads were talking trash to each other while the boys ran around oblivious to the amount of graphite on their wheels and the number of ounces their cars weighed. "This is messed up," I thought smugly. Guess whose car came in last? Guess who won the award for "Most Refreshing"? And guess who wanted to throw his car away when the night was over? That's right. I guess I better bring my "A" game next year.

I've been sleeping in lately, and poor Holden has had to make his own breakfast and lunch. Once he just took pudding and a spoon for lunch. I gave him a good talk about making a sandwich for himself next time. Today he asked me to make him toast after school and said I make the best toast in the world. Aim high, buddy. Aim high.

This is Your Life

The following chain of events has occurred in the past 2 hours:

We shove dinner down our gullets as quickly as possible in order to make it to a "Couples' Fireside" at church.

We send the kids down the church hallway in the direction of the nursery, assuming they will find the way.

After the fireside, Mike has to rush to a meeting for scouts, so he gets a ride with a friend and I lug the kids to the car, during which time Hazel points out that the nursery "smells like women's feet." Her keen awareness of woman foot smell is, to me, a loss of innocence. Pretty soon she'll be having to put deodorant on the bottoms of her feet before she puts on her sandals, too.

We get in the car, only to realize that I don't have the car keys. It's snowing. It's freezing.

We really have no choice but to walk home from church. It's only a few blocks, but entirely uphill and there is a thick sheet of ice covering most of the sidewalk.

I hobble along as best as I can in my maxi dress and 3 inch suede wedges, holding a 30 pound two-year-old in one arm, my purse in the other.

Holden has to actually hold my hand and prop me up so I don't fall down on the ice. "This is what you'll have to do for me all the time when I get old," I tell him. He responds "I'm only 9 years old, and already I am escorting my mother home." I take his arm and Hazel holds my other hand, Ruby meanders in and out of snow drifts behind us.

Hazel runs ahead to scope out the ice situation. One hoot for ice, two hoots for no ice. Holden sticks his face into the fresh snow and takes big, indulgent bites. A small dog barks and barks at us. Ruby yells "get back!" I encourage Holden not to eat snow near the dog's yard. We find a single black sock on the sidewalk.

Hazel informs me that she has to use the bathroom really bad. A truck waits for us at a stop sign; I scoop Ruby into my arms and walk as fast as I can across the road while she kicks and flails and screams into my ear. My only thought is "please don't get my dress dirty."

We arrive home just in time for Hazel to wet her pants. It has gone all the way down her footed fleece polar bear pajamas and into her fur-lined ugg boots. Anyone know how to get urine out of fur-lined ugg boots?

"Do you know what it feels like to have an accident, Mom?" Hazel asks. I remember the last time I had an accident quite clearly: it was yesterday when I coughed really hard while I was shoveling snow off our deck. I tell her, "I have an accident every time I sneeze." She thinks this is the most hilarious thing she has ever heard. At least she is still innocent in that regard.

We get her into the tub for the second time today, and Ruby immediately wants to take part in the bath. Both girls scream and laugh in the tub while I clean up the dinner dishes left on the table, my toes burning as they defrost from our icy walk.

In an astonishing break from the norm, Holden asks "what can I do to help?" My mind is blank. This is my one moment of unsolicited help from him and all I can ask him to do is get his pajamas on.

He returns in 30 seconds, wearing only his underwear.

Hoping to get more mileage out of the opportunity, I ask him to help the girls out of the tub. Holden enters the bathroom, and moments later I hear him yell "Awww, man! Now my underwear are all wet!" I take note of the cute use of the plural to describe his underwear.

He changes into his blue, grey, and black striped undies and I have to lay down the law with Hazel about not splashing water on people's underwear.

There is another incident with an electric toothbrush and Holden's underwear, which leaves Hazel with this ultimatum: either stop touching underwear, or no movies for a week!

Ruby says "I wanna wock, okay?" in a commanding voice. I take her to the chair and rock her, but as soon as we get a good rhythm going, she says "I want Holdie, okay?" and gets down to play in the nylon Playhut tunnel with Holden.

We pray. We tuck in. Holden asks Ruby over and over "will you be warm enough?"

Ruby requests the following: fruit snacks, cheese, crackers, juice, and cookies. Since when did bed time become snack time and since when did I become something like a stewardess in the eyes of my children? I guess part of my job is to make their flight in life as comfortable as possible. Hazel just requests "anything" as she is unused to the level of spoiling I do with Ruby (e.g. you want a little creme brulee in order to stay in your bed? No problem! Whatever it takes.)

Finally, the girls are asleep and Holden is lying in his bed downstairs, waiting for me to tuck him in. When Mike returns, I'll ask him to walk back to the church to pick up the Jeep and don't go thinking I won't milk this night for all it's worth. I won't be taking any high roads, here!

In the morning I will wake up much earlier than I really want to, stumble into the kitchen, and begin taking drink orders.

Unsolicited Advice from a 10 Year Marriage Veteran

Ten years ago right now I was marrying Michael. Actually, I may have been hyperventilating in the car speeding to the temple because I was late due to a major hair mishap, but that's not really relevant here. All you need to know is we got married. The photographer, a really good family friend, teased Mike about his 5 o'clock shadow at 11:00 am; we weren't organized with our photos because nobody took charge; we had our reception in the gym of our church(along with all the basketball hoops and foul lines) and nobody could dim the lights, and the tablecloths were too short for the tables, and I served ice cream sundaes in February (?!), and the line was boring, exhausting, and long, and Mike's feet were blistered and bleeding, and we almost completely forgot to cut the cake and do the whole "toss the bouquet/garter thing" and when we did I was in a bad mood because of exhaustion and it showed on my face in the pictures, and then when it was time for us to leave the reception (2 hours later than planned), I hugged my sister and burst into tears because I knew I would be moving to China for a year and this was goodbye. My hair, however, remained perfect the entire day.

Were I to plan my wedding again, I would get married at 3 or 4 pm, have a nice dinner, and maybe an open house at home. I would write down exactly what I wanted out of each photo, and I would probably not serve ice cream in winter. Hair would be less of a priority. But alas, I didn't know my own taste back when I was 22. Now all I can do is hope to take complete control over my daughters' weddings, and force them to fulfill my unfulfilled dreams. (My poor mother did her best to guide me while giving me creative control, bless her heart.)

I am glad, however, that I chose to marry Mike, who is totally awesome. And I think it's a good sign that things have only gone uphill since our less-then-perfect wedding day. What if that had been the high point of our lives? I mean, a wedding is just one day, but a marriage is your whole life and then some, so it really isn't too important if you have a basketball hoop hanging over your head in your wedding pictures as long as you marry the right person. How's that for a golden nugget of advice? See? I am so seasoned! Here are some more nuggets that I have to share, roughly in the order that I learned them:

1. Bring a change of clothes and shoes on your honeymoon. You don't want to have to wear a dress and high heels the next day. It's also a good idea to bring a toothbrush and toothpaste, deoderant, and other sundries of personal grooming. Sometimes your mind is on other things!

2. Make sure to move away with your new spouse immediately, preferably to a foreign country. This may seem like a hardship, but it will teach you to really turn to each other. Moving into an apartment in the same town you grew up in may encourage you to continue relying on your mom or family members when you need something. You need to create a sense of family with your spouse in those formative months.

3. If you get called to be nursery leaders right away, try to get out of it.

4. If your husband works a twelve hour night shift and doesn't do well on inadequate sleep and has a penchant for sleep walking/talking, try to make him switch to the day shift.

5. Never sneak up on your spouse while they are in the shower and throw a small dog in there with them. It scares them and they won't let you forget it.

6. Plan on not having a baby for 2+ years, but then accidentally have one within the first year of your marriage. There's no better way to get to know each other than during an emotionally draining pregnancy and a horrifying labor/delivery!

7. This will seem like parenting advice, but actually it is marriage advice: sleep train your baby. Never think that he or she will magically start sleeping through the night at 6 months. Use a book (I recommend Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child). If you do this, you won't be resentful towards your spouse when you are the only one getting up with the baby at night. Also, give a bottle to your newborn asap so your husband can feed the baby sometimes when you can't be there to nurse. This will greatly increase peace, harmony, and equality in your marriage, and one bottle now and then isn't going to kill your baby (take that, La Leche League!)

8. Don't try to get your spouse to quit school and become a mailman. Sometimes it's tempting because mailmen have good benefits and a steady income. But graduate school pays off in the end. And education is something you take with you forever. The mail, well, it just gets shredded and thrown away.

9. Don't get everything you want the minute you want it. Work towards something, save for it. Make goals and try to reach them. You will hate struggling in the moment, but you will look back at it with tremendous fondness and it will make you a better person and make your marriage better.

10. Try to live in a foreign country again once you have two kids. It will suck and be hard, but it will bring you all closer and give you collective memories ( as in "Remember the stinky tofu!?" "OH MAN! That stuff was sick." "How about that chicken and rice plate!?" etc.)

10. Go on dates often, but please don't refer to every Friday as "date night." That is SO college.

11. Don't use your blog to validate your happy marriage. There's just something fishy about it. Some things should be kept private.

12. Make it a rule not to "friend" ex boyfriends/girlfriends on Facebook. Again, this is just fishy.

13. Cook authentic Italian food with really good ingredients. Because even dinner should be a work of art.

14. Never compare your marriage with anybody else's. What worked for Paul and Linda McCartney may not work for you.

15. Make fun of people together.

Don't you think I should write a book? I wonder what nuggets I'll have in another ten years? Stay tuned to find out. Happy anniversay, Mike!

If You're Not Into The White Stripes You Probably Shouldn't Read This

Have you seen this?



I'm BUSTING! I watched it last night with Mike while we folded laundry. Ah. Where do I begin?? Here are just a few thoughts right off the top of my head:

1. You know how Jack White came across as weird and eccentric and sort of like he had something to prove in "It Might Get Loud"? Well, he doesn't seem as weird in this movie. I have a feeling that he is weird, but more normal in real life than "It Might Get Loud" editors gave him credit for. So if you watched that and thought "Whoa, Jack White=eccentric out to prove himself, blech!" You might want to consider giving him another shot.

2.You know how in "It Might Get Loud" they only showed one small clip of Jack White performing and it happened to be a moment when he screeched into some sort of voice distortion mic and it sounded really weird? And you may have thought "what's all the fuss about? He's just a weirdo with black hair and pasty skin who screeches into voice distortion microphones." Well, that was a very bad representation of Jack White in concert--he screeches, yes. But he plays a mean guitar, my friend, and he is gracious and humble. Please see it.

3. And you know how in "It Might Get Loud" Jack said that he likes to make things harder for himself, play an old out of tune guitar, move the piano just out of reach? That really bothered me because my general rule of thumb is that life is hard enough, so why go out of your way to make it harder for yourself when you don't have to (I'm talking to you, "natural birth" fanatics!) But in this new documentary, Jack talks a lot more about why he does that, and the reason is to encourage his creativity and to keep things fresh and real. They never have a set list. They just play whatever they feel like when they perform so that something exciting happens. While Jack was explaining all this, Mike told me that he does the same thing as a teacher. He forces himself to improvise in order to keep things interesting for himself and his students. Now I get it! Now I can respect it. And you should, too. (Sorry, "natural birth" fanatics. I guess all this time you were just keepin' it real.)

4. Something happens at the end of the movie. Just so you know, it made me cry. Not fanatical, hysterical crying because of how much I love the White Stripes. This wasn't the kind of crying that happens at an emotionally overwrought U2 concert. Instead, it was deeply moving. I don't really want to give it away because you should just watch it. But it was a little embarrassing to cry that much over a movie in front of Mike.

5. Jack and Meg are divorced. They say they are brother and sister, but it's not true. He took her last name when they got married. Isn't that chivalrous and forward-thinking? I love that idea. So, anyway, I guess they got a divorce right as they starting making it big as the White Stripes. They have been making records and playing live for 10 years. I always think a lot about this. It's sad. I wish they still loved each other, but maybe they love each other in a different way now. They have both remarried and are probably happy, but I still want them to get married to each other again. I can't help it. This is probably why they didn't want anyone to know they are divorced: so people like me wouldn't obsessively watch for any tender moment between them.

6. Meg is so quiet that they have to use subtitles for her. I find this sort of rude, and I feel bad for Meg. She seems like a very tender person (see the ending!). I am sort of a quiet person (believe it or not), and it gets really annoying having to repeat yourself for loud people.

7. Near the end of the movie they play their tenth anniversary concert. This made me think a lot about how Mike and I are celebrating our tenth anniversary next month. We are sort of like Jack and Meg. Not that we are a divorced couple posing as brother and sister and playing insanely great music. But just that we are two people trying to make something great out of what we've got. Mostly it's hard work, but sometimes it's really fantastic, which makes it worth all that effort, just like Jack White says (so, from now on, I'll be putting my proverbial piano just out of reach to make things more interesting). That was the cheesiest thing I have ever written on this blog!!! Tenth anniversaries will do that to even the most sardonic of people.

Thanks for indulging me. See the movie. Cry at the end.

Home Improvements (Or, Carly's OCD is flaring up again)

My OCD has been flaring up and this time, it's causing me to do a lot of furniture rearranging/tweaking/reupholstering/purchasing/selling, etc. It has also influenced me to paint my bathroom. Above you'll see the antique books I just got. The one with the girls singing is called "Arts and Music" and the one with the sheep is called "Science and Industry." They are from 1939 and they are supposed to instruct children about art, music, science, and industry. It seems clear that girls are intended for art and music, while sheep are intended for science and industry--sexism!
Here's where I put the yellow antique cupboard that used to be our overflow pantry. Now it is our telephone/message station. What do you do to hide ugly modems and phones and wires? besides spend ridiculous amounts of money for attractive phones from Pottery Barn? Thoughts? Also, you will see one of the original paintings I bought from an artist in the Piazza Navona. It looks like Hazel, no?
The view of my mantle. I feel like everything looks makeshift and haphazard. I think I will always feel this way about the things I do. Question: would a fresh coat of golden yellow paint (Benjamin Moore's Golden Honey to be exact) look good on my walls? And if so, what accent color should I use on my fireplace wall? Dark blue? Gray? Green? Red? Orange? What what what?
We finally got an armoire to store our dishes so we can have more cupboard space for food in our kitchen (no pantry). I've been dreaming of this thing for one year.


I recovered this bench. It took ten minutes and wasn't hard at all but I thought I was the coolest person ever when it was finished because it seemed like such a big deal.
Our basement stairs were inspired by the internet and were painted by me but taped by Mike (he's the expert at precision measuring).
I stenciled numbers on the risers. Sorry about the glare. You can't see them very well, which is good because they are not very well done. Can you see two eyes at the top of our stairs? Those belong to our new dog, Leopold. He's awesome. I'll post about him soon, but right now I am too obsessed with my home decorating to do him justice. Suffice it to say, he came trained, he's a black lab, he never barks, and it's fun saying "Leo" the way Bill Cosby used to say "Theo" on the Cosby show. Try it: "LEO! You need to stop listening to the rap music and get into the jazzzzz"
We still need to do some touching up and trim.

Tune in next time for when I post pics of my bathroom and the totally retro lima bean couches I bought off craigslist for our basement. I bet you can't wait.

Once in Every Life Time Comes a Love Like This

WARNING: if you are not familiar with the British TV show "The Young Ones" which gained a large cult following back in the 80s, you may not really understand this post. You should read it anyway, because my ego is fragile right now.

I've gone ahead and Netflixed every episode of "The Young Ones" ever made. I grew up watching "The Young Ones" on MTV and the show has left an indelible impression on me. I remember it being so hilarious. It's typical British humor--silly, slap-stickish, irrreverent, full of talking rodents--and now that I watch it as an adult it's not really quite as hilarious as I once thought. It's sort of like Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Junior high is the peak age of finding that the most hilarious and quotable movie on earth. I still like it, though, it's just not the same. But I digress.

What I've noticed as I've watched Neil, Rick, Vyvyan, and Mike yuk it up is that they are a chillingly accurate representation of each member of my family at his or her worst. Observe:

Rick:
Is just like Holden. Constantly lecturing someone about SOMETHING, in need of enormous amounts of attention, an activist for the sake of being an activist(don't get Holden started on the evils of land development), and completely full of himself. (Hey I said they reflect us on our worst days.)

Vyvyan:
Is just like Hazel: he loves violence and destruction (usually choosing Rick as his primary target), yells everything he says, has a special understanding with machinery, and spends his time bossing the others around.

Neil:
Is an amalgam of Michael and me: usually downtrodden and depressed, thanklessly serving everyone else, and complaining all the time. The words "heavy," "guys, you're really bringing me down," and "oh no!" are the most frequently used by Neil. Poor Neil. Poor us, too.

Mike:
Is like Ruby. He's the shortest, the cool guy, the one who stays above all the squabbles, and the one with the worst jokes.

You should watch "The Young Ones." At least don't miss the episode called "Bambi" where the guys go on University Challenge and compete against a young Emma Thompson. See clip....

At Home With Michael

Mike's pretty good to have around the house--except when he wants me to help him with his welding/roofing/car repair projects. It's like, dude, just hold the girls and let me watch some more TV! Sheesh.

December Update (or, sorry I haven't blogged in a while, not that anyone cares or anything....or do you care? who knows?)

I've been engaged in my usual philosophical battle: to blog or not to blog? Sometimes I think my style of blogging is out of touch, but then I think that I don't want to join the ranks of the blog braggers (you know, the people who seem to conduct their lives according to the dictates of what will make excellent photos for their blogs), which is such a fast-growing and huge movement that I feel very much left out in the cold. Maybe you think I already am a blog bragger? I sincerely hope not....

So, then I think, well, instead of being a blog bragger, I could just blog a record of my children and family, which is probably the selfless and proper thing to do. But since when have I ever been selfless and proper? Ummm--hello!--never. I figure that between the hours of 7:00 am and 7:00 pm the world necessarily revolves around my children. Why inflate their heads with a blog dedicated solely to them as well? All of these thoughts inevitably lead me back to where I started: why blog at all unless it is about what a fool I am? So, without further ado, The Stupid Things I Did In December:

1. Came home from church crying 2 out of 4 Sundays because my new calling as Relief Society secretary is inexplicably kicking my trash. (Sometimes ladies can be very cranky about their weekly R.S. bulletins).

2. In an act of total desperation (as a result of aforementioned calling), I asked a lady who I have never seen before to say the opening prayer in Relief Society. The kicker? She wasn't even in our ward, not that I knew the difference.

3. Attempted to dip homemade marshmallows in homemade fudge: the fudge wouldn't stick, I tell you!

4. Threw out the fudge (after eating most of it with my fingers), then gave our neighbors and friends plain homemade marshmallows with no hot chocolate mix, candy canes, or cinnamon sticks. "Merry Christmas. Here, enjoy this ziplock bag of plain amorphous marshmallows courtesy of the Pauls." Classy.

5. Sprayed fake snow on pine cones,and plastic wreaths, and windows, and the floor, and the counter.....

6. Painstakingly wrapped lights and a garland around our porch railing, only to forget to turn the lights on ever again.

7. Made chocolate peanut butter truffles and then ate all of them myself, making myself completely sick every day.

8. Bought Mike a sweater for Christmas. He hates sweaters for Christmas, but every year I succumb to the temptation to dress him like a professor.

9. Went snowmobiling with Mike and screamed and chuckled in a deep, mannish voice the whole time until I almost fell off the back.

10. Bought the makings for a huge Christmas dinner, and then didn't feel like cooking on Christmas day, so just served leftovers.

There. Comment all you like--comments about the amount of calories involved in my adventures are ESPECIALLY appreciated.

I'm Going to Rome

So, lately Mike has been trying to finish his dissertation, which apparently has to involve my editing skilz--curse you, editing skilz! Look, if Mike is going to be gone every night and weekend finishing his dissertation for a year and a half, I at least want to be able to watch netflixed Office, Extras, Flight of the Conchords, and 30 Rock episodes while lying in bed eating candybars! But those days are over. Now I have to HELP him. Ugh. So I've been busy with that lately. And in case any of you are prayin' folk, please pray for Mike on October 23, around 1pm. That's his defense date. No pressure or anything, but you know, a shout out on our behalf would be nice.

Anywho, so I also turned 31, which was good. I have no problem with aging. In fact, I welcome it. When you are in your thirties, it matters less whether you are cute and thin. People's expectations of you plummet, and that is a nice feeling. I can wear black sweatpants and no makeup and people just look at me and think "how brave of her to even leave the house AT ALL!" It's very freeing!

I've also started teaching my online class. I thought that this class would be a perfect fit for my already jet-set online schedule. But I am realizing that when a class is online, it's hard to set a limit on the amount of time you spend freaking out over student emails and podcasts. Don't get me wrong, I love making podcasts (I've been using the Rushmore soundtrack as background music), but it just never seems to end! At least when I teach in the classroom, I can go a day or two without obsessively checking my email. We'll see how this semester shakes out.

Furthermore, Mike is sending me to ROME. I am so excited I don't know what to do with myself. Unfortunately, I will be gone for Halloween and you never know what may happen when Mike is in charge of Halloween (trick-or-treating to five houses only!) But it's a sacrifice I am willing to make so I can finally see Italy after all those years of studying Italian and buying a special "Italy Dress" and "Italy Passport Case" and then only ever getting to go to China and Taiwan. It will be nice to be in a country that believes in the power of the pastry, and that does not subscribe to the red-beans-as-dessert philosophy.

I would post my last newspaper article, but it may be offensive to some of my readers. So I will post my newest one next week, after it comes out in the paper. Intriguing, eh?

Dat all. Peace out.

This Here's My Pad

I know you all want to see pics of my immaculate house, right? But I have resisted the urge to post them because I really don't want to make you all jealous. Then my friend Melissa kept bugging me and bugging me about seeing my house, so here are a couple of rooms. I will show the rest in installments so as not to overwhelm you with my cleverness and cuteness. So, here goes nothin:
We'll start in the girls' room. This is Ruby's crib and a giant bookshelf that is usually messier than this. Notice the poster taped to the wall. I got tired of waiting around for a frame, so I just stuck it up there. Classy.
Here is Hazel's bed. Notice the embroidery hoops with fabric in them. I stole that idea from Kacy. Also observe the "valence" that I made out of an old tablecloth my Grandma made.
This is my dining room wall and my collection of mirrors. I need to add some more.
This here's the dining room where Ma and Pa chow down. I have a black stool that matches the white one, but it is being used outside on a project. See my canning jars on the counter? I'm so awesome.
This is an old clock that I love but that doesn't work. Once we plugged it in and sparks came shooting out of it!
This is the cluttered table to the left of my fireplace. Notice how cleverly I hide my ugly phone and modem with a stack of antique books! You can't even see the tangle of cords underneath, can you?
This is my mantle. Right now I don't know what the heck I'm doing with it. I have a collection of glass jars in the window, and there appears to be some sort of a bird, pottery,and walmart candles theme going on. Whatev.
Here are the curtains I made all by myself. Can you see the strings and crookedness? Neither can I. They are a light yellow and forest green toile.
Here is the entryway and Hazel. And my cluttered magazine stand.
Here is the hat rack that Mike got me for my birthday last year. It holds an antique purse, hat, and two hats from Taiwan. Don't they go together well?
This is a chair my sister Erin gave me, along with my collection of old aprons and a white tool box thingy that I love but don't know what to do with. Maybe I will take up knitting just so I can store my yarn in it?
This is a hutch I got off Craig's list. Right now it has some of my pitchers and Fiestaware on it.
Notice the laundry baskets and luggage that I am storing for someone because I am so nice, and because they were too heavy to carry down to the basement.
This here's the couch that has pen, candle wax, and some unidentifiable stains on it. I made the polka dot pillows myself! Hanging above the couch is Mike's painting of Lehi's dream that he got on his mission.

Well, that's all for today--mainly because the rest of my house is in such a horrid state of clutter. When I get that cleaned up, you can see the rest. In the mean time, I really hope you don't feel too bad about your own houses. I'm sure some day yours will look as good as mine. (PS, sorry about the crookedness and blurriness of the pics. I think the camera gets like that when it has low batteries or something. Whatev.