It's not easy being a Jazz fan

Ten years ago a true Jazz fan was born. His name is Lincoln.

I remember watching from my hospital bed as Mark held Lincoln while watching their first Jazz game as father and son.

Over the years Lincoln has learned players, positions, stats and strategies.

If he has to go to bed before a game is over, he falls asleep listening to the play by play on the radio. The next morning he races out to get the paper so that he can catch up on what he missed.

There have been cheers.
There have been tears.

It's not easy being a Jazz fan.

When John Stockton retired without ever winning an NBA championship, Lincoln cried, he was five.

Last year when the Jazz lost to "the worst team in the league", Lincoln sobbed, he was nine. (See video clip below)

Playoff season has begun. I dread it. It's emotional, worse than triplet teenage girls.

Here's to hoping this is the year the Jazz go all the way!
Here's to hoping that faithful Jazz fans everywhere will finally be rewarded.

Here's to hoping that my son will live through the month of May.

Six Things

I've been tagged.
Six things about me:

#1 Call me crazy but I like house and yard work. There is something about an organized pantry that gets me all excited.

#2 I try not to compare myself to other people. I know I can never win when I do. I have learned to admire and respect positive qualities in others and celebrate those instead of feeling bad that I don't have them.

#3 I only use public restrooms in case of emergency. I never use a restroom in the restaurant that I am eating at. I would rather go home.

#4 I love summer. I love everything about it. The twins out of school, lazy days at the pool, slurpees, baseball games, sandals, blue skies for days.

#5 I don't enjoy cooking. I do it every day and I can make some tasty dishes but my heart is not in it. I would much rather take clean up duty.

#6 I am truly happily married. I'm in love. I adore Mark, I wouldn't change one single thing about him. Marrying Mark was the best thing that has ever happened to me.

I tag anyone who would like to share.

My name is Kimberly

My name is Kimberly. K-I-M-B-E-R-L-Y.

I have an addiction to sugar.

I have never met a donut, brownie, cookie, pie, candy bar or ice cream that I didn't become fast friends with.

You know those store bought cakes with the big colorful frosting flowers made from shortening and sugar?

You know how some people scrape those off their cake?

Not me.

I will strategically stock a corner piece with as many flowers as possible.
I am ashamed to admit that I have even stolen flowers from other peoples' pieces.

One day I ate an entire tub of frosting spoonful by spoonful.

Are you starting to understand the depth of my problem?

A couple of months ago I stepped on the scales and realized that I was out of control.
Seven extra pounds were in unwelcome places.

I had a personal intervention with myself. I looked in the mirror and said,
THIS WILL STOP!


I cut out all treats.

It was not easy. In fact, it was one of the most difficult things I have ever done.

I went through withdrawls. I developed headaches. I was grumpy and impatient.
Progress was painfully slow at first.

After a couple of weeks I added a few things back, but in a different way.

I learned how to make low calorie desserts and I discovered Skinny Cow ice cream sandwiches. Sometimes I would even eat a regular dessert but limit it to three or four bites.

I am here today, 12 pounds lighter. Yep, an even dozen.

Oh I'm still white and jiggly, but I'm ok with that. The bigger accomplishment is that I can eat desserts responsibly.

Last week I declined the offer of a sugar cookie. Saturday night we went out to dinner with friends and although we ordered the sinful seven layer cake, I only had a few bites!

I took myself out shopping and to get my hair done to celebrate, because seven weeks of responsible sugar intake should be rewarded.

My name is Kimberly. I am addicted to sweets. I am conquering this evil habit. If you are struggling with this issue, I urge you to get help. Call me, I'm here for you.

What I Love About Sundays

Early church.
Taking the sacrament.
Our ward choir, they really should make a cd.
Leading the music in primary.

Coming home to a pot roast simmering in the slow cooker.
Mashed potatoes & gravy, green bean casserole, cooked carrots, freshly baked rolls, and strawberry banana jello.
Reviewing what we learned at church, things we can do better this week.

Sami napping, Mark back at church for meetings, the twins and I making cookies together.
Reading the paper.
Me napping.
Rachel making cards for friends and family.

Mark home.
All of us going for a walk.
Lincoln and Mark tossing the football around in the front yard.
Visiting with neighbors.

Playing a game, watching a movie, snacking on popcorn.
Dishes done. Floor swept. Everything back in its place.
Family prayer.
Kisses and hugs.
Three children sleeping.

Snuggling on the couch with the best friend I'll ever have.
A warm shower.
Falling asleep as the moon light pours through the windows.

That's what I love about Sundays.

Mom Guilt

If I die an early death, it will most likely be due to two words: Mom Guilt.

I wonder how much time each day I spend worrying or feeling guilty about my motherly skills.

It is almost hard to measure because it is always there.

Food is a big mom guilt for me. Each night I review what they ate. Was it healthy enough? Was is too processed? Did we sit down together and have our meals? Did Lincoln get enough fiber?

Take last night, for example, we were at a baseball game until nearly 7:00. By the time we got home and the twins showered up, it was getting late. Mark and I weren't hungry so I pulled a bad mom move. I told the twins to each choose a Lean Cuisine out of the freezer. I thought the orange juice on the side was a nice touch.

Hmmm said Lincoln when he looked over his shrimp scampi. "This is not how it looks on the box."

Immediate mom guilt set in.

I mean would it really have been so hard to grill up a couple of chicken breasts and throw a salad together? The least I could have done was wash some apples and grapes to accompany the frozen stuff.

Food is just the tip of the iceberg.

Did they brush their teeth?
Are the learning to be responsible?
Did they get enough sleep?
Did I kiss and hug them enough times today?
How are their grades?
Do they have enough fun in their lives?
Are they honest?
Are they kind?
Will they be good citizens?
How are their manners?
Do they know how to work hard?

I am telling you, it is enough to make a person nutty.

Sometimes, I get to the end of the day focused on all the things I need to do better. Then to keep a good balance, (and keep my picture out of the obituary section) I ask myself:

Do they know that I love them?
Do they know that I think they are amazing?
Do they know that I respect and adore them?
Do they know that they are the loves of my life?
Do they know that I am their biggest fan?

YES. They know.

At the end of the day, that is what matters most.

Spring Piano Recital

Lincoln

Rachel

Non Blogger Memo

Dear Non Blogger Family and Friends,

How are you? It has been a while since I have heard what's new in your neck of the woods.

Take this week, for example. Your old pal, Kimberly was under the weather. There is nothing like a few days in bed to get you thinking.

You start to wonder..... How is my dear east coast cousin?
What are my favorite childhood friends busy with theses days?
What is the weather like out there in Iowa?
How are the kids? Potty training, preschool, high school?
The husband's new job?
For my single friends, the dating scene? World travels? Job adventures?
How is that marathon training coming along?

Hmmmm I said to myself. How great it would be if I could make a quick blog visit. It would really make this whole sick in bed thing worthwhile.

But, alas non bloggers, I could not.

Don't feel bad.

I know what you're thinking.

You don't have time. (It takes less than an hour per week!)
You're not great with a computer. (Me either!)
You are concerned about privacy. (You can restrict your blog if you like!)

Maybe most of all, you're thinking who really cares about your home improvements, trips to Disneyland, or how much time you spend running around in the car?

I CARE.

At least one morning each week, I sit down and read what is new with my blogger friends.

Come on, join the club!
You can do it!
It's fun!
You'll have a record of your adventures!

Most of all, you will have a very happy friend.

Very sincerely yours,
Kimberly

Prayers

Six months ago, Samantha Sunshine twinkled down from heaven and landed in our arms. She has been a joy. She is one of those blessings that God holds in reserve for just the right season of life.

Long ago we accepted the fact that children don't come easy for us. It took us about four years to get the twins here. We prayed every day that we would have the opportunity to become parents, it was the strongest desire of our hearts.

When Lincoln and Rachel were born, we were so grateful to have them, that we almost didn't dare to ask for more. Ten years, two months and twenty five days later, we still have not come down off the thrill of having them.

We prayed to have more children. None came.

We saw doctors. None helped.

We moved on and determined to to the best we could with the two we had been blessed with.

About two years ago, our stake presidency was reorganized and Elder Richard G. Scott came to our area to call the new leaders. We met with him and Mark was asked to serve as a counselor to our new stake president. It was a wonderful experience to meet Elder Scott. He has a special Christlike presence about him that I will never forget.

We participated in the rest of our Saturday evening meetings. Mark had assignments to complete for Sunday so I went home to go to bed. I was just dozing off when Mark quietly came in. He sat down on the edge of our bed and told me that Elder Scott had asked to meet with our family after the meetings on Sunday. We wondered what he might want to say to us.

Needless to say, there wasn't much sleep that night.

The next day, Elder Scott gently escorted the four of us to his office. He said that when we had met the previous day, he had a very strong feeling that someone was missing from our family. He asked if he could give us a priesthood blessing.

There was a beautiful, heavenly feeling in that room that day. We knew then that someone was missing. Her name is Samantha.

In six short months she has taught us lessons about joy and love. She is proof that God knows us. He understands the desires of our hearts and He hears our prayers.

Sometimes prayers are answered quickly, in just the way we hope. Sometimes our faith is tested, allowing us to grow and learn from the experience, but this I know: God answers each and every sincere prayer. I thank Him for hearing mine and blessing my life with His love.

Why I love Daughters

Notice how nice and trim I look!

I could not swallow a beet to save myself.
She appreciates my housekeeping efforts.
Notice who is holding Sam.

That is why I love daughters.

Lincoln's Debut

Yesterday was Lincoln's debut in the big leagues. He was drafted into the majors this year which means he plays on a team of mostly 11 and twelve year olds.

A year or two might not seem like a big difference, but to a ten year old lightweight, it is.

When he came home from school, he was a nervous wreck.

"I just don't think I can hit off a twelve year old" he cried.
"I'll let my team down" he sobbed.
"I'm scared" he bravely admitted.

"You can do it, Linc!" Rachel and I chanted.
"You'll do great!" Mark cheered.

Lincoln swallowed a Pepto pill and we left for the game.

The other team's coach headed toward the mound. I had to look twice.

WAIT A MINUTE! I silently screamed. THAT IS NO COACH! It was a 6 foot tall 12 year old.

YIKES! I wanted to see proof of age, this was clearly an impostor. I cringed as Linc's turn in the batting order approached.

He put on his helmet and took his place in the box. He looked determined, I was nervous and proud at the same time.

This is the point in the story that I wish I could report that Lincoln smashed a line drive straight to left field.

I would love to say that he hit the winning run and put that big bruiser in his place.

But that is not how it happened.

The very first pitch the kid threw hit Lincoln hard in the back. Yep, beaned him square in the kidney area.

The crowd groaned and I nearly lost the panini I ate for lunch.

Lincoln bit his lip and tried to hold back the tears as he took his base.

I wanted to scale the fence and give that guy a piece of my mind.

Lincoln swears that if you look close you can see the stitch marks of the ball imprinted on his back. Mark differs with that report.

That was our initiation to the big leagues.

I miss T-Ball.