A Button?

Do you remember that movie: The Cutting Edge?

Do you remember when Doug & Kate totally throw their first routine in the Olympics over whether or not Doug should button the top button of his shirt?

And afterward, their coach yells at them:

"A button? A button?"

Last Sunday, this particular line was running through my head quite loudly.

Justin and I had a fight about cereal.

"Cereal? Cereal?"

As a result of this fight (which really deserves no further discussion, since it was entirely pointless), I determined I would not lift a finger - not a finger, I say - to get the girls ready for Church.

Instead I leisurely showered, ate, and read my scriptures.

(I did tend GQ. Infants under a year should be spared the psychosis of their parents. Of course so should two and four year olds... but whatever.)

I knew the hardest part would be when I actually went to Church - primarily the fact that my girls' hair would not be done.

GASP

In case you have not been raised or slightly brainwashed by the Andersen hens I would like to inform you that not doing your girls' hair is:

HORRIBLE

HORRIBLE

HORRIBLE!!!!

But, I gritted my teeth and kept my fingers neatly folded.

The people at Church were very polite.

One girl said to E: "Your hair is so pretty today. But it looks kind of different."

And while E - I believe, from the way she described it - informed her primary teachers that she: "looked like a ragamuffin" they told her that was absolutely NOT true.

Since she loves them very much, she was entirely comforted and able to enjoy the opportunity of having "down" hair.

M, of course, had no clue, except for the fact that she had to keep pushing her hair out of her eyes because she couldn't see.

Today, no such fights occurred, and two hours prior to Church we were all fed, clothed, and properly combed.

And what did we have for breakfast???

Oatmeal.

I am no longer buying cereal. It is much too hazardous to our family's health.

(Although E does roll her eyes every time I place the oatmeal in front of her, and M still asks emphatically for "Maties," but they'll soon forget. Right?)

Right.

**** Of course, E did notice that her mother happened to have cereal this morning. Come on. Oatmeal is disgusting. Just don't tell.

Informational Anecdotes

This morning I had to buy baby cereal at Target. I didn't feel like carrying in the carseat, so I took GQ out and had M walk beside me. (E was at school). All was going well until we walked into the store.

You see, M is deathly afraid of shiny surfaced floors.

When I was pregnant with GQ the entry way at my doctor's was shiny granite. M refused to walk there - at all. She would run in the door and come to a screeching halt when she saw the ground. It didn't matter what anyone said, she had to be held.

I hadn't thought about this when I imagined our short trip to Target. GQ is not much interested in sitting - he prefers bouncing - so I didn't feel comfortable putting him in the shopping cart. I had planned on carrying a basket. M looked at the floor, and then she looked at me.

Then she said, very solemnly:

"You carry G?"

"Yes," I said.

"You no carry Meggie?"

"No," I said.

And then, precious thing, she took a deep breath and she walked.

I could tell how nervous she was and I said,

"You are being very brave, M."

"I very brave."

"If you look at the ceiling you won't even see the floor."

She lifted her eyes to the ceiling and stared hard.

"I all right. I look at ceiling."

Luckily, she soon became distracted by the store and forgot about the floor beneath her.

My brave little M.

*******

Some have asked: are you going to Iowa City??

We have 13 more schools to hear from, and we will see what happens there. I would say there is an 80% chance we will move to Iowa City.

*******

It is very ironic when you finally discover - after countless nights - why it is that GQ sometimes sleeps until 5:00 am, and sometimes wakes up whenever possible.

Especially when it is just that he has the wrong binky in his mouth.

Seriously.

It was that easy to fix.

How I wish that I were more observant.

Hip, Hip, Hooray!!- The real version

Congratulations to Justin.

He was accepted to the Doctoral Accounting program at the University of Iowa.

We are so proud of him.

Churning a.k.a. the long and overthought version, obviously I should still not write...

It's been a long time since I've actually written anything concrete. Just ask my friends at my writing blog. I just can't think that way right now. My mind is too full of unknown possibilities to settle on words. Words that are definite and real. So much is not definite and real.

For about three years, Justin has been preparing to get a PhD in business. Night classes, an MBA at BYU, countless GMAT prep courses, all for this purpose. Applications were finished about a month ago, and then the time came when something would actually happen.

Something.

When you write, you are not supposed to used the word "something" because it has so little meaning.

some thing

Two words that are meaningless, that apply to nothing, that go nowhere.

Two words that are perfectly meaning-full, and applicable to our situation.

Something would happen. That is all we knew.

Even better: it would happen "some time." Great.

So, I've been churning and stewing. Unable to put two sentences together while I imagined every possible eventuality, including me living in my mother's basement while we submitted applications in a less cramped year.

Because it is a hard year.

At one school, where they usually receive 45 applications in Justin's field, they received 87.

87.

That means twice as many people get rejected. All those MBA's who can't find a job are going back to school. They're qualified, they're intelligent, and they're seriously cramping my space.

So far, we've received three rejections. Three out of 18.

Luckily the last of these came after "something" much different:

An acceptance.

An acceptance at a school where we could easily be very happy.

Where you ask????? You want to know too? You want to know something, some time soon?
Okay, Okay.

Today Justin was officially accepted to the Doctoral Program in Accounting at the University of Iowa.
Huge, Big, Sigh.

We are so thankful.

(And no one guessed we'd be there at all.)

Still no worded thoughts....

Here is GQ looking just like himself. I noticed in the last post I called him GW, which is also true, though a little too political for me. So GQ it is.

What does that say about me?

That I'm willing to mock the idea of "GQ," but that I steer clear of GW?

Maybe it just reminds me of basketball. Should it remind me of basketball?

Never mind.




E discovering "Fun Dip" for the very first time while M looks on. Jealous.


Wow. That is one green mouth. Is it bad that I forgot to brush her teeth that night. (Like I do every night, at least I'm good at mornings.)

Never mind, don't answer that question.



This one's not mine, and I shouldn't post it, but I had fun taking the pictures and pretending I knew what I was doing.

Libbi's in charge of showing any more.

And that's that for today.

Okay...

... I couldn't handle it.

It made me dizzy.

So, I think this will work.

Although why blogger hasn't made a minima template with 3 columns is beyond me.

Try This Grandma Wood

Grandma Wood said she couldn't read on the color background, so we're trying this.

It's a little busy for me.

But it has a white background.

I'll see if there is another one with less busyness.

Indiana Jones

Due to yesterday's aviation troubles, Justin spent almost a zillion and two hours in the airport. Rather than arriving at his destination at 6:30 pm on Thursday, he got halfway there by 12:30 am on Friday. As a result, they are keeping him an extra day.

Bleh.

In mourning, I stayed up late watching men's figure skating (although I only tuned in for the first and last skaters), I Love Lucy, and that stupid show about the man with three sons. Even worse, it was when they were all grown up. Sitcoms should take death when it comes instead of trying to live forever.

Luckily, my children slept in this morning and didn't care that we were out of milk and had to eat peanut butter sandwiches for breakfast.

Hopefully Justin has left Denver by now and moved on in his travels. But who knows? I'm sure he enjoyed his stranded hotel night with no luggage. While I remembered my Aunt Penny's advice to always carry extra clothing in your carry-on, I did not pass on this useful information.

Even more hilarious.... after being told to buy a sports coat (no suits for those academics, they all want to look like Indiana Jones), Justin will be picked up straight from the airport in his jeans and BYU t-shirt that he always wears (and wore the day before).

Hot stuff, I tell you.

We'll see if he's changed by the time he gets home.