Part V: The Before We Were Married Story

This story begins here if you're crazy and want to read the whole thing.

I was ecstatic. I was over the moon. I was getting married.

The people I was nannying for were more than surprised. "Oh! Greg!?! The one who you're just friends with?" and "Are you sure you're not just rushing into this because of your parents' situation?" (they were in the process of separation/divorce). If anything, I would be less interested in getting engaged/married right away because of that.

Now came time for planning. So let's see. . . we're at the beginning of November. My nannying contract ends at the beginning of next August. . .Greg has his plans for Christmas and I am excited to travel with the family I'm nannying for to places like Italy and France (I think) and Utah and Colorado (avid skiers). Looks like it's going to be a Very Long Engagement in terms of both time and distance.

But wait!! Why not get married during the Christmas holidays!?! Then maybe some of our friends would still be around before leaving BYU for the break, to attend the wedding/reception. As soon as the idea was formed there was no going back. As if I was going to wait almost a year when we could get married in. . . seven weeks. Oh. Seven weeks. Wow! Seven weeks! That was coming right up!

The family I nannied for were very upset about this decision. They didn't really talk to me about it outright, but they were upset. And it showed. And soon it started showing even more obviously. When I was not on duty, they kept the little girl from me. I would walk in Sunday afternoon after church and Ali would come running to me and her dad would shout, "Alicia! Come back here!" and the poor, confused little two year-old would turn back around and go to her father. She also wasn't allowed to come downstairs and play in the evenings either. I know there were two reasons for this behavior. First of all they didn't want her to get too attached to me. Well it was too late for that, of course, but they wanted to help her become unattached. And secondly they were upset and wanted to punish me.

This was so hard on me. I ate dinner with the family, and where there used to be plenty of conversation and way too much teasing (the dad was a major teaser), there was little if any conversation and zero teasing. This lasted for some weeks. In the meantime, I was doing all I could to find a replacement for myself since I was breaking my contract. (I never actually signed anything--which I know doesn't matter--but I took the job after being assured that I would have Internet access and they also said that they would pay for me to take night classes. Neither of these options were available once I got there. So I felt like they hadn't kept up their end of the deal, either. I know, I'm justifying it. Whatever.)

One night I was crying on the phone to my mom. I was feeling overwhelmingly ostracized and hurt that the parents were trying to turn my favorite little girl against me. I was telling my mom everything. At some point a head peeked in my bedroom door. It was the dad. He saw that I was bawling, and had probably heard at least some of what I'd been saying to my mom. When the rest of his body followed his head into the room, I saw that he was carrying a little plate with two warm muffins on it and a glass of milk. He walked in and set them on the night stand by my bed, where I was sitting. Then he walked out.

There was something in his expression as he brought in that gesture of of forgiveness. Forgiveness that he was both granting and asking for. I also felt a tinge of guilt that he had heard me gossipping about him. For all these reasons I sobbed even harder. I looked at myself truthfully and was relieved to find that I hadn't been unfair in what I'd been telling my mom. I'd been giving facts and explaining how they made me feel. I think I was okay there. And I was so grateful for the humility it must have taken for him to make that gesture. And of course I was grateful for the muffins, too! Although, I don't remember thinking as much about the physical muffins as about what they represented. (I know! Even I can get past my obsession for baked goods sometimes!)

After that things changed for the better. We started talking. There wasn't as much banter as there had been before, but we were on good terms again, with only a little bit of awkwardness.
I loved my job. They tried to convince me that after we were married Greg should move in with me into their basement. I could nanny and Greg could transfer to a school nearby.They tried to make this option as attractive as possible. I sort of loved the idea, but it really wasn't all that feasible.

All this time Greg was responsible for putting the show together. I think my mother was his biggest helper, but he really did much of the arranging. I did nothing. He booked us a date at the Salt Lake temple on December 20th. There were --- sealings being preformed on that day. Ours was at eight thirty a.m. One of Greg's very best friend's was at eight. Oops. Our mutual friends had to make a choice. And we couldn't attend each other's weddings. Oh well, marriage is the main thing we were all after, and we were getting that, at least. We decided against a reception. Greg had no family (blood related, at least) to attend, and the people I grew up around were all in California. Plus we knew a lot of people would already have gone home for the holidays, and would therefore be out of state. Plus I never cared about things like receptions. I mean, if the situation had been different I would have probably wanted one, but mostly I wanted to be married.

All this time I'd been searching for a replacement nanny. One of the girls who had lived in the apartment upstairs from me in Provo had a sister that might be interested. She was! And she had some experience with children. In talking to her on the phone I wasn't blown away by her, but she sounded nice. The parents talked to her as well and agreed that she was the one. I was so relieved!

Two weeks before the wedding this girl, let's call her Emma, came out. I would train her for a few days before heading to SLC. She was quiet. She didn't really seem interested in Ali. After the first day spent together I realized that I needed to back off and let her get to know her on her own. We went to the mall. There was an orchestra playing on the level below. I was so excited to show Ali and talk all about it with her, but I stopped myself. I suggested that Emma show her. Emma took her to the glass overlooking the lower level. Ali was pointing and talking and Emma was leaning against the handrail staring at people walking by. I was so mad. I'm sure I shouldn't have been, but I was, and I went over and squatted down by Ali and listened to her and explained about some of the instruments, etc. I tried to teach Emma about getting down on Ali's level and trying to teach her and interest her in things. But I could tell Emma was not that kind of girl.

I was SO sad. Like, I cried about it (and I didn't have PMS). Ali was the most amazing little girl. She could talk a mile a minute. She was so smart and well behaved. She had barely turned two and I had taught her that instead of throwing a fit when something wasn't going right, she should just come to me and say, "Please help me!" And she did. All the time. She almost never threw any sort of fit at all. As I say, she was amazing. And beyond adorable. And Emma didn't care about that AT ALL.

I felt so bad and I talked to the parents about it. We told stories back and forth about things Emma had said or done or neglected to do. I was seriously appalled. The parents seemed to think it would be okay, though. They were fine with it. I was glad. And sad, at the same time.

Okay, I'm all typed out (if you're even reading, still!) More another day.

Part Six

Books I'll Buy: (And I'm Famous by Association, Right?)

I've been saying that I want to have a special book shelf to fill with books written by bloggers I know. This, of course, will happen one day in the future when our "library" is more than a room full of stacks of papers and books (on the floor) and we actually have shelves. Here are some of the books that will be on that shelf:

Miss Delacourt Speaks Her Mind (available for pre-order) by the authoress Heidi Ashworth, who also happens to be my friend the blogger Heidi Ashworth.



As Yet Untitled Book of Funny Blog Posts being compiled by Sue (also see below), all the proceeds of which will go to the NieNie Fund. I'm confident that some of your posts will be in this book! You'll be famous!!

Is it Arrogant to Quote Yourself? by my friend Kimberly VanderHorst who blogs at Temporary? Insanity.







All, if I can collect them, of the books by best-selling/award winning Annette Lyon including her latest, Spires of Stone. Her sixth book comes out spring 2009. And she blogs at The Lyon's Tale.

I'll be mad at myself if I've missed someone. Now here's a list of people whose books I'll one day be buying. Hopefully sooner rather than later.

My friend Melanie J of Write Stuff
My friend Alison Wonderland of -- well, that's both her name and her blog title
My follower Sue of navel gazing at its finest (just kidding--not about wanting to buy her book, though)

And now my throat hurts from all the yelling. (Please tell me who I've missed. Like do people who are doing the November writing thing plan to publish? Because then I will definitely be buying Kazzy and Brillig's books.)
**images pilfered off of these ladies blogs. I hope I'm not breaking some important law or can ate least be forgiven if I am.

Tragedy: A Top Quality Post

Yesterday I read the post I've highlighted in my sidebar and cried. This morning I read a post of Melanie's at Write Stuff and cried. Then I read an email from my cousin in response to my questions about her health, and cried. Then I went downstairs and watched a little Larry King while sitting on my husband's lap and cried. Mostly because I didn't feel very comfortable and kept feeling like I was falling off of his lap (please try to contain your tears of empathy). I moved onto the couch and started thinking about how I might have to wake Aaron up from his nap in order to be able to pick the kids up from school on time, and I felt sad. Larry King got boring so I switch to some cooking show and started crying. Not about the cooking (they weren't cooking seafood or anything, it was a dessert). Or about the previously mentioned email or blog posts or baby thing. I went to the kitchen to make a sandwich, thinking it was maybe my blood sugar level or something. I started buttering the bread and REALLY started crying because there was no way I could eat that sandwich because I wasn't feeling well.

I'm weepy. I think it's just a severe case of PMS. I'm not even going to charge you for that information. I'm generous in my sorrow.

And to make up for the previous bad paragraphs, have you heard my favorite joke that I forgot to tell in my other post?

Why is it called PMS? Because the name "Mad Cow Disease" was already taken.

And one of Greg's favorite jokes that sort of matches: Why do women wear make-up and perfume? Because they're ugly and they stink.

I don't feel like crying so much anymore. I think I'll go take a shower. (but I'm sure I'll come up with something to cry about in there. Does anyone else love crying in the shower as much as I do?)

(Never mind. I have something to cry about. I finished typing this up and went over to read Alison Wonderland's latest post and accidentally clicked on her link to an article which tells a very sad story (got a little weepy) and then mentions organ donorship. I LOVE ORGAN DONORSHIP. So I started all-out crying. Everyone, be a donor.)(Now I feel like crying because donorship isn't a word(sorta suspected that) and I think it should be (maybe you're aware that I usually don't care AT ALL if something is a word or not.)

Glad I Mentioned It

This morning I was getting cleaning supplies out from under the sink in the kitchen while Greg was standing there waiting for an egg to hardly boil. I started explaining to him that now I know how people get mold in their showers. Ours has mold in it. I told him, "If you don't wash it for about three weeks, mold will grow."

His response? "You wash the shower?" "Um yes, I wash the shower." "Oh, I thought mold just didn't grow in Poland like it does in Utah."

Wow.

So I'm really glad it came up. I was actually not going to say anything, sort of hoping that he hadn't noticed the mildew before I got the chance to clean it. Well, I'm not sure if he noticed it or not, but apparently he has noticed that there hasn't been any before now. Magically.

(Which isn't to say there hasn't been more than enough lime scale and dried toothpaste etc. And which also isn't to say that I clean my bathrooms every week. Especially the bathtub and shower. I plan to clean them every week. Which is not quite the same thing.)

Hypocrisy

I spend a good deal of my time telling my children not to do it, and yet here I am, devoting an entire post to it. Shouting. Or more specifically shouting out. Or giving shout outs. However you put it in the plural.

My sister, the mother of the famous little singer, recently told me (again) about what wonderful readers I have. She's wondered in the past how people (I) can read blogs of people they don't know. Like what could possibly be the draw. When she reads the comments you guys leave on here, I think she gets an inkling. And also she starts looking in on some of your blogs sometimes too! You're converting her!

I recently saw some pictures that made me smile hugely in wonder and amazement. Pictures of a little girl I have no connection with. Then I clicked over to see some more. Oh my GOSH. That is one darling girl. And those are some terrific pictures. If I lived near her mom, Melissa of The Howell Harold, we'd be best friends and she would be my photographer for my kids pictures because that's what she does, and she's amazing. So if you live in or near Denver you should totally hook up with her and have your kids shot!!

Now I want to tell a story about a girl who had a little lamb. Just kidding, but I want to wonder soMething out loud. How Are some people able to be everywheRe at once? How do some people follow so many manY blogs? I mean, and actually read and comment on them? I'm kind of thinking of one person in particular (in case you couldn't tell), and I'm also wondering how she manages to leave the cleverest comments on every blog nearly every time. Not like it's a competition, and not like I think comments need to be clever, but I'm just thinking, if I was keeping up with so many blogs, I and leaving such funny comments every time, it would take me all day every day. I would spend 5 minutes coming up with something hilarious to say after reading each post. But somehow she manages it and also has her own hilarious, and I mean hilarious, blog plus a clean house and two little kids. HOW DO YOU DO IT? Sheesh.*

I'm having difficulty adding new blogs, even though I keep coming across awesome ones. I start reading and think, should I just pop in for a visit once in a while? I'm getting nervous about following too many blogs since I like to read every word of every post, and I already feel like I'm spending too much time on the computer. How is one to do it?

Soon I'll scream at some of the people whose books I want to buy and read and keep on a special shelf for books written by my talented fellow bloggers. Or maybe I'll yell at them. Or give them a shout out, or whatever.

Two little footnotes: My dad was a professional photographer and when we were little we had a bumper sticker on our huge green station wagon that said, "Have your family shot today." with the name of the photography place in fine print underneath.
Also, I was planning on putting in that part about Mary BEFORE she started following my blog. It's not like we made some sort of deal or anything.

Sophistication

**Time again to revisit Sophistication. Numbers 10-12 are the additions this time.**

After we had lived in Poland for a while I got back in touch with an old family friend (their family are friends of my family). I had lived in their basement when I first moved to Rexburg to start school. They are a family of intellectuals (Dad's an English professor and they're all very smart). I have always felt just a bit intimidated by them, even though they're the nicest people on the planet. When I lived there, my intimidation was tempered by the fact that they listened to Snoop Dogg, watched and quoted the Simpsons non-stop and made lots of delicious brownies. Who can be intimidated by anyone while eating brownies?

So this woman asked if I was getting all sophisticated, living, as I do, in Europe. This question obviously struck me, since she asked it about 6 years ago and I still remember it. I suppose I started thinking that maybe I should be getting sophisticated, living, as I do, in Europe. This is my inspiration for this post. That and the fact that I only ever post about things that are very important. Or let's just say important, ranging from rather to extremely. And relevant to my readers. That's another thing I value. Relevance.

So I've decided to start a running list of important things I've learned, living, as I do, in Europe. My hope is to gradually reveal the level of sophistication I have achieved. I will add things to the list as I remember them and re-post the list showing my updates. I'm pretty sure you are all on the edge of your seats. Here it comes, in no particular order:

1. Smiling at strangers doesn't always give them a feeling of common understanding with you. Some places it's more likely to make them afraid of you.
2. You can make a cereal that tastes almost exactly like Reese's Peanut Butter Puffs (not available in Poland) by stirring your dry Cookie Crisp (available in Poland) with peanut butter (available) and then adding your milk (also available).
3. Children (especially babies)whose ears are not covered if there is a breeze and it is below 75 degrees outside, will almost surely die. If they don't, at least their mothers will from the deadly looks they are given by more experienced mothers. This has improved in the years we've lived here, and now people just mention over and over that, don't we think our kid needs a hat?
4. Hershey's chocolate (milk and dark) bears little resemblance to real chocolate. It's brown and it's sweet, but beyond that, different. Not bad, just different. I'm not such a snob that I won't eat it. It's a tasty, American, chocolate-like candy.
5. Getting from one city to another 75 miles away doesn't have to take an hour. It can take two or three.
6. Children should sleep without underwear. I'm still not clear on why, I just know it's weird for them to sleep in their underpants. And if you're LDS and your kids sleep in their underwear? Hmmm.
   
7. It's possible to spend an entire summer walking down sidewalks and never once have to detour into the street to avoid getting sprayed by a sprinkler. Or: It's possible to spend an entire summer walking down sidewalks and never find any refreshment from the heat in the form of sprinklers directed almost completely onto the sidewalk. (maybe this has changed in America now that people are loving Mother Earth a bit more).
8. Babies need tea. They should drink baby tea (fruit and herbal) every day from their first month of life.
   
9. Children should NOT drink cold drinks. For children under 3, "cold" means room temperature or colder. For some older kids, room temp might be okay, but it's safer to warm the beverage, like you do for the younger children. Cold drinks give kids (and many adults) sore throats. (This is true! Since drinks are always warmed for children, they can't handle cold ones.)
10. On a long drive, when you gotta go, you gotta go, so there's no need to wait for a gas station. Just pull off the side of the road and do your thing right there. You don't have to worry about covering yourself, or walking 5 paces from your car into the forest through which you are driving. And also, kids should learn to pee on the grass at the park.
    
11. Cakes that taste any sweeter than a typical store bought hamburger bun are "too sweet." Or at least "very rich." (more opinions on Polish cakes here.)
    
12. There are entire grocery stores full of food, good food, that doesn't have brightly colored packaging, or big bubble letter words, or all the reasons you should eat it listed on the packaging. (when we first came here I thought it was so sad and boring, now I think it's really funny when I'm visiting the states and see all the stuff you guys have there. Seems silly after you've been away from it all for a while)
    

That's it for now. I'm sure I'll be coming up with some EVEN MORE sophisticated things that I've learned over the years.

How Many Getting-into-Heaven Points Do you Get for Posting Your Testimony(ish) on You Tube?

I've mentioned before that Greg is pretty active on you tube posting videos in an effort to help dispel myths about Mormnonism, as per Elder Ballard's suggestion (that we join the "conversation" on the internet).

Two weeks ago he came home from work and told us that he wanted to take us to the forest because he wanted to make a video with our family. During the drive we talked about how our day had gone, and right as we were about to park he told me what the plan was for the video. Apparently I was supposed to take an active role, so I had about 5 minutes while walking to the filming spot to think about it. You'll be able to tell if you decide to watch the video.

I'm posting this, not because I expect you all to watch it, but because it's a good thing to post on Sunday. (And also I sort of don't really want people to watch it anyway because in the video, besides seeing me, my husband and my kids (those are the good things), you also get see more than enough of my chins. (those are the bad things)) Greg and I talk about why we feel the restored Gospel is needed in our day, or what we appreciate about having it in our lives.

It's long. About ten minutes BUT if you have a fast connection and it will upload quickly, even if you don't plan on watching the whole thing, I at least recommend you watch from about 8:10 and watch Evie and David carefully. I wasn't aware that they were actually listening to what we said until I watched this and saw their immediate reaction to what Greg says at 8:22. I find it to be a little hilarious. Maybe it's because I'm part of this family, but I've watched that part over and over.

If you're not up for a long video or double chins, and you didn't read my older post about you tube you should TOTALLY click on the link at the top (mentioned before) to see a very funny, very short clip from Cheers related to Mormonism. Sort of.
And if you're a you tube surfer and you're interested, you can find Greg's page or whatever it's called here.

Did You Hear the One About

I love jokes. Maybe everyone loves jokes, but probably not everyone loves them as much as I do. When I hear one on the radio or Greg shares one he heard at work, or I read one on some one's blog, like the locking the doors in the church parking lot one from Nathan*, I almost feel like some one's given me a brownie. I know! I love jokes that much!!

The good/bad thing about jokes is that I never remember them. It can be the funniest thing I've ever heard and I won't remember it tomorrow. The good thing about that is that whenever someone asks me the question in my title, I can always say "no" because even if I have heard it, I won't remember that I've heard it.

There are a few jokes that I do remember, though, and I'm going to share them with you.

I don't consider myself to be above children's jokes. Here are some my kids tell that I like (or mostly that I remember):
__________
WHAT DO YOU CALL:
a fish with an eye missing? "a fsh"
a grizzly bear with no teeth? a gummy bear
__________
Where do french fries come from? grease
__________
On their patrol two policemen notice that the keys have been left in a fancy sports car. One officer says to the other, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" He says "Yeah." The first police officer says, "Then you're under arrest!"
__________
And my favorite knock-knock joke ever:
knock-knock
who's there
little old lady
little old lady who?
I didn't know you could yodel!
__________

Here are two Polish jokes that I like, and that you've very likely already heard (although most likely I'm accidentally changing/ruining them a little):
__________
During his eye exam, the doctor asks the Pole who is looking at the eye chart, "Can you read the last line?"

"Read it!?! I know the guy!"
__________
It's best if you speak Polish with this one as the dialogue is actually spoken in Polish, but I don't really care because I want to tell it anyway. You mostly just have to know:
tu (pronounced like too) = "here"
ten = "this one"
A Pole living in America goes to his dentist complaining of a toothache. The dentist asks him where it hurts. The Pole, who's English isn't very good just points to the tooth in question and says, "Tu." The dentist proceeds to remove two of the man's teeth.
He goes home and, complaining to his friend, explains what happened, "He asked where it hurt and I showed him, 'tu!' and he pulled out two of my teeth!!" His concerned friend replies, "Good thing you didn't say 'ten'!"
__________

And lastly one of a few jokes I have made in my life that made me laugh much harder than anyone else who heard it (has that ever happened to you? I sorta hate that. I'm pretty normal and don't usually laugh at my own "jokes" but this time I could not stop. That usually only happens late at night when Greg and I are hysterical over how hilarious we both are, but that's different. I think that's called the giggles. I didn't have those when I cracked this one, and it popped out of my mouth before I knew what I was saying.)
Greg had been watching the news. It was something about space travel. Later he asked, "Lisa, did you hear that the Chinese went to the moon?" I replied, "All of them!?!"

Don't try to tell me that a) that isn't funny, or b) you've heard one like it before. I won't believe either statement.
* In case you missed that one here it is:
A California Mormon went to visit a Provo Mormon. When they went to the hardware store, the California Mormon instinctively locked his friend's car door, and the Provo Mormon said, "Oh, don't worry about it. This is Provo." The same thing happened at the mall.
On Sunday, when they got to church the California Mormon was proud that he remembered not to lock. To his surprise, his Provo friend locked his door and asked his friend to do the same.
Confused, the California Mormon said, "You didn't lock at the Mall, why do it at CHURCH?"
"'Cause if I don't," the Provo Mormon said, "by the time church is over, my car will be full of zucchini!"
-told by Walter Whipple, Provo, UT 1996

Hope in Tommorow

Don't worry, this isn't going to be a political post. I got out all my politicalness two posts ago. Or all that I had to share on the blog, at least.

This post is about my hope/faith/desire that the day will soon come that the doorbell will ring and Aaron won't screech in horror and run and hide as far behind/under the table and chairs as he can get. And then continue to scream and cry. Even after he sees that it's only David's friend coming to see if he wants to play ball.

I also feel sure that one day I'll be giving Aaron a bath and won't try to scrub off the mysterious dried on specs of something that are way too high up on both sides of his bum to be anything nasty (more like the sides of his lower back), rubbing and rubbing until I remember. Again.

He was quite a sick little guy over a week ago and required antibiotics. The doctor worried that he wouldn't keep down any taken orally (fortunately he still has never thrown up in all of his 19 months of life, but there were other losing-contents-of-the-stomach-too-quickly issues. Look how discreet I am.) That's why she ordered a nurse to come to our house twice a day for five days to administer an injection of antibiotics. Right there on the sides of us upper bum/lower back.

They said it was a painful shot. I believe them based on the level of screaming and wriggling and crying, and now also based on how long his terror of the doorbell has continued after the shots stopped. I also believe them based on the fact that he rarely cries when he gets immunizations. I'm so glad he's feeling better now and has started being active and super smiley again today. As long as nobody stops by for a visit, anyway.

Learning Experiences?

(I love it when you're wondering what, ever, you will post about because you committed yourself to write something every day and just moments later a blog post falls right into your lap. But I just wish they were always funny or at least crazy or neat. Or involved really delicious food. Today's is none of the above.)

My title today is in response to a post I read over at Melancholy Smile yesterday. Her title was the same as mine only without the question mark. Her post is about a wonderful experience she had with teaching her daughter about money (part of which takes place in a car), it's value and purpose and about working to earn it (although I totally agree with her idea that basic allowance should not be related to chores done, as those are part of family life). It's a great post, great blog, great lady, and you should all check her out.

But, as I mentioned, and I'm sure you saw, mine has a question mark. MY post will also be about my daughter and money and being in the car. See? Practically twins. Except for the contrast in our parenting technique. . .

This morning as we were leaving the house to go to school, Evie was crying. Lately she cries about half the time because she hates going to school. She also gets stomach aches. When I was her age, I also used to get stomach aches, related to my fear of school. No fun. (except for the time when they thought it might be because I was allergic to milk and I got to have grape juice with my school lunch instead of milk for a while. That was fun.)

Well, this morning as she was putting all her bags into the car her little purse that she had just put her money in tipped to the side and out rolled all the change. She cried even louder. (The rest of this post happened over the course of the 7-8 minute drive to school)

I tried to console her. I asked what the problem was and then patiently asked her to please say it again (3 times) because I couldn't understand her through the sobs. I assured her that everything would be okay. I told her I'd be happy to help her get it when we got to the school.

"We can NEVER get it!! It's down in the seat belt thing! No one could ever get it out!" (I admit I got a tiny bit sarcastic here and told her to please stop worrying and saying such things until we had given EVERYONE an opportunity to try and NOBODY was able to retrieve the money.) "There's no way we can get EVERYONE to try, mom!!" Cry, cry, cry. (obvious out of character literalness/grouchiness. She understands my sarcasm)

Okay, at this point there was a bit of , "Evie, you have to stop crying about this." in a firm voice. Then I had a thought, "Okay, Evie, how much money dropped? It was probably less than 2 zloty (maybe 75 cents), right?" Yes, it was definitely less. "So really, Evie, that's not that much money! If we can't get it out I can even give you the money. It will be okay!!"

"But that's the whole thing, mom!!! (?) I thought I had hardly any money left and I was SO glad when I found that zloty, and now I've lost it!!!"

"But I can give you one zloty! There is no more problem!"

"But I'm so stupid!! I was so excited about it and then I dropped it!"

"Okay, Ev. We're almost at school and you need to try to calm down. Don't think about the money. Everything will be fine."

Whimper, whimper, cry.

In hopes of distracting her, "Are you ready for your performance in the assembly today?"

"It's NOT a performance!!! We're singing a song." whimper whimper.

"STOP IT, EWELINA!! NO--MORE--CRYING!!!"

Finally we pull into the school parking lot. While the kids unload themselves from the car, I tell them to try and have a good day.

The end.

So this reminds me of my post about how my kids freak out in which I discuss both their freak-out-ishness and how we deal with it. See, it's not only bee stings and doctors visits they freak out about.

I wish I could just feel empathy indefinitely. I wish I could lovingly assure them that their feelings are valid somehow. Still, always after trying and trying, and listening to so much wailing and sobbing, I lose it. Especially when I'm somewhere that I can't escape it. Like in a car.

Congratulations

To Barack Obama*!! You have won the election for President of The United States of America!!

Okay, I'm not absolutely sure he reads my blog (I think he's a lurker), but I thought I should mention it, in case he does and hadn't heard yet.

And now you guys know, too. I'm totally up on current events. You're welcome for the information. And for my reaching across the aisle, too.

Please don't die of a heart attack at my great politicalness in this post. Or the super intelligence displayed therein. Or the reaching across the aisleness, either.

Note: It's okay if only politicians can "reach across the aisle." I'm doing it anyway.
*I linked to him, in case you're not as up on current events as I am.

To LOL or Not to LOL

That is the question. Or that is a question, anyway.

I saw lol for the first time two years ago. Since then I've seen it more and more often. Most recently David has started saying it, "LOL!" Or more often, "Oh, LOL!" But only when he's speaking Polish. He says it when someone shows him a cool magazine or toy, or when he's crossing the street and a car zooms quickly by right behind him. "Oh lol!!" Yes, hilarious, David. So funny. You almost got run over by a car.

I don't ever remember writing lol except for when I was talking about the acronym and not using it. Instead, I will write old fashioned things like:
Hilarious!!
SO funny!
I laughed out loud!

BORING, I know. I'm going to start using new ones like:
Hysterical!!
So comical!
How humorous is that!
Very amusing.

But I just can't bring myself to do the LOL thing. Maybe it's partly because I have felt that, like David, many people just kind of use it as a catch-all phrase. A thing to type. Like at the beginning or end of a sentence, or just on it's own with an exclamation point or two. I personally don't have a problem finding things to type and therefore don't really need random acronyms, like some might.

I am coming to grips with the lol phenomenon, though. I must say I like seeing those three little letters in comments here on my blog. When I do, I imagine that the commenter actually laughed out loud. I'm sure it's not always the case, or maybe it's rarely the case, but I have a good imagination.

I talked to my husband about this last night and he said that he thinks a lot of people use it in place of a smiley face. Now THAT makes some sense. No, it doesn't make sense, I mean that it helps me make sense of people using it when I can't imagine what could possibly have made them laugh out loud. But a friendly smile? Those fit in anywhere. LOL!

And before you exit the blog, would you mind answering the poll in my sidebar?
*Those of you who read the dear Annie Valentine over at Regarding Annie, please know that I was planning on writing a post about this before I read hers. What can I say? Great minds think alike. And for the record, I didn't re-read hers before I typed this up to keep copying at a minimum.
Update: I just peeked over there to make the link, and remembered that she gives some excellent alternative acronyms.

Excuses, Excuses

Last year I read very few blogs, but I did see NaBloPoMo here and there and had no idea what it was. Then in April when I started blogging in earnest I read through some people's archives and learned that it stands for National Blog Post Month and you're supposed to post every day during the month of November. I decided then, in my early blogging enthusiasm, that I would do it.

Then recently I decided I was NOT going to do it, as I'm sort of bored with myself. But yesterday I realized that it's November and I happened to already post on both the first and the second, so I've changed my mind again and am planning to do it. I know, fickle fickle.

I've read a lot of people expressing their fear of the "pressure" of writing every day. If you know me at all, you know that the second I start feeling any of that, I break my writing-every-day contract, which I've made with exactly nobody.

EXCUSES FOR WRITING EVERY DAY
My main reason for wanting to write every day is in hopes that I will acquire the skill of writing posts that aren't 12 pages long. Of course, some posts will still be 12 pages long (NaBloPoMo isn't going to make an entirely new person of me), but I would like to be able to write less when called upon (that means when I want to).

Also, I'm pretty sure that from December 1st, after having posted 30 days in a row, starting back with my three times a week will feel great. Like I'm taking a nice long Hawaiian vacation in between each post. I'll have to be sure not to look out the window or go outside, though, as it will immediately dispel that illusion. December in Poland bears very little resemblance to any month in Hawaii. Well, neither does July in Poland, but whatever.

So, yeah. Those are my excuses. Not very convincing, maybe, but there you have it.

I'm sure I'm meant to say a word about the quality of upcoming posts. I'm not gonna, though, since I've never had much of a thing for "quality posting." I will say, though, that I have no plan at all as to what I will say day after day this month, which should be interesting. Or more likely, significantly less than interesting.
*cute button courtesy of Mombabe over at The Bingham Diaries

Should Be Shown in All Elementary Schools Before and After Halloween

Not to brag or anything, but that would be my niece. I know you're wondering how I can stand to live across the ocean from her.

Part IV: A Relationship with Some Long Distance Parts

This story begins here and links can be followed at the bottom of each part.

Greg finished his translation gig with the Polish TV crew and was back home for my last week in Provo. We spent every waking minute together. It was bittersweet to feel so close, while anticipating the Great Separation.

hiking to Squaw Peak

I had been teased a tiny bit here and there that maybe Greg would pop the question before I could leave for my nannying job, but I laughed it off. The day before I left, there was a ward party at the bishop's house. I remember Greg was off talking to someone and I was sitting on the grass with a bunch of his roommates. One of them (the one who was going to ask me out and then asked my roommate out instead, who also, incidentally, asked me out while Greg was translating in SLC. Hello?) told me that he was willing to bet that Greg would ask me to marry him before I left (this 10 days after having asked me out to a movie behind Greg's back. I suppose he was thinking it couldn't hurt to try before it was too late*?).

I was a little a-flutter. What if? Could it be? No, probably not. It just didn't seem very likely. But he didn't seem too sad that I'd be leaving. He seemed as cheerful as ever. We had about 24 hours. Hmmmm.

The next day went far too quickly. Nothing happened. In the late afternoon a bunch of friends got together for a little farewell party. We got a few pictures with everyone and some of just me and Greg.

Then I said good bye and drove off. I was heading to California to spend a day or two at home, and would fly out to Maryland from there. While in California Greg and I spent a lot of time IMing each other. It was so nice. Still, it felt kind of strange to just go straight from dating to not dating, when we still talked to each other like we were dating.

I arrived in Maryland and met the ADORABLE little almost-two-year old and her parents. She was super cute and smart. Her parents were very nice and accommodating. I had the basement level to myself. Everything was perfect. I cried and cried anyway, and wondered what I had done. Here I was, far from the people I loved in this big empty house with people I didn't know. I had been promised that I would have email access, but there wasn't any. Instead I would just pay for my own phone calls.

I talked to Greg on the phone a couple of times in the first week. His accent was significantly more romantic over the phone. Plus he spoke all softly and I had to be sitting down because it sort of made my knees wobbly. I had assured the people I was living with that Greg and I were just friends. I was trying to assure myself, too.

At the end of the second phone call, Greg asked when we would talk again. I suggested maybe in one week? I didn't want to sound too eager, but I certainly didn't want to wait a whole week, either. He quickly agreed. DANGIT!

After a week of focusing on that darling girl and my new responsibilities, I called him on the appointed night. From the outset he seemed low. I tried to be cheerful and get him to act normal. I was hoping that it wasn't that he didn't want to talk to me. After much wheedling and prying he said, in a very quiet voice, "Obviously you don't like me as much as I like you." HA!! Right. Here I was trying to ensure that he didn't sense how smitten I was with him, and he was claiming I didn't really like him? I asked him how in the world he could know that. He said, "Because you didn't want to talk to me for a whole week and I've been wishing I could talk to you every day!" HA again!! We cleared that misunderstanding right up and decided that we would talk on the phone for ten minutes every night, instead of for an hour once a week. I was happy. I was very happy.

In one of our early conversations I asked what he had done on the weekend. He told me he'd been on a date. With some girl his roommate set him up with. "And?" I asked. "I just kept thinking, this would be so much more fun if she was Lisa." I tried to talk some sense into him and told him that he couldn't expect to have as much fun with someone he didn't know as with someone he knew very well. It would take some time. He knew all that, but told me that after two dates (with two different girls) he wasn't all that excited about dating.

I was getting involved in my singles ward. I was 20 years old and most of the other members were more like 25-40. I still enjoyed it. During the days I was busy going to story time at Borders and Gymboree and libraries and playgrounds, and cooking dinners. Weekends I often drove out to visit my sister and her husband where I could do email. I also had lots of church activities and meetings. There was even one guy in the ward (seriously, one guy) that seemed like prime dating material and I wanted to keep my options open. Still, every day I lived for that ten minute conversation with Greg.

I planned a trip to Utah in October for General Conference weekend. It was wonderful to be back "home." Greg and I were obviously "dating." I wondered what was going to happen to us. Apparently, while he'd been enjoying our last days together, he'd also been looking forward to his freedom. Once I was gone, he quickly realized that freedom was not what he wanted. It took me moving away for him to realize what he did want. And he realized it very soon after I left. Why, oh why didn't I move away 8 months earlier!

during the October visit

Back in Maryland one night on the phone our conversation steered in the neighborhood of marriage. Greg told me that he was just waiting for an answer. We both knew where we were headed. I realized that I had never thought to ask if I should marry Greg. It would be like asking if I should read my scriptures every day. Or whether or not I should eat vegetables. Some things are just obvious like that.

On Halloween he called. He cut right to the chase. "Lisa, I'm on one knee. -- (to roommate) Brad, am I on one knee? ('Yes! He's on one knee!') Will you marry me?" To which I replied, "BOO!" No, just kidding. I said "YES!!!"

He hadn't meant to ask me on Halloween, but he had been unable to contact my dad until then to ask for my hand. My dad had gotten a little sentimental and asked, "Are you going to take her far away from us?" The answer was yes, but really? I was already all the way across the country and Europe wasn't all that much farther.

Romantic, huh? Over the phone on Halloween! I'm SO not sappy-romantic and I LOVE that this is my story. This is how all my anxiety and jealousy and stress and insecurity came to a full and complete stop. He was MINE!! Mine forever. Or he would be soon, anyway!

Next post will be about how we planned a wedding from opposite sides of the country with the remaining nine months of my nannying contract to go. (I'm sure you're dying to read that one).

*Of course I said no (and probably hit him). I really liked this guy, but found it pretty creepy that he was asking me out behind his roommate's back.

Part Five