Happy fall. Or spring. I've forgotten which.

Hey. It's the last day of August. That could really mean less to me. I'm having season withdrawals. Basically, while everyone else is rejoicing in sending kids back to school, or backpack shopping, or whatever else, I'm trying to remember what month it is. Because our schedule has changed exactly Not at All. Jessie goes to work. Jessie goes to school. We go to church. Madeline and I fight about sleeping schedules and try to keep up with laundry and make cookies too often. If I hadn't been counting down two years to this August, I'd probably still think it was June. When I get dressed for church, I freak out and have to remember if we're past Easter and before Labor Day so I can wear white shoes. Not that I wouldn't wear them anyway. Because I am a rebel. But I like to know I'm being rebellious so I can enjoy it.

Madeline, on the other hand, always knows when she's being rebellious, and always enjoys it, too. Basically she doesn't like to do anything unless she thought of it herself. I'll get out her milk because she's standing in front of the fridge, tugging on the handle, and she'll throw it on the floor. So I put it just out reach on the counter, and all of a sudden she pushing chairs over to get it down because she wants it so badly. Same thing applies to getting into the bathtub, getting dressed, or changing a diaper. If I tell her to do it, she unfailingly resists. But if I suggest it and pretend I could care less, she's all of a sudden eager. This does not bode well for the teenage years. It's a good thing I'm an expert at reverse psychology. And general trickery.

How I remembered I am a slacker, not an organizer

I was all motivated today to clean my house. I like how pristine it is and decided to keep it that way. I started contemplating how I could make a schedule and keep to it. I thought about making lists of tasks, or a chore chart, and marking down when the chores were last done so I don't go three months without cleaning my toilets. I played with the idea of color coding tasks by priority. I contemplated using Excel to make these cool charts. Then I realized I'm becoming my husband. So I promptly sat down with Madeline to watch Word Girl on PBS and play meaningless games on the internet.

That was a close call.

What I did on my summer vacation

Wow. I have become a major slacker. You guys don't care about what I did the last few weeks, I know, so it's all good. But maybe I'll give you a quick rundown anyway so I can feel like I've been blogging the last two weeks. Good plan.

-We picked up Curtis from the airport. He's still short and skinny. Madeline likes him, but she likes bananas more.

-We went to California. GPS is a good thing to have when no one brings directions. Madeline behaves better when she's not in the same vehicle I'm in. Good to know for future family vacations. We'll just mail her there in a large box.

-We played at the beach. There are large waves at the beach. If you can't swim properly, don't try to "ride" one. It'll end up giving you a fun ride into a mountain full of sand that will cake every part of your body. Seriously. I was getting sand out of my ears a week later. Also, Madeline doesn't like seeing me tossed around by waves. It makes her cry. She does like throwing sand on people's legs.

-We went to the mall. It was about six zillion times bigger than any mall in Utah, but no fun to shop at because all the dressing rooms had lines about half an hour long. Don't take boys to the mall if you want to have fun. They don't like malls.

-We went to Wicked. It was awesome and someday when I'm rich I'm going to go to New York and spend every night at a Broadway musical for a year. But don't take pictures of yourself on your phone before it starts because the ushers are cranky.

-We went to church. Curtis liked this a lot. But only because he didn't go to relief society, where the lesson title seemed to be "Why relief society was founded so women could have group therapy sessions and encourage each other to be selfish and pamper themselves". I took the opportunity to skip the meeting and play with Madeline on all the sweet toys sitting in the hall by the nursery. My mom and sister were jealous.

-We played board games. I beat Jessie at Settlers of Catan. Just had to throw that out there.

-We went to Sea World. We saw a lot of whales, of which I could not tell you which one was Shamu. All I know is he wasn't the beluga whale in the Arctic exhibit. Madeline refused to ride in her stroller, even though at the hotel all she wanted to do was ride it through the hallway. She was rewarded with a stuffed penguin for her disobedience. There were also Clydesdale horses, because apparently they are sea animals as long as that beer company owns Sea World.

-We played basketball. I scored the winning shot. It was probably the only one I made.

-We went to the zoo and saw a bunch of animals. Madeline learned to talk like a monkey. I saw a hippopotamus. We all bought hats, except my dad, who obviously didn't need one because he has a lot of hair on his head providing him with shade. We forced Madeline to ride in her stroller and she learned to like it because she doesn't know how to undo her seat belt.

-We went swimming a lot. I tried to learn how to swim properly and failed.

- We came home and Madeline learned to throw really long, loud temper tantrums. Thus my lack of blogging.

So, that's what we did. It was fun. It was awesome. No one died. Successful trip.

Home again home again, jiggity jig

So, I haven't said anything about it yet, because my brother threatened us all into deep silence. But I'm pretty sure the word is out by now, so I can confess: I'm really excited for Elder Lundstrom to get home from his mission. And meet his niece. Because she's pretty dratted adorable. Also, because after he does that we can go on a trip to California, which is almost as exciting as seeing your brother after two years. (Just kidding. California is way more exciting, right?) I didn't think I'd miss him too much, since I'd been away at college for a while before he left and didn't waste away of loneliness or anything. But not seeing him often and not being able to see him at all are two way different things. So I will definitely be a little anxious to get to the airport this week, and not because I love riding the escalators. Even though escalators are almost as cool as California.

So I've been trying to show Madeline pictures of her long lost uncle so she'll recognize him a little bit when she sees him. She gets really attentive, but so far she won't say "Curtis". Only "Hi Dale!" And "Bryce!" and "What's that?" Usually followed by hysterical laughing. Because apparently life is way funnier than I'd realized and I've been missing out for the last twenty years. She laughs at everything. She likes to laugh at kids she sees. She laughs when she drops things. She laughs when I have to chase her into the back of the men's room at church becuase someone who hates me propped the door open. And yes, it is extremely awkward to walk out of the men's room when people are walking by that didn't see you chasing a disobedient toddler in. Just another thing that's sure to impress our new ward.

I was randomly thinking about...

I was wondering today who makes up e-mail forwards. I get them occasionally, but pretty much always ignore them, if only because having something horrible happen to me in the next 48 hours because I didn't pass it on could only spice up my life. But who in their right mind would actually write up one of those things and send it? By the time I get them, they've always been forwarded at least ten times. I can see how some of the cheesy feel good stories could get started by some overly emotional hormonal woman who cries when she reads that precious story about the blind kindergartner from Iowa who wrote Amazing Grace, and decides to forward it to all her friends, who are also overly hormonal, and send it to all their friends, and add pictures and change the fonts to size 300 with flashing colors. But who adds the part that says your child will become a musical prodigy if you forward it on to twenty people? Or that your long lost flame will call you in the next 12 hours if you press forward right away? Or that if you don't send to every single person you ever cared about within twenty minutes you'll always be angry and bitter and all those people will know you didn't send it and hate you forever? My favorites are the ones that try to give you guilt trips. If you don't pass on the story of the soldier who saved his whole platoon after his wife prayed for him, you hate America. And Christianity. And men. And small children. So send it, you heartless cold soul! I like to delete those first. Apparently all my fondest wishes and dreams will never come true because I won't play the game, but I'm okay with that. Just know that if you're not receiving a daily forward from me telling you you're one of my five best girlfriends ever, I hate you.

Getting to know you, getting to know all about you

Our new neighborhood is friendly. Really friendly. I don't know how to deal with this. People come up and say hi and want to hang out and let our kids play together, and I'm sitting there going "Socialization? Ahhhh!" Our last neighborhood was a lot more subdued. No one was ever home at our fourplex. I was starting to think we must have been emitting strange odors from our apartment, because the parking lot was always literally empty from eight in the morning until we went to bed. So I'm kind of out of practice on being nice to people and making polite chit chat and being interesting. And I don't have the whole short-term living situation thing going for me, so I probably should get over my awkwardness and learn how to interact with human beings. Are there classes for this sort of thing? Where I can perhaps practice on complete strangers I'll never meet again? So far I'm sticking to the whole where-you-from-what's-your-major concept with a few substitutions, like "how old is your kid?" instead of "when do you graduate?" Actually, I like that one. You can go on about how cute someone's kid is for ages and they end up thinking you're pretty nice. I usually count on Madeline to make some sort of disruption about five minutes into the conversation to spare me from remembering what you're supposed to do after the initial get to know you. Sometimes, a hyperactive child is a blessing.