Being yourself=being awesome

So, I'm currently reading this book called The Happiness Project, by Gretchen Rubin. It's written by this NYC resident who decided to spend a whole year working on different elements of her life, month by month, to create more overall happiness. It's really sort of an ironic read for me at this exact juncture in my life, but that's another topic for another day.

I bought the book from my ibooks app on my new iphone and I love it because now I can read on the subway instead of doing what I usually do, which is try not to stare at people who are trying not to stare at me. It's a fun game, but one I tire of quickly. So now I can stare at my iphone and pretend like the rest of the world doesn't exist, and this makes me a true New Yorker.

But, back to the book. I must say, I'm enjoying it and find myself thinking about it a lot. One thing I really like that she writes about is how she came up with twelve commandments for herself. The first one is "Be Gretchen," meaning it's important to be true to yourself and what makes YOU happy as much as possible. You need to come to grips with what you think is fun and interesting, and not feel like you should love something just because everyone else seems to.

I have probably mentioned this before, but I feel like I spent a great deal of my 20's worrying about what were the best ways to be a mom, dress, act, and play based on what I thought others were doing. For example, everyone was obsessed with scrap-booking, so I went and bought some scrap-booking supplies because that's what good moms did. I never wanted to touch those supplies and so I wondered what was wrong with me.

Around the time I hit 30, I had some real AHA! moments. I realized that I have no desire to scrapbook, and that's OK. I don't have to scrapbook to be a good mom, I don't have to like Coach purses to be stylish, and I don't have to watch SNL and Judd Apatow films to be funny. Once I had these revelations, I realized that it gave me more freedom to try different things that I might not have tried before, once I got rid of the pressure all around me to be good at them. Like running. I'm just not going to run a marathon. I know that. And so when all the ladies in my ward are discussing their training programs, I can smile and not feel uncomfortable because I know I can run 3 miles, and that's pretty awesome for me. "Being Hailey" gives me the freedom to be obsessed with Sci-Fi and post-apocalyptic scenarios, be sort of a food snob, watch a lot of TV, and get my biggest rush from the laughter of an audience. Being myself means I wear my Target threads with pride and never worry about stepping outside donning a cloche hat. It means I might not have anything to say when people start debating politics, but I will be the first to jump into an intense conversation about Gale vs. Peeta, or who should be cast as Katniss.

I've always told my kids, "Everyone has different talents," and I truly believe that there's a reason for that. Even though I don't sew, Rachel does, and so she makes me skirts and pillows. Even though I hate organizing projects, Lisa doesn't, and so she writes me amazing lists. Kacy knows the best books to read and how to make awesome play-lists. I'm not always sure what I contribute to others, but I think I'm fun to drink a Diet Coke and watch SYTYCD with, and maybe that is sort of a talent, right? I guess I've just learned the value in pursuing your own interests and passions, and letting others pursue theirs. And we are all that much more enriched for it.

Now, go and watch Downton Abbey on Masterpiece Theater (if that's your thing) so we can talk about how awesome Maggie Smith is as the Dowager Countess, a lady who is the very definition of being comfortable in your own skin, even if that skin is extremely judgmental and outspoken.

The LIST

New York has some awesome food, but it doesn't have a corner on the food market. For example, I haven't found a burger place that stands a chance against Smashburger nor a pad thai or massaman that I like better than Bangkok Grill, but I'm starting to wonder if I am only obsessed with the latter because it has been such an integral part of my life for the last three years. However, I have promised friends that I would keep track of my favorite dishes and places for their visits, and so, in no particular order, the LIST so far:

P.J. Clarke's: Ben took me to this place when we were here to apartment hunt this past summer. I geeked out over it because Don and Sterling went there for a drink once! It is very old school New York, and sitting in it, I can easily imagine a smoke-filled room of fedoras and pill box hats. We ordered the baked macaroni and cheese with bacon and I have never regretted it! (Sidenote: the owner of P.J. Clarke's died in the restaurant. He had his whole family there, and he was screaming at a waiter, and he just keeled over, dead. Moral of the story: be nice to waiters.)



Island Burgers and Shakes: Now, I said that I have not found a burger place to rival SB and that is because there are not many fast and fresh burgers here, a la SB and Inn-N-Out. They do have 5 Guys, which is alright, but not my favorite. They also have Shake Shack, and I have to say, I was underwhelmed. Now I love a medium rare patty, but my Shake Shack burger was bloody raw. And the shake is just your regular Inn-N-Out style straw shake. So yeah. Whatever. Anyway, there are lots of restaurant burgers that are good. We took my friend, Daryn, to Island Burgers before he went to see a show. It is in Hell's Kitchen and also across the street from Ben's building. I don't even remember which burger I ordered, but I really liked it and it was so big I had to eat it with a fork. I would go here again for sure, especially since I need to try a shake next time! 5 Napkin Burger is also quite good. Ben got a burger and I got mac and cheese, and both were excellent.

La Nougatine at Jean Georges: This restaurant is fancy-schmancy. We took Ben's mom here for her birthday. It is located in the Trump Tower on Columbus Circle and has a dress code. However, it also has a prix fixe dinner menu. In fact, Jean Georges was one of the first chefs to introduce a prix fixe menu when the economy got bad. I think it's a brilliant move because non-rich folks like us can eat at a glorious French restaurant. (Sidenote: Jean Georges is also the inventor of the molten chocolate cake. It was the result of a baking accident and now everyone makes it! I had his for dessert and it was divine!) Just order the fixed price menu. It will all be amazing. Ben's mom also ordered some butternut squash soup that made me cry.

Lombardi's: This pizzeria is in Little Italy and is apparently the first pizzeria in America. Cool, right? We went here with Ben's mom when she was in town. We did have at least a 30 minute wait, but it was a Saturday. It was pretty awesome. Since eating there, I have been to some other famous pizza places that beat this one out (see: Keste) but still good pizza.



Alice's Tea Cup: My mom was in town and we wanted to go to lunch for the twins' birthday, so we decided to try this cute little tea and scones cafe. My sister-in-law Kristen had told me about it and I had seen online that they had brunch. The girls love breakfast more than anything so I thought it would be perfect. Unfortunately, I missed the part that said brunch is only served on the weekends and we showed up on Monday. I was underwhelmed with the kids' menu selections, but I ordered the BLT on black bread for myself and wow, I love that thing. It had a blue cheese spread on it that was amazing, and my mom tried to eat all of mine. The restaurant was adorable and I would like to go back and try one of the various herbal teas and scones, along with my sandwich, of course.

Gennaro: This cozy little Italian place is right across the street from our apartment and Ben had read really good things about it, so we popped over there one night. The only thing I can really remember is this: the warm potato tartine with portobello and goat cheese. Oh.My.Word. I am so in love with this thing. Comfort food extraordinaire. Please go and try it. And take me with you.

Keste: Ben had a slow week at work. Ben decided to go on a quest for the best pizza in New York. He did all his research and went to different places for lunch, and all without me. He said he wanted to try them all out before bringing me. How thoughtful of him. Anyway, he made good on his promise, and brought me to Keste two days after Christmas. They are a true Neapolitan pizza joint, with real volcanic rock from Italy in their brick oven. I ordered the pizza special because the waiter told me it would change my life, in the most awesome Italian accent, I might add. It sort of did. It had more blobs of mozzarella on it than I thought was possible. Ben and I each ordered a whole pizza. The couple next to us said, "How are you guys going to eat all that?" We didn't leave a crumb. Then the same couple said, "You guys are awesome!" and left. Taken out of context, that comment is really strange. I like to think that the couple on the other side of us (who were from LA and on a pizza tour, wouldn't you know it) heard that statement and wondered why we were so awesome, since they had arrived there after the initial reaction to us ordering two pizzas. Either way, I felt awesome.


Crumbs Bake Shop: Many cupcakes I've had here have made me want to cry from disappointment. I have had too many dry Magnolia cupcakes to count. However, I discovered a cupcake at Crumbs that is essentially a giant Hostess cupcake. It is chocolate with white butter cream filling and chocolate ganache frosting on top. So far, it has always been moist and amazing. I am hopelessly in love.



More to come...

The Darndest Things

Everyone thinks that their kids are awesome. And they should. Because they ARE awesome. Lots of people in New York have dogs for children and they push them around in strollers (Iamsonotkidding) and talk to them like they're talking to a two year old child and I look away and pretend like I didn't notice because they should be totally embarrassed about that, right? Besides, my kids do the following things that I am almost positive a dog can't do.

One afternoon this past week, Lucy and Lane and I were headed out to pick up the older kids from school. Lucy bolted out of the elevator and across the lobby and left one shoe halfway across the room. She doubled back and met Lane at her shoe and this was their exchange:

Lucy: I just turned into Cinderella.

Lane: (kneeling down and putting the shoe on her sister's foot) I am not a prince now, Lucy. I'm just a girl.


Last week after church, the Primary President came over to me and said, "I don't know what you said to Ethan, but thank you!" I just stared at her blankly and she told me that, according to his teachers, he raised his hand at the beginning of their lesson and said, "I have an announcement to make." He then stood in front of the class and said, "I think we should all be more respectful of our teachers by listening to their lesson." And then he sat down. Amazingly enough, the kids were less disruptive and more reverent.


Finally, Mila brought me the first part of her essay to read, entitled "Don't Judge a Book by its Cover." Here is an excerpt:

"For example, if you see a new kid and she is fat, you do not just say 'She is fat. She must eat, like, McDonald's every night. She is gross and I won't be her friend.' You will eventually tell her she is fat and gross. She probably won't like it and won't react with a big hug and a box of chocolates. . . there may be another side to the whole story. Maybe the girl is just wearing a big puffy coat and she is really exercising and eating brussels sprouts."

So, this is weird...

Sunday afternoon, we all piled on to the 1 train as usual, on our way to church. We take up almost an entire center section of a subway car, so it's always nice to get on and find that empty row waiting for us. Such was the case this day, and we all sat there in our Sunday garb.

I looked over at the three men across from me and to my left. They were speaking French and they were large guys, yet they had all squeezed into what looked like two seats. I know from experience that those French types have no issues with not having any personal space on the Metro, so I figured they were quite comfy.

Next to them, directly across from me, was this Asian guy in his 20's. He was just listening to his iPod at first and then, he did something that caught my attention. He looked over at our family, took off his earphones, then pulled out a pen and what looked like a journal. He opened it and I saw short entries scribbled inside. He turned to a fresh page and started writing. I could barely just make out this sentence at the top: "A family of six got on the subway..." and that's all I could see before he looked up at me and I looked away hastily.

He kept writing and writing, and in between writing, he kept looking at me (I have great peripheral vision), then he would look at Ben, then each of the kids in turn. I was dying to see what he was writing about us, and I sort of wanted to yell, "What the heck are you writing about us in your diary?" But I didn't, and we got to 66th St., our stop, and he had written a full page, and we got up and got off. And I will never ever know. And it kills me.

I wonder if he will write a blog about us. Or make a TV show. Or an immersion art piece. Or a book, or comic book! Maybe it will be called, "The day I saw some people on the subway who were so obviously Mormon that I had to write it down," or, as I prefer to think, "The day I saw the most ridiculously good-looking, stylish mom with unfortunate roots that I have ever seen."

Come on, a page?! Maybe we just inspired him to get out of his dead end job, get married, and make babies. And I'm ok with that, too. But so help me, I want some credit.

A New York Minute

Setting: Hailey, Lucy, and Lane are checking out at the new Trader Joe's at 72nd and Broadway. Their cashier, a pleasant lady who has just offered the twins stickers, notices Lucy's cough.

Cashier: What do you give your children when they cough like that?

Me: Usually nothing. My kids always get coughs that last for like three weeks, but they never get fevers or anything.

Cashier: (her eyebrows go up so high I'm afraid they'll stick that way) I guess I'm a different kind of parent. I don't like to see my children suffer.

Me: (shoot a WTH look over to Jenny, who is checking out at the next register, but has not heard anything.)

Cashier: You should give her some NyQuil so she can sleep. That's what I do.

Me: . . .

And scene.

(No children were harmed in the making of this episode. You guys, I know it's amazing, but Lucy survived the night, despite all that suffering I inflicted on her.)

NYC Lesson #3 and some pics of our pad

Here, it is completely acceptable to live in a closet. If you had lived in NYC your whole life and then read Harry Potter, the horror of Harry living in a cupboard under the stairs would have been utterly wasted on you because you would not have known anything else. This is another New York joke I had always heard but never gave much thought to until I started looking for apartments. I never truly believed that living spaces here would be that small because hey, I watched Friends for every single season, and I saw Rachel and Monica's apartment and TV would never lie to me!

That said, I feel like we found a relatively large apartment for our family of 6, and I am truly happy with it. (Sidenote: in our "Welcome to the ward" letter, there are tips for living in the city, and one of them says not to compare your apartment with others, because everyone has different needs and every apartment has advantages and disadvantages. Ben and I just found that amusing and we wondered if the person who wrote it either had a totally sweet apartment and was being defensive, or had the most unfortunate apartment ever and was trying to console themselves.)

We are in a pre-war building with a cool old-school elevator and there is a part-time doorman who says, "Hey Miss Hailey, you're looking good tonight!" when I leave so he is pretty much my new BFF. My guess is that our apartment is about 900 square feet, but I like the layout, the kids' room is really big, and the kitchen/living/dining area is really open and reminds me of a good old Utah open kitchen/living/dining area. There is lots of natural light and all of the appliances are brand new, so that is awesome. There is also a lot of cupboard and closet space, for which I am eternally grateful. I saw some apartments online when we were originally looking that featured "kitchens" which consisted of a fridge, a sink, a stove, and two cupboards stuck in a corner of a room. Nice try, but no thanks. Mama needs cupboards and counter space! Ben also had me worried that we would not find an apartment that would fit a table and I kept insisting that we must have one. He said just maybe we could have one that folds up and I told him I wasn't going to be folding and unfolding a table one jillion times a day. We fought about it a lot and one time I blurted out, "I would rather have a table then a TV!" Ben retorted, "You don't mean that!" It was pretty heated. Fortunately for our marriage, I got my table AND television.

So far, I have only taken pics of the kids' room and the main area, but I will try to get pics of our room and the bathroom soon. Which reminds me, life with one bathroom is interesting at best. We have actually had to develop a bathroom schedule, although I don't actually have it posted anywhere or anything, that would be weird. As for our bedroom, it is not that exciting because it is pretty much just our bed. But hey, it fits! I love that bed and it was one of my deal-breakers for living in the city. If you think it is strange and self-obsessed for me to post pictures of my apartment, just know that I made a promise to some very important and vocal people that I would.

Kids' room from the doorway

Kitchen

Kitchen looking into eating area

The table (yes!) with my newly painted chairs, which make me very happy, I must say. Thanks to Rachel who coaxed me into the project and came over to sand and paint.

The crew on the couch. (You can see one of the posts of my beloved bed in the background.)

The new IKEA couch, that was supposed to be a sofa bed, but they didn't have the one we wanted in yet. So we had to buy an air mattress instead. Come and visit and stay on our cozy air mattress!

New York City Lesson #2 and what some would call a miracle

You know how, in the movies, you always see mothers in New York talking all the time about what schools their kids are/will be attending? There's a reason for that stereotype, because it is 100% true. If you walk around with kids, then in the elevator, at church, in the laundry room, the first question out of others' mouths is not the names of your children. Rather, they immediately ask, "What school are they attending?" The first person who came up to us at church asked, "Are you homeschooling your kids or are they going to a private school?" I was speechless. I was no longer in the land of sending your children off to their lovely neighborhood school. "Oh dear, oh no, no, no," is how one lady put it when I mentioned our zoned school, as if I had said a naughty word. As you can imagine, this led to much frustration and anxiety on my part. I had imagined it would be intense, but I never realized just HOW intense.

This gives you the setting for the part of my story I like to call: "The Miracle":

New York does not exactly roll out the welcome rug for school children moving out of state. If you want to be in a certain school, then you have to move into the catchment zone for that school. Otherwise, you're on your own. I imagine not many people with ten year-olds move in for the first time and so I guess it isn't any wonder that the whole system caters to children who are 3 or 4. Children are tested for gifted and talented programs the year before they start kindergarten which I believe is somewhat ridiculous, but hey, everyone gets to be gifted and talented! But I digress. There are some very good public schools on the Upper West Side, but finding an affordable apartment that fits six people in the areas of those schools is pretty much the stuff of myths and legend.

But I get ahead of myself. Let me go further back, to July, when Ben and I first found an apartment. It was perfect for us, complete with a washer and dryer (gasp!) in the unit! We drew up a floor plan, arranged all our furniture and were good to go. Four days before we were to fly out and move in to said apartment, we got a message from our broker saying that our application had been rejected by the condo board. Our broker was perplexed, having NEVER seen this happen before, in all his years of brokering. We were upset and dumbfounded. We knew it was because we had four kids, but we also knew that no one was ever going to tell us that to our face because it is illegal to discriminate against family size in the state of New York. We still had to fly out because it would have cost us as much as the original price of our tickets to change them. We flew out, stayed the night with my stepsister Michelle, then the kids and I boarded a bus to Boston while Ben headed to meet with our broker.

On the bus to Boston, I saw a familiar face. It was my friend, Eli, from high school. He and his fiancee came to the back of the bus to chat with us and Eli's fiancee, a teacher, mentioned that there was a wonderful school in Manhattan on the UWS and she thought I should really look into it.

About ten minutes after arriving in Boston, Ben called and said he had found us a place. It wasn't as nice as the other apartment, and cost more, but our broker was convinced that we would never find anything better in this location in this price range. I thought it was quite a coincidence that it happened to be on the same street that Eli's fiancee had just told me that one school was located. We submitted our application, held our breath for a day, and were relieved to find out we were accepted!

Our new moving day was the day before school started, so as the movers were arriving, I walked with all the kids to the public school we were zoned for to register them. They happened to have a French dual language program so I asked if Ethan could be placed into it. The principal said the class was very full so she would put him in it, then pull him out some time and assess him to see if he could stay in. Mila was assigned a fifth grade class.

We showed up next day for the first day of school filled with hope and excitement. Well, one of us, anyway. I was super nervous and Ethan has never been a fan of school. We found their assigned classes in the yard. Ethan seemed to fit in great. I felt really good about leaving him. As far as Mila was concerned, there was only one fifth grade class and I found that very strange, especially since there were at least three of every other grade. All of the other children in her class towered over her (she's a mere 4'3" tall and can fit into a pair of pants that say 5T on the tag.) I walked slowly away from my tiny girl, wiping tears away and telling myself she was tough and everything would be fine.

Because I had not had time to go to the grocery store the day before, I went back to the school with lunches for the kids around 11. They wouldn't let me go any further than the office. They had a student take Ethan his lunch and called Mila down to the office. The second I saw her, I knew something was wrong. She looked terrified, but she had tried to mask it with a semi-tough expression. I asked her if everything was ok, and she sort of nodded and asked, "How long until school gets out?" As far as I know, my daughter has never asked that question before in her life. She would rather be at school than anywhere else, and that was a huge red flag for me.

I hurried to the school to pick them up later that afternoon and was greeted with a perplexed Ethan. Angry after school Ethan is pretty much the norm, I reminded myself as I listened to his ranting about the PE teacher not letting him go to the bathroom because it would waste everyone's time and how it took ONE HOUR to get to lunch because they had to stay in line and kept having to stop and wait. The best part was when he dropped his voice and said, "I don't think I can go to this school, Mom. My teacher said 'oh my G.O.D.' Yeah, I don't think she's Mormon."

Mila came out soon, grabbed my hand, and we started walking home. "Mom," she began, very calmly, "I'm not sure this school is a good fit for me. No one in the class would stop talking the ENTIRE day and my teacher couldn't get ONE thing done. They were completely disrespectful, Mom, and I didn't learn one thing the whole day. They did it in Music class, too, AND computers. And girls in computer class were getting on Facebook and Twitter! And people would come up to me and ask me how old I was and I'd say '10' and they would stare at me very rudely. I also heard them talk about me behind my back and say words like 'new kid' and 'Utah.'" (Bless her heart, I was so worried she would say something else.)

By the time we got home, I was so angry and frustrated. I went to my room and cried for about an hour, not so much because of what I'd heard but because I had absolutely ZERO options. Here I was, with this intelligent, motivated, bright girl, and the system was saying, "Oh well! Sucks to be you!" The kids had the next four days off, between Roshashannah and the weekend, so I spent a lot of time venting to friends and family, trying to come up with some sort of solution. There was a lot of talk of home school, which I had never understood before, and now I completely do! I did a lot of praying and my dad told me that there was a solution, we just had to be patient.

I noticed that the school I had heard about on the bus was just up the street from us--we passed it on the way to the other school. I looked at the school's website and they said students got in on a lottery, done once a year. While my kids were back at their school for their second day, I took a deep breath and walked into the lottery school office. A lady smiled and asked if she could help me. I said, "I just moved here from Utah and I was wondering if I could get any information on this school for my kids." "We are a lottery school," she began, then, "hold on a minute." She walked into another room, then came back in and motioned me back there. There was another lady who said, "Oh my goodness, you look so bewildered, you poor thing! No one warned you!" Then she said something I did not expect. "We have openings in 2nd and 5th grade. Want to move your kids over?" I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I stammered, "Really? Are you kidding?" Then, "I don't know." Oh, Hailey. Duh. The lady continued, "Well, I guarantee these openings won't last so you'd better decide quick." "Let me talk to my kids, and we'll be back!" I almost ran to my kids' school, willing them to get out early. I called my mother-in-law and told her to pray that our spots wouldn't be filled in the twenty minutes since I had left.

I got the kids, Mila said things were no better the second day, and I took them to see the new school. When we got there, the first lady who I had talked to, who happens to be the parent teacher coordinator, rushed my kids across the hall to show them the new greenhouse they had just finished building that summer. "We are going to grow our own garden and do our own composting!" Mila's face lit up like a thousand stars and I knew we were in the right place.

After the first day of school at the new school, it became even more clear to me that we had made the right decision in moving them over. Both the kids had made friends, I was allowed in the kids' classroom whenever I wanted, and I attended a PTA meeting that very morning. They actually liked families, and welcomed their help and input. People introduced themselves to me and smiled warmly. I told my family and friends that we were in some kind of hippie school but hey, I'd take hippies over a prison any day. And it was only a three minute walk from our apartment!

In the next few weeks, when I would tell people my story, either in the laundry room of our building, or at church, or stuffing envelopes in the school cafeteria, they would actually say things like, "That is an amazingly unbelievable story," or "You have REALLY good karma," but I knew that it was, in fact, a miracle. I didn't do it alone, though. I could probably name 20 people who were pulling for us that first week and that is truly humbling. I know we weren't having some sort of medical crisis or anything, but these people loved my children and wanted them to be safe and happy. They knew that I didn't care what school my kids went to based on status or anything like that. They knew that I just wanted to do my job the best I could, and that meant giving my kids the best possible experience in this completely new and different place. I am truly lucky to have such a great group of family and friends on my side. I hope they know how much I love them.

The kids have truly made the transition like superstars. The night before starting at the new school, Mila was entertaining us with stories of the "old" school over dinner. She said that all of the girls in her grade had formed a mean girls club.

"You mean, they actually call themselves the 'mean girls club'?"

"Yep. And they asked my friend Zoanna, who is also new, but she said no. They didn't ask me, though. I think it's because I have such a light complexion and fair coloring." (Not kidding, those were her exact words, and she was completely blase.)

"Well, if every single girl is in the mean girls club, who do they have left to be mean to?"

"I don't know, me, I guess!" she shrugged, and continued to eat her pizza.

Thank heaven for tender mercies.

New York City Lesson #1

So, New York City. What the backwards universe? How is a city in the same country that I have lived in my whole life so utterly different from everywhere I have ever lived in my whole life? Translation: I am a WESTERN girl. The furthest east I have ever lived is Chicago, and that barely counts because I lived in the land of John Hughes movies, the North Shore. With that in mind, I present you with one of the first things I figured out about this city:

People in Manhattan do not have four children. It is just not DONE. If you happen to accidentally get pregnant with a third kid, you immediately head for them country hills. Just last week, at a new family welcome breakfast at my kids' school, I met a dad who said he had three kids. He saw my twins and just assumed I had one other at the school because he said, "I mean, having three is majorly pushing it! You have any more than that and you may as well be one of those crazy families living on the prairie in... (at this part, I actually held my breath and willed him to not say Utah.)...the midwest!" Oh ha! Those Midwesterners! Phew. I neglected to mention my four kids, shoved a croissant in my mouth, and politely moved along my merry way. Any time our whole family ventures out of our apartment to walk the streets, we get stares, gasps, pointing, exclamations, and tsk tsks. Since when did I wake up and become Britney Spears? It's super weird. Our very first night in the city, our family went to a pizzeria. After we sat down, I happened to catch a bit of the conversation at the neighboring table:

"On the one I saw, there were like 19 wives."
"Well, but I think traditionally, three is the norm."

Coincidence? I think not.

Just yesterday, I had a good laugh because Ethan had his first "playdate." I met the boy's nanny at the classroom and she walked home with us. We all went inside our building, then our apartment, and then she took off her shoes and not knowing the NY playdate rules, I just kind of went along with it. Ben was home and I gave him this look like, "Oh boy, this should be interesting!" and these images crossed my mind of the boys, the nanny, and I having lightsaber duels and building Legos together. Were we supposed to play with them? She already knew about Mila so when she saw one of the twins, she said, "Oh wow, you have 3?" When I told her that there was a copy of that one just around the corner, she gave me that open-mouthed look I've gotten used to seeing. She got out the little boy's organic power bar snack and then asked me if it was ok if she could leave. I said, "Oh yes, of course! We will be fine!" Then she said, "Are you sure? There are a lot of kids here--can you handle all of them?" Me, trying not to laugh, "No, I think we're good, thanks! What time do you want to pick him up?" Her answer was the best: "Well, in about 30 minutes because we don't want to overwhelm you." Bwahahahahahahahaha! These people are awesome! So I sent her on her way and gave the kids popsicles and let them have their two seconds of playtime as I smiled to myself and remembered Utah days gone by of ten children roaming my house. I did ask the little boy a few questions and found out he was an only child. I hope he gets to come over lots more!

All that being said, I don't think it's impossible to live in the city with four kids. I think there are like 2 other families in the ward doing it! And what about Heidi Klum? My kids are making the transition well, and they don't seem to notice all the unsolicited attention they're getting, so there you have it.

(Can someone please give me Heidi Klum's phone number?)

New town, new blog, same me!

I have had my blog since 2005, but it has certainly suffered much neglect in recent years, due to the birth of twins, followed by a plethora of creative projects in my real life. I have always blogged to try and document my life in a somewhat entertaining way, to stay connected with friends and family, and as therapy. So now that I have moved across the country to the completely foreign land of Manhattan, I once again feel the need to write down all of the things that happen to us while giving my much missed loved ones a glimpse into our new life here. As I type this, I am painfully aware of how long it's been since I've written. I'm rusty and it will probably take me some time to re-find my blog voice. I mean, I'm already bored to tears with everything I've just written, but oh well, exposition is a necessary evil!

I changed the blog title because why not? I was going to call it, "Just the Nanny" because I decided that that would be my ready-made response to Manhattanites who accosted me on the street. However, after being here three weeks, I now know I ain't foolin' nobody--those blonde, blue-eyed rugrats are all me. Awesome is a word I use WAY too much, but I love it because it has so many different meanings depending on the context. For example, if I was talking to Chris and Lisa Clark about someone who was being all awesome, that would not be a good thing. Similarly, if I was crossing Amsterdam and all of my groceries spilled out all over the street, that would also elicit an "awesome." And then, of course, I have completely awesome friends who are awesome in the truest sense and I could only ever hope to emulate them. Also, Friday Night Lights is AWESOME and why aren't you watching it?

But if you know me, then you already know all that, and what stranger is going to read all this? So basically, I just wasted a lot of time and words. But I think it might be funny for my grand kids to read this some day and make fun of me because I liked archaic old fogey words like "awesome." Which reminds me, another word I like is "boss." My mother-in-law uses it all the time to describe things that are cool and I love it when my ten year old blurts out, "That is SO boss, Mom!" Feel free to try that one out some time.*

*Other expressions I may or may not be currently or soon-to-be implementing into my every day speech: my friend, Natalie told me that, instead of giving someone the benefit of the doubt, she gives them the B.O.D., or bod, because it's easier to say. I love it, I'm stealing it. Also, on Project Runway these days, Valerie keeps saying cray-cray instead of crazy and I can't get it out of my head. What expressions/words can I steal from you?

LOST

Yes, I watched the LOST season finale on Sunday night, and yes, I cried. A lot. Most of the time, I am the robot, but something about emotionally investing SIX years of your life in a TV show really gets the "Danish waterworks" flowing, as my grandma would say.

But for me, it wasn't just about the show ending itself, but about the many memories I have of watching the show over the years. Most, if not all of those memories involve the wonderful people I watched it with. Here are ten of my most memorable LOST-watching moments: (warning: spoilers--please read at your own risk!)

1) The pilot. We lived in Orem. Mila was four and Ethan was one and a half. I watched it by myself and I remember sitting there on my couch in my living room thinking that I had never seen anything as awesome as this on TV and I just loved everything about it. The premise alone dazzled me. If you know me , you know that I have an almost unhealthy obsession with post-apocalyptic settings where large masses of people are wiped out and then the survivors have to learn how to continue a normal society together (Stephen King's "The Stand," anyone?) Well, this fit right into that category for me and so I was in love from minute one. Lisa and I began talking about it and asked each other, "What role would I play on the island?" Certainly not hunter, maybe gatherer. Nurturer? Entertainer? Annoying person who asked incessant questions about peoples' pasts? We talked about that a lot over the years. About how people never asked each other enough questions and what we wouldn't give for just one day on the island to be a super Nosy Nora.

2) Arzt exploding. At some point early on, I began to to go to the Clarks to watch LOST. At that time, we'd watch Alias and then LOST (or vice versa), and at that time, Lisa, Brett, Chris, sometimes Eric, and myself would watch together. Chris would sometimes sing words to the creepy jungle music, like, "Keep running, go faster, they'll kill you!" It was great. Then, this one time, Arzt picked up unstable dynamite and exploded and we all laughed and then rewound it and watched again and again. It was awesome.

3) Season one finale. I'm almost positive that Brett, Lisa, and I watched in shock and horror as Mr. Friendly calmly demanded, "Now give me the boy." And we all went, "Holy crap! It wasn't Aaron, it was Walt!" It was an awesome episode to end an awesome season.

4) The first time we saw inside the hatch. Season 2, episode 1. Not sure who was there, but I know it was at least Lisa and I. We were like, "What? What is this 70's music and furniture? Who is that dude?" Then there was the long camera pan up the hatch and we gasped. This was also in 2005, during the Dark Ages when I lived in Highland and had to drive 30 minutes to get to the Clarks. That period lasted a whole two years.

5) The creepy cabin. During one season, maybe 3, Ben goes to visit Jacob in this creepy cabin and I almost wet my pants, I was so freaked out. Lisa gave me a blanket to hide under and I think Jenny hid under it with me. I couldn't stop thinking about how scared I was for weeks.

6) The first episode with a flash forward. I believe it was the season finale of Season 3 and I remember thinking, "These people just changed TV forever." It was mind-blowing, and we never saw it coming.

7) The golden age of LOST watching. I moved back to Provo in June 2007, a mere two minutes from the Clarks. Our LOST nights increased, and it was good.

8) Kate and Aaron. There was an episode in season 5 in which Kate had to say good-bye to three-year old sleeping Aaron. I watched it by myself, and I was so glad I did, because I started bawling. Like loud, ugly, uncontrollable sobbing. I might just have to skip that episode next time I watch the series.

9) LOST lunches. During season 6, Lisa, Kacy and I have frequently met to discuss all things LOST. We developed a lot of predictions, some of which came true, and ate a lot of cheeseburgers. It has definitely been a highlight of 2010 and the final season of LOST. Last Thursday, the three of us went to LOST Live at the theater to watch the producers talk about the show. We laughed and clapped (and I took notes) and felt a real kinship with the other ten people in the theater. Hey, if loving LOST makes me a first-class nerd, then seriously, NERDS 4 EVA!

10) The series finale. Lisa came over to our house. I made Dharma "beer" and Dharma chocolate bars. We watched and cried and witnessed the end of an era. I might even be crying a little as I write this. I loved the finale. I loved how happy it made me feel, and how I was happy for all of my LOST "friends" on the show. I also felt happy for all of my real friends and how much I love them. I truly believe that the friends that I have made in the last ten years are life-long friends and that is perhaps the only thought that will sustain me during my move to New York in August. And yes, I am a big sentimental sap, but I'm owning it.

So, a summary: I love LOST. I love my friends. I love cheeseburgers.

What are your favorite LOST-watching memories?

Yin and Yang

People are always asking me how the twins' personalities differ from one another. It's difficult to explain using regular adjectives, like "sassy" and "serious." It's easier for me to paint a picture of how they act differently in different situations. For example, tonight we were reading "Beauty and the Beast." Lucy was snuggled up close to my left side, not making a sound, gazing intently at the pictures, her eyes never leaving the page. Lane did not sit down even once. She spent the whole time we read the book jumping from the arm of the couch onto the spot on my right. However, she was still paying attention, as evidenced by when I read Belle's response to the Beast after he told her he wouldn't let her father go. "Take me instead," I read, and Lane yelled, "TAKE ME INSTEAD!" then leapt off the arm of the couch.

What's really cool is to go back and read their blessings (my friend in my ward took them down shorthand, then wrote them out for me) and see how different they are, and how they completely reflect them as individuals. They go around all day doing everything together: dancing, eating, trashing their room, sleeping in the same bed, watching the same shows, and yet they are each entirely their own person. It's fascinating, and I'm completely thrilled to have a front row ticket to the show.

Lucy and Lane, Blessing Day

Lane and Lucy

Boring Blog, Crazy Life

I know my blog is boring recently, but it's because my life has been far from it. I am opening "Dirty Rotten Scoundrels " on Friday and it is funny and you should come see it. I perform every Monday, Tuesday, and Friday through April 24 (but not March 12, because my bro-in-law is getting hitched!) Once the show is officially open and I have more time in my life to have life experiences, then maybe I will write about them. Here are a few clips from the show: "Here I Am" and "Love is My Legs." It's kind of hard to see, but thanks, Mom!





P.S. "Love is My Legs" might just be the best musical theater song EVER written. Also, I sound like Minnie Mouse, and I really hope that's only on the recording and not in real life.

Can you have too many black cloche hats?

Because if not, then I certainly need this:


Blue would mix things up a little bit, right?


And this, for the tomboy in me (what?) But really, it would look good with my military coat...


Yes, I am obsessed with hats. I admit it. They are adorable, and I wish more people wore them. The end.

Conversations in the Car

Mila: "Mom, does it bother you when people laugh at things in movies that aren't funny?"

"Yes," I immediately thought, but instead, I said something like, "Well, everybody has a different sense of humor. I have been around a lot of funny people for a while and I have seen and heard many funny things, so I'm kind of picky when it comes to comedy."

Her: "Well, I'm just a kid, so I will pretty much laugh at everything in the movie that they want me to. I can't help it because I'm a kid, you know?"

Just watch the kid's nose!

Ben said he was sick of getting grossed out by Bret's bloody stump every time he clicked on my blog and so I had to post something. Since I can barely get myself or my children dressed these days, let alone write a complete thought, I give you Ethan, warming up for his hapkido test. It's unfortunate that there is a guy's arm in my way a lot, but it is worth it to see that my son is awesome at breathing in. I think it's his special talent. I tried to do it at home and almost passed out. He did it EVERY TIME.



P.S. Is it bad to laugh at your child during his hapkido test? I don't know the martial arts rules. When I showed up to drop him off for the test, I asked his instructor if parents needed to stay, and he looked at me weird and said, "It IS a test." As if that answers anything? I just stared at him back and mumbled, "This is new to me...I'm an actress...," hoping that would explain it. I could have used my old standby, "I have twins..." but it didn't seem to fit in the context. Oh well, NOW I know that a hapkido test is like a recital. And I would never miss one anyway, because they're AWESOME! Serious comedy hour. Plus, he's a yellow belt now--skillz!

Hailey's Babies

That's what is written on a disc sitting on my desk. It contains pictures that my step-dad, Bret, took of my kids when we were visiting for three weeks in July, except we took all of these pictures about one hour before we went to the airport to go home. Bret was in a horrible work-related accident while we were there, which involved 300 lbs. of something smashing down on his finger. Therefore, he took all of these pictures with his hand in a giant bandage thingie. I'm still not sure how he pulled it off. Here he is in the hospital after surgery on his finger:


His hand kind of looks like the monster in the movie "Tremors." Maybe you shouldn't look at it if stuff like that grosses you out.

As for the pictures, they turned out great. If you live in Massachusetts, you should totally hire him to take pictures of your kids or family! His website has more information about all of that. Me, I get mine for free!

First up, my ray of sunshine:

If I had a nickel for every time I've seen this face, I would have a million nickels.

Next up, the boy child. According to Bret, he changed his face for EVERY shot without being directed. He would just look at his reflection in the camera and change it up. Yes, he is my comedian. Since I have one hundred different pictures of him with different faces to choose from, here are a handful (and a half) of my favorites:

The pictures were taken in my mom's theater, so that explains some wardrobe choices.

A few of them together. Bret said they were pushing each other, trying to be camera hogs:

And one with their 9-year old uncle Aydan, my youngest brother:


As for the twins, they weren't crazy about sitting for their pictures, so we kept feeding them apple crisps and cookies. But we still got a few keepers:

Lucy

Lane

Lane gabbing about something? Weird.

And for my next blog post, I'm actually going to write something. It's a crazy idea, but I think it just might work!

I would totally take Passion over Compassion

So, for the last I don't know how many months, Ethan has said the following words verbatim in every prayer:

"Please bless that we will treat others how they want to be treated, and show love and kindness and passion and love."

I could correct him, I suppose, but I probably never will.

For Mimi

Yeah, I'm the worst blogger, so what? The time just goes by way too quickly. WAY TOO QUICKLY. This video is for my mom. It features Mila, who is now 9, when she was about the same age as the twins are now. She's singing "Hush You Bye," a song that my mom sang to us as kids, and that is now a favorite bedtime song in my house as well. One time, the X-Files had an episode that revolved around the creepiest version of "Hush You Bye" that I have ever heard and I was extremely disturbed. But this version shouldn't give you any nightmares, unless you're the kind of person that has nightmares about ADORABLE TWO-YEAR OLDS.



P.S. If you smooshed a Lucy and a Lane together, you would get a little Mila.

le octobre

October is awesome for a number of reasons. But today, I highlight just a few:

**I am still giddy from the awesomeness of Elder Holland's public speaking. I felt like my couch caught fire or something. I met him before he was an apostle, when he spoke at our Stake Conference in La Verne, CA. And when I say met him, I actually mean that I bumped into him as he was exiting the building. He then grabbed my face with both hands (in a very loving way) and said something that I'll keep to myself, but it was very nice and instantly endeared me to him forever. So yeah, one of my favorites, for sure. Love the Conference.

**I have been much more enamored with the mountains this year than any year previous. I want to shout at everyone I see, "Do you even REALIZE how lucky we are here? To walk outside and BAM!" I'm pretty sure it's because my love affair with Provo is in for some bumpy times ahead, as we will be making the move to...somewhere else. No, really, we don't know where that will be yet. But the thought of it is enough to bring me to tears every time I stand in my front yard and see this:

I mean, COME ON! I live ON a mountain!

**Not only do I get to be in a Halloween-y show this year, which is awesome in and of itself, but October brings all of the rest of the joy that is Halloween. So far, we've indulged in decorating pumpkin cookies (with black frosting, no less), playing late night games of Werewolf (suitable for the season, no?) and updating our Halloween playlist (with help from my friend Kacy.)

This is, in my opinion, an extremely cheesily staged promo pic, but I promise the show is good!

SCARY! Well, maybe you have to be there...

Lucy went with orange...

...while Lane opted for the black.

My older kids are so over cookies, apparently...

Seriously, what do you have to do to generate a little festive excitement around here?

We still have plenty to look forward to, including a visit from my mom and Aydan, a visit from my dad and Janine, a Jones family reunion, a production of Frankenstein put on by my friends, and plenty more Halloween festivities! But at the moment, I will blast "Jai Ho" from my computer while tackling the dishes left over from our Thanksgiving dry run yesterday, which might just need to be a new Conference tradition (especially since all I did was make the rolls.)

P.S. Be sure to catch Oprah on Wed., Oct. 7th, as one of Provo's own will be a guest!