Speaking of Nerds...

I'm over at Modern Mormon Men today, waxing sentimental about Harry Potter. Check it out!

Who's your favorite character? Any fellow Snape devotees?

The Beauty of Nerds

Recently, I spent a few days in Washington, DC, at the home of one of my best friends from college. It was fun for me to reflect on the adventures that we used to have as roommates, the crossword puzzles that we would sneak into acting class, the agonizing over auditions, the secret crushes on fellow performers. I met Elaine on one of my very first days at BYU, as we had a voice and diction class together. I was first struck by her insane beauty and infectious smile, but after getting to know her better, I found that we had quite a number of things in common. With her passion for life and unflagging determination to succeed, she helped me get through a lot of hard days in the good old HFAC, and we celebrated each other's victories. And then one time, we walked across campus after make-up class looking like this:


Today, Elaine is still amazing. She is the wife of Mike, her high school sweetheart, who, much to my pleasure, has retained his Boston accent. She is also mother to three and a half year old Maya, who is incredibly bright and friendly and adorable. Besides her family, Elaine is devoted to yoga, gardening, healthy eating, ice cream, and is currently working on a play at a theater downtown. She's still passionate about the things and the people that she loves, and truly inspiring to me.


While hanging out with Elaine, I was reminded of what exactly it is that draws me to some people. I always hear people talking about what's "cool" or who's "cool" these days, but I have no interest in being "cool." I happen to love nerds. To you, a nerd might be a condescending term, but for me, it is a label of high praise. Nerds are passionate about something, whether it's zombies, dance, Russian literature, Ira Glass, 80's music, or baking non-gluten bread. It doesn't matter what it is, the point is to really enjoy something(s), while not being the slightest bit embarrassed about it. I think it's sad that people will hide or even squelch their passions to appear cool to others, therefore rendering them completely uninteresting. In my experience, so-called cool people are often unfunny, boring, and quick to agree.

When I think back on my nine years in improv comedy, all of the performers that were the funniest and loveliest were by far the nerdiest, and I loved the uniqueness they brought to their work. One guy was an expert on pop culture, one knew about all things fantasy, one loved sports, and my brilliant friend Lisa could improvise about sci-fi all day long (if someone had only asked!) I really miss them.

My own husband was an actual nerd in high school. While watching the amazing TV show Freaks and Geeks once, he said of one of the geeks, "It's almost painful to watch this, he's SO much like I was." It was a minor ah-ha moment for me, as he's not the most comfortable or outgoing in social situations, but still amazingly funny. I loved him all the more for it. If I have my way, I would want all my children to be nerds. Better that than a bully or follower any day. I squeal inside when my children rant and rave about Avatar and Harry Potter, because I know we're on the right nerd track!

When I meet new people out here, I love it when they let it slip that they're addicted to Veronica Mars, or on a quest for the best-tasting macarons in the city. I'm immediately interested and want to get to know them better. Being a nerd is a major part of "Being Hailey" and I'm grateful for Elaine and all the other nerds in my life, because without them, I wouldn't be who I am today.

Besides, who wouldn't want to re-enact a mock alien abduction with their best friend in college?

I need your blog address!

When I made some changes to my blog, I accidentally deleted many of my links to the blogs of my friends and family. If you happen to stop by, would you please leave your blog url in the comments so I can re-add it to my blogroll? Thanks ever so much!

Pi(e) Night

Do you know Ryan and Kimberly Simmons? You should. They are the loveliest people on the island of Manhattan, not to mention the most stylish, theatrically-informed, and socially booked. When I get squeezed into their calendar, I rejoice, because Ryan is one of my people and sometimes I need my people around. So, to my delight, they had a pie night to celebrate 3/14 and we were invited. Kimberly just so happened to bake 52 different pies last year, one per week, and Ryan ate every single one of them. And he is still skinnier than me. So he is sort of my idol. But I think he eats salad the rest of the time, so there you go. They shared some of their favorite pies with us from last year and they definitely know how to throw a party.

The menu

The fearless hosts

Why can't I have them all?

Baptism

As mentioned in some previous posts, Ethan turned 8 recently and, on Saturday, March 12, he was baptized and confirmed a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. Lots of people we love were able to make it to the big city for the big event (with the exception of Ben's dad, who got horribly ill after the wedding and couldn't get on the plane with us.) It was a wonderful day and I hope he always remembers it!

Booner Got Hitched!

Daniel, affectionately known as Booner, is my brother-in-law. He is also one of my favorite people of 2011 because he decided to get married and therefore provided an excuse for my whole family to leave the icy grip of the island of Manhattan and spend four glorious days in Arizona at the beginning of March. The trip was fabulous, although we missed Jake's and Aaron's families, who were understandably holding down the forts in London and Okinawa, respectively. Booner is one of the pickiest kids ever, so I knew Lauren had to be amazing--she's an elementary school teacher and absolutely charming and we're happy to welcome her to the family! The reception was gorgeous and I danced more than I have danced in YEARS.* The deejay also said, "Holy Moly, you're a good dancer!" which was thrilling to a nerdy 30-something like myself. In addition to the wedding itself, we loved hanging out with cousins and some of us even cried when we were packing to go home. Here are some highlights from our trip:

Grandma picked us up at the airport--first time in a minivan in 6 months!

We don't care if the water's freezing! It's time for pizza and a pool party at Grandma's.

Caden, Lane, Austin and Lucy

Melanie and I went cruising in the Mustang because we cool like that.

The family dinner was at Cafe Rio, but this cake was from heaven, I think.
.
All of the adults after the sealing.


Cutiest


The original Smith fam, with Lauren.


Birdhouses


Mmmmm...

Classic Boon expression

Lane

Lucy

I just like this one of Lane for some reason.

Collin, Caden, and Ethan. Maybe Ethan's pant hems are duct taped.

Mila and Kate

The glowing bride with my three girls.

Everyone in our family that was in town! And yes, I got the memo about the appropriate color combination, but no, I didn't exert enough effort to do something about it (see: comment above about the NY winter's icy grip and take pity on me for never desiring to leave my apartment to shop.)

Siblings

Everyone loves Uncle Booner!

Our family claims three sets of twins.

Boon with baby Abby

My nephews and a cousin just started break-dancing, out of nowhere. It was awesome.


Congrats, you two!

*I'm pretty sure one of my brothers-in-law has some blackmail-worthy photos of my dance moves.

Dilemma

Hello, lovely people. I realize I am months behind on this blog. I have so much to tell you about, like how I achieved my New York dream of meeting Tim Gunn this past Friday. But today, I am perplexed and I need your advice and moral support. You know how much of a people-pleaser I am and how I avoid confrontation like the plague. Then, listen as I share my current tale of woe:

Last Saturday morning, at around 8:45, there was a knock on the door. I opened it to find a bedraggled 20-something on my doorstep. Without introduction or salutation of any kind, she proceeded to say, "I have not had a good night's sleep for over a week because of your kids. You have A LOT of kids, right? I just moved in and I really need sleep!"

To which I calmly replied: "My children were in bed until 8 AM this morning." I knew this for a fact because I went running and was surprised that no one was up and about when I returned at 8.

"Well, yeah, but it's the weekend? (She said this as if I was 3 years old and I desperately wanted to quote Grand Dame Maggie Smith and say, "What is a week-end?") So yeah, I really need to sleep in."

By this time, I was so put out by the manner in which she had patronized me that I said, nicely, "Well, good luck, good-bye," and shut the door.

I was so angry after that confrontation. I stewed about it for hours. Everyone told me to let it go. It really bothered me that she said she hadn't slept in a week. My kids are in bed from 9 at night until 7:30 in the morning, so when exactly is she trying to sleep? It bothered me that she insinuated that I was a crazy cat lady with kids instead of cats, as if I had 14 of them wandering about. The drama queen act was not going to work on me, sorry. Plus, the lovely couple (with two small children) who lived under us before her had never complained once.

So, imagine my dismay when there was pounding on my door at 8:15 this morning as we were trying to rush to leave for church. I answered the door to the same girl, and she was not happy. "I was awakened again this morning and I want you to know, I was wearing earplugs that block up to 30 decibels of sound," at which point she held up the earplugs for me to see, probably in case I didn't know what an earplug was since I spent my life making babies instead of going to school.

I said, "We are leaving in 15 minutes and then you can sleep until 12:30." But that wasn't the right answer. She continued, "I was in the hospital and I need sleep! You need to understand that you live over someone!" I then decided to calmly ask the question that had been plaguing me all week: "I'm curious, what time do you wake up in the morning when it's not the weekend?"

"7:30, because I go to work at 9. But your kids woke me up BEFORE 7:30 some days (probably like 7:15.) You just really need to know!"

I didn't know what else to say, so I just said, "OK" and shut the door as she stormed off.

Ben has said the following on the subject:

"If she stays up all night, that's not our problem."
"Tell her that firetrucks wake me up all night long and I'm mad about that, too! You live in New York, deal with it."
"She's the one who decided to move into an apartment under four children. Deal with it."

Part of me is annoyed and wonders why I should cater to someone who is clearly from the lovely rising generation of entitled kids who say, Me, ME, ME!!! She needs to learn that other people exist on the planet, right? If people are being quiet between the hours of 10 and 7, shouldn't they then have a right to walk around in their living room without fear of reproach?

But then another part of me, probably the Molly Mormon part, thinks I should do what I can to appease this girl, be a good neighbor. Do I need to buy foam and cover that with rugs? I know friends who have done that in New York, just to make the complaints stop. But we have A LOT of children, and money is tight. Covering our whole floor in rugs would be a bit pricy.

OR, I could handcuff my children in their beds until noon on the weekend and then drug them so they never dance or jump or run during the waking hours, because that's reasonable.* Is that what she wants me to do? Why does she keep coming up here?

Two things I am going to try to do are talk to my super and talk to the family who used to live beneath us. My super is the most lovely man you have ever met and he loves the twins. I just want to ask him if we are out of line making noise after 7 AM and what he would advise. The previous family moved to a 3 bedroom apartment in our same building and I just want to ask them to give me a brutally honest answer about the noise level. We have people over us ourselves, and I hear footsteps from time to time, but it's very quiet.

What do you think? I'm asking for gems of advice from your collective wisdom. Maybe the answer is that she needs therapy to work out her incredible anger issues toward small children. I just need to know if that's what I should say Ben should say to her next time I hear the pounding on the door.

*I must apologize for all the snark. I've been reading Bossypants and Tina is in my head, bless her.

Expelliarmus!

My kids used to run around the apartment with pencils or straws or anything straight they could find and shoot spells at each other. The twins' favorites were "Expelliarmus!" and "Stupefy!" Then Christmas came and the Owl Post delivered their wands and the magic intensified. So naturally, after I had come to the conclusion that I did not, in fact, have $1000 or the required energy to transport 12 kids to a bowling alley in Times Square, and I was faced with throwing a party within the walls of my own apartment (oh, the horror!), a Harry Potter theme crept into my mind like Snape on a dark, stormy night (I just had to get my favorite character into this post somehow.)

I'm no party planner. But I am an actress. Which means I'm good at stealing other peoples' creativity when it best serves me. So after scouring the inter-webs, I was able to put together what I thought would be a pretty cool party for an 8 year old HP fan.

First up, the invitations. You buy parchment paper at Target, find a cool font, make up something awesome to say, and then buy a .20 red candle at Michael's and drip the wax on the invite and seal it with a Romanian coin. That's it! And yet, one parent asked me where I ordered the invitations from and didn't believe me when I said we made them. That's the way New York parents roll. If you can't buy it custom-made, it probably doesn't exist. Imagine their disbelief if any of my countless Mormon friends who are actually talented had been involved!



Next up, the entrance to the "Gryffindor Common Room" aka our apartment. My artistic oldest daughter took the reins on this one and drew her rendition of the Fat Lady portrait. We positioned on our door, so that her actual eye was over the peephole. Creeptastic!


As the boys were arriving, we passed around a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans and the boys bravely bit into each one, then spit the nasty ones into a different bag. Classy? Not so much. Right up the alley of 8 year old boys? YES.

Next, the boys received wands handcrafted out of drumsticks by my step-dad, Bret, and were off to Wand Spells and Dueling class, with Mila as the very capable instructor. All the pictures of this activity were blurry, but it was an action-packed course!


I led Potions class next, which involved Pop Rocks and making bright fizzy colors come bubbling out of cauldrons. It was pretty cool, I must say!




For lunch, we had pizza and homemade butterbeer. I got the recipe from my stepsister and it was awesome! It will definitely be a new Halloween tradition.


We used Harry Potter Legos that we already had to top off the Quidditch-themed cake, and one of my favorite moments is when the boys began yelling out spells and curses in between the lines of the birthday song.









Each boy took home a goodie bag with homemade chocolate frogs (super cheap molds found on ebay), HP silly bandz, their mini cauldrons, and wands.

All in all, I'd say it was a success, even if one boy left crying. After we ran out of activities and food, I let them play Lego Harry Potter on the XBox and I think the sugar-charged competitive energy was a bit overwhelming for some of them...

It has taken me three months to write about it because it's taken me that long to recover! Just kidding, but let's just say that it's a good thing I don't have another one of these things to plan until July 2012, as my kids only have friend parties on their even-numbered birthdays. One of my best grown-up decisions ever.

The day Ben got out of Mother's Day

Just so you are in the loop, Ben had a mini stroke this past Saturday. Before you freak out, please know that he is fine. We are all fine.

He was in the car with a woman from our church, headed to Cub Scout day camp. They were discussing allergies, when all of a sudden, Ben wanted to say the words "allergy clinic." Only he couldn't. Instead, what came out were a series of jumbled words that made no sense. He knew in his mind what he wanted to say, he just couldn't say it. This "expressive aphasia" lasted about 90 seconds. Ben tells me that it sounded a lot like this lady:



It's unfortunate that people ruthlessly made fun of this reporter for suffering a stroke on air.

Long story short, Ben went to the ER (which is a post in and of itself), managed to get someone to take him seriously, then later that night, he received a CAT Scan and an MRI. The CAT Scan was negative, the MRI was clear, so yesterday he had an echocardiogram, which showed a PFO, or tiny hole in his heart.

And that's where we're at now. Again, he is doing fine, and we are hoping he comes home from the hospital today. Prayers are always a good thing. I feel calm and optimistic currently, although Saturday night was pretty scary (and not just because of the lady screaming about her son being stabbed.)

The following people are rock stars: Clayton Jones, Michelle Walker, Lisa and Cameron Van Tassell, Tagg Grant and Lisa Piorczynski, Nate Olson, and Branden Berns. And of course, everyone else who has offered their love and support via phone calls, e-mails and texts. I would be a hopeless wreck without all of you!

What to do in NYC

While I slowly put together more blog posts documenting the last few months of our lives, here's a link to my friend Sharon's post about what you should do when you come to visit (besides hang out with me, of course.) Sharon moved here about the same time we did, has the cutest identical twin boys in the world, and has already met Alec Baldwin and I'm really jealous about it!

Who doesn't love a modern Mormon man?

This blog just launched. Go check it out.

I Can Do Hard Things: My Motto for 2011

My motto for 2011 really started to formulate itself at the end of the summer last year. One day in August, as Lisa and I spent an entire 24 hours setting up, executing, and cleaning up a yard sale at her house while simultaneously caring for 14 children by ourselves (Ben was in CA, Chris was in the UK), I asked her, "Why are we doing this?" To which she wisely replied (as she always does), "Because, Hailey, we can do hard things! Here's a Diet Coke!" A few weeks later, I packed up my family and drove away from the place I had called home for the past twelve years. Soon after, we found out we had lost our apartment and we boarded a plane, with no idea where we would live when we got off of it. In the weeks that followed, as I took bus trips to and from Boston, experienced intense emotional highs and lows over schooling, and stood on subway platforms looking dazed and confused, Lisa's voice kept re-playing in my head: "We can do hard things!"

These days, when we're supposed to pick up Ethan and Mila from school at 2:55 PM, and it's 2:45 PM and one or both of the twins is half-dressed, crying, needs to pee, can't find shoes, just woke up hungry, angry, both, doesn't want to walk to the school, I just keep my mantra in my head as I muster all the patience I possibly can and plug forward. When it's been 28 degrees outside but "feels like 17," and I'm trying to run to catch a bus and one of the girls trips and falls and loses a boot, but then we make it on the bus and it's full and we try to balance and not fall on the old people as the driver takes off, I can either cry or say to myself, "I can do hard things." When I get too much at the grocery store (for the love, why can't I remember to just buy milk at the 711 below my apartment?) and I physically can't carry it all home and the handles on my re-usable grocery bags break and I have to drag them into the building, I realize, "I can't do THAT hard of things..." So there's definitely a learning curve. But for the most part, it's simple.

The thing is, I am aware that the stuff I'm doing is not even that hard compared to what many people have gone through or are currently experiencing. My ancestors were pioneers in the literal sense, who crossed the oceans and plains, losing many family members all along the way. When I look at pictures of people in Japan crying over their destroyed homes or read accounts from my friends dealing with debilitating illness or infertility, I'm embarrassed at my trials of little consequence. At the same time, I truly believe that practicing doing "hard" things will help us be prepared for when the REAL hard things happen in our lives. If I can cultivate an attitude of "can-do-ness" now, I can only hope it will be there in my pocket when I most need it. In the meantime, it is hard for me to be so physically far away from the people in my life who buoyed me up on a daily basis. It's hard for me to watch my dear childrens' faces as yet another person screams profanities I've never even dreamed of right over their heads. It's hard for me to smell people on the subway. Sorry.

That said, I'm so grateful to have a wonderful apartment to duck into, away from the city smells and sounds. I'm grateful that I have those sweet children to protect and teach. Even if Ben has to work occasional long hours, I am unbelievably happy that he has a job. I'm healthy and still have most of my wits about me and I have the best friends and family a girl could hope for. I get to eat amazing food and watch some awesome TV and I am truly lucky.

But, for this Utah Mormon girl who got used to driving a minivan to Costco and Super Target at least once a week, being able to say, "I can do hard things!" makes all the difference in the world.

General Conference is a good thing

I'm a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day-Saints. I think most of you know that. This weekend we had General Conference, where we get to hear from our Prophet as well as other women and men in leadership positions in our church. I enjoy watching General Conference, but sometimes I forget the little tidbits that stood out to me as I get back to my crazy week. So, without assigning them to any specific speakers, here are some thoughts from the talks:

Charity and gossip can't co-exist. Live within your means, so you have enough left over to help other people. Heavenly Father answers the prayers of His children by using other people as a means to help. "Have I done any good in the world today?" Being married is wonderful--show love and appreciation. Make tithing offerings from the "firstfruits" of your income. Our prophet has devoted more than half his life to service in the church. We must be examples of honesty and integrity wherever we go. Preach the gospel...and use words, if necessary. Explain why a child's actions were incorrect, but do not make the mistake of labeling the child themselves--what they do is different than who they are. On the other hand, praise them for who they are and not just their accomplishments. A child is one thing we can never check off a to-do list as being "done" (so I admit, some days, I really wish this weren't true!) Forgive others. Let it go, leave it alone. Temple attendance is so valuable.

Elder Scott and Elder Holland made me tear up a little. Elder Scott's talk was so sweet and full of tender feelings toward his spouse, and it made me want to be a nicer wife. I love Elder Holland's humility and the power with which he speaks. I've said before that I don't often talk about religion on my blog but living in New York City has helped me to realize that my religious lifestyle is 100% who I am, and I'm fine with that. And if Ethan can talk about Jesus with his friends at recess, then I can certainly say the word Mormon on my blog.

Also, we played General Conference hair salon, with very positive results!

Ethan is 8

That title basically sums up the last month of my life. Well, that and a wedding/trip to Arizona somewhere in the middle there, but mostly it's been about the boy child. I started out writing this post on February 25th, the day he actually turned 8, but then life got all kinds of busy crazy, as it tends to do.

8 facts about Ethan:

1. Ethan has a birthday twin. I called Rachel on the morning of February 25th, 2003, to give her my baby news. She said something to the effect of: "Dude, I'm in labor!" And later that evening, Emma was born. Ethan was one week overcooked and Emma was two weeks ahead of schedule, so they apparently had an agenda! Here they are at 6 months:



2. When he was about 15 months old, I tried to give him a haircut. It did not turn out very well and so Ben got out the trimmers to fix it. As Ben was trimming the back of his head, the attachment fell off, and it made a huge bald spot. I stood there and bawled as I watched Ben shave the rest of my baby's golden locks off to match the gaping baldness. We left to AZ for a funeral right after, and I spent lots of time giving the evil eye to people who stared in public. I cried inside when relatives at the funeral said, "What a beautiful little girl!"about Mila. And then, "Oh, and...you have a boy!" Unfortunately, the hair really makes the baby in some cases, as we learned the hard way. Basically, he went from:

this...

...to this. Poor kid.

3. Right after he turned two, he really wanted a duck.

Incidentally, whenever he used to get mad at me as a 3 year old, which was a lot, he'd say, with all the rage he could muster, "Mom, if you don't stop saying that, I'm going to turn you into a DUCK!!"

4. When he was 3, Ethan developed a weird, bumpy rash all over his leg. We found out it was called Lichen Striatus. It doesn't hurt you in any way, it just kind of shows up and looks really creepy for a few months, then disappears. The doctors that diagnosed it were totally pumped because they had never seen it in real life, and they got to get out their special picture books and show me really gross pictures. But now, I wish I had taken a picture of Ethan's, because he would have loved to show his friends today.

5. Ethan never went through a train or superhero phase. He saw Cars when he was 3, and so Lightning McQueen reigned supreme for a few years, mixed in with some Scooby-Doo, until he discovered a little thing called Star Wars. Then it was all Jedi, all the time. Today, he still loves Star Wars, but he is also into Indiana Jones and Harry Potter.

6. Ethan was the nicest baby on the planet. He smiled at everyone and went to everyone. Just super pleasant and happy all around. Today, he is social and outgoing and loves to make his friends laugh. His church and school teachers tell me that he is a natural leader and the other boys in the class watch him to see how he will react in different situations (I don't know where he gets it from! No, seriously, I really don't.) He's not always happy. If he's upset with me, I know it. He has a crusty pout to rival all others. He also seems to enjoy butting heads with his older sister, because they certainly manage to do it a lot. But he also prays for Heavenly Father to listen to the prayers of homeless people, which melts my heart.

7. These days, his favorite things are frozen yogurt tubes, pizza, Top Ramen, Chinese food, playing board games as a family, Lego XBox games, his Nintendo DS, his cousins, his stuffed animals, play dates with friends, recess, Sponge Bob Square Pants, Cub Scouts, chasing the twins, going to the park, reading Harry Potter, and pretending to be embarrassed when he's snuggling with mom. His least favorite things are homework, bullies, his church pants, any pants (they never fit right!), Mila bossing him around, not being able to run around outside with friends, most of school, and being teased about liking Justin Bieber and Selena Gomez (to my knowledge, he doesn't like either, so I don't know why it's so funny to tease him about them. It just is.)

8. I love him a lot. He stole my heart when he was born and has yet to give it back.










Next up, the 8th birthday party...