Warning: Political Content

I don't post about politics too often, so if you don't want to hear my little rant, stop reading now.

I am not a fan of The Patient Protection And Affordable Care Act, a.k.a. ObamaCare. Not only do I think the government has no right to dictate our healthcare requirements and benefits, but this act has affected our family personally.

A few years ago, after shopping for family health insurance, that would still protect us , we found a plan that we could afford, would protect us from severe medical problems, and let us continue with our doctors--albeit with a $10,000 deductible. Less than a year later, ObamaCare was passed and our monthly premium jumped 150% WITH NO CHANGE IN OUR BENEFITS. To get the benefits that President Obama promised to everyone (free annual checkups, etc.), we would have to pay an additional $50 per month. ObamaCare has been costing us an additional $1,800 per year. It hurts those small-business owners like us who are trying to turn around this rotten economy by creating jobs. I swear, the president and federal government in general want us on their dole to increase their power. ObamaCare was an attempt in that direction, directly and indirectly. We refused to cancel our insurance and get on government-subsidized healthcare, but I would bet that other families in our situation either switched to government healthcare or accepted free school lunches, etc. to offset the increased cost.

Now for the reason for the timing of this rant. I take any chance I get to fight ObamaCare. When it was first signed, I added my name to a couple of petitions, one of which was collected on the internet, printed on stacks of paper, and delivered to congress on a stretcher. I thought that was a nice touch.

One of the political watchdog groups I pay attention to, Grassfire Nation, sent this link to a new petition calling for the repeal of Obamacare. It's geared toward seniors, but anyone can sign it. If this is an issue you care about, I encourage you to sign this clearly stated petition here.

Ahh, there. I just stepped back down from the soap box. Now I need to go set a doctor appointment for #3 to have her swollen toes looked at. I anticipate he'll tell me--for $115--that it's nothing to worry about. (One toe on each foot, but not the big toes, has swollen and been red/bluish red for over a month now. I'm worried they're infected. It's finally worth $115 to me to know what's going on.)

Update: After finishing this post, I read my email and saw another petition to end ObamaCare sent from Kent's mom. You can sign that one here.

Why Have Beds?

We've had a long-incubating stomach virus circulating through our family. Last week #3 spent several middle-of-the-night hours vomiting. Eight days later, #2 was doing the same thing. Unfortunately for them, their bedroom is so messy that I wouldn't let them stay in their beds to sleep through the sickness. So far, they've been able to contain everything to a bowl: a portable kind or the porcelain kind. However, I dread the idea of washing stuffed animals, clothes, shoes, and who-knows-what else is strewn in their room. So until their room is picked up, they get to sleep on bedding on the floor, thus reducing the amount of items I'll have to clean should someone spew too quickly.

Yesterday, ten minutes before his ride was coming to pick him up for school, #5 decided his stomach wasn't feeling good and he'd better stay home with #2. Not wanting to send a potentially eruptive Kindergartner to school, I kept him home. I think he liked the idea of being pampered in his "illness" more than anything. He spent the day watching TV with #2, and then had a miraculous recovery about the time that #4's friend came to play after school. The rest of his afternoon was filled with running around outside. (Isn't it too early for him to figure out hooky?)

After friends left and he enjoyed seconds of dinner, he decided being sick might be fun again. When I did my rounds of turning off lights and tucking sleeping kids in bed before going to my own, I discovered #5 was missing. First I checked the usual places. He wasn't in his bed, his sisters' beds, under their beds, or buried in blankets on their floors. Then I went through the unusual places: the coffee table blanket box in the family room, the laundry room, behind couches, and in the tee pee and cardboard fort that were furnished with blankets and cushions out on the back deck. (I did accidentally smack a cat in the face while I was blindly patting blankets down in the dark out there. The cat was smart enough to know that a quick smack in the face was worth cuddling in blankets all night.) Still no #5.

At this point, I felt a twinge of panic and asked Kent to come help me look for him. Kent checked all the places I had, as well as the hiding places in the playroom. Then #1, who was up reading, asked if we had checked the bathtub. Eureka! There he was!

Apparently, #3 had told him he couldn't sleep on carpet if he was feeling sick, so #5 came up with a spot that he knew would be easily cleaned. What a brilliant solution! I'll be using the bathtub again for future vomiters. If they don't wake up in time, I can simply rinse everything down the drain.

By the way, he never did throw up. Maybe the virus will hit him for real next week and he can sleep in the tub again then.

Master Bedroom Makeover: Dressers

Here is the first of a series of posts about the project I've been working on since last August to re-do my master bedroom. I hope some of my tips might be helpful to those of you looking to redecorate on a budget.

THE DRESSERS

Dresser A (Mary's):
Last year when Edwin came to stay with us, I sent out an email to my neighborhood looking for a spare dresser. I had a few replies, and picked up this lovely little dresser that used to belong to a friend's grandmother. I question her sanity for giving it away, but I am grateful! I liked it so much that I gave Edwin my old dresser and kept this one for myself.

It was cute to begin with, but natural wood colors don't work in my makeover plans. I decided to paint it a charming country white.

Dresser B (Kent's):
My friends convinced me to paint Kent's armoire dresser, which I was ready to give away. I think this used to belong to my great aunt and uncle. Kent freaked out a little that I would think of painting solid wood, but since we no longer live in the 1970s, it was either paint it or lug the thing to DI.

(His dresser did have hardware. I forgot to snap a picture before I removed it all.)

Because I don't want to repeat this project any time soon, I did some research to learn the best painting techniques for a lasting finish. Here are links to the helpful websites I visited:

Paint process

Glazing tutorial

When to glaze and top coat

Step-by-step of a similar dresser project

Yeeeaah...overkill, I know. For those who don't want to spend hours learning all this stuff, here is the short version of the process:

Step 1) Almost no sanding necessary! I cleaned each dresser, and spot sanded any flaws that I didn't want to show through the paint. I did want them to look old-ish, so I left a lot of signs of wear.

Step 2) Instead of sanding away the old finish, which would have been a nightmare with all the carved crevices on these pieces, I simply brushed on one coat of a bonding primer. I found this in the paint department at Lowe's. It only came in the one-gallon size, which is plenty for me (and friends who want to use it) to do several pieces of furniture.

Yes, I painted the dressers with the clothes still in them. I was using a brush, and was careful enough to not drip. And yes, I painted with the piece on the carpet, because I was not keeping that ugly pink stuff! I did raise Kent's dresser on blocks to get the bottom edge done right. And no, I did not paint the insides of the dressers. That just seems like unnecessary work, and paint on the moving parts of drawers would gum them up.

Step 3) Paint! I used semi-gloss paint, which dries hard and stands up to wear. My dresser needed three layers of paint before the darker wood didn't show through the white. Kent's dresser took two layers, and I recommend using at least two layers of paint. I waited at least a day or two between coats to let the paint harden a bit, which makes it easier to sand imperfect paint between coats with a very fine sandpaper.

My painting tools were a small sponge roller that is made for painting cabinets, an angled brush, and a small artist's brush to get into tiny crevices. Using a paint sprayer is preferable, because the brush strokes do show in some areas; but I don't have cashola to buy a sprayer. I wouldn't use canned spray paint on large projects because the fumes are overwhelming, and because I can never completely avoid drips.

Step 4) Finishes. Because I was creating different effects, the finish process differs for each dresesr.

Dresser A) My dresser was to be a solid white color. I let the third paint coat dry for a day and then applied one layer of a clear finishing coat. I chose water-based polycrylic, which won't yellow over time. It dries quickly and protects the paint from chipping or getting rubbed off.

Dresser B) For Kent's dresser, I finished with an antiquing glaze. The glaze itself acts as a protective coat, so no other final coat is needed. In a plastic drinking cup I mixed equal parts glaze (you buy it in the paint department) and dark brown satin finish paint, which I had used on another piece in the bedroom. I painted the colored glaze on and then gently wiped it off with a damp rag a minute later.

The glaze sinks into the carved areas, but wipes of the flat surfaces.

The glaze brings out more details of the carved wood. Whenever part of it didn't look right, I painted the blue over the top and tried again.

Glazing the large sides took a few trial runs until I came up with a good process. I brushed a bit of glaze around the edges, used my now-glaze-filled rag to apply a little brown to the flat sides, and used a dry brush to blend and soften it all.

5) Replace the hardware. For my dresser, I simply cleaned the pulls. Doesn't the dark color of the pulls look great against the white?

For Kent's dresser, I didn't want the brass finish on the hardware. I paid a kid to wash the pulls with a toothbrush and then spray painted them with a brown, hammered effect paint.

The brass still showed through in spots, but I like how it blends with the hammered paint.

Ready for the "after" photos? Ta da!

I am determined to not clutter the top of this dresser with jewelry and findings from my pockets. At my grandma's funeral last month, we set out Grandma's knick knacks for family members to take home. Somehow I was lucky enough to pick up this blue glass dish that came with my great-great grandmother when she immigrated to Utah from Denmark. This might be the only place in my house where I can display the dish without much worry that my kids will break it. (#4 broke two of grandma's porcelain bells within a week of bringing them home from the funeral.)

And now for Kent's!

I realize I'm showing basically the same photo, but I want some opinions. Do you like the dresser better with the twiggy swag on it, or with no topper? I've included nature-looking elements in other parts of the room, but I wonder if it's too feminine with those dead plants up there. Kent has been a good sport about the robin's-egg blue, but I don't know if I'm pushing it.

One more time; here are the side-by-side before and afters. I really am so happy with how these turned out!



Yeah, I'm leaning toward the twiggy swaggy thingy.

If You Give a Boy a Pancake

Kent and I like food. I've addressed this topic before. I am a breakfast foodie. I like beginning the day with good food, and in the morning, I have plenty of energy to whip up a nice breakfast for my family. (By late afternoon, however, I'm too worn out to enjoy making another meal, which is why the slow cooker is my friend. This also explains why we have a lot of pasta on the days that the slow cooker didn't make it out of the cupboard.)

As a result of genetics, #5 is also a breakfast person. Today I discovered just how far he takes it.

Let me back up for a moment, though. When #1 was a preschooler, she coined the term baby pancakes. They are the little drips of pancake batter that end up cooking between the larger pancakes on the griddle. All the kids have called them "baby pancakes" since then. And they love calling dibs on these bite-sized flapjacks.

This morning I was in the dining room washing down my banana-pecan buttermilk pancakes with fresh squeezed grapefruit juice--yum! #5 trotted to the kitchen to see how many pancakes were left. There on the griddle was the last of the batter: two regular-sized pancakes and one smaller one, which was the result of running out of batter. The small one was about 2 1/2 inches in diameter.

#5 came back in with a silly grin on his face, telling me how cute and cuddly baby pancakes are. I had to call him on it.

Me: "Really? You think pancakes are cute and cuddly?"

#5: "Baby pancakes are."

Me, trying to antagonize him a little bit: "How small are baby pancakes?" Pinching my fingers into a 1/4" circle I asked, "Are they this big?" He nodded. I circled my fingers to a one-inch diameter. "How about this?" Another nod. When I made a bigger circle with both hands, he went back to the kitchen and returned with the smallest pancake cradled in his hands. He was smiling so sweetly and making cooing noises at the pancake.

#5: "This is the biggest that a baby pancake can be. Isn't it cute?"

Me: "If they're any bigger, they are kid pancakes?"

#5: "Yes, and you can eat them."

Me: "You said you like to cuddle with baby pancakes?"

In response, #5 smiled, nodded, and hugged the pancake.

I was taken back a little by how sincere he seemed. So I decided to press it and see if he would give up and just laugh at how goofy he was being.

Me: "Aren't you going to burp your baby pancake?"

#5 burped it.

Me: "You know you'll have to change it's diaper."

#5: "I know. But it's not poopy right now. Look," he said, pointing to some holes where the pancake had bubbled while cooking, "Here are his bum holes."

Me, diverting the conversation from going THAT way: "HIS bum holes? Your pancake is a boy?"

#5: "Well, I don't know if it's a girl or a boy. Let me see...what is the name?" Then he went into a thoughtful stare.

Me: "You could name it Chris and then it could be a boy or a girl."

Obviously, I was missing the point that #5 wasn't creating a gender because this pancake already had a gender.

#5: "No. His name is Tyler." Then he proceeded to coo to Tyler and hug him/it again.

I put my forehead against #5's to see if he would give in NOW, and crack up at how silly he was being. He just kept hugging that pancake.

At this point, I decided to play meaner.

Me: "You know, [#5], I bet Tyler is pretty tasty. Don't you even want to lick him to see how yummy he is?"

#5, still in his sweet and cuddly voice, and showing no shock at my suggestion: "No. I'm never going to eat Tyler."

Me, taking a big bite of the pancakes on my plate: "Well, I'm eating Tyler's big brothers, and they taste so good!"

No reaction.

Me: "Aren't you worried that when I'm done with these guys, I might want more?"

#5, still unconcerned: "I'll just keep him in my room where you can't find him."

I decided if this kid was going to stick to his story so convincingly, I should just give in.

Me: "I'm concerned that if your sisters come home and see a pancake, they might eat him. But, if you leave him out in the air, he'll get dry and hard so no one will want to eat him."

#5: "That's a good idea! Then I can have him forever!"

Before he left to find a dry hiding place for Tyler, he let me take a picture of the two of them. (Disclaimer for Nate: I only got #5 to agree to the picture by promising that it wouldn't show up in the family DVD next Christmas.)

Luckily, his request became my proof that #5 knew he was being ridiculous, because I was starting to worry about his pysche. I'm glad that he can be ridiculous with me and doesn't care how silly it makes him look. Or maybe the kid simply cares more about Tyler than about his own reputation!

(Too bad #5 didn't think to make me promise not to publish this story on the world-wide web.)

Delegating My Memory

For several months I've been taking a fish oil supplement to help my bad knees and maybe my brain, too. I've never been much of a runner because it kills my knees, and now I can feel the joints scraping when I walk up stairs. And my memory, which used to be sharp, was pretty much shot by late nights with five babies.

The main problem with taking a supplement to help memory...is remembering to take it!

Kent is kind enough to bring me a fish oil capsule when he takes one with dinner, so my brain has never had to form that habit. However, I want to take a capsule in the morning, too, because I actually notice less popping in my knees when I double the consumption. So last night at dinner, Kent pointed out that I don't have to remember to take the morning capsule. "With the right incentive, the kids can remember all sorts of stuff," he said. The children all nodded in agreement.

It turns out the right incentive is a chocolate-covered raisin. The kids bargained for two raisins if they bring the capsule to me with a cup of water, rather than just giving a reminder. (Don't tell my children they are underpaid, okay?) We agreed that the first child to remind me about fish oil, sometime after devotional but before leaving for school, would be the daily winner.

Did it work?

Oh yes!

This morning, the children all dragged themselves to devotional and sleepily participated as usual. As soon as the prayer was ended and I asked them to get dressed for school, the following scene ensued:

#2 said, "Okay, but first you have to take your fish oil."

#3 jumped off the couch: "No! I was going to remind her."

#2, seeing her competition, also leaped up and made a run to beat her sister to the medicine box above the kitchen stove: "No way! I reminded her first."

#3 had reached the kitchen ahead of #2 and was already filling a cup with water: "But I'm bringing the fish oil to her!"

I turned, wide-eyed, to Kent who was still sitting beside me on the couch. We were both grinning.

#2 pulled open the cabinet doors, looking for the very large bottle of capsules: "It's not here! Where is it?!" Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw #3 set down the water and lift an overturned pot that had been left to dry overnight with the hand-washed dishes.

Now, I know what you're thinking. "This account can't be true. Mary is claiming to have clean dinner dishes before morning! No way." It's true I tell you. I even gathered photographic evidence to prove it. Sure, most of those dishes were from dinner three nights ago; but they were clean and drying before bedtime last night. Ahem. Let's continue.

#3, carefully lifting the pot: "I hid them so I could be the first to remind mom!"

And yes, all these exclamation marks are true. Their excitement and nervousness had them yelling every sentence. (!)

Kent to me: "You see? They can remember all sorts of things for small rewards."

I had to admit this was working incredibly well. I hadn't given my kids--who can't seem to remember that the van leaves at 8:10 each morning to go to school, and so end up chasing the in-motion van out the driveway with coat, socks, shoes, and sometimes a backpack in hand--enough credit.

#2, not ready to lose her chance at a chocolate-covered raisin, snatched the cup of water and speed-walked it to me: "I got it to you first!"

#3, running shortly behind: "No you didn't! I have the fish oil!"

#2: "That's because you hid it! That's not fair."

#3: "I thought of it first!"

#2: "No you didn't! I thought of it before devotional, but I couldn't remind Mom until after devotional."

Kent: Laughing.

#3: "But I thought of it last night. Look! I even wrote it on my hand so I would remember!"

That took the cake! Kent and I were quite impressed. I had to interrupt, thank them both, and reward them both. They each earned two chocolate-covered raisins. Spending two raisins more than I had planned was worth learning how effective rewards can be, AND how responsible my children can be when properly motivated.

(Now how do I get them to remember their chores and homework?)

A Fun Date Night Saturday

Last Saturday Kent and I had a fun and out-of-the-ordinary date. We met my parents at a new restaurant on the recommendation of my dad who has eaten lunch there a few times. We loved this place!


It's called The Center Street Bistro, and is on the first two floors of The Madison. The address is 295 W Center in Provo. It's in the building that used to be Provo Craft (I believe).



We sat on the mezzanine floor in the front corner by the windows, where we could watch everything below us on Center Street. But we were way more interested in the building we were in. The ambience is old and hip at the same time. We actually gave ourselves a tour while we waited for our food. There are tables tucked into nooks throughout the first two floors, as well as sofas, lounging chairs, and many other interesting furniture pieces. (I liked the table made from an antique door, located by the men's restroom.)

The food was really good too! Kent had an amazing mocha burger, which tasted like chocolate, not coffee. I had a chicken salad with sweet basalmic dressing. Our meals together cost $18. Awesome! Instead of peanuts or chips, the complimentary appetizer was a delicious hummus and fried flat bread.

I'm talking this place up mostly because I want it to stay in business. They opened in October, and though they had a few kinks with the food, those seem to be worked out now. But the place was empty! That made it nice a quiet for our dinner conversation--and we plan to visit it tomorrow for Valentine's Day because there will likely be no wait--but customers seriously need to be filling it up. You can check out this review from the Daily Herald if you have doubts. (It's a fair review; just be sure to read about the author's second visit.) I would guess that the neon signs, which are hanging in every window, advertising beer are sending the wrong signals to non-drinkers who would love this place as much as we did. If it were my business, I would hang the neon signs in the windows of the third-floor Cowboy Bar, and leave the lower windows empty so people can look through them and see what a great place it is.


After dinner, we headed to the kids' school, Freedom Preparatory Academy for a Trivia Night fundraiser. I had carefully put together a team of brilliant people...and we mostly relied on my dad to carry us. That's not to say that we didn't all contribute (I was the only one to supply answers during the round about Freedom Academy), but we won the grand prize by six questions, which were the difficult ones about the Marx Brothers and recognizing photos of dead people that only my dad knew. The rest of the team included my mom, my brother and my sis-in-law (his wife) and her parents. The other three parents did win us lots of questions by buying 20 mulligans, which gave us free answers. And Jenni's dad supplied the Smart Water. Kent had loaded up on caffeine on dinner, but I think the Smart Water did the trick.


(Did I mention that Jennifer Aniston was on our team? Oh, that's because she wasn't.)

That's right, I said our table won the grand prize! In addition, we won two other rounds outright, and a third by default. (Ironically, as a team we felt least prepared to answer questions about sports, but that was the first round we won.) We raked in coupons for free ice cream cones (244 such coupons!), $50 per person off new tires (bad timing--Kent and I replaced the tires on both our vehicles last month), gift certificates to a local restaurant, free dessert being served that night, and tickets to some Jazz games! Woo hoo! Additionally, the four couples at our table won six of the silent auctions. I can't wait until next year when we can defend our win!

Aha!

Every weekend, #2's BFF, Sadilla Milla (our nickname for her), spends the night. We love having her around as she is very easy going and also willing to pitch in with chores. She blends in with my kids so well that I often mistake her for #1.

Anyway, #2 and her BFF always want to sleep in the playroom. We have a real bed and a makeshift bed in there, so there's room for both of them. We don't, however, have heat in there, which I would think would be a problem, but apparently being frigid doesn't bother them. Or maybe it does, and they are keeping mum because they just aren't willing to compromise their little secret!

Today I made a discovery. In one of my regular searches for something I had misplaced, I resorted to looking through the nooks and crannies of the playroom. After Edwin left last fall, we kept his dresser in there, thinking it would be a good place to store toys. Well look what else it stores:


Now, in years past we've had mice in the house, which led to a very strict rule about which rooms were allowed to contain food. Hint: it's none of them! (Other than the kitchen and dining rooms.) So my kids have to be secretive about sneaking food to other rooms. I'm impressed that they are willing suffer in the cold to be able to nibble through the nights. On the other hand, I'm perplexed that they would continue this sneaky snacking on stale food. When I saw the chips--a favorite to dip in cottage cheese--I popped one in my mouth. Blech! The subdued flavor of clothes mixed with old dresser wood had mingled with the open bag of stale chips in a not-gourmet manner. Double blech!

While I was at it, I also found #1's swimsuit, which she had been missing since Christmas, and which, in recent days was the subject of an accusation that may have been thrown at me and/or my laundry sorting abilities. It's a good thing I can let teenage accusations roll off my back. Next time such a complaint flies my way, I'll whip out this piece of photographic evidence:



*For the record, I'm glad #2 thought to hide "stolen" food in drawers rather than her clothing. I have two separate friends who have discovered their children using a more unusual place to stash the evidence. Apparently, when a four-year old is sneaking a cookie--or even ice cream!--the first hiding place that comes to mind is the front of her pants!