History, part 7

Was your neighborhood a good, safe place in which to take walks? Do you remember any incidences?


Yes, my neighborhood was a good, safe place in which to take walks. I grew up in Orem, for crying out loud. Back when I was a youngster, Orem wasn't the booming metropolis/car lot that it is today. We had the mall, which was a big deal, but other than that, it was a pretty simple place. I used to ride my bike to Walker's gas station to get 27 cent sodas and penny candy. With my incredible ability to ride my bike with no hands, I would drink my soda, (or "pop" as I called it back in the day, before I married Nils and he mocked me into "soda" submission) while riding my bike to Fred Meyer (where Office Max and Barnes and Noble are now) to check out all of the toys and goodies there. It was satisfying times. I realize no one says "satisfying times". Sorry.

Another example of satisfying neighborhood times: When it used to snow enough to cover the streets, our neighbors (the ones with the obnoxiously nice yard) would tie a toboggan to the end of their Suburban and pull all the kids up and down the streets. It was great fun. I don't think you could get away with that now, and it hasn't snowed that much in ages. Either that, or the snow plows are much more efficient these days.

I don't remember any "incidences". (But I like parentheses.)

Poo Breath

Sunday morning as I was getting the kids ready for church, Aani kept saying that she smelled Ava's poopy diaper- except Ava didn't have a poopy diaper. After about an hour of regular complaints, I realized that Aani was probably smelling my breath, since I hadn't brushed my teeth yet. Add to it that I was congested and had probably been sleeping with my mouth agape all night, and well... poo breath. So I told her that Ava didn't have a poopy diaper and that Mommy's breath was stinky. I should have just let Ava shoulder the blame, because she's a baby and doesn't know any better, AND:

This morning I was getting the kids breakfast. Aani had a raspberry yogurt, which grosses Anders and Addie out. Anders was plugging his nose, saying something was stinky. Aani said, "Anders, it's Mommy's breath." Anders said, "No, it's your yogurt. Mom's breath doesn't smell like yogurt."

Apparently not. Note to self.

Blah. Blech. Ugh.

Hello. I'm in a funk. Not exactly sure what my problem is, but I am indeed in a funk. I've been noticing for awhile now that I've been feeling sort of anti-social, which is weird for me. I don't know if the factors are external or internal. I think when my life is really busy, I turn inward and isolate myself to minimize external stressors. All this does is lead to actual isolation, which isn't great. Anyhoo, October was a really, really nutty month- but I can't remember why now. Huh. But it was, so I think I shut a lot of stuff out, and now here I am... funk and all.

And it's so dark outside. I hate it. After I get Anders & Addie off to school, my day pretty much revolves around Ava napping (and playing ponies with Aani, which is fun for me for about 5 minutes, but she could do for hours. And hours.). When the big kids get home from school, the afternoon is spent with snacks, homework, finding friends to play with, etc. Then it's dinner time and it's DARK, and then the day is over and I want to go to bed at 6:30. So I've had a knot in my stomach all day, and I was folding laundry after dinner, which you should know was pancakes, and I realized I was feeling really anxious and sick to my stomach for no apparent reason. Then I realized that I've been feeling this way, acutely, since the time changed and it gets dark at 5 freaking 30, and I think I have Seasonal Affective Disorder, which I know I've had for some time. But I thought I could just power through it and decide to be fine, so I guess I'm surprised at how affected I actually am. The fact that it's totally involuntary baffles me and makes me want to kick something.

A few weeks ago Nils and I were having a little heart-to-heart about blogging. We were discussing how blogging has changed since we started all those years ago. It started out purely as an online journal which hardly anyone read, then evolved into a way to keep in touch with friends who lived far away. With more people reading, the posts got more entertaining, but less about the mundane or the crappy stuff. And I mean the mundane crappy stuff, not the exciting crappy stuff. Everyone loves exciting crappy stuff. Anyway, then Facebook came to Earth and changed blogging. With a much more instant, interactive interface to keep tabs on people, who needs to blog? But, I've always felt a loyalty to blogging. It's been such a great outlet for me and a way to purge myself and feel supported.

I was telling Nils that I feel less inclined these days to share things on the blog, and I'm not sure why. It's ultimately my loss, because by not blogging, I'm not keeping a record of feelings or events. I don't want to quit, but I'm not sure what my blogging purpose or identity should be. He said something really great. He said, "When I go online, I want to be fed. I want to learn something or read something that will fill me." I've been giving that a lot of thought. I blog to connect with people, to express crazy feelings, share something funny that I want to remember, to commiserate, to remember the mundane and crappy and appreciate it all. So he encouraged me to continue on with blogging and told me that I'm swell and stuff and made me feel better about things. Aw.

After my little laundry folding anxiety episode this evening, I thought I'd post about it- even though I'm not entirely comfortable doing so. But I'm diving back in, in hopes of being filled and fed and maybe doing some filling and feeding... or something. In any case, I have to figure out how to make it through the winter without completely losing my marbles. Maybe a little over sharing will help...and maybe Wellbutrin will too. We shall see. I love you, little blog. Good night.

History, part 6

Can you remember a historic event that happened when you were in school?


Yup. The first one was when the Space Shuttle Challenger exploded. I was in second grade, and I remember my teacher wheeling a T.V. into the classroom so we could watch the news. It was so sad. I ran home after school and told my mom, "The space shuttle exploded! They're not sending any other astronauts to space until 1988!" My mom hadn't been watching the news that day, so I was proud to be her informer of world events.

Second would be the Berlin Wall coming down, but I was but a wee lass didn't understand the politics or implications of it, really. I mostly just remember watching it on the news with my dad.

Third, the infamous O.J. Simpson debacle. I was a junior in high school when the verdict was read. I was sitting in Mrs. Gessel's Humanities class, watching it go down on the boob tube. When the "not guilty" verdict was read, a girl sitting next to me shouted, "OUR JUSTICE SYSTEM HAS FAILED!" I thought that was pretty dramatic. Thus, it is burned in my memory.

Fourth, my graduating high school was a pretty historic event.

Monkey Ava

Just a cute photo of Ava in her little monkey costume. We went to Nils' work to trick-or-treat, and he stuck her in his photo tent for about a minute. He got some great pictures of her before she lunged out of it. Ain't she sweet?

History, parts 4 & 5

I can't remember the exact wording of the questions. I had them on my nightstand, but Nils cleaned our room yesterday (which, by the way, looks AMAZING! We forgot about all that carpet!) and now I can't find them. Pardon me while I make up my own wording.

What is the story behind your name? Do you like your name?

My mom's name is Kathryn. After my sister Heidi was born, my parents wanted to have another daughter named Kristina. They proceeded to have four sons. By the time I came along, they were sick of the name Kristina, but wanted to name me after my mom. They thought they were being really creative and thought of the name Katrina as a nice little mix of Kristina and Kathryn. When I was little I didn't like my name because I thought it was too fancy. All of my siblings have pretty traditional names, so I didn't think my name really matched theirs. Now, I can't think of any other name that I'd rather be called. I think Katrina fits me pretty well. I have to say, though, that I always wished I had a middle name. I always thought it would be so fun and exotic. So, I live vicariously through my daughters, who all have middle names. And lemme tell ya.... it's totally fun and exotic. Oh. Yeah.

(Incidentally, Ava's middle name is Catherine. I wanted to spell it with a C because I think it's pretty that way. Wanna know what else? On my mom's original birth certificate, her name is spelled 'Catherine', but there was some feud when she was a baby, so it's always been spelled 'Kathryn' everywhere else. So, I claimed I was just sticking with the original spelling. Ha!)

Next question:

Was there a point when you knew your siblings and family accepted your spouse?

My family loves Nils more than they love me. He's been a part of the family from day one. My brother got married a couple of months after Nils and I met, and Nils is in the family picture at the wedding. That was about three years before Nils and I were actually married. My brother is no longer married to that woman, but the picture remains. When Nils went into the MTC, my family was there. They love him. What's not to love? He's just a lovable guy. He's funny, handy, quick-witted, genuinely nice, and he can eat his weight in mashed potatoes, which they all enjoy watching. Nils winterizes my mom's swamp cooler every year, gets it working again in the spring, changes her horrible fluorescent light bulbs when needed, fixes leaky faucets, and basically does whatever needs to be done around her house. No wonder she loves him more than she loves me. It's because he's got the skills, people. Nilsy Nils has got the skills.

I Think I Like Soccer

Anders played soccer for the fall season. Here's a brief history of Anders' experience with sports: Crying, being carried off the field, being carried off the basketball court, whining about games, etc. So imagine my delight when he told us he wanted to play soccer this fall. Joyous rapture. At his first practice, he was arguing with the coach and picking grass. I thought I was gonna lose it on the boy. After that practice, I told him that A) We PAY for him to play. B) Driving 10 minutes away and sitting for an hour and a half at his practice is not #1 on my list of things I most love doing, especially if he's going to pick grass and not listen to the coach. C) He will not play sports if he's not going to try his best and have a good attitude. Seriously.

He turned it around. Holy cow, the kid really came through. His coach was fantastic. He taught the kids to play their positions, so they're not a herd chasing the ball. I really enjoyed watching his games. His team was a little bit like the Bad News Bears, but I was so happy with how much Anders improved. I love how soccer is all about teamwork. And I loved that Anders only had to be carried off the field once during the whole season.

He was sad when his last game was over. He really enjoyed playing! So, I decided that if Anders wants to play soccer, I'm happy to support him. I think it's a great game.

But basketball starts in January, and he wants to play. Heaven help us.