No Gold Star For Me...Oops!

Sometimes you can find yourself walking away from a difficult situation and feel really good about it. You dealt with whatever life was throwing your way in a very mature fashion. You deserve a gold star, a pat-on-the-back, your name in lights! Most likely you thought through what you were going to say before you said it. Or, you learned your lesson from a previous incident and this time came out on top.

Maybe your toddler screamed in your face and instead of screaming back you held your cool, walked way, and then came back and dealt with it calmly. Maybe your husband left his shoes in the middle of the floor for the thousandth time and instead of nagging him again--knowing that it would only go in one ear and out the other--you gracefully put them away. Maybe a complete idiot cut you off on the highway and you kept your middle finger out of play. Again, all situations that award you a pat-on-the-back!

I have come to realize that I am a very reactionary person.
A) I don't like to be told what to do.
B) I typically have an opinion and it doesn't always come out nicely.
C) I can be a lot little dramatic.
D) There are stupid people out there.

To achieve the above mentioned reward, I have to work harder than most. If I am dealing with my husband I typically fail, and once a month I have a guaranteed 100% fail rate.

Let me explain with a recent example.

If you have read my blog for any length of time, you might know of my deep hatred for the mail. I can't stand it. And, for some reason I am the one dubbed to sort through it. It's a terrible arrangement, one that might actually be detrimental to my health! I'm not exactly sure how it's worked out this way, but my first guess is he just likes to irritate me and he enjoys seeing my eyes roll to the back of my head. It actually causes a little bit of sharp pain to shoot up the back of my neck...like I said, the stress caused by anger could be slowly killing me. "Erik, seriously you're killing your wife, SORT THE FRICKIN MAIL! Oh, and I love you."

Okay, back to the reason why I don't deserve a gold star.

So the other day, there it was...the stack of mail. Rather than let is sit there and pile up over days, I decided to go through it. I carefully sorted, because I have been known to throw away important bills, documents, money, etc... because I despise this position I've been forced into and it evokes an, "I don't care" attitude to exude out of me. I came across an envelope from T-mobile. It looked like a bill so I opened it. It wasn't a bill. It was a card carefully folded in a conspicuous fashion with a Visa symbol on it. I immediately started to flip out.

Why? You might ask.

Well, I was tricked. I thought I was opening up a bill and instead I was being told that I needed another credit card. "T-mobile is offering credit cards and telling me I need one?"(see point A above)

"A cellphone company offering credit cards? That's completely ridiculous!" (see point B above)

I pull the scissors out of my desk drawer and start mutilating the poor card. (see point C)

Erik is watching me do this, not surprised at all by what he is seeing and he calmly says, "did you read the information that the card was attached too?"

"No, I didn't read anything. I don't need to. We don't need another credit card!" He calmly picks up the paper the card came on, and reads the line... right next to that strip of attachement jelly, "Tips for using your T-Mobile Value Visa Prepaid Card."

"Linsey, I think that's our rebate for the cellphone purchase we made last month."

Oops. (see D above)

I then spent the next forty-five minutes of my morning trying to talk to a human at T-Mobile rebates...one does not exist.

We will be using our "T-Mobile Value Visa Prepaid Card" to order something online!

I think I completely rest my case for passing along my mail duties!

Please Forgive Me

When a moment returns to my mind that repeatedly turns my face red, causes me to shake my head at myself and consistently gets me to laugh at its climax... I deem it worthy of being shared. I battled with whether or not to write this story because I didn't want to offend anyone. I feel the need to share it, because.... well, it's funny. I am one that laughs at life and doesn't take things too seriously. So when you read this, look at it from my perspective and laugh with me.

It was Easter Sunday and I was hired to photograph a beautiful little girl's first communion. I was honored, I was excited and a little bit nervous. I had been to Mass before with my grandma, but that was many years ago. I think I was ten. I called my mom beforehand to get the gist of how a first communion ceremony unfolds. She told me about her first communion as a little girl to give me a heads-up. I wanted to be prepared. I love a good challenge but I still like to prepare when I go into a situation completely in the dark.

I was already at a disadvantage before walking in the door. I was scared. Scared of humilitating myself, disgracing the church (in innocence of course) by doing something I shouldn't and getting kicked out of Mass. To someone that doesn't attend Mass this was a very intimidating situation to be in. There can be a lot of pressure when you are expected to know what to do.

I arrived at the church early. I was hoping to get a feel for the service. I was trying to get a feel for things so that I wouldn't seem like such an outsider. The service coordinator told me that I could stand up at the front of the sanctuary during the ceremony and that I was free to take pictures throughout Mass. One restriction, I was to not take pictures as the priest was blessing the elements.

Alright, easy enough... I got it!

I was at the front of the sanctuary were I was told I could stand. All of a sudden, I started to feel very out of place. I was the only one in front other than the priest and he was only about five feet away. I was definitely not feeling comfortable with this placement. As gracefully as I could, I crouched out of view of the congregation and found a more low-profile position on the left-side of the sanctuary. Thank to my amazing 70-200 mm lens we were still in business and the redness in my face had subsided a bit.

Mass continued and I rejoined my clients in the pew reserved for the families who had children receiving their first communion; the front pew.

The first communion ceremony was over and I was done shooting until after Mass. So I put down my camera and decided to participate in the rest of the service. The priest then called up the congregation to take communion.

Great! That sounds nice. I haven't taken communion in awhile. I followed the crowd and got in line.

Now, at this point of the story, most of you understand the contradiction. Most of you are already laughing. I was not supposed to be in line. Anyhow, lets move on.

I'm in line. I'm in the front. Remember my prime, reserved, first-class spot. Hmm, this is very different from how I am used to recieving communion. No problem; I will just observe and mimic those in front of me. I see everyone cupping their hands together, putting them out and then the priest gives them the blessed bread.

Alright, lets do this!

It was my turn. I cupped my hands together, reached out to the priest and waited. He said, "Christ's body." I looked up at the priest, his eyes were fixed on mine. He was just staring at me. Nothing was happening. So I gave a little gesture with my cupped hands. I sort of moved them forward a bit as if to say, "I'm ready, see!" Again nothing was happening. What was I doing wrong? I looked up at his eyes again and I could see that he wanted me to say something. I sort of started to panic. What was I supposed to say? Everyone had been whispering and I couldn't make out what they had said. I probably thought in that moment they were being polite and giving thanks as he placed the bread in their perfectly cupped hands. I obviously didn't feel that saying thank you was the way to go as I remained silent in a terrified frozen state. I should've paid closer attention and read some lips. "What the heck is the word?" I thought. Then I opened my mouth in a moment of desperation and blurted out in a whiny, scratchy, frightened voice, "I don't know what to say?"

He immediately implied, "You're not catholic." I felt my heart beating out of my chest and my face quickly turning a thousand shades of pink. I topped off our lovely public conversation with, "I'm a christian!"

He then placed his hand on my head and said a prayer for me. In front of the long line that was residing behind me, I patiently listened. He sent me on my way and I walked back to my pew, empty handed.

Well that was a surprise.

Let me remind you, I live in a very small town. I might not remember very many faces from that day, but I am sure mine will be remembered. You can be sure there is one priestly face I will always remember. I will always remember those eyes, that prayer and that moment of paralyzing fear. Maybe that is what Catholic's refer to as the fear of God!

The Silent Laugh That Went Awry

We sit together with our hands intertwined like a newlywed couple. We are kidless. As long as their nursery number doesn't show up on the screen. Comfortable. Happy. We take a deep breath as we relax and listen.

I soon begin to realize my attention span is not as mature as I thought. In fact it's closely resembling that of my four year old. I shift my weight a few times. I uncross and then cross my legs again. I flip through the scriptures in a student-of-the-Bible type fashion. 

I then did something I knew in my heart I shouldn't have done. I failed to heed the red flags that were being raised in my heart. I didn't listen. I looked to my left. 

I looked into the eyes of the handsome man sitting next to me whose hand I was holding. He had that look in his eye. The look that told me that he to was feeling the need to do a few jumping jacks. It was a very ornery look. I knew this look well. Trying to be a good girl I quickly looked away. Continuing down this path was a dangerous one.

I sat still and avoided the urge to look again at that mischievous face wanting to cause trouble and provoke me. I fought it for a few minutes, but the temptation was to strong and I looked again.  This time he spoke. I can't remember exactly what he said, but apparently it was funny. So funny, that it caused me to demonstrate my over-exaggerated silent laugh. 

I felt a big sense of accomplishment that I had overcome my juvenile impulse in a very quiet adult-like manner. I took what he had to dish out and reacted with minimal damage. 

I refocused myself back to the message. I forced myself to only look straight ahead or down at my Bible. 

I was confident that our little moment of childish banter had passed. I only glanced over to confirm that this was the case.

I was way off. This time he did what he knew would, with-out a doubt,  send me over the edge. 

He mocked me. 

It was there all along. Hiding. The giddiness had never really left, it had just been smoldering. He patiently waited for the perfect opportunity.

I didn't even know what I had done was worthy of mocking. But he did. And it was. 



He whispered in my ear, "this is what you look like when you do your silent laugh." I watched him close his eyes, throw his head back so that it touched the back of the pew, open his mouth as wide as it would go as if he were catching flies, and not make a sound.

That was it. He nailed it. He accomplished his mission. He knew the exact string to pull. 

For some reason, in a setting where you are told to be composed, quiet and focused, a very simple poke at ones character becomes a gut-busting witticism. 

Oh yes, it happened. An uncontrollable, spit spraying, snot-out-the-nose kind-of laugh, came spewing out of my mouth. I tried desperately to hold it in, but it only made it that much worse as it was coming out. 

I quickly began to think of bad things. Terrible things. Things that would make me cry. Anything that would suppress the desire to continue to make a fool out of myself either by continuing to laugh uncontrollably, or by running out of the sanctuary like wild hyena. 

Either way, he was in trouble. 

I wouldn't be surprised if we loose our privilege to sit next to each other.  I wouldn't be surprised if one day we are asked to separate. During church.

Maturity is a bitter disappointment for which no remedy exists, unless laughter can be said to remedy anything.  ~Kurt Vonnegut

The Big Win

I play the lottery, I know you might think it's lame but winning runs in my blood. My mom and I were just talking about this very subject. The list of things we have won over the years. Her list is longer than mine by far, but I have a few notches on my belt too. Like the huge Mickey Mouse I won in Junior high. Out of all the kids in that school my name was drawn and I heard Linsey Smith over the loudspeakers. That day I remember feeling, this is one of the greatest things that has ever happened to me. So, I play the lottery just in case.

This leads me to my story. How I almost won it big. How I came so close.

It was a Sunday and I needed to make a deposit at the bank. We were on our way to Denver and stopped on the way down the hill. We typically make our deposits through the ATM and are thankful our bank has one conveniently in their lobby... for off hour transactions.

I finish getting my envelope together to deposit, hit the enter button and wait for it to ask me to insert my envelope. All of a sudden the machine does something so weird, a large clump of cash is protruding from the machine. The machine was giving me money instead of taking my money.

What is going on? I look all around for a sign of some type. Was this a prize? Did I just win a random raffle? Am I the thousandth customer that has used this machine? I waved out the glass doors with the wad of cash in my hand to Erik, who was sitting in the car with the kids. I was trying to show him what I had just won. He wasn't paying attention.

I couldn't find any balloons, no confetti was spitting out at me, what the heck is going on? If I just won big, shouldn't there be some type of huge celebration, some type of recognition? Shouldn't the news be showing up soon? I mean the ATM wasn't even congratulating me. Some prize.

I then look down at the machine that was now beeping at me. So rude! He was asking me if I would like another transaction, or if I was finished. What do you mean? I haven't made a transaction?

At that moment my exhilarated excitement over what I thought had just taken place came crashing to the floor with great force. Right then it became very clear to me the reality of the situation.

I had just rewarded myself with my own money.

I had hit withdrawal instead of deposit. The machine was simply doing what I had asked it to do. He was giving me the money I had asked him for.

At first I did a little pouty lip, stomp of the foot, droopy head move. I glared at ATM for deceiving me so, because I knew he was laughing at me. But then, how could I not hysterically start laughing right along with him.

Even though I didn't really win big and the bank didn't feel like being generous to me on that day, for a brief moment I was a winner and it felt good! It's all about cherishing the small things and embracing the moment, even if it only lasts a short time.

I then made my deposit for double the original amount.

When I got back in the car and told Erik about what had just happened, he gave me that cute grin. The one that says, see this the reason I love you. You're my Lucy!

Snow Babies

We have our seasons passes and we intend on getting our money's worth. So far, three trips to the mountain have been achieved and we are starting to get the hang of it.

Erik is super dad and takes the three older kids up by himself. Matty and I are content to snuggle at home for the day.

We took the girls out of school a few weeks ago and got our first family trip in. Yes, we even took the dog, we like to make things as chaotic as possible! While roaming the car he devoured an entire bag of mini donuts and a tuna fish sandwich. He road in his cage the entire trip home!

It was quite the ordeal and by the end of the day we were completely exhausted. You really work up a good sweat getting four small children all dressed for the snow!

I had a bit of a dilemma. I could not get my feet into my new boots. They fit in the store, but for the life of me I could not get my foot in. I had to, like an idiot, go to the lodge and ask for help. At this point I didn't even care if I looked like I had never put on a pair of ski's before, I just wanted them to fit. A very nice gentleman explained to me that the boots were to cold. But he had a trick and yanked straight up on the tongue of the boot, while I slid my foot in. We were in business. Thank you kind sir for not making me feel to stupid!

They didn't have the smaller lifts open yet (to early in the season), so we spent the day switching off. Thank goodness for the dvd player! Hot chocolate and snacks tided us over throughout the day as we camped out in the Suburban. We could see the run from our car and Ella liked sitting outside on the hood and watching the skiers.

We had to give the little guys a go, so we geared them up for the second time and let them try out their skis at the bottom of the lift. They would walk up the slope with their skis and then slide down until they ran into the lower building, it was really funny!

We like to put on a show wherever we go! To the right of this picture is the lodge and the to the left of this picture is the main lift, so we were right in the middle of it all with our loud selves! Mom with her mega huge camera trying to take pictures of all the action, four whiny tired kids trying to learn something new and struggling with all their bulky snow gear, a toddler having a meltdown and Mom and Dad on edge from the long day. This guy on the left had himself a giggle or two!

Matthew had such tude this day, and these pictures show that well! Such a cute little stinker he is!

Go Jon! He tried snowboarding last year and felt cool, but technically he was to little for it yet. So it's skiing for him this year. He is doing fantastic!

Ella really did great! Poor girl, don't worry she is getting a new coat for Christmas. That's what happens when you are the middle child and get all the hand-me downs. But she didn't care how geeky she looked, she had a great time!

The reason I don't have any pictures of our little snowboarder is because she was out of her gear at this point. She had already gone down two big runs with her dad. She is to funny about the whole snowboarder/skier thing. She will correct you very quickly if you call her a skier. I like to tease her and get her to say, "Mom, I am not a skier, I am a snowboarder." She is doing so fantastic and is going down intermediate runs with her dad. She's a little head turner! I am hoping Erik and I will get a chance to take just her up at least one time this year, I really want to see what she can do!

We even got Matty little ski's that we could strap his snow boots into.

He had fun for about one run and then was completely done. By this time of the day he was ready for a nap and let the whole mountain know. Matty was screaming his head off and delirious from tiredness, so it was time to leave. Next time, we will know better and let them start in the a.m. We obviously did not think that one out at all!

Daddy helping Matt do a spin move!

And the landing looks good!

I will have to admit that my first time back up on ski's was a little scary. I was nervous the whole way up on the lift. It only took a few seconds for me to get comfortable with it again, but I really was afraid I wouldn't remember how to ski. My legs were killing me by the time I got to the bottom, but it felt so great to be out there again. I was only able to get one run in that day, but we have the whole season ahead of us!

Costco Cooties

I know Costco comes up a lot in my posts. One, we are there a lot and two, interesting things seem to take place when we go. Just getting through the store with two overflowing carts and four hungry, cranky, loud children, that want to stop for samples every few minutes, is interesting to watch. Add the weekend before thanksgiving and all the awesome toy isles they have set up for Christmas, now it's really getting fun!


Just when I think to myself, what am I going to write about for Monday, a story seems to arise. A crowded, bustling Costco gave me that story on Sunday.


Erik and I have a system when we do Costco. Once we make it to the checkout area, he helps me unload until the kids start loosing it and then he takes them to the food court while I finish. We had already been at Costco for two hours, so they lost it pretty quickly.


I finished up paying for our obscene amount of food. I should understand by now that two huge carts of food is not going to be cheap, but it shocks me every time when they tell me that total. Seriously, are we feeding an army or four small children under the age of 6? I stand there with my jaw open, nodding my head to assure her that she can go ahead and swipe my card.


I make my way over to my family. Matty is jumping from table to table, Ella is wailing that she needs to go the bathroom, Abby is trying to explain to Erik that she can get our lunch order all by herself and Jon is sitting quietly three tables away. I parked our carts and then went to them.


I went over to Jon first, who was sitting quietly and mesmerized by all the busyness. I was very parched from all that shopping and was glad Erik had already gotten the drinks. As I picked up the drink I said, "whatcha got there bud, lemonade?" I downed a good amount and then gave it back to him. He didn't seem to mind, which was weird, he usually is very attached to his fountain drinks.


Then I notice behind me a couple laughing and giggling to each other. The lady who was staring at me was whispering to her significant other. I just assume it was from our personal sideshow. People gawk, stare, and talk about us often in public situations. But then, Jon said something to me very interesting. He said, "oh mom, can I have some of your drink?" I am thinking to myself, what do you mean my drink? Isn't this your drink? Didn't dad get you all drinks." I look over to the other kids, no drinks.


It all becomes very clear at that moment. I just inhaled a strangers leftover lemonade and the couple behind us is laughing at me. They were there when the previous owner of that lemonade left and now they are witness to me finishing it off.


I start laughing, but then suddenly feel the urge to open up our massive bottle of newly purchased bleach and start swigging. I felt very dirty and like at any minute I would start coming down with a strange rare disease.


I went over and shared with Erik what I had just done. His response was, "ewwww, that is so disgusting." I had to agree, very disgusting. Next time I am overly thirsty, I will pause before gulping the drink that sits in front of my child. It could belong to a snot nose kid, who doesn't brush their teeth and who just came from the dr. that told him he has the meningitis! EWWWWWW!


We sit down to finish lunch and Matty stands up on his seat and yells as loud as he can, "Mom, I poop, I superman, I poop," with his fist in air, ready to take flight. Lunch is ended early, superman needs to be changed and everyone in the food court has been made aware.


We are such a spectacle. At least we serve the purpose of entertaining the Costco masses!