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Mother of the Year Goes to.... Not Me

Every morning I go to the gym to exercise. I love it because I have a lot of friends there (it's my adult interaction for the day...hahah...but seriously...), endorphins are released, I feel powerful and strong....etc. Fast forward to about 10 minutes after I arrive home.

Kids are fighting over who grabbed the box of cereal first.

Tears are rolling down cheeks from, "Cameron looked at me in a mean way."

Fights are breaking out between who has to be the flippin' monkey in the middle...

You get the idea.

So pretty much all the good I do at 5:30 in the wee early morning hours gets completely undone. (Perhaps I should schedule my workouts to after the kids leave for school instead?)

Anyway, today was no different. The kids actually all got ready on their own really well without any fights. They had a good 20 minutes to kill before we had to leave for school. They decided to play a game (but not the blasted Monkey in the Middle game...No! No! I banned that game [and 'jinx&#…

Date Night

We used to own a small, brown Bronco. (Not the large one like OJ Simpson was chased in). My parents were headed out for a date one night, and all of us kids were to stay behind. Sneaky Tenille, however, snuck in the back and hid under a blanket until my parents were halfway to their destination. Apparently they thought it was cute and let her join in on the date while the rest of us enjoyed hot dogs at home...lol.

I remember Mom and Dad going on dates a lot actually. (Something Matt and I need to be better at). I was always so curious whenever they were headed to the temple with the ward. Those old, turquoise suitcases were so interesting to me. I had to know what they kept inside those. And why did they need a suitcase if they weren't staying overnight? I was dying to see what was in them, but I never had the guts to open it.

We kids thought we were pretty cool. Sometimes when Mom and Dad came home we'd have our own little restaurant set up for them. The lights would be dimmed, the intercom had classical music playing, and all of us were dressed in our Sunday best ready to serve them boiled hot dogs. We anxiously awaited hearing the garage door open so we could line up behind the chair with the phonebook on it waiting to see if their name was on our reservation list. Lance was always the waiter--with a penciled on mustache (with Mom's eyeliner tool) and a dish towel draped over his arm, he lead them to their seating area in the "Big Room."

After dinner was served, we always made sure they danced. I'm sure Mom and Dad thought it was silly, but we loved peeking in from the kitchen and entry-way doorways to see them romantically dance.

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