My Mortal Enemy

Is it just me, or does the medical insurance industry drive everyone else to the brink of insanity??? Years ago I worked for a health insurance company, who shall remain nameless, and previous to that, I really had no dealings with health insurance at all. I was young and single, no longer a dependent of my parents, and perfectly healthy to my knowlege, and so I figured I had no need for medical coverage. (Did I mention I was YOUNG?) Anywho, I received medical coverage as a benefit for working for the company, which we later discovered was one of the greatest miracles and blessings ever granted to us. But my experieces with that company and learning the industry have helped me on more ocassions that I can count. And although there were some claims that weren't processed smoothly, and there were a number of people calling with complaints about their claims, I must admit, the majority of claims were handled with no problems at all.

I've come to realize that a perfectly processed claim (one that is processed and paid at 100%) is far from the norm. I won't get into details, simply because it would take me a year to go through them all, but the births of my girls have caused me literal nightmares when it comes to dealing with the insurance company and getting those claims paid. If I were to conservatively guess, I would have to say I've spent more than a month of my life (that's a WHOLE month, 24 hours a day for 31 days) on the phone being the "go between" for the insurance company and the doctor's office or the hospital, trying to resolve the issues of getting my medical claims paid.

And each time we have another baby, we have new insurance, which claims to be so great, and I figure "This time there won't be any problems." At least with the last two, the problems didn't start until AFTER the births.

So yesterday I decided to call up my perinatologist's office to get in for an appointment. I didn't bother calling a regular OB since I don't see one through my entire pregnancy, and last time I did what the insurance asked (get a referral from your regular OB before going to a specialist), and it ended up being a huge mess, so the perinatologist told me, "Next time don't go there first. Just come straight to me." Sounded good to me!

After talking with the lady in scheduling about how this would be my third baby to be delievered by the doctor, and that we have new insurance, and how he had told me to come straight to him instead of getting a referral first, she told me she'd have to call the insurance just to make sure. Well, I could have told her what they would say. "Oh, no. You MUST get a referral to see a specialist. Sorry, those are the rules." Fine. Whatever.

I proceeded to start calling the OB doctors who are covered under our new insurance. "Hello? I need to schedule an appointment. I'll see whichever doctor can get me in the soonest."

"Are you a new patient?"

"Yes. But I just need a referral to my perinatologist. The insurance company requires one for me to see him."

"Oh, we're not taking new patients until November."

November!!! What the crap?!? "Thanks. I'll try someone else."

After numerous phone calls with responses such as, "We're not taking new patients" and "We don't accept that insurance anymore" or "The doctor only sees new patients at his office in Southern Hills" (which happens to be like a 50-minute drive for me), I gave up and called my doctor again, hoping against all hope that Rosa the Receptionist would take pity on me and find a way to get around the whole referral thing.

No such luck. She offered a few other clinics that weren't in my provider directory, but assured me that they did accept my insurance. I then spent the next 37 minutes on hold, waiting to see if I could get an appointment. THIRTY-SEVEN FREAKING MINUTES!!!! And the best part? They never answered the phone. Oh, no, I got to leave them a message. And to top that off, the recording let me know they would get back to me ... within FOUR business days. Can I swear now? No, no. I can do this without profanity.

So here we are, a new day, and I have to start again with the phone calls. I wonder how much of my time will be wasted before this child is actually given life. Forget it. We're freaking moving to Canada.

The Devil Wears Denim

My sweet little Devil Child had her birthday on Friday, and we celebrated with a family party on Saturday night. Nothing big, she's just two. We decided to have the "real" birthday parties at three and five. But she was spoiled just the same, and we all had a blast.





Here she is in her new outfit from Grandma and Grandpa. They sure know how to make her look cute!













Everyone enjoyed the pink cake (especially the girls)!















Here are a couple of her fav's. She's sporting her new dress up ballerina skirt holding a Hello Kitty ball (she LOVES balls!) while seated on her Dora tricycle in front of her new playhouse. The girls spent the whole day playing in that playhouse. And at only $7, that was probably the best gift I bought! Love that Target clearance!!!















It was a great party, but we all know how it goes ... they'll cry if they want to. And boy, did she. The Dora trike was a bit of a hit! Everyone wanted a turn, and she just wasn't havin' it.




One last gift that deserves a special mention: The armband.



She has developed a little fettish, I guess I'll call it, for armbands. For Mother's Day this year The Man gave me an Ipod mini so I could listen to my music when I'm at the gym. So I got myself a little pink armband, and I use it all the time. After about a week of using it, I noticed that my Devil Child had found a little pink wristband that Miss Priss got when she got her new helmet and pads for her bike. The wristbands were never worn, so Devil Child decided they were now hers. But she only wore one, and she wore it up high on her arm. It took me a couple of days to realize she was wearing it like I wore my armband. And she has continued to put that thing on, day in and day out, for months now. I've tried to hide them, but she seeks them out. I got rid of them, and she would find a large ponytail holder and use that instead. We laughed about it because she likes to wear them out in public, which, of course, I DON'T like.

So my sister decided it would be a great idea to get her a couple new armbands of her very own. Great. Now I'll never get the things off of her. Thanks a million.

Gimme Some of Your Tots

Tonight Miss Priss decided to play a little game with me. She started asking, out of the clear blue, "Mom, guess what I'm thinking."

"I don't know, honey. How could I know what you're thinking? It could be anything."

"But you have to guess, Mom. Just guess."

"No." (Yes, for those of you wondering, I'm that nice.)

"You're supposed to say people. Just say people."

"People."

"Yep! Guess what I'm thinking now, Mom."

"Um, flowers."

"Yep! Guess what I'm thinking now."

And on and on it went, for about 10 to 15 rounds, until my guesses turned into blankets and bedtime and sleeping. Then her answers were, "No way!"

A silly game, maybe even an annoying game, but for some reason it took me back to a time when my brothers and sisters played a similar game every time we had a particular item at the dinner table. Tater tots. We would place a tot in the palm of our hand and then ask someone at the table, "Is it flat or not?"

If the person answered no, we would immediately smash it flat with our other hand and scream, "Wrong!" On the other hand, if the person answered yes, we would again scream, "Wrong!" and proceed to pop it into our mouths and eat it just the way it was. I don't ever remember any of us letting someone be right. Why we continuously played the mind-reading tater tot game, on numerous occasions, is beyond me.

As the memory flashed through my mind in a matter of mere seconds, I laughed a little thinking of how lame that was. And I thought of how annoying this game Miss Priss was playing with me was. And how my mom must have thought we were not only annoying, but completely retarded.

And then, with a smile on my face, I hear Miss Priss asking again. So I turn to her and say, "Ice cream!"

"Yep!"

Filled "OF" Great Joy

We've always had a suspicion that our little Miss Priss may grow up to be an actress or some sort of performer. She's definitely no child star, that's for sure. You need to be able to take instruction from adults well. We're not there yet. But the way her mind works, and how I constantly find her in some imaginary world when she thinks I'm not watching, just cracks me up. My all-time favorite Miss Priss moment happened a few months ago during our snack time here at home. For those of you who have heard the story before, forgive the repeat, but I wanted to share with friends and family who don't live so close. It still cracks me up thinking about it.

Just for some background, last year we got suckered into buying a set of those Living Scriptures. I won't go into detail, but sufficeth to say The Man and I ended up despising the company, their marketing tactics and business ethics, and have vowed to do all in our power to make sure no one else we know suffers the same rotten experience we did. Although the videos are great, and the kids happen to LOVE them, it's not worth your life savings. You can teach your children about the gospel without emptying your bank account. I'll get off my soapbox now.

Anywho, Miss Priss really took to the video called The Tree of Life. It was great to have an appropriate show to watch on Sunday, and she really was learning. As we would read from the scriptures about the story of Lehi and his family, she would pipe in with comments like, "This is just like when Nephi was helping everyone with the rod; right, Mom?" I was proud.

One afternoon the girls sat at the table for their afternoon snack as I cut up an apple for them. After they started eating Miss Priss said to me, "Mom, I'm going to eat this apple like on 'The Tree of Life.' "

"Okay."

She proceeded to gingerly hold a slice of apple cupped in both hands, close her eyes, and take a gentle bite right out of the middle. I laughed a little. She then finished her bite and opened her eyes wide. With a huge smile on her face, she proclaimed, "Mom! This fruit filled my soul of great joy!"

Yes, "of great joy." That's how you know it came from a 4-year-old. She has continued to enjoy other videos in the BOM collection, but she always goes back to her fav, The Tree of Life.



She loves to act out the scenes, pretending to be either Lehi or Nephi. She will find an old cardboard tube from wrapping paper and hold it out and tell me, "This is the iron rod, Mom." She will walk around the room and up and down the stairs, pretending to struggle with holding on to the rod. And she will quote the movie and then help me with my lines. "Mom, you have to be Lehi. You tell me, 'Hold on to the rod, Nephi! There are many dangers!' "

What an imagination! She's no Dakota Fanning, but she's quite a character. I can't wait to see what she comes up with next.

Where Much is Given

In our new ward (I guess it's not new anymore. We've been here for six months.) I was called to be one of the compassionate service leaders. There are two of us; one for all baby-related needs (me), and one for everything else (like sickness, surgeries, deaths, etc.). We help each other out when it's needed, but I'm basically in charge of helping out the women when they have new babies by getting meals into their homes, or getting babysitters and people to clean when they are on bedrest or too sick to do it themselves.

I was excited for the calling when I received it. I have had callings related to the Primary for the last five years, so this was a nice change (although I still LOVE the Primary and get the chance to sub in Miss Priss' class quite often). This calling has given me a new appreciation for the Relief Society and the women who run it. There is no doubt in my mind this organization came from divine inspiration. It is a perfect program, with complete capabilities to change lives and save souls.

I have been kept busy, busy, busy, as our ward currently has 18 pregnant women (that I know of), two girls on bedrest, and 16 babies born so far this year. In April a friend of mine lost her 22-month-old son in an accident, and another sister just lost her husband suddenly three days ago. This week will be a busy one with the funeral and luncheon to help plan, along with my two girls on bedrest that need babysitting and cleaning and meals, and another sister is having her baby today, which means more meals.

Most of these women aren't aware of the others, although I'm sure they know they are not the only ones receiving help at this time. And just as much as I am busy helping these women in their homes, cooking for them, or just taking their kids for a few hours, I just want to say how grateful I am for all the sisters in my ward who are also willing to serve. I have been called an angel, a blessing, and an answer to someone's prayers. I feel I am none of those, because the service being given is ten times (or more) than what I am able to do. I have been blessed in my own home and blessed with a righteous perspective as a result of this calling. But the sisters who offer their own time have not been called to do what I do. They do it because they can and because it's needed. There are times when I know of a sister who has cleaned four homes in one week, not including her own. There is a sister who has had a tragedy in her own life that has been completely unbearable, and yet she's the first one to volunteer to help someone else. These women are the angels.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you to all the women out there who have helped serve, who willingly volunteer, and who have inspired me in a way I can never explain. This is the Lord's work. This is the Lord's church. I am so grateful to be a part of it. It blesses my life daily. I may never be able to do enough, but I will do all I can. And for Him, that is enough.

A "Rose" By Any Other Name ...

Our sweet little Emma Rose. This morning I've been thinking about names and if they really end up affecting one's personality or life in general. As I huffed and puffed my morning away on the ellipitcal machine, I looked up at one of the tv screens, which happened to be on CNN, and saw that the reporter's name was Richard "Dickie" somebody. Can't recall the last name now, but I think it was the nickname that threw me off.

This man, who had to be in his late 60's, early 70's, actually had them put "Dickie" up on that screen, for all the world to see. Dickie? Come on, now. I know "back in the day" there was absolutely nothing wrong with it. It was a name and nothing more. But people, the times they are a changin', and you have to go with the flow. It's no longer appropriate to name your son Dick or your daughter Gay. Sad, but true. My friend and I, upon seeing the nickname (did I mention it was on CNN - teehehe), couldn't help but giggle.

And it made me think of the process we went through to come up with Emma's name. Now, don't get me wrong, everyone. I don't want any messages from people upset that I'm making fun of a perfectly respectable name. My grandpa's name was Richard, and he went by Dick his whole life. Hence, the saga of choosing the name for our second born ...



I knew I wanted Emma for a first name. The Man had to be conviced of that one. But after meeting my great aunt, Emma Lou, she fell in love with him, and he with her. After that, it didn't take much convincing. He was totally into the idea of our daughter being Emma's namesake. The decision for a middle name was a little more difficult. We were so used to Aunt Emma's name, all we could think of to go with it was Lou. Neither of us were big on that, so we started thinking of ANYTHING else that possibly sounded good. It couldn't start with a vowel, so my middle name was out. We liked the idea of middle names being family names, but since the first name was a family name, we were okay with choosing something random that we both liked.

One evening we were with my parents over at my sister's house, and we were all trying to come up with different options that would fit.

Mom: Well, grandma's name is Margaret. You could use that.

Me: Please. I'm concerned enough as it is that she's going to think we've given her an old lady's name.

Dad: My grandmother's name is Zelema.

(That's right, it was actually suggested that we name her Emma Zelema)

Me: No response. (But probably a good roll of the eyes was directed toward him for that.)

After a few minutes of hysterical laughter, my sister decided to put in her two cents.

Sister: Since her first name is going to be after our great aunt, her middle name could be Ray, after our Great Uncle Ray. Emma Ray is cute. You could even spell it R-A-E if you wanted.

Me: Nice. So now we're choosing boys' names? Why don't I just name her after grandpa and she can be Emma Dick.

(Another bout of hysterical laughter)

Thanks to my better half's family, namely his Granddad Doug, we eventually settled on Rose for her middle name. I think it's beautiful. And so does everyone else. We still get compliments on her name, and sometimes her Grandma Darlin' can't help but call her Emma Rose instead of just using her first name. I think it's very sweet.



But back to my first question: Do our names really determine who we are or who we become; what our personality is like or how we act? I have to say no, sadly, they don't. My daughter with such a beautiful, elegent and sweet name as Emma Rose has proven that to me.

And if, by chance, I'm wrong, and our names do have some effect on our personalities, I think my daughter was misinformed. She must think she was named Emma Dick.


*** Note *** I hope you all know these stories are true, but written for your entertainment. My little Devil Child can also be very sweet and loving. I love her with all my heart and soul. She's just, shall I say, strong willed, and I love her more for it. She makes our life together fun, very intereting, and extremely hilarious. Mommy loves you very much, sweetheart.

The Cat's Out of the Bag

MAY WE HAVE YOUR ATTENTION, PLEASE.

(drum roll)

We didn't really have the intention on telling anyone just yet, but I've now discovered the reason people usually don't tell other people they're "trying." When I took the pregnancy test last week and the second line showed up in under ten seconds, I was thrilled. I wanted to shout for joy and laugh out loud. Just when I thought I couldn't hold my excitment in any longer, I rememberd I was in my sister's bathroom, and that I had come over without The Man. I just couldn't tell my sister without telling my husband first, could I? I had to spend the rest of the evening with her and her family without saying a word so that The Man could be the first to know. TORTURE!!!

When I came home that night, The Man was already in bed. I thought to myself, "He's getting up at 4:30 am. I really should just let him get his sleep. I'll tell him tomorrow. That would be the kind thing to do."

Five seconds later I was shaking his shoulder and repeating, "Are you awake? Can you hear me?" He sleepily said that he was and that he could, so I let him know. He also was very excited. Then we talked about who we could tell now, and who could wait until after the first doctor's appt. I asked if I could tell my friend who I would see the next morning at the gym.

"No, don't tell her yet. We're going out to dinner with them tomorrow. Just wait until then so we can tell them both," was The Man's only request.

First thing she says to me when we're working out in the morning ...

"So when are you supposed to start? Have you taken a test yet?"

AAAAHHHH! Could I lie? Just a little, tiny white lie? It wouldn't be a big deal. We were going to tell them that night, so it would only be a small fib that lasted a few hours. But apparently I need some work on my poker face. I couldn't help but smile, and so the truth was out. And although she's one of a few I know that have an extremely difficult time getting pregnant, she was very happy for me and the news of a third baby for us. My heart sincerely goes out to the women in my life that have her same challenge. We know our news is bittersweet to you, and you are always so supportive and happy for us. We truly appreciate it. And I hope you know that we constantly pray and fast for you and your husbands; that you will be blessed for the trials that face you. We love you all so much.

After I got home I got a phone call from my little sister (who just happened to find out she was pregnant about two weeks ago). She says, "So when do you find out?"

"Uh, yesterday."

"Oh. And?"

"We're having a baby!!!"

"Yeah! That's so awesome that our due dates will be so close!"

"I know! I just wish we lived closer."

"All I know is that Todd is going to be totally mad if we have another girl and you get a boy."

Ha, ha! They have three little girls and are REALLY hoping for a boy this time. They've been hoping for boys from the very beginning, but, you know, you get what you get. I don't really care either way. The Man wants a boy, and I think it would be great, but I absolutely LOVE little girls. So either way, I'm just thrilled that we're able to have another one.

Needless to say, this will be the last time we let people know we are "trying." Maybe. I have a really hard time keeping my mouth shut sometimes. I kind of feel it's a little too early to be telling everyone, but since you're all family to me, it's okay.

For those of you wondering about my health, things are going really well. Everything checked out last December, and the nephrologist said he thought it was just fine if we wanted to have another baby. After we have her -- Oops! Freudian slip -- we'll get checked out again and see how well my body dealt with the strain. He gave us the same advice we've heard before, "Pregnancy is VERY hard on your kidneys. This COULD be the one where everything goes downhill. BUT ... you've proved us wrong twice before, and I don't see why you can't do it again." That was great to hear. This doctor's a keeper.

So we're thinking the due date will be in May. And if I go early (like they usually have me do), we'll have the baby end of April or beginning of May. We'll keep you all posted when we get news of an actual due date. And we'll start polling now for your guesses on the sex. Hey, with a 50/50 chance, you'll probably be right!

Here is a pictures of our family now...



And here we are in about eight months...



Am I really ready for this? Well, I guess I better get there because ready or not, HERE COMES #3!!!

San Diego Trip - No Pictures Yet

So apparently my sisters are as good as I am at sending pictures they promise. I still haven't gotten any from the SD trip from a couple weeks ago. But before I forget about the wonderful time we had (or even forget that we went down at all), I'll fill you in on our trip.

We had been planning the trip down with my mom and dad ever since we found out that the Celtic Woman concert would be right next to the yacht club they belong to. My dad said there was a great spot where we could boat over to and see the stage right from the water. And the best part: We didn't have to pay $95 a piece to enjoy it all!!! Unfortunately The Man doesn't get to take any time off yet (started a new job a couple months ago), so it was just me and the girls. And, true to form, Miss Priss had a fever the night before we were to leave. Then Devil Child got hers in the morning. I guess they didn't want to break their perfect record of being sick EVERY SINGLE STINKIN' TIME we go stay with my sister. She's got three kids of her own. Like she doesn't deal with sickness enough. But she's a good sport, and told us to come anyway; that she wouldn't care if her kids caught it.

So off we drove down to San Diego. The drive was pretty good, thanks to the inventors of the portable dvd player and Nite Time cold medicine for kids. (Whoever you are, I will praise you till the end of my days!) After a couple viewings each of Strawberry Shortcake Dress Up Days and Barbie in Mermaidia, and most of the way through Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (the original, of course. I can't believe you even had to ask. For some reason Miss Priss has chosen this as one of her favs), we were there. The girls were ecstatic to get out of the car, and I was very grateful for a non-gas station bathroom. And lucky for me, we were in time for dinner at the Barbeque Pit. Yum!!! My brother-in-law's family owns and operates it, and I eat there just about once every day I'm down. (Todd, I'll never stop asking you to open one here.)



The concert was fabulous! These girls have THE most amazing voices I have ever heard. Literally. I loved it. And if they are ever in my city again, I will pay for tickets and actually go. I just love their music. My dad's favorite is the violin player. I won't even attempt to spell her name without having it in front of me. They're all Irish, and hers is a VERY Irish name. She's so pretty (just one of the reasons dad likes her), and she's so completely entertaining (the reason I like her). It takes an amazing amount of talent to play the way she does, and still be able to dance and jump around the stage and flip her hair around like she does. It's really something to watch. They had a lot of new songs that I've never heard, so I eagerly went into Humphrey's By the Bay after the show was over to see if they had a new album. To my dismay, nothing will be out until Christmas. So if any of you are looking for a great Christmas gift for me this year, that would be it.

The rest of the trip was just icing on the cake for me. That was the big thing I went down for. But it also just happened to be a weekend when other family members were coming down, so my oldest sister decided to have a family birthday party for her oldest daughter while we were all down there. We had a pool party at the Browning's house, and then a neighbor of theirs brought his horse over for everyone to ride. He also had a little pony that pulled a buggy that the kids rode on. These are the pictures I'm waiting on. I'll post them if I ever get them. It was so much fun for everyone! The kids absolutely LOVED the horse. And it was so cute to watch them as the horse would take off and they looked like they were about to fall. The looks on their faces were priceless. But it only took a second or two for them to start enjoying the ride. What a happy birthday it was for Haley.

We had picked out some jewelry for her gift, and when she opened it she said, "Mom, I got some bling!" It cracked me up. I wish I got to see them more. They are all such cute girls.

The rest of the trip was a lot of relaxin' and shoppin'. We did take the girls to the zoo with my dad one day, but didn't end up staying long. A few hours there feels like all day - there's so much walking to do! But it was a fun day, and the kids love the animals. My dad is such a good sport to just pick up and go do whatever we want to do with the kids. He's such a good grandpa. We all love him so much.

We are still sweatin' away here in this heat. The monsoons should be bringing in some great lightning storms. We always enjoy those during the summer. Hope you are all healthy and happy. We miss you all and are thankful for the chance we have to stay a little bit closer to you through these blogs.

Those Darn Letters!

I've discovered that I've developed in my child a well-known bad habit that all kindergarten teachers despise. Miss Priss writes in ALL CAPS!!! I thought it was so wonderful when she could recognize all the letters in the alphabet. Then came knowing all the letters in her name. Then she could actually write her name. She was on her way to a pulitzer, I was sure.

I had a discussion with a teacher friend of mine a few months ago where we talked about what info they like the kids to know already when they enter the wonderful world of kindergarten. After making my mental list of the things I would immediately run home and teach my toddler, she mentioned a few of the things they hate (with a passion, in her opinion). Number one on her list, writing their names in all capital letters. Yikes!

I was determined to rid my beautiful, intelligent, darling daughter of such a nasty habit. And I just knew I could do it on my own. We had a little discussion about "big" A and "little" a, and how when you write your name, the first letter is big and the rest are little. We practiced a few times on paper until I realized our little talk didn't really make a whole lot of sense to her.

I made flashcards, and we went over them until every time I pulled them out I heard, "Oh, I'm soooo tired of this!" My plan wasn't working. I found a reading/writing/math kit at one of my all time favorite stores (CostCo), and picked it up for her. As I opened it and read through the introduction and list of contents, I found I may have jumped the gun a little. It was for first-graders. But hey, who am I to assume my daughter isn't at that level. After all, she does have my genes.

It only took a minute or two into reading the book and I had to admit ... she's smart, but not that smart. So we've taken out the dry erase alphabet page and pen, and packed the rest away. Maybe for next year.


But I'll tell you, if for nothing else, it was a great purchase just to help her with her upper/lowercase letters. What can I say? This girl's bound to be a genious.

Fun in the Sun

Today we spent a little time outside of the house, even with the cruel heat. A trip to Target last week landed me a sweet deal on a kiddie pool (only $2.48 - go check out their summer sale where everything is 75% off!), so I figured what the heck, we could all use a little sun.

Well, I could use some sun. The girls could use some time out of the house. Trips to the library and movies and playdates aren't adding up to the "super-fun-total-blast-all-the-fun-I-could-ever-hope-for" summer Miss Priss was expecting. Translation: the girls BEG to go outside every day. And I've always got a reason not to. Or something else we just HAD to do that prevents us from venturing to the desert my children think is the great outdoors. But alas, I have relented and given in. And I must admit, I took a dip in the new pool for fear of being fried up right in front of my precious little children's eyes.

It was fun. We played games and splashed each other till our cheeks turned pink and I knew that our "fun in the sun" would turn into pure torture trying to sleep tonight with sunburns, so we all headed in.

Then it was off to naptime for Devil Child (who SSSOOOOO needed it!) and quiet time for Miss Priss and mommy. I'm sure I was asleep long before she was. I jumped out of bed a mere two hours later. That's right, two hours. Dang, that was nice! So it's Monday, my bathrooms are still a disaster, and The Man will be home in an hour. Who cares? I had a great day with my girls.

Adventures in Laundry ... Starring Miss Priss

Yes, I know, you all thought this day would never come, but I am back, and I have missed you all!!! A week in San Diego visiting the family was just what I needed. We had a great trip. Pictures and a post will follow shortly since I packed myself and therefore ended up without a camera. Wonderful. Luckily other family members were there to make up for my lacking picture-taking capabilities. Now we just have to wait for them to be sent to me (hint, hint).

A week-long vacation means only one thing when you return back to your home-sweet-home ... LAUNDRY. Loads and loads of laundry. How is it that when you get back from vacation there seems to be twice the laundry as in a normal week at home? Murphy's law, I guess.

This morning as I hauled armfuls of sheets and towels and baskets of dirty clothes down the stairs to the laundry room, Miss Priss followed along asking, "Whatcha doin', Mommy?"

"Just getting the laundry done."

"Why?"

"So we can have clean clothes to wear. Everything is dirty."

"Can I help?"

"Of course."

I love this age. The age where she thinks everything Mom does is so interesting. And she wants to do it all with you, or for you. She thinks it's so much fun to help dust, unload the dishwasher, fold clothes, and cook dinner. The age where if you let her help, all your chores take ten times longer than if you were to do them yourself. Oh, wait. That's right, TEN. TIMES. LONGER. I hate this age.

But knowing that it will help her in her quest to be an independent, responsible and capable young human being, I allow her to help.

"This is our pile for all the bed sheets and pillow cases. This is the pile for all the clothes that are only white. This is the pile for all our jeans and dark clothes. This is the pile for all the colored clothes. This is the pile for the towels. Do you think you can get the clothes in the right piles?"

"Yep!"

My daughter and I spend the next few minutes turning laundry into a fun game, and I pretend it's absolutely hysterical when she puts something in the wrong pile. She's loving every minute of it. Then she picks up a piece of clothing that The Man must have worn outside while working on our backyard in 110-degree weather.

"Mommy, what's this?"

"Just a dirty shirt of Daddy's. Which pile do you think it goes in?"

"I can't tell. This is too stinky. I can't do this."

She scoots by me and runs out to the family room to join Devil Child who is enjoying "Elmo in Grouchland." I'm left to my own devices to finish up the sorting and I think, "Why can't I get out of doing the laundry every time something is too stinky?"

Guess my mom was always right, life's just not fair.