Mormon Cliché

All right, all right. I wanted to wait until I had a really good MoTabs graphic I could slap on a tee, but it doesn't look like that's going to happen soon. I can't get the design to come out just right, and I don't have much time these days to try anyway. So, for those of you who care, I now announce the public opening of my Mormon Cliché shirt shop at http://mocliche.spreadshirt.com.

Unlike my other shop, I offer both men's and women's tees at Mormon Cliché. Here are a few product samplings (click the image to see other variations on each design):









Critiques? Questions? Suggestions? I welcome all feedback! :-)


~RCH~

The little things mean so much

I had a great day yesterday. DH had been on call the night before, and didn't think he'd be able to check out in time to make it to church. No big whoop; what with being out of town the last two weeks of March and being on call every weekend since he's been back, he actually hasn't been to church with us in a month or more. I've gotten into a comfortable single mom routine: A routine which often involves pushing our diaper bag along the floor with my foot while dragging one screaming and/or flailing kid under each arm out of the chapel, so that others in the congregation can actually hear the service -- but hey, a routine is a routine.

I got myself and the girls all gussied up, made sure the diaper bag was well stocked with tasty cold water, fruit snacks, quiet toys and things to color, and off we went to church. They did well(ish) for the first half of the meeting, but then the girls started fighting over the fruit snacks and tossing a ball (how did that get in the bag?) against the wall, so I gathered up our stuff and hauled them out to the foyer for a talking-to on reverence and a drink of water from the short fountain (which my toddler can reach all on her very own, as she likes to remind me). And who should we run into in the hallway?

:-)

DH appeared as if out of nowhere -- exhausted, working on about 90 minutes of sleep, but there, dressed up in slacks and a button down shirt I'd ironed for him "just in case." He took the baby from me, I took the toddler's hand, and the four of us ventured back into the chapel to finish out the rest of the meeting quietly.

We sat together in Sunday School, too, after dropping the girls off at Nursery. We haven't done that in years, as his calling usually requires him to attend (or teach) the more basic class for new members. He put his arm across the back of my chair and angled his scriptures so that we could follow along in Exodous together (I never bring my own; I've already got too much of the girls' crap to carry, lol). Despite his sleep deprivation (or maybe because of it -- maybe to keep himself awake), he kept raising his hand to comment on the whiny, wandering Israelites and the ways in which human nature is still fundamentally the same. All the while, I just beamed: This is my husband, I thought, with a contentment I haven't felt in a long time.

The rest of the day passed more or less uneventfully. Everybody enjoyed a nice long nap after church; we had a cozy meal of Mac & Cheese for dinner; the toddler left a trail of pee from the far end of the living room to the bathroom in her mad dash to make it there on time. You know, the usual. DH went to bed not long after the girls did; I stayed up a while longer talking to my mom on the phone.

When I finally came to bed, DH was out cold. I lay down next to him and watched the slow rise and fall of his breaths, the little eyelid twitches of REM sleep, noted the curve of his arm wrapped around a pillow....

I'm weak. It's far too easy for me to get caught up in the stress of selling a house, the stress of quasi-single parenthood, the stress of money and the lack of it, the stress of not knowing quite what's in store for us just a few steps down the road. It's easy for me to resent the time demands of his chosen profession or his running hobby. I'm often frustrated by the way we only half hear each other, and the pointless little squabbles that result.

But yesterday felt so different. It felt like a rare moment of clarity: This is my husband. This is the man I married. When we first got together, I couldn't believe my good fortune -- I couldn't believe he'd waited 30 years only to end up with me! Luckeee! But five years of quotidian banality and two adorably energetic children later, I don't pause often enough to appreciate how good I have it with him.

I do have it pretty good. He's amazing. My life is amazing.


~RCH~

First haircut

The toddler's hair has been shaggy for far too long, so we took her to get it cut today; it's still past her shoulders, but the ends aren't quite so raggedy anymore. She was a natural in the salon chair -- holding still when necessary, chatting up the stylist like they were old friends, completely unphased that pieces of herself were being lopped off with sharp scissors (I understand some kids find that upsetting).

She made me proud.

Before:


During:


After:


Super Cuts is super!


And one pic for the road....



~RCH~

SUCCESS!

Well, like most other things she's learned, it looks like the toddler has figured out the potty training thing without any help from me. I still haven't been emphasizing it much (though I've given her plenty of free bum time lately, just in case) -- but today, without even letting me know what she was up to, she went into the bathroom, sat down on the toilet, and....

Well, this is all a little indelicate, isn't it? LOL.

Let's just say, she made a "substantial" deposit. First time ever, totally without prompting. That girl rocks.

Next question: How do you teach a kid to wipe??


~RCH~