Sunday, April 15, 2012

The Modernization of St. George, Utah


We were all pretty happy to sneak down to St. George for the weekend. It's got everything the kids want--a swimming pool, a park, and a Wendy's. But Curtis was a little worried that Utah's Dixie wouldn't have one very important amenity.

CURTIS: Mom, is there chocolate milk in St. George?

TRACI: Yes, I think there is.

CURTIS: We can take ours with us [referring to the squeeze bottle of Hersey's syrup]. I can hold it on my lap in the car.

A sweet offer from Curtis, but St. George did, in fact, have chocolate milk. It was a wonderful trip.


This picture will forever serve as visual proof that our kids can actually be nice to each other. 

Saturday, April 14, 2012

The One-Year-Old

A year later, and he's still a redhead. We were happy to celebrate both Easter and Tate's birthday last weekend. And even happier that about a day before his birthday, he stood up on the sidewalk (he recently started his Frankenstein-esque walking) and promptly fell right back down, eye first. So all of the birthday feature his shiny shiner. 

I'd have to say that Tate has been our happiest baby. He's of the Elf school of thought, given that smiling seems to be his favorite. He's also been our earliest crawler and walker. He's not as happy now that he's mega mobile, given that every time he reaches something, Traci or I are quick to take it right back away from him. 

(Elders quorum meeting goes like this: Tate walks right over to the wall outlet and shoves his fat finger in there. I pick him up, walk him all the way to the other side of the room. He makes the long journey back to the outlet, I pick him up, and walk back to the other side of the room to start the cycle again.)

At this moment in time, he's my little buddy. Whenever he sees me, he almost leaps out of Traci's arms to grab onto me (a fact that the one who birthed him doesn't much appreciate). He tags along everywhere I go, either needing to be carried (that chubby guy tires you out pretty quick), or holding on to the back of my leg while I walk. 

He likes Paige and Curtis quite a bit and they (mostly) like him back. Paige recently discovered that she's strong enough to pick him up, so to his chagrin, she lugs him around a bit. Curtis is cordial to him when Tate's not touching his stuff or moving in on his territory.

Traci likes him the best. She spends a good deal of the day telling him how cute his or reminding others of the same. 

We like him. We'll keep him.

Monday, April 02, 2012

Gimme a U


Paige was really excited when we told her we were going to the U of U gymnastics meet. I didn't pay too much mind when she said that she needed to wear a cheerleading outfit.

"That sure would be cool," I said. "But I think your regular clothes will be fine. "

I guess I should have paid a bit more attention to her.

A few minutes later she came downstairs, debuting her resourcefulness. With little more than a Sharpie marker (which I thought we had put out of reach), she had turned a dance leotard into her brand new cheerleading costume, complete with a big red (permanent) U. The red Sharpie blush on her cheeks was just an added touch.

What are we going to do with this smart little girl?

Sunday, April 01, 2012

Breaking Bread with the Senator





So there I am, just eating my breakfast and minding my own business at the Hampton Inn in Cedar City. Next thing I know, I see Orrin Hatch walking toward me.

Apparently, the good senator was also enjoying the comforts of the Hampton. I thought he was wearing a suit (as would be expected), but I noticed that he was actually wearing jeans and a big old belt buckle with his coat, shirt, and tie. His two advisers were both dressed the same getup and looked just as uncomfortable. But it's all about knowing your audience, right?

I was texting with my boss when Orrin-diggity walked in.

"Go get your picture taken with him," my boss suggested.

"Nah, I'm too shy," I replied. Really I just didn't want to have to say, "Hello, Senator. I've never voted for you and I'm sad that this year your opponents are even crazier than you."

Then my boss added, "You're a music guy, go tell him you like his album."

I should have. But this time I really was too shy. So I just snapped the above secretive photo instead.

When I wasn't having celebrity sitings, I was driving around Southern Utah delivering big novelty checks for work. I had never been to Bicknell or Panguitch or Kanab. Now that I have, maybe I need to become a small town guy.

I had the delicious Bicknell Burger at the Sunglow Motel Cafe

Saturday, March 24, 2012

Favorite Little Warrior

Nothing makes an almost-four-year-old boy happier than when you unexpectedly come home with a coat of armor.


Nothing makes a dad happier than the resulting pictures. 

Friday, March 23, 2012

The Forging Begins



Every time you complete a scripture chart, the primary president gives you a little prize. I was surprised to see Paige turn in a completed chart, since she hadn't done any reading that week. But my signature was on the sheet (and Traci's, too), so I guess she must have done all her reading after all.

 I can't wait to see what else I magically sign in the future.

Saturday, March 03, 2012

To Infinity and Beyond



Paige is starting to ask me questions I don't know the answer to.

"Dad, what's the biggest number?"

"Infinity."

"What does it look like?"

I knew that she was asking me how many zeros were on the end of it, but I gave her the simple answer.

"Like a sideways eight."

Her silence was only temporary.

"How do you count to infinity?" she asked.

"You can't. It just goes up forever."

"Yeah, but how do you count to it?"

"Only computers can count that high."

Another pause.

"What's the number before infinity?"

That's when I gave up.

Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Elvis Remains in the Building



The outfit (and physique) is Elvis. But the glasses seem to be a little more Elton John.

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Curtis Quote of the Day


"Mom, are you sad that you are not very good at the Wii?"

Monday, February 20, 2012

The (Rarely) Loving Big Brother

Generally, Curtis merely tolerates Tate. You know, it's the 'having a little brother is fine, as long as he doesn't touch my stuff' kind of relationship.

Every once in a while, however, I catch him being affectionate toward his little brother. Like when I took a break from feeding Tate to put some dishes away. I looked over and noticed that Curtis had decided to pick up where I had left off.



He's not great at actually getting the food in Tate's mouth, but it's endearing nevertheless.

Monday, February 13, 2012

I Asked, And She Said Yes





I asked Paige to go to a Valentine's Day daddy/daughter dance tonight at Kearns High School. She graciously accepted my invitation...and then quickly started planning.

Paige: I think I'll wear my pink flower dress because it's Valentine's.

Me: That sounds good. I can wear my red tie or this pink one.

Paige: Wear the red tie.

[I hold up the tie.]

Paige: Yeah, that will work.

Saturday, February 11, 2012

I Did it For You, Kirsten Dunst

So, let's talk about my bowels for a moment. (Yay!) A few months ago, I found out I had some kidney stones--big, pointed, jagged, painful kidney stones. But enough about that.

The CT scan that showed the kidney stones also revealed a fatty liver--the kind you get from years and years of drinking, or apparently, from being me. My doctor called me in to tell me about all of the horrible things that would happen to me if I didn't do something about it. Blah, blah, diet, blah, blah, weight loss, etc.

So despite all of my kicking and screaming, I gave in and put down the bags of potato chips and decided to get healthy(er). I am happy to report that I have hit my first weight loss goal, dropping nine pounds over the past five-ish weeks.

Soon I'll be able to fit into my old cheerleading costume.

Thursday, February 09, 2012

Two Grown Men, In a Dark Theater, Watching Twilight



"I want to hate it, but I can't." That was what my friend Kaleb said when he told me that he thought that we should watch the "Twilight" movie sometime.

Sometime came, and then next thing I knew, I was watching the first three Twilights on DVD over three connective weeks.  Despite all of the longing glances, moody teenage angst, and vampire families playing baseball in thunderstorms, I couldn't really agree with Kaleb's take on the films.

But there's obviously no turning back now. That's why I'm headed off to the dollar movies at the Valley Fair Mall at 9 o'clock on a Thursday night. Will Bella really chose Edward? Is she really going to become a vampire? The anticipation is killing me!

Me: Bye, Traci. I'm going to the movie with Kaleb.
Traci: I hope your hands don't accidentally meet at the bottom of the popcorn bowl.

If it happens, it happens.

Friday, January 27, 2012

Princess Paige and Evil Curtis...on Broadway



I just finished my performance in the play "Princess Paige and the Evil Curtis."

The plot of Paige's play followed the title pretty closely. "Once upon a time, there was a beautiful girl, the most beautiful girl in the world," said the narrator/lead actress. "Her name was Princess Paige."

At that point, the Evil Curtis (the role he was born to play) enters the scene, (wearing his self-chosen costume--his Halloween skeleton shirt and his swimming suit) to wreak havoc on the tranquility of this imaginary world.

Luckily, Super Spencer was there (in his Paige-chosen costume--a blanket for a cape and a golf visor that makes him look "handsome") to save the day.

After MANY similar acts, Paige is finally saved. Then we get to start it all over again if Paige notices that Traci wasn't paying complete attention.

And they all lived happily ever after.

Monday, January 23, 2012

Rock Band



So, I still play in a band. Johnny Tightlips still gathers in my basement once a week to hammer out some punk rock songs. After six years and millions of unsuccessfully attempts, we've finally given up on the idea of recording an album in my basement.

We've been spending our Saturdays at Danny's cousin Tom's house, laying down tracks and being inspired by the Slayer and Metallica flags on the wall. The guitars, bass, and drums have been tracked for four songs, now Aaron and I just have to add our lovely vocals. For the time being, we're doing four songs (we'll do another three if Tom is willing), and they should be done in a week or two.

That means we'll be teenage heartthrobs in about a month. Watch out, Bieber. We're coming for you.

Sunday, January 22, 2012

This Week's Music: Dan Andriano, Owl City, Letting Up

The title is a bit misleading. By "This Week," I mean I found this post from months ago in my drafts folder.


Dan Andriano in the Emergency Room
Hurricane Season

Dan Andriano has always been Alkaline Trio’s softie. But on his first full-length solo release, he’s a full-on teddy bear. And that suits him just fine. Andriano sticks to the catchy hooks he’s perfected through his years with AK3, but the music--driven by acoustic guitars and piano fluorishes--is a good fit for the tales of heartbreak. The lyrics are lonely (“I’m a mess, I’m a ghost who overslept on Halloween”), but the tunes are so upbeat that it’s hard not to clap your hands and sing along. With “Hurricane Season,” Andriano delivers a mature record (but not too grown up for his punk following), that doesn’t sound like it was made for your mom.

For fans of: Alkaline Trio, Dashboard Confessional
Rating: 3. 5 of 4

Owl City
All Things Bright and Beautiful

Success is always accompanied by some backlash. With his 2009 hit “Fireflies,”  Owl City’s Adam Young made million of fans. But there were also plenty of detractors accusing him of being nothing more than a mainstream version of The Postal Service. Both camps will feel the same after hearing “All Things Bright and Beautiful.” Young’s top-notch (and still Postal Service-inspired) production skills still rise to the top and every electronic bleep and bloop finds the perfect home. His lyrics, however, have become intolerably sugary, as he floats through skies that are filled with rockets, dreams, and girls he’s too shy to talk to. (The worst offense comes in the line “If the green left the grass on the other side/I would make like a tree and leave.”) It must be wonderful to live in Young’s world, where things are sunny all the time. His overly happy songs, however, would benefit from a little bit of rain now and then.

For fans of: LIGHTS, The Postal Service
Rating: 2.5 of 4

Letting Up Despite Great Faults
Paper Crush

Michael Lee, the man behind Letting Up Despite Great Faults, has a penchant for heartfelt, shoegazing electronic pop. On his third release, that infrastructure remains in tact, but the accessories have changed. The EP opens up with guitars leading the way (an approach that is used again nicely on “Teenage Tide”) before being tempered by the usual atmospheric synths. Lee wisely lets his own vocals take a backseat and they add to the layers of longing (for what, it’s hard to tell, given the unintelligible lyrics). On “I Feel You Happen,” Lee lets go entirely, creating a raucous noise fest worthy of My Bloody Valentine. Not one to let emotion get the best of him, he reigns the energy back in for the closer, the bouncy and beautiful almost-instrumental “Aurora.”

For fans of: The Album Leaf, The One Am Radio
Rating: 3.5 of 4

Boy Logic




When I wrote about Paige heading out into the cold, cold world, my friend RB, who has four little boys, commented about the differences between our worlds. (Girls sound much different. Recently rehashed at our house when Noah body slammed Calvin: "uggg get off me! You smell like poop and jelly!")

Luckily, I've got two boys so I could have this experience trying to get all the kids into the minivan.

TATE (in his car seat on the kitchen): Waaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!

PAIGE (running up the stairs to tattle): Dad, Curtis punched Tate!

ME (frustrated as usual): That's it, Curtis. You're going in time out.

CURTIS (bawling): I don't want to go to time out.

ME (after his three-minute sentence had been served): Curtis, do you know why you had to go in time out? You punched your baby brother. We don't punch babies, Curtis.

CURTIS (now wailing): Yes, yes we do, dad. We do punch babies. We do!


Paige Rampages On

I guess Traci's not the only feeling the wrath of Princess Paige. Tonight She told me if I didn't give her a treat she was going to "banish" me.

Saturday, January 21, 2012

The Trouble with Raising a Princess



I was at work when I got this call from Traci.

Traci: I was trying to comb Paige's hair [this is a daily, horrible struggle], when she said this to me. "Mom, you're being so cruel to me. You're just as cruel as Rapunzel's mom on Tangled."

Either I married a wicked witch or Paige is watching too many Disney movies.

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Baby When the Lights Go Out



Yet another traumatic experience for the Sutherland children. It happened while I was trying to get everyone ready for bed. I was in the laundry room searching for Tate's pajamas when the power went out. Tate was crawling around in the adjacent family room, Curtis was up in the kitchen, and Paige was in the bathroom.

When it went black, it went pitch black. My first thought was, "Oh crap, I've lost Tate." Luckily, he managed to find me and about two seconds later he was pulling himself up on my leg. Curtis wasn't hard to find as immediately started screaming hysterically. Paige was surprisingly calm in the darkened bathroom upstairs.

Even with flashlights in hand, Curtis continued to freak out. Paige calmly explained to him that "monsters don't exist and when you think you see them, it's really just the shadow of a regular object." (Thanks, TV.) But he would not be consoled. "Turn the light on, Dad. Turn it onnnnnn!"

Luckily, the lights came on a minute or two later. Curtis calmed down pretty quickly but then Paige decided to change her story.

"I was wrong, Dad. There were monsters downstairs. They do exist." I would normally indulge her in such a conversation but Curtis was standing there and getting upset again. "There's no monsters, Paige! They don't exist!" he countered.

"Curtis, Paige is just pretending," I assured him. "Monsters aren't real."

Then Paige kicked into overdrive. "Yes, they do, Dad. They do. Why won't anyone believe me? This is horrible. My spirit feels horrible." (Thanks, church.)

That's when I looked at Tate and silently thanked him for not being able to speak.

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Spinner Becomes the Next Jimmer



Jimmer Fredette's sister lives in our neighborhood. While I was watching a Kings game on TV, I said to Curtis, "Do you see that guy? That's your buddy Jason's uncle. He's a professional basketball player."

Paige, never willing to be left out of a conversation, replied, "Dad, you like to play basketball. Maybe if you keep practicing, you can be a professional basketball player."

Hear that, Jimmer? You better watch your back.

Monday, January 09, 2012

The First Kiss

When Paige's first boyfriend was eaten by wolves, I was hoping that she was done with boys forever. No such luck.

We were in the car the other day when she said to me, "You'll never believe what happened at school."

"Oh, yeah," I replied, only kind of paying attention.

"Deacon kissed me!"

"WHAT?!!!!!!!!!!!" I was now paying full attention.

"He kissed me."

"Why did he kiss you?"

"Because he loves me soooo much."

I tried to keep it cool. I didn't want to let her know that I was rattled.

"So, did he kiss you on your cheek?"

"No, on my lips."


...

A few days later, I decided to bring it up again.

"Paige, you shouldn't let boys kiss you. Only dad."

"Why?" she asked.

"Because boys are gross and toot and stuff."

"And say naughty words," she added.

"Yeah. So if Deacon tries to kiss you again, you just say, 'No way, Deacon. You're gross.'"

She seemed to be okay with that. I'll take that as a verbal contract that is valid until her wedding day.

Sunday, January 08, 2012

Ooh, She's a Little Runaway


My ward started holding a "how to raise your kids" class during Sunday School. This is a good thing for a guy like me who has no idea how to raise kids.

The timing of the lesson on "life stages" couldn't have come at a better time. Learning that around age 6, kids start threatening to run away made me feel a little bit better about the day I'd had before.

The Day Before...

Christmas decorations are just too tempting. I asked Paige (repeatedly) to leave the little porcelain nativity scene on the shelf, but she just couldn't help herself. Within two seconds of touching it, she had dropped and broken poor, unsuspecting Mary.

Before I even said anything to her, she looked at me and said sternly, "Dad, I'm not in trouble," She then stamped her and declared, "I'm out of here!"

More silence from me as she put on her coat.

"I'm going out in the cold," she said, in most dramatic fashion.

Curtis and I watched out the window as my six-year-old left to face the cruel world.

About a minute later, she came back. "Dad, I'm not coming back until you apologize to me."

"Paige, I'm sorry that I got upset with you. But I really need me you to listen to me when I ask you not to do things."

"Daaaad. I'm leaving. I'll come back when you give me a real apology." And off she went again.

I imagine this would have gone on all day, but I had leverage on my side.

"Paige, you're welcome to stay out there, but if we're going to be on time to your friend's birthday party, you're going to have to come back in."

Reluctantly, she gave in.

By the time she came home from her birthday party, filled with sugar and armed with a gift bag full of princess trinkets, all was forgiven.

Sunday, December 25, 2011

Curtis brushed his teeth tonight, which was good. But he was chewing gum at the time, which I guess wasn't too good.

Saturday, December 24, 2011

Another Christmas Miracle

I took Curtis to Cookie Cutters today to deal with his hippie hair. To my surprise, he didn't freak out when we got there, which meant he didn't have to sit on my lap, which meant I didn't have to hold the kid thrashing in rage. And he wore his cape, which meant we didn't both have to get covered in hair, which in turn makes one of us even more upset. And he didn't move his head around like Stevie Wonder, causing the poor 18-year-old barber girl to do about as good a job as I could with my sideburn trimmer. Merry Christmas every one.

Friday, December 23, 2011

Christmas Has Come Early

Right now Paige and Curtis are at "Alvin and the Chipmunks: Chipwrecked."

Without Traci and me.

Thanks grandparents, for making this the best Christmas ever.

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Li'l Rudolph or The Plight of Christopher Columbus


Paige had her school Christmas program today. She and her fellow kindergarteners sang Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. She was pretty excited about singing such awesome echoes as "like a lightbulb." The real surprise came when the kids followed "you'll go down in history," with "like Justin Bieber!"

"Justin Bieber?" I asked.

"Yeah," she replied. "Because not everybody knows who Columbus is."

And there you have it. Bieber discovered America.

(And he was like "Baby, baby, baby, oh.")

Friday, December 16, 2011

Heavyweight Tate

At some point, our little baby boy turned into a chubby linebacker. Last night, I was bouncing him on my foot and now my thighs feel like I just ran a 5k.

"Just more of me to love, Dad," his eyes said. "Just more of me to love."

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

"These Feet are Delicious," Starring Tate

It's hard enough to feed Tate with his hands flailing about. But when he gets his feet in the mix? Forget about it.



Can't see the video? Click here.

Friday, December 09, 2011

Words with Enemies


I'm about as good at Words with Friends as I am at Fantasy Football (I told the commissioner I wasn't going to play after last year's 1-12 season. He said it had just been a "rebuilding year."). I generally lose to any opponent by 50-200 points.

My friend Brett always slaughters me. But this time was different. Four simple letters, J-O-Y-S, netted me 105 points, thanks to both a triple letter AND a triple word score. 105 points! I had to tell Traci. (And I wanted to tell everyone I know.)

I chose not to call it out to Brett. What kind of sore winner would I be if I did?

But then things started to change. Brett would throw out a 30-point word, and then a 35, and then a 50!

This was not looking good. My hands were starting to sweat.

And then he pulled away. The final score was 389-373, despite my 100-point word.

If only I had the letters to spell d-e-j-e-c-t-e-d.

Monday, December 05, 2011

Tonsils Out, Evil Remains

We didn't tell Curtis he was getting his tonsils out until we got to the hospital. Not surprisingly, he showed his strong will as soon as we got into the exam room.

NURSE: Hi, Curtis. Can you put on these nice little jammies and socks?

Curtis refuses.

NURSE: I've got this really cool coloring book. Do you want to color in it?

He throws it on the floor.

He kicked and screamed as the nurse tried to take his temperature and listen to his heart. He writhed and screamed as they gave him his medicine (a light sedative), and then quickly calmed down as it kicked in. Even drugged up, he wasn't about to put on that hospital gown and, refusing to ride in the little wagon to the Operating Room, had to be carried away (screaming) by anesthesiologist in just his diaper.

The doctor told us a tonsillectomy would be easy for him--about a 20 minute procedure--but hard for us, who would have to deal with an upset little guy for a couple of weeks.

As promised, the doctor appeared after only a few minutes to tell us that all had gone well.

"He was pretty worked up when he came into the O.R.," he said. "He threw his truck at us."

"But crying just makes you breathe deeper and it only took about two breaths before his sedative mask kicked in."



He was screaming again when he was delivered to us in the recovery area, which I'm sure didn't feel good on his sore throat. He looked like he'd been through the ringer, with scratches on his face where I'm sure he was trying to claw off his oxygen mask. It was pretty sad to see him with his little IV in his hand. Fortunately, a kid-sized Lortab knocked him back out and he spent the rest of day in a foggy haze.

 
The doctor was right about the recovery time. We had about 10 days where he didn't want to eat anything (not even the freezer full of popsicles and ice cream), woke up screaming (and often kicking) several times a night, and was generally miserable.

And then he was back to normal.

They don't take kids' tonsils out like they used to. Apparently, Curtis' were mega enough, and causing enough earaches and sore throats, that it warranted the procedure. The doctor also thought it would help Curtis get a more restful sleep each night.

For the kid who wakes up each morning in ornery mode, I thought this was going to be a life changer. I had convinced myself that all of his naughtiness was residing in those tonsils and when they came out, we'd have a brand new boy.

Nope. Still evil.

Sunday, December 04, 2011

Sharing and Caring



Paige is such a considerate six-year-old. When she woke us up at one in the morning, she said, "I tried not to throw up on my bed." And she didn't. Instead she, from her top bunk, threw up over the side--and onto her little brother below. Fortunately, we were able to change Curtis' blankets without him even waking up.

The next night it was Curtis' turn to be sick. He didn't have anyone below him to throw up on, but he did manage to hit just about every surface in the house.

Vomit is a little bit like thinking you have lice. Once you smell it, you think everything smells like it. Traci was lying in the bed and said, "Do you still smell throw up somewhere?" Unable to locate the source, she reached over and grabbed the laptop next to the bed and started typing away. A few keystrokes in and there was some crunching in the keyboard.

I spent yesterday prying up the keys and digging out the dried vomit.

Too much information?

Monday, November 21, 2011

Obedience

Curtis did something quite unexpected tonight. I asked him to stop playing and get his pajamas on. And he did!

Quite surprised, I said, "Curtis, thanks for being obedient, buddy."
"I learned about being obedient in nursery."

Had someone taken my terrible three-year-old and replaced him with this kid?

Before I could even finish that thought, Curtis walked up to me and punched me in the stomach.
Nope. Still the same kid.

Wednesday, November 09, 2011

Curtis: The Fugitive

Paige skipping school wasn't the only big news of the day. Traci came home with Curtis' preschool picture as well. She texted this to me:



She added in her note, "I feel like this pretty much sums up Curtis as a three-year-old."

Curtis isn't going to let anyone tell him what to do. Do you think Curtis is going to smile or say cheese just because you ask him to? Oh, heavens no. Instead, he's going to just go ahead and pose for his eventual mugshot. What can I say, he's a tough guy.

The next day, I tried to sneak a smile out of him as we walked Paige to the bus stop. I didn't capture any teeth, but I did get this shot of him wearing his Salt Lake Bees hat.

Underneath that rough exterior, he's really a softie.

Tuesday, November 08, 2011

Parenthood Firsts: The "Sick" Day


I was at work when Paige's elementary school called.

"Hi, this is the secretary. We've got Paige here in the sick room. She says her stomach doesn't feel well and she thinks she might throw up."

Uh-oh.

"Can you come pick her up or would you like us to keep her here?"

"I'm at work, but my wife should be home. Let me see if I can track her down."

I found Traci and she headed over to pick up our sick little girl. I was heading into a meeting, but I asked her to text me when she picked Paige up.


TRACI: I've got her, but I feel really doubtful that she's sick.


This was at about 11:00. Traci takes Curtis to preschool at 12:30.


SPENCER: See if she wants to go back when you take Curtis.


TRACI: She's mad because I told her that if she's sick, she can't have any Halloween candy. She doesn't want to go back, though.


TRACI: She just asked me for lunch. I asked about her "sick" stomach. She told me it's actually her teeth that hurt. What is the emoticon for rolling eyes? 


Despite the lack of candy, Paige seemed to have a wonderful day off of school. I got this text later in the afternoon.


TRACI: Paige is in her room playing school. Apparently being a teacher requires you to speak in a British accent. 


Oh, the irony of staying home from school just so you can play school in your room.


I guess this shouldn't have come as too much of a surprise. Just the Sunday before, Paige said to me, "Can we stay home from church today?"


"No," I replied. "We have to go to church."


"We could just pretend we're sick."


Yes, I thought. Yes, we could.

Tuesday, November 01, 2011

The Crypt Keeper Five

Along with parenthood has come the need for favorites. Favorite colors, and numbers, and Wiggles, and monster trucks, and Strawberry Shortcake characters. And, of course, favorite holidays.

Paige loves holidays. She'll bound into our bedroom to awake us with cheers of "It's Martin Luther King Day!" or "I can't believe it's already Labor Day!" But Halloween, that's her number one holiday.

Curtis, on the other hand, is clearly rooted in his terrible, terrible threes and kind of hates everything. He spent all of last Halloween trying to get out of his costume, only to tell us that he wanted to wear the same fireman getup again this year.

So while Paige headed off to school to count down the minutes until she could come back and get in her costume, Curtis was at home trying to avoid the holiday all together.

I invited Traci and the boys to come to my work to trick or treat around the cubicles. A few minutes before they were to arrive, Traci called to tell me that Curtis was refusing to get in the car.

"Oh, just shove him in there, he'll like it when he gets here," I advised. (Fatherly wisdom.)

She did. And then she called me again from the parking lot. "Curtis is refusing to get out of the car."

Despite my efforts to coax him out with candy and the promise that he wouldn't have to speak to (or look at) anyone, he stood strong in his resistance. So Traci, Curtis, and Tate in his little skeleton onesy turned around and headed back home. 

The evening went a bit better. Curtis agreed to get in his costume (sans hat) for some trick or treat action.

Paige led the way, running from door to door and constantly being amazed by the amount of candy booty. But then things took a turn for the worst. Heading up to another door, she tripped on a step and came up with a pretty bad bloody lip.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" I asked.
Through hiccuping sobs she replied,"I'll...be...okay...[sob, sob]...Let's...keep...trick or treating."

So we carried on, Paige walking somberly but resolutely and Curtis needing to be piggy-backed for most of the night. (It's fun to have a sleepy 30-pounder on your shoulders, banging you in the head with a plastic pumpkin.) 

Another holiday survived. 

Sunday, October 23, 2011

Paige's First Piano Recital



I don't think I used to be so gushy. But this a proud parent moment. A couple of years ago, Traci and I were worried that Paige would never stop being so incredibly shy. And now, here she is marching up to the front of the stage for a piano recital (after just three lessons) and bravely (if not a bit quietly) saying, "My name is Paige Sutherland and I will be playing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star." (Traci's sister Makell joins her on the other two songs.)

We couldn't be more proud of her.

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

Dear Mr. Fish, I Will Eat You Now



The year was 1987. It was Super Bowl Sunday and I was getting ready to cheer on my beloved Denver Broncos as they faced the New York Giants. My mother made halibut for dinner, which was noteworthy because she never cooked fish. Having no prior experience to fish, I ate it.

It was disgusting.

I can still taste the strong fishy flavor--combined with the bitter taste of a 39-20 loss, mixed with the salt of my six-year-old tears--on my tongue.

In the years since, I have avoided fish almost entirely. Until last week.

Much like yoga, I've always thought I should give sushi a try. But I've never been motivated enough to say, "Hey Traci, let's go get some sushi tonight." (Or say, "Let's go to sushi." Why do people "go to" sushi? I'm going to start saying, "Hey, let's go to pasta" or "Let's go to hamburgers.") And Traci would never agree to sushi anyway.

But I have some other friends who can't get enough of the uncooked stuff. So I tagged along.

My first sushi experience started off well enough. I was having a great time at the restaurant, chatting it up, and drinking my orange Fanta. And the something happened.

"What's that fishy smell in here?" I thought. It was, of course, our meal.

I started off cautiously with the California roll. Then I moved on to the Spider roll...and then to the Prozac roll...and then the Xanax roll...and then to all of the other ultra-cool-pharmaceutically-named rolls. I dipped stuff in eel sauce and wasabi sauce and whatever else. And soon I realized I'd already downed like 10 of the things.

Did I like it? No, not really. But I figured if I was going to try it, I better try it.

It wasn't until I was driving home--and thinking it best to roll down the window and get some air--that I realized that was a bit too much to ask of a stomach so unaccustomed to things of the sea. (Especially after the large amounts of deer jerky I'd eaten at lunch, prepared by the guy who said, 'I hope you don't get sick, I've never made deer jerky before.')

But I hung on.

And now I have two memories of fish: the first of three Denver Broncos Super Bowl defeats (which was bad), followed by two Denver Bronco victories (which was good); and a meal that made me a little sick (which was bad), but was accompanied by some delicious orange Fanta and some dear homies (which were both good).

Only four months 'til my birthday lunch at the Chuck a Rama.

Monday, October 17, 2011

Curtis Getting Tough on the Pitch

We have reached the end of Curtis' first season of soccer. I'd say it was a success. He scored a few goals for his team (and a bunch more for the other teams), he got a lot of treats, and he got to finish every bit of running with a little bit of rolling around on the ground.

I got this footage of him during his last game. Watch as he (number 10) shows the little girl on the other team who's boss. (Poor girl. She was pretty much down for the count.)

Sunday, October 16, 2011

Desperately Hanging onto Summer

In a last ditch effort to hang on to summer, we headed to St. George this weekend with our friends the Smiths. What more can you ask for than a sunny 85 degrees?


And now, back home. Bummer, dude.

Friday, October 14, 2011

Once Again. The Sutherlands, Model of Healthy Eating

Paige: Can I have some salt and vinegar chips with my pancakes?

Me: Of course, sweetie.

Monday, October 03, 2011

Getting in Touch with My Pelvic Floor



I didn’t even know I had a pelvic floor.

I only made one New Year’s resolution this year: to take a yoga class. Why? I don’t know. Maybe  because we have a gym at my work with free yoga classes. Maybe because I think it’s good to feel like a complete idiot every once in a while.

I did it. I took my first yoga class.

From the first 30 seconds of the class, I realized the biggest challenge would be keeping a straight face. Which was tough, with the instructor saying things like, “Breathe down through your core all the way to your toes, giving added focus to your pelvis. Feel it move. Feel it moving your body.”

I thought yoga was going to be all about stretching and positive thinking. But I soon learned that “plank” position is just a euphemism for “pushup” position, and suddenly I was transported to seventh grade gym class. By the class’ halfway mark, I was already sweating profusely and feeling really bad for whoever was sitting behind me, as my shirt was falling over my head and shorts were going who knows where.

Toward the end, we were sitting cross-legged with a goal of resting our heads on the floor. For those whose bodies were not capable of achieving such a thing, an alternative was offered. Bend as far as you can, and rest your head on a little green foam block. My foam block quickly turned into a seat-filled sponge.

With 15 minutes left in the class, I started thinking I might actually be able to make It to the end (with 30 minutes left, I was really worried that I would have to give up and leave). I was glad I stuck it out, because the last 10 minutes was just lying on our backs with our eyes closed. Sweet.

After the class ended, several of my co-workers/co-yoga-ers asked what I thought of my first experience. With a dazed look on my face, I replied, “I’m not sure what just happened to me.”

Still confused, I walked into the locker room. One glance in the mirror and I noticed something odd. Green letters written backwards on my forehead.  Argh! The foam block.

The next day, I said to one of my friends, “Did you notice the writing on my forehead?”

“Yeah. But I figured you’d had a tough enough time in class that I didn’t need to say anything.”

Namaste.

Sunday, October 02, 2011

Dieter F. Uchtdorf vs. Mike Tyson's Punchout

Watching General Conference this morning...


ME: His name is Dieter F. Uchtdorf. He's from Germany.

PAIGE: I know someone else who's from Germany.

ME: Yeah? Who?

PAIGE: Von Kaiser.