Utah Mom Blog & Mommy Blogger | Life Elevated Mom

YOUR VOTE NEEDED TO STOP THE INSANITY!!

October 23, 2008 by Amber

I have been sick all week but a recent development may have augmented my weakened condition.

I could handle the non-stop talk about pumpkins.

I survived all the summer evenings that Jamie spent at his parent’s house nurturing his orange monstrosity.

I proudly displayed the many newspaper clippings of him and The Great Pumpkin (he was featured six weeks in a row).

I even accepted the concoction of bat guano he had gurgling on our front porch all summer.

But this, THIS my friends has sent me over the edge. It is an email I discovered him typing the other day. And at this, I am putting my foot WAAAAAAAY down.

Carol,

I’ve never raised worms before but have read more than one study on the
value of worm castings to many plants. I grow giant pumpkins (the 1,000
pound variety) and have given my planting beds a healthy portion or worm
castings in the past but have recently learned that almost all store bought
worm castings are sterilized (which defeats at least 50% of the purpose of
the castings).

My questions for you is how often and how much would I need to feed the
worms? How often and how much water would I give them? How much space is required? Come spring time I would love 50 lbs of worm castings to mix into the soil. What would I need to do to do this? And lastly, my plan would be to keep them in a storage room that is typically around 65 degrees. Would I need to be concerned about any smells and what types of foods would you give them to keep the smell down?

Jamie

Jamie says I am overreacting. How would YOU react to having your basement converted into a worm garden?????!!

Filed Under: Humor, Jamie, Marriage, pumpkins

The Denver Broncos Get Spiritual

October 21, 2008 by Amber

Possibly the biggest understatement made by fundraising kid as she looked at our 755-lbs pumpkin, Halloween countdown sign and abundance of decorations: “So, do you celebrate Halloween?”

Halloween isn’t all we celebrate. Every Monday evening we good Mormon folk gather our little flock together for Family Home Evening. For those not in the know, the official definition is:

Family home evening is a special time set aside each week that brings family members together and strengthens their love for each other, helps them draw closer to Heavenly Father, and encourages them to live righteously.

The Johnson Family definition:

Family home evening is a ~~special~~ harrowing time set aside each week that brings family members ~~together~~ at odds with each other and strengthens ~~their love~~ their resolve to throw tantrums thereby needing to encourage them to live righteously [by not hitting one another].

Or something like that.

In an ideal world, we would all gather together, link arms and sing Kumbaya. Sometimes it happens that way, many times it doesn’t. The reason? We have two small children who do not always like each other. So in FHE, we try to appease the sibling rivalry and sing a song, say a nice prayer, have an uplifting lesson and then a fun activity.

Most of the time.

Unless Jamie is in charge.

It was his turn last night. A few minutes prior, I asked him what he had planned.

“We are going to watch the Broncos together!” he announced gleefully.

Trying to be the supportive wife, I answered, “That’s fine. We’ll come down and watch with you. Though that in itself doesn’t seem like a very appropriate Family Home Evening activity.

“Don’t worry. We’ll start the game with a prayer.”

Filed Under: Uncategorized

The tale of a sleep-walking mouse

October 20, 2008 by Amber

Jamie’s sleep issues started before we were married with a sleep-walking incident during his visit home to Meet the Parents (the movie is actually based on our true story).

A bit of background: we met ONLINE (a rather crazy story for another time) and were married within six months after we met. My family was subsequently wary of Jamie and my brother Patrick even referred to him as “The Axe Murderer.” For this reason, it was very important for him to make a good impression when I bought him home to meet The Family for Christmas. It didn’t happen.

After his first full day in Calgary, he retired to his assigned room in the basement. My brother Jade and Shannon, his busting-at-the-seams pregnant wife, were in the room next to him. Something you should know about Jamie is that when he does dream, it is very vivid. As in he thinks it’s actually happening.

So, Jamie was in dreamland when he was awoken by a mouse crawling up his leg (or so he thought). He shot outta bed, flew out of his room, only to find Jade and Shannon having a late-night discussion on the couch. They were shocked.

Panting heavily, Jamie announced to them, “Don’t worry: I’m Jamie Johnson!” (For fear they had forgotten who he was, of course) And he then proceeded to babble about how he had allegedly been attacked by a mouse. During his commentary, he went over to pet Lucky (the dog he did not like) and then gave his soon-to-be sister-in-law a backrub (who, at nine months pregnant, was not exactly the cuddly type).

Jamie then started to slowly wake up and made his way upstairs to get a glass of water. The full ramifications of what he had done started to set in. Embarrassed, he curled his 6′1 frame up onto a little couch upstairs and tried to go back to sleep, vowing to not go downstairs and face those people again.

Sympathetic and amused Jade eventually followed him up, “Hey Dude, are you all right?”

He really wasn’t.

When I went down the next morning to wake Jamie up, I could tell something was wrong. It was all confirmed in just one statement: “I think I gave Shannon a backrub last night.”

And so it began.

Filed Under: Favorite Posts, Humor, Jamie

Sing, sing out loud (unless you can’t sing)

October 16, 2008 by Amber

We had a busy weekend at Casa Canuck. Lots of finish work on the basement and what would a Saturday be without huddling under a canopy in the rain for a pumpkin festival? It wasn’t just any pumpkin festival but the place where The Obsession began last year.

As if we needed even more publicity, our city’s paper ran a picture of us on Thursday of Jamie’s big win last year so we were like mini-celebrities among the pumpkin ~~geeks~~ growers.

Only this time, it wasn’t about Jamie. He didn’t bother to enter because 1) The Great Pumpkin outweighed all of the entries by at least 400 pounds 2) Their scale isn’t big enough. 3) It’s kind of hard to lift.

We bought some hot chocolate from the Boy Scout stand and the woman selling it to us raved about the entries but then proclaimed, “But those are nothing. You should see this pumpkin that is on display on some guy’s driveway.”

Imagine Jamie’s delight to confirm he was that guy.

My father-in-law took third place with a 183-pounder and Haddie’s 83-pound pumpkin also took third in the children’s division (because yes, it is a family affair). She wasn’t all that invested in the competition due to the inclement weather but perked up when she realized she won a gift card to her beloved McDonald’s.

And thus begins Her Obsession.

A cute little family won the adult division with a 300-pounder. I walked up to the wife to warn her that this was how The Obsession started for my husband last year. She was even the spitting image of me: curly blonde hair, pumpkin-obsessed husband, with two small children.

Except she was smiling.

=====================================================

Saturday night, we went with four other couples to see Les Miserables. I have the CD but have never seen it performed and was blown away. Whenever I see such a production, I often envision my life on stage.

And then I remember that I can’t sing, dance or act.

Don’t get me wrong: my voice doesn’t shatter glass and I don’t sound too badly.

Until you take the earplugs out.

And so I turn to you. More than anything, I wish I could sing. What talent do you wish you had?

And pumpkin grower extraordinaire is not one of the choices.

Filed Under: Uncategorized

Which Witch is Which (and other Salem findings)

October 14, 2008 by Amber

Our Halloween celebrations are in full swing and I am lovin’ life these days. It could be the cooler temperatures or the fun decorations. Or maybe it’s the parties, costume parades or the abundance of pumpkins for this pumpkin-obsessed family. And not to be forgotten is the emergence of my ghost salad tongs.

What? Like your mom doesn’t send you salad tongs for every season.

As aforementioned, Jamie and I went to Boston for one of the world’s largest pumpkin weigh-offs at The Topsfield Fair. He was as giddy as a kid in a candy storea grown man freaking out over big pumpkins.

And I’m not talking about the female variety.

I admittedly don’t have room to talk. I relished being in a region that celebrates fall and Halloween. Where every other house was decorated, pumpkins were revered and where Salem’s witch population provides for great entertainment.

Just so long as you stay on their good side.

Jamie and I stayed at Fox Pond B&Bin Marblehead, a quaint coastal town outside of Salem. Our first night, we really wanted some fresh seafood so upon the recommendation of the B&B’s owner we ate at The Barnacle, a cozy seafood haunt on the water. I am not much of a seafood lover but make the exception “When in Rome” and resolved to try some shrimp or lobster.

Until I was told that pumpkin ravioli with butternut squash cream sauce was the daily special. And how was it?

Think deli scene from When Harry Met Sally.

But really, the must-see destination for any Halloween lover was Salem. There was a profusion of fall colors, oodles of tacky tourists vying to see the sundry of witch museums and best of all, witches. Or at least folks dressed up as them.

More than 40,000 people descend upon Salem in October. My only goal was to buy something that I could display every year so I could profess we bought it from The Witch Capital of the World.

Easier said than done.

I dragged Jamie to all the tacky tourist stores and I was tempted by their wares but never swayed.

Until I saw IT. The bain to my wenchy…errr…witchy existence: a witch’s hat with flowing tendrils. It was like the Sorting Hat on Harry Potter. From the moment I put it on, it knew me and I knew we had been separated at birth.

Unfortunately, Jamie was not in agreement. Much to his chagrin, I insisted upon wearing The Hat the rest of the day and he had his own coping mechanisms for our new addition.

“Why are you not walking with me?” I accused.
“I am walking with you. It’s just far away.”

And so it is in the life of a witch.

Filed Under: holidays, Humor, Jamie, pumpkins, travel Tagged With: Halloween

The Lighter Side of this Canuck’s Deportation (or not)

October 13, 2008 by Amber

In honor of Canadian Thanksgiving today, I feel compelled to divulge that I am on the precipice of a life-altering decision: to be or not to be. American, that is.

I was born Canadian and always resolved to die Canadian. Until I married an American and gave birth to two half-breeds. My permanent residency expires early next year and some major decisions need to be made. Namely: do I forsake The Motherland and all that is holy?

Or at least that which is really, really cold.

I love this country and will likely live here the rest of my life. As a wee Calgarian lassie, we learned about ~~The Evil Empire~~ the United States in elementary school. One lesson was on Denver. A fellow classmate asked the teacher about our great city and she explained “Denver is kind of like the Calgary of the United States.”

I resolved then and there I would live in Denver someday. Prophetic little Canuck, wasn’t I?

So, the question remains:

do I renew? Or do I convert?

Admittedly, after the mudslinging-that-has-been-this-election-season, the novelty of becoming politically active has worn off. And somehow, I don’t think participating on CBS’s The Amazing Race (where an American passport is required) is a very worthy reason.

Though make no mistake: I would have kicked some serious butt. Or at least been very entertaining as I landed on mine.

What it really comes down to I just can’t forsake my roots even though this ol’ trunk is planted firmly on American soil. Nor do I want to face the humiliation of flunking the citizenship exam. (You are, after all, talking to the woman who argued in college that Abraham Lincoln was indeed a founding father.)

During a recent trip to Boston, my loving, supportive and utterly devoted husband and I talked about my options, during which time he offered this:

“Amber, if you are deported… [choose the correct answer]

1) I’ll cry myself to sleep every night.
2) I will make out with The Great Pumpkin while you are gone.
3) I will not be able to survive one moment without you.
4) You WILL take the children with you back to Canada.”

You don’t want to know the real answer.

Filed Under: Canada, Humor

A Joyous Friday

October 10, 2008 by Amber

I have many dear friends who struggle with infertility. My heart aches for them on their quest to become mothers.

My sweet Mary Ruth, who once strolled the streets of Jerusalem with me, has begun her own path. After 10 years of interfertility, she gave birth to little Joseph Boone Francks last week.

A light at the end of a very long tunnel. A thousand congratulations to her!

Filed Under: Uncategorized

Funeral plans are underway

October 9, 2008 by Amber

I had planned to ditch the pumpkin talk and divulge my experiences with Salem’s witches. Don’t worry–that post will come. It’s just we are in crisis mode Chez Canuck. Forget the bailout, forget politics.

THE DEMISE OF THE GREAT PUMPKIN IS NEAR.

We have been storing The Great Pumpkin in the garage in an attempt to preserve it and planned to put it on display mid-October. Jamie would lovingly stroke it as he walked by and even played fun games like London Bridges.

But then things really did start to fall down as The Great Pumpkin started leaking on Tuesday. Big, orange gobs of greasy, grimy pumpkin guts. And once the leaking starts, so does the rotting.

That night, we resolved to put it on display before it met its demise. Have you ever tried to roll a 755-pound pumpkin? I hope to never do it again. Small children were almost caught in the crossfire and my back will never be the same.

It now has a new home on our driveway and has become our neighborhood’s most popular attraction. And that sign? I spent spent $30 of my Jamie’s hard-earned money to surprise him with it.

Because I am just that nice.

I like to sit hidden on the porch and watch passersby slow down to gawk. I am, however, having an adverse reaction to the whole thing. If someone drives by and does not stop to admire it, I get offended. Much the same as I felt when people would not gush over my cute babies.

Only now I am doing it for an orange monstrosity that I did not even give birth to.

And the saddest thing is Jamie’s obsession is actually making sense.

Actually, that is not the saddest thing. The saddest thing is The Great Pumpkin will not survive until Halloween and there will not be any pumpkin boat races. Nor will there be The Great Pumpkin stand. I admittedly planned to bake 5,000 loaves of pumpkin bread and have little Haddie sell them for me.

Because I am not above 1) capitalizing upon The Great Pumpkin and 2) exploiting my cute child in the process.

Though I cannot imagine the backlash if people had driven by and ignored both her and The Great Pumpkin.

So, here’s my question: how do we dispose of The Great Pumpkin when The End is Near? A great chainsaw massacre? BB gun? Axe? Great Pumpkin Smashing? And if we planned a party around its birth, do we do the same for its death?

Filed Under: Uncategorized

Mr. Lord of the Gourds Visits the Super Bowl of Pumpkin Weigh-offs

October 7, 2008 by Amber

I love Boston.

If I could transport the Rocky Mountains to Massachusetts, I would move there tomorrow. Well, except that I cannot spell M-A-S-S-A-C-H-U- S-E-T-T-S without the help of spell-check.

Jamie and I just returned from Boston and everything about the area resonated with me: the ocean, the rocky crags, the explosion of trees, the locals who can’t say their Rs…all of it was so endearing and I wonder why it has taken me this long to visit.

My new obsession is vacationing on Martha’s Vineyard, Nantucket or Cape Code. If you have a vacation home on any of those islands, I will gladly take it off your hands for a week this summer.

Because I am generous like that.

For those just tuning in, I gave Jamie a trip to the Topsfield Fair for Father’s Day. This community outside of Boston hosts the oldest agricultural fair in the country (190 years old) and if you need a description, just think the Super Bowl.

But with really big, orange balls.

I could make fun of them all but do you know what? I got a kick out of the whole event. These people have giant pumpkin growing down to a science and watching Jamie meet his Pumpkin Idols was akin to watching Hadley score her first goal in soccer.

Should it ever happen.

When we first walked into the arena, the weigh-off was already underway. Jamie has been in correspondence with many of the growers on Bigpumpkins.com, a forum where guys talk about [what else?] pumpkins and the women who love them. Or hate them. It depends on the day.

Jamie was looking for one man in particular and walked up to a group to seek him out. One guy turned around and recognition struck Jamie like a smashing pumpkin: it was his idol Joe Justras who holds the world record for his 1,689-pound pumpkin. Loving wife that I am, I insisted they pose for a picture together.

Though it saddens me this will probably replace the family portrait in our living room.

Jamie spent the rest of the morning watching the weigh-off and meeting various pumpkin growers. They come from all walks of life: farmers, dentists, manufacturing engineers, mortgage brokers, and even the Mafia. Yes, you heard correctly. One man who is allegedly “cut from the same cloth as the Sopranos” showed up with his pumpkin a half hour after the entry deadline.

Funny how they still let him compete.

I thought I had seen everything until I stumbled upon this couple:

They seemed legit but I have learned the biggest con artists are those you least expect. And finding scalpers at a giant pumpkin weigh-off is certainly not expected.

The world record will likely be bested next weekend by Steve Connolly, whom we met at Topsfield. Even though Jamie and I were casual observers, we were still deemed noteworthy and were interviewed for the local newspaper.

I expect The New York Times to contact us any day for the follow-up.

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Tune in next time as we journey to Salem, the land of the witches, and find out how we relived one of When Harry Met Sally’s more memorable moments.

Filed Under: Humor, Jamie, outdoors, pumpkins, travel

Your Opinion: How do you handle problems at your children’s school?

October 6, 2008 by Amber

I love teachers. I have many good friends who are teachers and out of all the professions on this earth, I think they are among the most praiseworthy.

But I am having problems with teachers.

Because of my admiration, I always thought I would be the Teacher’s Parent Pet. You know: that go-to person who volunteers at every opportunity and who is loved and adored by all.

It ain’t happening.

It started last year when a little thing called cocaine surfaced on the playground at my daughter’s preschool and parents were not informed. I only found out because I read about it in the Police Beat. My issue was not with the teachers but with the way the administrative staff handled it and I ruffled more than a few feathers. I still feel I was justified but in so doing, I became one of those parents in their eyes.

And I hate that.

Another issue surfaced last week when I drove by Starbucks with my daughter and her friend.

“That is where we get coffee every day!” Haddie announced.
“Who gets coffee?” I asked.
“At preschool. We have a Starbucks center where we get our morning coffee! It’s the only way to start our day!”

I am adamantly opposed to drinking coffee. I fully realize that millions of people are partakers of its caffeinated goodness but for religious and health reasons, my family refrains. And I try to teach my children the same principles.

I haven’t said anything to the teachers and probably won’t. I rationalize it’s not like a liquor store and most people don’t take issue with drinking coffee. Even so, it just seems inappropriate to teach 4 year olds that they cannot start their day without it.

Which brings me to my next point: Hadley will be entering kindergarten next year. The teacher is rumored to be a nightmare. She is close to retirement and taught older children most of her career before she got “dumped” in kindergarten. She is notoriously cruel, yells at the kids and I have several friends who have pulled their upset children from her classroom to attend another school.

Not exactly the way I want my daughter to begin her education.

Would you do anything? The school has an interim principal who is allegedly not willing to address the problem. Several parents at preschool are worried about it and proposed we write a letter but I am hesitant because I don’t want to start my daughter’s education by ruffling feathers at her new school.

And so my question to you is this: where is the line? I empathize that schools are trying to appease so many different backgrounds and belief systems and I know they put up with a lot. I want to show support but I also want what is best for my children. What conflicts/issues have surfaced with your children’s education and how did you handle them?

(Originally posted at Mile High Mamas).

Filed Under: issues