Orange You Glad I Remembered?

Tonight I was rocking The Chief in the dark of the nursery. As the chair rolled forward-and-back so did my thoughts of my sister in Arizona, to her children in Utah. I thought about the details of Stephanie's surgery tomorrow to Claire's Orange Tuesday wherein she'll have to wear something color appropriate to First Grade. And then I wondered into the near future if Jane will have to actually wear an article of clothing when she has Orange Day or if she could just show up.

I could hear Ollie down the hall talking to Chup as they snuggled in bed. They have become the best of friends those two, with Ollie spending most of his day down in Chup's dungenous office working on fixing old remote control helicopters and discussing the model car collection. As you can imagine, Ollie was King for the day with all the cousin's clothing donations (we are set for several years . . . if not decades) some of which included costumes of the Buzz and Spidey variety (currently now in constant rotation!)

I thought about how a couple hours earlier I searched the house for Chup and The Chief finally finding them in the same place I sat now, rocking together looking like twins separated by time. They were both wearing the same shade of brown, and looked at me with the similar expression (forehead furrowed) as I entered the room. When I saw Chup I noticed that he was crying (I hope he doesn't mind me tell you as such . . . too late) which prompted the obvious question.

"I love this baby so much." he said with a quiet voice.

The recollection of this recent memory reminded me of one thought I hadn't examined in a really long time.

Tomorrow is Chup's birthday.

It had been totally neglected and forgotten. No call had been made to the Provo Bakery for sugar cookies, no plans for dinner, not even a small gift idea had entered into my mind. I had not so much even mentioned it in the past week, and while that is utterly understandable, I was shocked at my obvious oblivion. Forgetting your spouse's birthday is not a practice that I recommend . . . it tastes like guilt.

Luckily I have The World on speed dial, ready and willing to be ready and willing. I put together a small date night which may include a quiet trip to Costco and burritos at El Azteca, but whatever. We lost fancy a while back.

But I must say, this experience of taking on my sister's children has made something out of our marriage that I had never seen before. I think it might be summed up in the word power. I look at Chup--intimidated out of his mind--who wakes up with a grin and goes to bed with sore arms from all the lifting of little ones. And he is doing it for me. For me, and for my sister, and for his brother-in-law, and for these children. There is fortification in the sacrifice, and I believe in marriage more than ever.

Happy Birthday Chup, next year I will get you a pony.




Steph and Christian Update: Doctors told us today that both are doing as well as expected, if not better. Their bodies are responding to the healing. They must be feeling our prayers.

A Letter On Father's Day Night

Dear Blogworld,

This letter is just between you and me right? I mean, I need some procurement of confidentiality because it's not often that a certified Know It All like me asks for advice. Plus, I am totally embarrassed.

So, it is Father's Day and all day long people have been asking Chupa how it feels to be a grade-A, genuine, down-home Papa for real. His answers have ranged from funny to serious, but mostly I think he is quite pleased with himself. After all, slap some dark rimmed glasses on our child, plus some prolific facial hair and WHAM! You've got virtual, blood-sharing twins! Who wouldn't embrace their own mini-me?

But there might be one problem. See here, it is about me. I think that though Chup is grateful for my everlasting ability to nurture his child via my ample corporeal cafeteria, he might take issue with another of my mothering devices: my baby talk. I think it turns him decidedly off.

It is true since I've become a mother I can't help but raise my voice a couple octaves higher, coo at my baby and say things like "do we have poopies?" but except I sing the word poopies like they were poppies (garden variety!) Also, in the same helium-inspired voices I make up all sorts of silly nicknames for regular words so that sneezes are chickeezes and hiccups are now chiccups.

And I could go on.

Sure Chup uses his same regular voice to converse with our child. He even lets his voice sink a couple bars lower a la Barry White ("come on baby, you know you want me to change you.") Oh yes, Chup takes his fatherhood with a swallow of maturity and serenity. He doesn't purposely add or subtract consonants in conversation just to sound like a character in a Pixar film.

But I do.

Oh I do!

And I think I see Chup cringe every time it emerges from my throat. One time he left the nursery when I started to read Harvey Potter's Balloon Farm using nothing but my premium baby talk voice to our child. This obvious reaction has now made me paranoid about my baby talk and the stability of our marriage.

Please Blogworld, help a girl out. Do I quit the talk and save the marriage?

chank-chu,
c jane

But Only I Get Called Wife

Guess which of these ladies Chup calls his "girlfriend."


Jennifer Connelly

Cat Deeley

Elisabeth Hasselbeck

Kate Beckinsale

Super Nanny

I'll See What I Can Do

Chup (this morning): Could you not have The Chief today?

Me: Why?

Chup: Kristy won everyone on the team free Chipotle burritos for lunch.

Me: You eat Chipotle once a week already.

Chup: I know, but today it is free.

Chup Has a Revelation, or, How I Get Free Singing Lessons

Last Week:

Chup: Oh hey. Guess who was in-line with me at the airport today?

Me: Who?

Chup: Marie Osmond! She was surprisingly normal looking. It was weird because I kept waiting for her to recognize me.

Me: Did she?

Chup: I don't know. But we did lock eyes.

Tonight:

Chup: Oh hey. Guess who was coming into Target as I was leaving?

Me: Who?

Chup: Marie Osmond! She had a load of kids with her. And a head of foot-long black hair extensions.

Me: What does all this mean?

Chup: (answers without missing a beat) She is supposed to be our sister-wife.

By Chance To Snore

And so it was last night that Chup finally returned to Retro House. There was much rejoicing on my part and when it was finally time to say good night I fell asleep knowing that my husband was close by my side.

Only . . .

In the middle of the night when my bladder was convincingly full I got up to empty my system and I found out that I was alone. Was it a pregnancy-induced mirage? Had my Chup really come home that evening or was it a lovely dream I whipped up for survival?

Only . . .

In the morning, when the dawn sun had projected its rays into our amply-windowed home I found my husband curled up on the guestbed, snuggled with his own imported pillow and downblanket. I thought it best to leave him alone.

Only . . .

I wanted to know why he had left me alone after our week of employment-forced separation. So I gently awoke him. "Why did you leave me?" He smiled back, "You were snoring."

Only . . .

I am not a snorer. I don't snore. I've never snored. I do not engage in snoring. Me? A snorer? I can't handle this new identity! I am so young! A life of bed-sharing ahead of me cut so short! I refuse to let this become who I am!

Only . . .

If it's all about being nine months pregnant, I will gladly the snore the night away. A small sacrifice I say!

Only . . .

Tell me I won't snore the rest of my life.

For my sake.

For Chup's sake.

An Open Letter to Chup

Dear Chup,

I hope this post finds you well in Wichita.

(Whatever.)

I thought I'd write about my day.

I woke up.

Ate a banana.

Went back to bed.

I woke up.

Had some ice.

Picked up Seth (and his oblong orange balloon) from Kindergarten. Took him home.

Went inside Page's house. Collapsed on the red Love Sac.

Vivy brushed my hair with a massive orange-hair-entangled brush.

Slept for another three hours.

I woke up.

Had some cherry tomatoes.

Went home.

Took a nap.

I woke up.

Threw up the banana, ice and cherry tomatoes.

Went to my parent's.

Had dinner.

Wanted to throw up dinner, but asked myself kindly not to do that.

Called you. Cried.

(You remember.)

Talked to my brother Steve while he changed his clothes, he hath no shame.

Texted Bobby.

My Dad gave me a blessing.

(I can do it!)

Came home.

Put feet up.

The Chief has the hiccups.

(I think it was the Izze. Sorry Chief.)

We miss you.

Both of us.

Love,
Wifey

Footprints in the Snow

I like it when the lint catcher gets really thick and I can pull that dense multi-colored sheet of collected fuzzies off the filter.

I dislike static. Oh so much so much so much.

Chup likes his cookies well-done-ish.

Chup dislikes forwarded e-mails. He calls it "sheep passing on the baaaaad news."

I like studying the socks in the accessories aisles at Target.

I dislike the sound I hear when I wear my puffy coat and Chup touches my back. It's like loud and crackly and nylon-y and loud. And if he forgets how bad I hate it and he touches me I have to hold his hand for a few seconds after. I don't know why. It's something about moisture. I have a thing with moisture which is partly why I hate static. Don't ever shock me after you've been sliding around on a trampoline. I will hate you forever.

Chup likes Minute Maid's new Orangeade.

Chup dislikes sleeping under the covers.

I like seeing the puppies for sale in the parking lot of Sportsman's Warehouse on Saturday afternoons.

I dislike talking on the phone.

Chup likes his new car we bought tonight. It is going to cost us exactly five hundred seventy-two dollars and thirty three cents less in gas every month.

Chup dislikes it when we have a fresh snowfall and our property transforms into a field of undisturbed winter wonderlawn only to have the mailman come along, cut across our beloved driven snow on his way from our mailbox to our neighbor's leaving big, fat, cruel, mailman tracks in his wake.

A Car Crash and An Argument

Sure, I post all the time about how wonderful my Chup is, and he is, wonderful, and I hope you don't doubt it. But oh heavenly jelly, today wasn't one of his better days.

First it started with a prayer, like it always does just before he leaves in the morning. I prayed that he would "drive safely" because that is one of those phrases that Mormons can choose from when they pray. After we said "amen" I had this feeling that he would be in a car accident, but I always have "feelings" and sometimes they don't exactly pan out.

After the prayer, I watched from the bedroom window as Chup, heavy with coat, charged out into the snowy morning. His car was buried in about ten feet of white fluff which he brushed off using a long handled-broom. I sent puckered kisses and waved him good bye. All very romantic and crap.

Ten minutes later he was back.

"The freeway was backed up both ways so I decided to turn around. I slid and hit a retaining wall. My bumper is ruined." I looked out the window and could see the left side of his car was indeed bumped.

Chup is a very mild-mannered fella, but when the guy gets frustrated he becomes unglued. I encouraged him to call the insurance and see what could be done. After pacing back-and-forth in the front room, I heard him on his phone explaining the situation to our insurance agent.

"I am just gonna fix it myself." He announced to me some time after the phone call ended.

"Ok." I said and went back to my online banking. Post Script, I love online banking.

All morning long I would occasionally look out the window to see Chup working away at his car as the snow continued to accumulate. (Note to self: We really like those three words together "continued to accumulate.") At one point I saw him with Super Glue, some thread and a piece of aluminum foil. But I've learned not to second guess, because by noon his car was pretty well fixed. Which is when I offered to buy him lunch.

I mean he buys me lunch, in theory, but because I do the online banking I know if he can buy me lunch or not.

We like to lunch at places that provide newspapers to read while we eat. We don't have that incessant drive to get a "moment alone" so that we can "talk" because all of our moments at this point are alone. And I talk a lot.

So there we were, reading and eating, when I mentioned the Bush v. Clinton (and Ross Perot, if you cared) election of '92. Chup replied that he remembered that election specifically because he was a missionary in Japan at that time.

"Bush won." He said very confidently.

Now we all know that Bush did not, in fact, win. I had to laugh. I did laugh. Not often does my bright husband make mistakes in his statement of facts. I relished, for a second, in feeling like the smarter one in the marriage.

"Why are you laughing at me like that?" He asked defensively.

"Oh! Because Bush didn't win." I laughed some more.

"I didn't mean Bush won, I meant Bush number one."

About at that point I stopped laughing. Chup looked really annoyed at me.

"Sorry." I said.

"No you are not." He said back looking serious.

This sort of exchange happens a lot with us. I am always quick to say sorry and Chup is always quick to say "no you are not." Something about all of it is so ridiculous that it sends me into the uncontrollable giggles. (Note to self: We hate the word "giggles.") It's hard to defend your apology when you can't stop cracking up.

He didn't forgive me until I took him to Target (he drove), bought him two new model cars (with his money) came home and made him cookies (chocolate chip).

Sometimes relationships, like fixing a damaged bumper, are a lot of work.

An Open Letter To My Mother-in-Law Honey

Dear Honey,

Tonight your son Chup and I had an appointment to look at a condo we've considered buying. Because the owner was out of town, he sent his dear mother with the keys to let us inside. She met us in the lobby and it was apparent that she had trouble walking. None-the-less she led us up in the elevator to the sixth floor where she let us in this lovely little place.

Chup inspected everything from top-to-bottom with his scrutinizing part-time engineer eye all the while impressing the nice lady with his knowledge of Japanese toilets. When we had seen the place twice over, Chup went through and turned off all the lights and made sure the place was secure so that the feeble lady didn't have to do it herself.

As we headed down to the elevator the lady stopped and turned around. "I'm not sure if I locked the door . . ." she said sifting through her keys.

"Would you like me to check?" Chup offered already walking in the direction.

For a moment the lady and I were alone. I thought of maybe asking her some real estate questions when she interrupted my question-molding process.

"He is so handsome!" She gushed in a whisper.

Now Honey, I know that you've heard many compliments about your son since his birth. I know people have said that he is kind-hearted, clever, talented, genuine and you've probably heard handsome too. So there really isn't much news to this story . . .

. . . only that after we got home, and I was lounging on the couch, I felt The Chief kicking inside of me as if he controlling the gas, brake and clutch pedals to his imaginary in-utereo Porsche. I started to think about thirty-six years from now, when my baby will be the age of your son. I decided that if ever my son was as charming as yours was tonight I'd like to know about it.

So there you go.

Thanks for growing the guy, I really like him.

Love,
c jane

Chup There it Is

I am not a very good predictor of human behavior. After five plus years of marriage I am only now beginning to see patterns in Chup's demeanor. Is this good news for my husband?

This evening as I was making our favorite dinner (grilled salmon marinated in A-1, couscous and mixed greens--heavy on the balsamic) I remembered that the last two salmon meals left Chup ravishingly hungry four hours later. I don't cook very often, so it always hurts a little to see my sincere attempts go short. Especially when it involves a Wendy's drive-thru.

"You are going to get hungry later." I said to Chup as we sat down to eat. "Should I have made more food?"

"No. No. That's not true." He said eating a cucumber.

After dinner was done (a little quiet tonight) and dishes were in the sink, we took a short trip to Target for returns. Chup checked out the electronics while I took back two ill-fitting dresses (hard to judge these days). Back at home we shared a three-tiered chocolate mousse torte and we watched the Tostitos Fiesta Bowl. Two hours post-dinner I checked on Chup to see about his appetite.

"Doing well." was his reply.

But around three hours post-dinner Chup was in the kitchen opening cupboards.

"Do we have any Tostitos?" He yelled out to me.

"No . . . you're just being affected by the commercials." I said back remembering the four-hundred-and-seventy-two Tostitos ads we had viewed so far while watching the game. Admittedly I was also wishing to for some chips to dip in cheap salsa.

In the second half of the game we watched the Taco Bell commercial involving a craving pregnant wife and her obliging husband. I looked over at Chup. He was the pregnant wife.

"Mmmm Taco Bell." Chup moaned. "Crunchy."

When West Virginia had decidedly beaten Oklahoma four hours aprés diner, I could see my husband hungry for a gastronomical victory as well. He shuffled around the kitchen some more and mentioned that we really "should get to Costco really soon for pita chips and gyoza."

"Ok." I said because there was nothing else to say. I felt like West Virginia having myself won a small battle of the sexes.

The next time I make salmon I'm going to order pizza (still makes me heave) to be delivered exactly four hours later. Just to really make my point.

Sonnets From the c januese

If someone wrote a post purely for the sake of bragging about their husband I don't know if I would read it. Should I read it? Is that kind of poetic devotion for public consumption? Certainly the Brownings felt that such love must be declared, Elizabeth went so far as to "count the ways."
I, too want to "count the ways" that I love my Chup, but you--a voyuerish third party person-- don't have to read it. You many not want to read it either. And besides, it might get racy at the end . . .

FRIDAY
Chup read my script for the ward Christmas concert like a voice from heaven. "This evening we will first sing before we eat" he announced over the pulpit. After that he introduced each musical number (my favorite being "I Saw Three Ships" a tuba solo) with his booming God-like projection. I purposely wrote in a line from Luke 2 because I wanted to hear him say "And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid." He annunciated it so romantically (in a sacred-text sort of way) that I could've written "And, loopy, doopy, loppy lop . . ." and he would've made it sound just as wonderful.

During the program, I thought about The Chief and how he is a product of ours. How he is the personification of our connection. The representation of our eternal hope. And I thought about how nice it will be for The Chief to have bedtime stories told in Daddy's deep wide voice.

That night is started to snow.

SATURDAY
Chup baptized our friend eleven-year-old Katie Larsen (formerly of the Larsen compound) in her Orem Stake Center. Of course it was an honor for us to be a part of Katie's big day. Before the service began, Chup practiced baptizing Katie so that she'd know what to expect. "I will hold your wrist so that you can plug your nose before you go under." Katie appreciated the tip. "Okay!" she replied.

After Katie was fully immersed, and we had sung the last verse of "I am a Child of God," we said our good byes to Katie's friends and family with peaceful spirits. Leaving the church we noticed a stronger storm had settled over the valley and visibility was close to zero. Dutifully my husband shoveled the church walks so that everyone could safely get to their car. At that point, snow flakes the size of potato chips were dripping from the sky.

It is Chup's passion in life to drive on snowy, slick roads. We took the freeway home and passed other cars creeping in the right lane. After Chup drove our yellow car safely to our front driveway, I sat in the warm car while he--still in his white shirt and tie--shoveled all the walks leading to the front door. When all was cleared I was ushered gingerly inside.

That evening we ate chocolates and drank Inca Cola. Straight up from the bottle.

SUNDAY
Chup made potato latkes with beer. This was per my request as I find celebrating a bit of Hanukkah with every Christmas is the best of both worlds. He peeled, shredded and drained the potatoes. He added the beer, potato yeast and diced onion. He smashed, grilled and fried each latke until it was golden brown. It took a table of MD, Kentucky, Phun and me to devour a warm tray. Chup thought they were too salty. I thought they were juuuuust right.

After dinner we took a stroll downtown with Phun to scout out the candy windows. Though it had stopped snowing, we dodged sizable icy snowblocks while crossing the streets. At one candy window the display light was off making it hard to see. Just as Phun started to express disappointment Chup produced a flashlight from his puffy coat. We were able to view the first-place candy window a licorice-Mike n' Ike portrayal of the Y mountain and two kids on a hot air balloon. It was pretty impressive, but not as impressive as Chup having a flashlight in his pocket for the conceivable "just in case."

That night we . . . well, never you mind what we did.

IN CLOSING
Chup, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
1. Booming voice
2. The Chief
3. Honor
4. Kindness
5. Driving Abilities
6. Shoveling Abilities
7. Inca Cola
8. Potato Latkes
9. Flashlight
10. Mad Hot Skillzzz
Oh yes, and . . .
I love thee with the breath,

Smiles, tears, of all my life!---and, if God choose,

I shall but love thee better after death.

A snowstorm picture taken by Chup midnight Saturday.

How Chup and I Celebrate Our Love, Read On

Christopher and I forgot it was our anniversary last week. We realized it tonight as we were making fun of someone we know who forgot their own birthday. I think it is perfectly alright to make fun of people when it's just you and your spouse and you are doing it because it makes you laugh together. Don't feel bad about it either because truthfully other couples are probably laughing at you too. That is classic marriage counseling advice I just gave you for free.

I confess I am sorta proud that we forgot our anniversary. It's like we are so in love that we don't need an anniversary to remind us of that aspect of our relationship. Don't start with that "Wait until you have kids, things will change" crap because we've chosen not to buy into that song and dance. We're in love. It's too late. There is nothing you can do about it.

To commemorate our love year-round Chup and I participate in home projects. One year we mosaic-ed our dinning room table. The next year we moved into our double-wide and tried to make it double-wonderful. Usually our projects work like this: I have the idea, Chup comes up with the engineering, I control creativity, Chup oversees safety. We are the embodiment of form and function. But now I am just bragging.

This year I decided on a glowing Thanksgiving garland. We used deco podge to make colorful globes. When they were dried and hardened I wrote one word across the front of for what we grateful. Interestingly, all of our words started with "F" (no jokes please.)

Food
Friendship
Forgiveness
Fêtes
Family
Fertility
Faith

Okay so we were pushing it with Fêtes.

When all the globes were finished, Chup constructed a wire with hanging light bulbs. Each globe was then attached to each bulb and behold! they did glow!


Next, for safety purposes Chup measured the heat of each bulb inside the globe. This was so that our Glowing Thanksgiving Garland didn't turn into the Burning Thanksgiving Garland, which could easily turn into the Burned-Down-Double-Wide. Then we'd be saying an entirely different F word this holiday.

I am glad we decided to do the Thanksgiving garland instead of my Thanksgiving creche idea. The full vision was to recreate the first Thanksgiving, Pilgrims, Indians, Turkeys and all. I wanted to make the pilgrims out of corn husks but Chup insisted on Fisher-Price dolls. (You think I am kidding, but this discussion actually occurred.) When no agreement was made we abandoned ship (the Mayflower) and thus our garland was born.

Besides Celine being on Oprah today, Chup is the best thing that ever happened to me. I can't wait for many more projects in our future. Like a safari-themed nursery. Real animatronics. Bear with me.

And Now We Are Having A Baby

I just realized that morning sickness makes me one inefficient blogger. PUuuuuuUUUUUuuuuuuUUUUUukey.

But I also realized that on mornings like these it is nice to be tagged on a meme from Mandee, because also cleverness and morning sickness aren't compatible either so at least I can answer questions. We all win.

1. Where did you meet your husband?
I met Chup at a New Years Eve party hosted by Lisa and Topher at my parent's house. I asked Topher to introduce me, but he forgot in his merry-making, so I introduced myself. I was very, very recently single, almost too recently. But I knew I had to make my move fast. I also enjoyed Lisa's stuffed mushrooms at that party. And I accidentally punched Wendy at midnight and gave her a bloody nose.

2. What was the first thing you said to your husband?

Hey shorty!

No, I can't remember.

3. Where was your first date?

We went to Park City for his birthday, to shop for new clothes and enjoy the mashed potatoes at Zoom.

4. Where was your first kiss?

On my parent's trampoline. He told me that he wanted to be friends but I could see that he also wanted to kiss me. I have that affect on men (wait, is that a good thing?) I encouraged him to kiss me anyway, knowing that a smooch would change his pro-friend-only mind. It ended up that we were not kissing compatible. It was bad. Anyway, we fell asleep and my mom woke us up the next morning with her sing-songy voice, "Good morning you two!"


5. Did you have a long or short engagement/courtship?
We dated for almost a year before our engagement.

Very short engagement, I can't really remember even. A couple days?

6. Where did you get engaged?

At the steak house that used to be on State Street in Orem (I can't remember the name.) Chup whispered in my ear "Will you be my wife?
And the Caesar salad was really tasty.

7.Where did you get married?
We eloped to the Clark County Courthouse in Las Vegas after we had prayed about it. We knew we were supposed to get married that day. It was completely spontaneous, but very sweet.

We were sealed later in the Provo Temple by my grandfather Layton Jones.


8. How did the reception go?

Receptions are death. I would never have one in my life.


9. How was the honeymoon?

None of your business.

Twin Falls County Fair Cell Phone Series by Chup: Finale

Entitled, Basically What Chup Ate at the Twin Falls County Fair

Twin Falls County Fair Cell Phone Series by Chup: Part Six

Entitled, Honey, Phun and the Magic of Mini-Horses

Twin Falls County Fair Cell Phone Series by Chup: Part Five

Entitled, MD Slurps a Lemonade

Twin Falls County Fair Cell Phone Series by Chup: Part Four

Entitled, The Rise and Fall of the Tator Pig

As you can see Tator Pigs are going for $3.50 these days. This brings much chagrin to the Twin Falls County People. I actually heard a conversation this weekend that went like this:

"We went to the fair and had a Tator Pig for $3.50."
"Shoot. I remember when they were $1.50."
"Inflation I guess."

Also, don't ask for a cookie dough blizzard because they are OUT.

Twin Falls County Fair Cell Phone Series by Chup: Part Three

Entitled, Fries, Thighs and a Gun

Twin Falls County Fair Cell Phone Series by Chup: Part Two

Entitled, What to Wear to the Fair: Americana, Wife-Beater or Blue-Sequined Top?

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