I'm 28 now. I was asked how it felt to be twenty-eight and I said it reminds me a lot of how I felt when I was twenty-seven. Thanks for the birthday wishes, btw. Those always make my day.

Friday morning I was greeted in bed by a handsome man in pajamas and an apron (one of my own so it was super cute), he was caring a tray loaded with a delicious breakfast he got up early to make just for me. Our little ones were sleeping in, so I got to enjoy the first meal of the day with just my Sugar and me.

Olen presented a large rectangular box wrapped in yellow paper. It looked very familiar to another large rectangular box I received for my 20th birthday. That particular box contained my first very own rifle. We had been married for three months, I was three months pregnant and I got a rifle from my husband for my birthday. I thought, "Does this guy even know me, or what?" This year's large rectangular box contained a hammock. The kind you can take down and put up anywhere. Olen said, "I know you like to lay down and read and still be close to the kids, this way you can take the hammock anywhere the kids go and still lay down and read!" Then he just smiled. I thought again, only this time without a trace of sarcasm, "Now this guy sure knows me." I love my new hammock.

My sisters and I went for an outing. Eat food and shop Hobby Lobby was the plan. We went to Liberty Market in old town Gilbert, one of the Joe's restaurants. Guess who was there? Joe himself. Darcy, who's our go-get-'em-girl, asked if he would be so kind to come and take a picture with us, since I just happen to have a camera handy. We told him it was my birthday and he sat and chatted for awhile. What a cool guy. I think I will be like Joe when I am grown up. I want to wear spiffy hats and own a few restaurants. I will sit and take pictures with any of you too, and we'll talk about how it feels to be twenty-eight.

At the best store on the planet, also known as Hobby Lobby, we shopped for needed supplies for Chelsea's bridal shower next week. It's a mad-hatter style tea party and it will be capital-R rad because that's just the way things come out when you do it with love. Stay tuned for more on all this, you won't want to miss it.

Remember I told you about my hot date for Friday night? We saw the show and it was so great! Everyone in the cast was fabulous and at first I felt down that I had to withdraw from being in it too, but getting to cheer and watch it all come together was really a treat.

Olen and I had dinner plans but ran short on time, so we had to grab a late bite at Filibertos. I threw caution (and heartburn) to the wind and had the infamous carne asada fries I've heard tell of. I officially take back everything I ever said about them. Whoa mama. We are talking french fry, guacamole, cheese, sour cream and carne asada bliss, folks. It's pretty much all your food groups right there, it's my new favorite food. That plus a large horchata and I'm golden.

So, ya know, it was a pretty great day. I feel very blessed and excited for this year of twenty-eight. I'm not really looking forward to twenty-nine, though, so I will have to really live up these next twelve months and prepare for that one. I fell asleep Friday night, (with Tums in hand, but still not regretting my carne asada fries), thankful for another year to pack full of special people and memories to come.

Ten high-fives if you know why....

Don't you wish your leg veins were hot like me?

Actually I wouldn’t wish these pregnancy induced bulging leg veins on my worst enemy. Maybe on that one girl in elementary school that would copy my pictures and give them to the teacher as her own works of art. Man that girl really bugged….

So if you got a second to spare I feel a vent being opened. Hey, why do we call it “venting” anyways? Is it because we don’t want to admit that we are really just complaining? Like who would want to say, “Mom, can I take a moment and complain to you?” We like to pretty it up and pretend by saying, “Mom, I really need to vent. Got a sec?” See? Sounds way better. Plus when you are asked to be the recipient of a venting session, this is usually exciting and could possibly contain some interesting details and the need for your clever advice and unique perspective to solve all of your venting friend's problems. On the other hand, no one likes a complainer. What cry babies. So just to be clear, I’m only venting here. Now moving on.

First of all, I love being pregnant. Honestly. Truly. It means that 2009 will only go down in my history books as a marvelous year because it’s the year Daisy joins our family. It means that everything is as it should be and life is going forward into a promising future. To me, it’s a miracle I don’t take lightly and I cherish the gift.

However, the side affects of these five months (and eventually nine) are questionable. First of all, varicose veins. Why me? I have to wear these awesome compression stockings to keep the veins in check and last week I had to practically arm wrestle an eighty year old woman at Walgreens for their last pair of “nude” in my size. I could have taken her, but she was packing a cane. The kind with three legs at the end all capped with tennis balls. That’s the company I’m in with my compression stockings. Maybe we’ll start a club. I’ll make that lady be the bouncer. Well, for sure I’ll just add getting my veins fixed to the growing list of reconstructive surgeries needed after pregnancy.

Secondly, new to this pregnancy, is heart burn. That’s a bummer. So many foods are on my black list now and the worst of it is that I don’t know what foods are going to be mean until after I’ve eaten them. I like the berry flavor of Tums the best.

Then there’s the insomnia, which has been my companion for all pregnancies. No biggie. And who’s not familiar with the Three C’s of Pregnancy? Congestion, Constipation and Curves. Got all those in no particular order. Although let’s be honest, girlfriends, a couple of these curves ain’t so bad. I’m rather proud, actually. Um, cheeky and proud.

I’m not even going to touch the topic of weight gain. I struggle with my weight enough when I don’t have an extra body growing inside me that I figure I’ll just take these nine months off. It’s the only way. Then when it’s just me again, I’ll kick my trash into gear and see if I can’t loose all this weight that I’ve found. I look forward to this part more than I probably should.

And before my end-of-the-day visit from Mr. Braxton Hicks, “Early Contractions R Us”; Daisy jumps into action and summersaults and bounces from side to side. I find Olen and he puts his hand so gently on my tummy that I have to press it down harder for him. He feels his growing daughter so happily moving about getting stronger for the day when she will be free and able to dance without strings attached. Then I realize, she’s waiting, just like me. So I smile, hike up my sexy compression stockings, pop another Tums and give my curvy tummy a pat and say, “Over half way there. We can do this.”

Good Word Wednesday

Hello again. I feel like I should be switching my shoes and putting on my house sweater singing "Won't you be my neighbor" for some reason.

But here we are once again on a Good Word Wednesday tracking down all my nine "Be's". So far, I've got Be True and Be Grateful.

Today I've found:

I've been asked to help out my old ward in Little-Big Town tomorrow evening and teach a short lesson on how to bake using food from our food storage. I am so thrilled to be helping out and can't wait to catch up with everyone.

These wheat thins are a breeze to bake up so I made a test batch yesterday. It didn't go so well. My most honest food critic (Porter) said they tasted like burnt paper with salt. In my defense I'm re-learning how to use an electric oven (I miss our gas oven) so they were left in a tad too long. Today I'll be perfecting my recipe and tyring to improve the paper taste. I think maybe more vanilla and sugar would make them closer to the store bought wheat thins. I'll let you know.

If you're in the Little-Big Town ward, I hope you come and enjoy the evening tomorrow. It's going to be great fun and you'll learn a lot. Maybe not from me, but you can sample my salty paper crackers. They're really healthy. How's that for incentive? If you can't make it out tomorrow, you should at least whip up a batch of these crackers just for fun. Your kids may think they taste like paper, but I promise your husband will think you're a total rockstar for even trying.

Molly's Rule of Life #42

Take each day head on and enjoy the ride.

Olen and I play a little game at church.

It's called "Spot that Bolo Tie".

What?! Don't know what a bolo tie is? Well, it's only the official tie of Arizona. Yeah, that's right, we have an official tie.

But I don't understand, why did it have to be this one?

Today I thought I had won with three (and that was just from our side of the chapel), but Olen beat me out by spotting four.

Awh, well. There's always next week.

Flashback Friday! It feels good to get back into the routine of things, doesn't it?

Flashing back today to last night.

Our fab (and open, drop on by) book club, i heart libros, read this past month a most wonderful book. I couldn't put it down. The Book Thief by Markus Zusak. I love this author; this is the second of his books I've read and never have been disappointed. It was a love story, a life story, based during World War II. Narrated by Death about the life of a little girl growing up in a very adult world.

We try to meet or base our discussion themes around the books we just read, so this month we met at Zur Kate, a small German restaurant in a quiet part of Hometown. The menu's entrees were all in German with American descriptions. Not one dinner item was without gravy. I'm not a fan of the stuff, so I ordered a very German hamburger. Thank-you very much, Chris. And ate the whole thing while talking about the life and struggles of people trying to love in a world that was so full of hate.

Katie Mae ordered some kind of sausage, there were at least twenty different varieties to choose from. With sauerkraut and German noodles. Oh and gravy.

Announcement:

Olen and I always wanted a daughter named London. Porter had other plans.

When he was three we asked him what we should call the baby in mommy's tummy. Without any hesitation, but much conviction, he said, "Her name is Buttercup."

We call her that all the time. If asked her name that's her number one response. Followed by LaLa.

I have a pretty strict checklist that my kids' names needs to conform to because who knows how many of these guys I'll get, so I want each one to really mean something.

Porter: Porter Rockwell is one of Olen's early American and church heroes. He was an angel with a smudged halo, but a great man nonetheless. I think it sounded strong and honest. Turns out to be a great fit.

Ray: Grandfather is Billy Ray. Dad is Olen Ray. So Ray it is.

London: Olen served his mission in London, England and it represents a special place in his heart. Plus that place as a name just totally rocked my socks, so why not.

Mae: Middle name of my sister, Katherine Mae. It sounded great with London and especially when we call her Ellie Mae. Plus sisters are special.

So what to name this girl?
The first name we wanted significant because of an important place or person, and the middle name to be significant because of who it belonged to first. Even though we still have five months to go (ugh), Olen and I were stumped on girl names. So we asked Porter because he seemed to have a good idea the first time.
He said, "Oh, it should be Daisy."

(So you may think flower, but Porter was thinking Duke. As in Daisy Duke. But let's focus on the flower.)

I looked at Olen and Olen looked back and me and there's just something about that name that sounded really right. So we started calling our growing baby girl Daisy. Unofficially.

Yesterday I was telling Olen how Daisy is the best kicker and summersaulter of all our babies and he said, "Should we just make that official?"

I said, "What? Like an announcement that I am caring the best kicking-summersaulting baby?"

He said,"Uh, no. That her name is Daisy."

And I said, "Well, that's what it is."

The middle name came naturally. It belongs to my mom.

Good Word Wednesday!

Pretend it's Wednesday already, okay? I have continuing real estate education classes all day tomorrow (yippee) but I have something on my mind and if it didn't happen today this would be Good Word Wednesday on Thursday. Be proud. Being early, for me, hardly ever happens.

So in church this Sunday the table was sufficiently covered in lace, multiple statuettes and silk flowers. Plus a little plaque of President Hinckley's nine "be's" from his book Way to Be!: Nine Ways to Be Happy and Make Something of Your Life. I was sitting in the first row and right in front of this plaque. I read it about a million times over and over again while the lesson was being given. Then the light bulb flickered on above my head. I've got those "be's"! Not all wrapped up in one Molly-package, I'm working on that. But I do have them. All around me in the people I know and in the life I choose to live. I think that should count for something. You know how it's hard to find things when you're not really looking for them? Yeah. You usually won't find them. So again, I have set off to track down these things that matter to me. I'm noticing this is pretty much a running theme in my life.

Today I'm starting with this one.

My children.

My children are the most perfect example of true I can think of. They tell me just what they think, if they don't understand something, how they feel and what needs to happen to make something better. Their eyes never lie and their lips carry a smile that says, "I love you with all my heart, no matter what."

They bring me true joy. True sorrow. True hope. True comfort. True love.

What is true with you?

What is an “ode”? Does anyone knowed?

I say, “Oh well, who cares.” Here comes my Ode to Summer.

It’s one million degrees so we try to stay cool,

Floating and splashing in Nana’s swimming pool.

We say, “Oh well, who cares.” This is our Ode to Summer.

But sometimes it’s too hot to play outside for our kicks,

So I upped our subscription to the 4-at-a-time plan with Netflix.

I say, “Oh well, who cares.” This is my Ode to Summer.

Fish like to bite when the weather is warm and the moon is full.

So Olen leaves for the lake with the boat in pull.

He says, “Oh well, who cares.” This is his Ode to Summer.

Not even close to being upacked; we live out of boxes.

I have trouble keeping track of undies and sockes.

I say, “Oh well, who cares.” This is my Ode to Summer.

We’ve just been spending our days as fast as they come,

I hope you’re doing the same and having so much fun.

Let’s say, “Oh well, who cares.” This is our Ode to Summer.

Good Word Wednesday:

Did you catch the latest score?

Girls are in the lead!

This may be for my benefit only, but I'm a processor and I need to see things written down. So here goes.

Yesterday we went to a new ward after being in the same one for six years. I was, to say the least, home sick. If you didn't already know it; I don't handle change very well. I'm not afraid to admit it. Maybe because it's something that's never going to change. First, I took London to her nursery class. She cried and begged me to stay. I blinked like a humming bird to keep my tears in place and promised to be back soon with a forced smile. Then, I took Porter to his primary class and he sat with his big brown eyes staring at me and trying so hard to look excited sitting down in a row of strangers. I said a little prayer for him. And me.

I went back to check on London and saw her through the peep window standing in the back corner alone with an armful of her favorite toys just watching the chaos around her happen. She needed a hug. She needed me to rush in and save her and tell her to forget about that plan and she could come to class with me. But really that's what I wanted to do. She needed to stay in class and so I stayed behind the door and watched for an hour through the peep window as she continued to stand there clutching her coveted toys, waiting for me to come back. I said a little prayer for her. And me.

My heart was bleeding for my brave children in this brand new but familiar place. Then an elderly grandpa-man walked quickly by and patted my shoulder. He said, "She's gunna be fine." How did he know I was watching my "she"? I turned from the window to tell him thanks, but he was rounding the corner. When I looked back through the peep window, London wasn't in her usual corner. She was making her way slowly to a little girl playing with a shopping cart filled with dolls. London walked up to the girl and stood there starring at her. Then the girl handed my baby a doll and they sat down to play. So I backed away from the door and tried to be brave like my children and walked to my own class kind of feeling like someone might have been watching me through a little peep window.