McElroy Summer or Hey, how was your weekend?

I thought since I wrote about my glorious high school job at Sonic, I would write about the next-worst job on my resume: McElroy Manufacturing.

My Carrie-sister and I got summer internship jobs at the manufacturing plant our dad worked at where they build machines used for fusing rubber pipeline together. Carrie was basically a glorified receptionist, and I was the lucky girl to be stationed under John Mink, who had a specific job for my partner, Viktor (a 17 year old Russian, who spoke very broken english) and I. We were to go out into the plant, armed with a notepad and digital camera, and watch the mechanics build the machines. We were then to re-write the instruction books on how to do this task, complete with illustrations. Great. Needless to say, Viktor and I spent alot of time trying to figure out how to accomplish this. We decided that since my grasp of the English language was better, I would be in charge of note-taking and Viktor would take the pictures. After a few weeks, we realized that this was going to take a much longer time than even we thought at first. And it didn't help that John Mink was beginning to worry. Not that he had given us much too difficult a task, but that I was too stupid for the job. You see, John loved Viktor. I mean REALLY loved him. He thought Viktor was the best thing to ever happen to the company. And he thought I was a blooming idiot. One day, he pulled me aside, and informed me that if I wanted, he could teach me how to use the camera. I politely informed him that I already knew how to use it. He said that since he always saw Viktor with it, he thought I must not know how. I tried to help him understand why this was, but he must have stopped listening. A few days later, he tried to teach me how to use the camera. And a few weeks after that he tried again. And a few more times after that. Thanks, John. Really. Thanks.

We now come to Bart Bartlett, or Brett Bretterson as Carrie and I called him. He was the plant manager, whose office was across the aisle from our cubicles. He hated us. He was constantly getting mad at us for being too loud on our lunch breaks, and talking in the hallways. We just decided that maybe he didn't like girls, as we were 2 of 4 that worked in the entire plant. Our suspicions were confirmed, when he asked John Mink to talk to me about "being too pretty" and distracting the workers. Apparently, I was so cute in my steel-toed boots, no makeup, and safety goggles, none of the men in the plant could do anything when I was around, and I should stop it. Brett Bretterson was also the most hilarious person to eavesdrop on. Since his office was so close, Carrie and I could always hear him on the phone cussing out his kid's little league coach, or pondering the quandary: "But what do you do with the dead body in the back of the truck?!?" There are so many more stories I could tell about him (like "32+8=40," "that's feasible," and "you are all asking: You fool, it can't be done!"), but none are as amusing as what's coming next: Bobby.

Bobby was a 40-something mechanic, who had a bit of a crush on me. He always asked me how my weekend was. Always. Every time he saw me. On a wednesday afternoon, he might walk up to me, and in all seriousness say "Hey. How was your weekend?" I never could figure it out. If nothing else, Bobby was definitely generous. At least once a day, usually more, Bobby would go to the vending machine and buy me a package of Peanut MMs. He had never seen me buy them, and never heard me talk about how much I liked them, he just thought it up. Brilliant! At first, I just thought whatever, free candy. But after a few weeks of this, I started giving it away. And after a month, Carrie and my other friends stopped wanting it as well, so I started throwing it away. I still had 2 more months of this. To this day, Peanut MMs still make me want to yak. Finally, the last day of our internship had arrived, and as I was packing up my stuff to leave, my office phone rang. It was Bobby. He wanted to know if I wanted to go out to dinner sometime. Ooooooh dinner! What are we going to have, Peanut MMs? No thanks. Not to mention the fact that Bobby was old enough to be my father. Yuck.

The only thing I liked about that summer was working with Carrie, my dad, Derek, and Sheridan. We had some good times in that break room, watching the price is right and eating love-cookies. Ah, memories.

i am losing my mind

I have debated with myself over and over about sharing this story, as it is a bit embarrassing for me. But, I just can't let the hilarity of it go to waste. So here you are!

Portia has had a very hard time sleeping this week, her teeth are really bothering her at night, so I haven't had alot of rest. Monday night, Brandon and I were headed over to a friend's house, and we decided to bring apple cider (put apple cider, orange slices and cinnamon sticks in the crock pot, yum!). We needed to stop by the grocery store to get the orange slices, so on the way, Brandon pulled up to the door of Target, and I ran in.
I hurried to get my stuff, and headed back out to the car. As I left the nice, warm store, I was hit in the face by a freezing cold blast of wind. My hair was whipped into my face, and I could barely see the car just a few feet from the door.
Suddenly, someone in the parking lot started honking their horn over and over. What a doofus! Didn't they know that they were annoying everyone in the whole store? And who is the dork who can't find their car, causing the driver to honk incessantly?
I got to our car, opened the door and sat down. I turned to mock the horn-honker to Brandon, and was shocked to see a stranger! He was shocked too, and said "You have the wrong car!" Brandon had moved, and another dark colored civic had pulled into his space!
I quickly got out and hurried over to Brandon, who, as you might have guessed, was still honking the horn!

What to Expect the First Year

Today was a hard day for us here in the Rawlinson household. Portia didn't sleep well at all last night, and woke up very early this morning, about 15 minutes before Brandon's alarm went off for school. He graciously took Portia to the living room so I could get a few more minutes of sleep, but came to wake me up as he left. Here's were the real trouble started. I didn't wake up. Wednesday is early morning mowing day for the maintenace crew, and I didn't hear him over the roar of lawn mowers, weed eaters, and leaf blowers outside. Portia was playing contently as he left, and he thought I was on my way out to play with her. An hour later, when the mowing ended, I was jerked out of sleep to the sound of screaming in the other room. Portia was all alone and not happy about it. The rest of the day has been along the same lines. Portia is exhausted, but won't sleep for fear of being put down by herself. It is 11:0, and I haven't eaten dinner yet, I haven't even had the chance to go pee in hours. The house is filthy because Portia hasn't let me clean it, and Brandon is off studying for a big test tomorrow. Definitely a hard day. But amidst all the fussing and wails, I have yet to feel regret for the choice we made to start a family.

I have the opportunity to spend time with several young moms at my school, and it is interesting to listen to them talk about their kids. Usually they mention them in congruence with complaints. Their tones are rich with comtempt, and sometimes even disgust, as they blame their children for extra pounds, lack of sleep, and a diminishing social life (as it turns out, binge-drinking and clubbing is a little difficult with a 2 year old at home). I marvel that they can overlook all the innocence and wonder in their children and ignore the pure joy that easily comes with spending time with them.

I am grateful that I belong to a church that teaches the importance of families. The countless General Conference talks, Relief Society lessons, and examples from leaders and fellow members of the church have taught me from childhood that being a mother is the most rewarding and important job I could ever hold. I firmly believe that my purpose on this earth is to raise my children to follow in the footsteps of Christ.

So as I sit here, hungry and tired, typing one-handed and balancing an angry 5-month old in my lap, I am happy and I feel overwhelmingly blessed.

100 reasons why i miss Carrie today

1. car-dancing

2. late night Office marathons

3. how we were always either hobos or clowns for halloween

4. scaring the crap out of her while she's brushing her teeth

5. learning the "seize the day" dance

6. no one making fun of me for wanting to learn the "seize the day" dance

7. farming game

8. fumble

9. dirt clod game

10. mailbox

11. love potion number niyiyiyiyine

12. when she looks at me with a lazy eye

13. the training headset

14. one time, in harry potter...

15. stagnant alligators (gna gna gna)

16. finishing each other's...

17. ...sentences

18. newsies

19. accepted

20. she's the man

21. empire records

22. stake dances

23. gray shirts

24. fleshy trunks

25. being the first ones to know about napolean dynamite

26. being the first ones to know about the numa numa song

27. being the first ones to raise our hands at stake dances

28. being the first ones to slap the ground during the electric slide

29. 32+8=40

30. how funnel cake makes us want to barf

31. how nair makes us want to barf

32. bass pro shop

33. arguing about the saturday chore list
34. tricking her into telling me what she got me for christmas
35. when we got roller blades for christmas and we rode all over town with them
36. using our knee/elbow pads for said roller blades as ice skates
37. "earnest holidays" at grandma's house
38. psych
40. she's an incredible long-jumper (pretty sure she set some kind of a record)
41. primary song karaoke
42. making bracelets
43. if there is any leftover pizza anywhere ever, carrie will eat it. (really?)
44. how we both detest janice kapp perry
45. the best spring break ever, spent in provo, while i barfed all week.
46. the rescue raft
47. taking "pictures" in the bathroom mirror
48. fantasia
49. swan princess
50. beauty and the beast
51. girl's camp
52. putting up with the annoying kids next door so we could play on their trampoline
53. how she always wins monopoly
54. how i always win chess
55. making fun of people everywhere we happen to be
56. making fun of people secretly to their face
57. we have the same awesome taste in shoes
58. the time i tried to make her mountain climb with the jump rope and the swing set
59. track/xc
60. our stylish hairdos in elementary school
61. our really stylish outfits in elementary school
62. how mom loves me better
63. the first time we ever flew/why i never make a lollipop sound with my mouth
64. she's a pretty choice piece of real estate
65. the musical episode of Aurthur
66. how we always get hit on when we go to Sam's
67. how we have perfected the art of multiple sampling at Sam's
68. playing in between the aisles at Sam's
69. she was once in the worst movie ever.
70. the odd things that happen to us in libraries
71. hey. how was your weekend?
72. Wang
73. Chang
74. she writes me songs for the lonely, but not by cher
75. she has an answer when i ask "you fool, it cant be done!"
76. we could never be in hufflepuff
77. the grape game
78. i woke up sunday morning, and looked upon the wall, the bed bugs and the cooties, were playing a game of ball. the score was six to nothing, the cooties were ahead. the bed bugs hit a home run, and knocked me out of bed, i'm singing. eenie meenie and a minie mo. catch a whipper snapper by the toe and if he holler waller wallers, don't let him go, i'm singing, eenie meenie and a minie moe.
79. like totally, for sure, i just got my manicure! the sun, i swear, its bleaching out my hair! 32, 24, i dont know that stupid score! go, go, fight, fight! gee, i hope i look alright!
80. golden throat? this is jazz square. we may have a problem.
81. what the heck are those two doin in a tree?!?
82. riding our bikes down "dog alley"
83. sweet tart slushes
84. tootsie roll slushes
85. never ever finding the candy aisle in Reasors
86. she is smarter then me
87. she is motivated in everything she does.
88. she has a wicked sense of humor
89. she was there when my daughter was born
90. she is way cute
91. she has always been there for me when i needed her
92. she is one of the best examples of friendship in my life
93. she has never let me down
94. she makes me happy
95. she's my best friend
96. she makes me want to be better
97. she is my other half
98. she misses me
99. she loves me unconditionally
100. i love her even more

my inner struggle

Those of you who see me often probably notice that my hair changes alot. I usually get bored with it about once a month, and have to do something different. That is why my hair has been colored 5-7 times and cut 2-4 times since Portia was born. I realized that I have been trying to find the happy medium between edgy and hip, and being a mom. My problem is that I want to look like what I am: a hair stylist. I adore crazy colors, dramatic cuts, and obnoxious styles. I am never satisfied with my hair when it is symmetrical, or all one color. In college, I once came across a picture of Joss Stone (above), and I loved her hair. I admire her courage and style, and her ability to pull something like that off. I desperately want my head to look like that. But do I dare put hot pink, purple, and red streaks throughout my entire head? No, because I have a strange fear of Portia, when 15, looking at pictures of her mother and thinking, "What an idiot." So, for now, I'll have to be content with being a brunette. Hmmm, maybe with slight hues of violet and red.

General Conference

General Conference is this weekend, and I am beginning to get excited! I love listening to the messages from our priesthood leaders, and feeling the unique spirit that comes from their words. I love joining with family to learn and grow together, not to mention playing conference bingo! But my favorite part of General Conference is by far the music. Music is such a huge part of my life; the choirs stun me.
When I went to BYU, I had the opportuninty to attend conference once. I was thrilled to listen to the prophet speak in person, but listenening to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir sing "Come Thou Fount," with the perfect accoustics of the conference center, took my breath away. The Spirit was so strong, I felt my heart singing along with the choir.
I can't wait for this weekend, to hear our beloved prophet's voice, and the hear the many voices joined together in hymns of praise.

RIP Wang and Chang

Looking back at my childhood, it's a wonder sometimes how my sisters and I turned out so normal (relatively speaking, of course). Carrie and I especially were quite odd. When most little girls our age were playing princess and teacher, we made witches' potions in the backyard. We would fill our turtle sandbox with water, mud, leaves, pinecones, and whatever else we could find, and pretend we were evil witches, and the strange backyard concoction was our potion.

We would also pretend that we were from another country when in public. I remember several occasions where we donned cheesy British accents in the grocery store, and faked being fluent in sign language in the post office. Lovers of attention much?

We loved Disney movies, and on more than one occasion made promises to each other to watch a certain movie (such as Beauty and the Beast and The Swan Princess) every single day. Our mom started hiding our VHS's after a few months. We loved the movie Fantasia so much that we used to play it. We would each pick a character (the yellow fairy, or the pretty blue centaur girl) and then dance and flit around just like they did. We would do this for the entire 2 hour movie. Except the dinosaur part, boring!

We were also quite maniacle. Well, to be honest, I was maniacle. Carrie just went along with my evil ideas. We used to torment our older sisters, Daisy and Jeannine by getting into their makeup while they were at school, so our mom put a little lock on the outside of their door. But that led to more shenanigans when we realized that we could lock them in their room. We knew that Daisy had allergies, so when we were angry with her, we gathered dandelions and pollen from the backyard and stuffed her pillowcase (I know, I know, really mean).

And now, the piece de resistance. This may be one of the weirdest things we have ever done.
Our dad built us a little clubhouse out of spare wood, and we decorated the inside with crayons. Instead of drawing flowers and butterflies like any other normal little girls, we decided to use all the red crayons to draw a blood stain on the wall. We then filled a pillowcase with stuffed animals and invited the neighborhood kids to come over. We sat them on the pillowcase (makeshift couch) and told them the chilling story of Wang and Chang, the siamese twins. One day, Wang woke up and foung Chang, his other half, dead. He soon died as well from the shock and terror. We then informed the kids that they were siting not on a couch, as they had assumed, but Wang and Chang's body. And then we showed them the blood on the wall. Needless to say, they weren't allowed to play with us anymore. We didn't care, we liked each other better anyway.

Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem

The last week has been a rough one for us. For some reason, Portia has stopped sleeping like she normally does. She has been waking up more than usual at night, and she is suddenly unable to take naps. Brandon and I have been trying to tag-team it at night, so that we can get some sleep, but wrestling was never one of either of our strong points. We are both still exhausted. Plus, she has been really fussy, which isn't normal. Portia is never fussy (as long as she's been fed), she is generally a really jolly little tub of chubs. I was starting to get worried a few days ago, when the previous night I was up until 3:30 am, and Brandon until 5:30, trying to get Portia to sleep. I started trying to think of things that could be causing this strange behavior. I considered baby insomnia (pretty sure that's not real), and Oh no! Horrified gasp! This can't be the early signs of swine flu, can it?!? Hurry, grab the baby thermometer and check for a curly pink tail! I was stumped. What is making my baby so irritable? And while we're at it, what is making her drool like Niagra Falls, and stuff everything she can get her chubbly little fists on into her mouth? She's biting more than Sunny Baudelaire!
Wait a minute. Drooling, chewing, not sleeping, and fussing. 1+1+1+1=TEETHING!
She hasn't broken the gums just yet, but I'm sure that we will have some pearly whites soon!

baby photoshoot

One of my friends is an aspiring photographer and took some pictures of Portia. These are my favorites.

smiling baby

This is the best picture of Portia smiling that I have. She's beautiful.

oooooh sonic.

Tonight, my Carrie-sister reminded me of the main reason I hated my high school job as a Sonic carhop: my fellow employees. For some reason, Sonic has a reputation of hiring some of the dumbest people on the planet. Carrie and I worked with some real gems back in the day, let me tell you.
There was Gary, who as a manager, couldn't count back change. He also never washed his hair. Ever. Then there was his dad, Marty, a 50-something ex-con who only had 4 teeth. He offered to set up a double date with Carrie and I. Gary was the other choice. No thanks.
There was Sam, who came to work so stoned that he put his hand into the fryer instead of fries, and then wondered why he got fired. And his girlfriend, Tia, who's best quality was that she was a question-talker.
There was Dannyjones, who looked like a pterodactyl (not at all an overexaggeration) and had the IQ of a rock. Not to mention an extraordinarily large backside that he was both proud and self-conscious of. And there was M-ichael B-arnes, who ate sonic so much, that he gained several pounds and couldn't put his arms to his sides. He still thought he was hot stuff, strutting around and flirting with all the girls.
And last, but certainly not least, Javier, whose nose hair and mustache were connected, and who was suspiciously friendly to all the carhops.
I am not sad that I don't work there anymore.

more like "city of crap"

Tonight I watched the movie "City of Angels" for the first time. If you've never seen it, and want to, don't read this.
So Nicholas Cage is a guardian angel, and he falls in love with Meg Ryan, a surgeon. He finds out how to show himself to her and communicate with her, but he can't feel her when they touch and he can't be in a real relationship with her. Because their lives are so different, she tells him that she can't see him anymore. She has to move on with her life without him. So he opts to throw away his angelic life and duties, and become mortal. They finally get together, and one day later, Meg Ryan gets hit by a bus and dies. The End.
Really? She dies? Could this movie have ended any worse? They couldn't have just lived happily ever after like any other romantic drama? I was thoroughly disappointed. If you want a tearjerking romantic movie, pick The Notebook.

maybe I'm biased but...

Our daughter is the cutest baby ever.

Cujo lives upstairs

Ah, the joys of apartment life. Our bedroom wall is adjacent with the staircase of the apartment directly above us. I think our upstairs neighbors are a couple of guys, I've never actually seen them. They are quiet enough, except for the occasional late-night run up and down the stairs, which we can hear quite well. But I do know that, whoever they are, they have dogs. Ugh, dogs.
Don't get me wrong, I actually love dogs. Someday, when we have a yard, we might have one. But I hate these dogs. It seems that every single time I get Portia to sleep and lay down for a nap myself, they start barking and whining. They too run up and down the stairs, and have woken me and Portia up several times. Today was especially bad. They would run form one end of the apartment to the other, down the stairs and back up again, over and over, all the while barking as much as possible. I could hear them through the walls and ceiling, and coming through the baby moniter from the other end of the house. And this is all while their owners are home (I heard them tromp up the stairs as well). I never could sleep, and I'm surprised my baby didn't wake up more than she did.
I want to knock on their door and be the annoying neighbor who tells them to keep it down. I mean, my newborn is quieter than their dogs! Of all the people in this apartment complex to have the noisy dog neighbors, it had to be the sleep-deprived brand new parents? Really?

lovely day for a wedding

A few weeks ago, Brandon and I celebrated not only our daughter's birth, but also our first wedding anniversary! It's amazing to think that we've been married a year already! I'm going to be cliche and say that it seems only yesterday that we were 16, and I was secretly pining over him at the stake dances. Here's our story, as I remember it.

My sister, Carrie, and I always loved the stake dances. They were our monthly date night, with each other. We would spend several hours getting ready, playing music and dancing while we meticulously did our hair and makeup. We were never late, we had to dance to every song they played. When we weren't asked to dance during the slow songs (which was often), we would dance with each other. We never really cared if the boys liked us, we were there to have a good time regardless. The only boy we ever wished would dance with us was Brandon.
Brandon was the heartthrob of every girl in the stake, even some of the older girls. He was tall and mysterious, and the quarterback of the football team. His dark features made him the epitome of "tall, dark, and handsome," and we were all lovestruck. He would walk into the gym at the dances, and our hearts would stop. We would blush and giggle, and congregate together to discuss how beautiful he was. I remember thinking that he was so cute, that he had to have at least 5 or 6 girlfriends at his high school, and would never stoop to think of any of us, especially me. I could never work up the nerve to talk to him.
After we graduated, I went away to BYU, and Brandon went on his mission. When I came home for Christmas and summers, I would pass Brandon's missionary plaque on the wall of the stake center. I'm sure my friends were annoyed with me, because every time I did, I reminded them of how cute he was and how we all loved him. I even thought of writing him a few times, even though we had never spoken, but I talked myself out of it, for fear of being the creepy stalker girl. I often found myself wondering how his mission was going, and hoping he was alright.
Finally in May of 2007, after 2 years at BYU, I moved back home to go to school in Tulsa. I dated a little bit that summer, but nothing ever worked out. One night at institute, I found myself expressing my frustrations with a friend about dating, when one of my old high school friends, Katie, came running to find me. She informed me that Brandon Rawlinson was home from his mission, and was here tonight! Sure enough, there he was, as cute as I remembered, and I immediately fell back into my giggly high school self, turned a deep shade of scarlet, and was suddenly extremely grateful that I had worn something cute that night! I made up my mind then and there that I was going to talk to him. And I did. After the lesson, a group of us stood around chatting, and I found out that he had only been home a few days. We started talking about a dance that following weekend in Stillwater, and Brandon was asked if he would go. He said he would and we all agreed to carpool together.
The weekend came, and we all met for the dance, and crammed ourselves into a tiny car. I was in the backseat next to Brandon, practically sitting in his lap we were so smooshed. I was a little nervous to be sitting by him, but that soon went away. I was so comfortable with him, and we chatted all the way to the dance. When we arrived, I could tell that it was all a bit overwhelming for him. After all, he had been off his mission less than a week, and was suddenly at a crowded dance where he knew no one. I felt like I needed to stay nearby, so that he would feel comfortable. We sat and talked with each other all night, and after years of pining, I finally danced with him! On the way home, I was exhausted. As I fell asleep on Brandon's shoulder, I remember thinking "I should lean to the other side, I'm going to burst his missionary bubble," but sleep won out (that and the fact that I'd had a crush on this boy for over 5 years), and I slept on him the entire way home. As we drove into Tulsa, he held my hand, and as we all left to get into our separite cars, he kissed me.
From that point on, we were an item, and I was thrilled! Within 2 or 3 weeks, I knew that either I would marry this boy, or he would break my heart. Fortunately, he felt the same way. we began to talk about marriage early on, and by Christmas Eve, we were officially engaged. We were married June 13th, 2008, in the Oklahoma City Temple.
I am so grateful that I get to spend eternity with Brandon, he has been a blessing to me in so many ways. The last year has been a little crazy, we've moved 3 times, both started school, and had a baby! But I couldn't ask for a better person to experience it all with!