I got him for a whole day. That never happens. Mostly because we never make it happen, but Saturday the stars aligned in our favor and it happened.
Getting an early start, our favorite babysitter rang the doorbell before the kids were even out of bed. Matt and I already dressed in layers, whisked ourselves away to the mountains for a day of skiing in Park City.

Dr. Dahl is good on the slopes. Just like tubes and tonsils, it’s kind of like his bread and butter. He loves it and I must admit that he looks very sexy doing it. Something about the way he shreds down the mountain with his skis perfectly together and his hips moving rhythmically from side to side that really gets me going. And then, if that’s not impressive enough, he takes off his ski’s to hike higher because something about skiing where only a handful of others dare to go really gets him going. There was just one thing slowing him down-the gal he climbed the mountain with. OK yes, I was looking for his approval and maybe another invitation to ski with him so I spent the day skiing way too fast and being totally out of control, which, by the way, he says is a good way to ski. Oh, the things I won’t do to keep up with that sexy guy. Now I know why he wears a helmet and before I tag along again I think I’ll be purchasing one too.

I could have called it a day when the lifts came to a halt but those Jazz tickets were calling.  We got home with just enough time to shower and order the kids pizza before we headed out again. Good game only problem was the stadium seats. Definitely not roomy enough to stretch out my aching knees. Hmm, does that make me sound old? I’m blaming Matt. Too many mogals for one day.

A long day. A whole day. I need another day. To do it all again.

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Just because you try doesn’t mean you’ll always succeed. Let me take for example our FHE last night.
At the beginning of the year we chose a scripture we’d focus on as a family and memorize. This year we chose Moroni 7:5.  “For I remember the word of God which saith by their works ye shall know them; for if their works be good, then they are good also.” Of course the kids already know it verbatim, but we apparently will be spending the rest of the year learning what exactly it means. Let me elaborate-

Matt gave a lesson from the Friend “Cease From Anger” (pg 28 if you’re interested). There was a quiz included, which we modified enough to make it more relevant, and with flying colors my kids aced it. Matt challenged them to be more honest and not give the right answer but the answer which more accurately describes how they would handle the given situation. Oops, suddenly the scores dropped exponentially. Sigh. Meanwhile Ellie who is now bored and clearly not listening anymore to this very applicable lesson is yelling at McKenna for touching her toys. Is it wrong to find comfort in the fact that at least they know what they should be doing even it they don’t do it?

Anyway, our lesson ends and we move on to the part of FHE that is the reason the agree to join us Monday nights. Activity and treats. You’d think if we made it this far it would be smooth sailing from here. Typically I’d say yes, especially since we just had a lesson about patience and how we should treat others, particularly sisters. But it was not to be tonight. It was Kyla’s week for the activity so she chose a game which incidentally did not go according to McKenna’s plan, so instead of putting the lesson into action (which should’ve still been fresh in her head seeing that only 2 minutes had passed), she hits Kyla over the head with a pillow. Hum? Not seeing the blow coming her way she was not prepared and Kyla’s mouth bangs into her knee. The results are blood, a missing tooth, tears of pain and tears of guilt. Lovely, just lovely. Actually, it was quite comical and Matt and I were having a hard time keeping a straight face and trying to pinpoint where it was exactly that this night had gone so wrong. Can you guess what next week’s lesson will be focusing on, again?  Like I said, just because you try doesn’t always mean you’ll succeed.  Thank goodness for chocolate. It has a way of smoothing things over nicely!

I’m sure she was somehow guilty too but this li’l rascal walked away sittin’ pretty last night.

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I knew it. I had a captive audience from the title.

I’ve been recovering or I would have told you sooner.

Don’t get too excited though, only one implant for me.

It wasn’t the one I wanted, just the one I needed.

And after flippin the bill for this one, my other two are going to have to wait a while longer.

Dang dental work.

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enough with unrolling the whole roll of toilet paper dude.

Just because everyone laughs doesn’t mean it’s funny!

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I am a self-professed tough and independent kind of girl. But Matt, being a natural antagonist, occasionally likes to argue this point. To demonstrate his opposing opinion of my toughness he’ll throw a punch into my arm that makes me wince in pain. “All bark no bite” he says while rubbing out the dead arm he just delivered to my now burning deltoid. Ahh, but since I’m playing the tough girl card I don’t take a hit lying down. Once the throbbing in my arm ceases I throw my best in his direction but my punch gets little more than “is that all you got?”  Insulting isn’t it? I am strong and capable. My punches might need more muscle behind them but I am quite capable of stepping up to the plate when I need to. Any girl who’s been through medical school and residency with her husband and decides to have a handful of kids along the way learns to step up when needed. It’s fair to say that some skills are developed out of necessity and not just because one had a little free time on her hands while her husband was studying, and rounding, and studying and sleeping at the hospital.
On to my story: He left on Friday. Saturday there were a lot of tears. Sunday there were more tears mixed with some yelling from a frustrated mama as well. Yes, sometimes my patience fails and my emotions get the better of me. When he called the tears only escalated and talking to Dad turned more into a chance to tattle on mom for every mean and bad thing I had done since he left. Really, it’s no wonder he’s not much of a phone talker. Calling only means he gets on earful and a play by play that he wold be happy to do without. Monday I pulled my bootstraps up, had a family “Team Dahl” meeting with the above mentioned criers (which was all of them) and after apologizing, I reminded myself that I am quite capable of managing mine on my own. For one split second I was glad he was gone. I needed to remember what I can do and what he has helped me become. He isn’t the only one who has had 9 years of training in his chosen profession. Although grateful for that split second, once it had passed I wished more than ever that he were home. Because yes, I can do it alone-I just so happen do everything better when he is with me. A lot better.
Moral of my story: So maybe I’m not as tough as the girl I like to claim I am, but I’ll take credit for being smart enough to know I’ve got a good thing. Him. He makes me better. He makes everything better.

We miss you!

Hurry home. These four are eagerly awaiting the return of their “better mom” and their usual awesome Dad.

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