Well, well, wellies.

Growing up in England & Eastern Canada, I saw my fair share of rain. I kind of miss it. Don't get me wrong, I love the Las Vegas weather, but rainstorms and the resulting greenery are few and far between here. (Having your cake and eating it too comes to mind here.) But today it was raining on and off for the better part of the day, which was so much fun. I surprised myself when the rain actually put me in a better mood...it's a little backwards, I know. But I got to dust off my wellington boots and splash around in some puddles today, which was a ton 'o' fun.

Poor Teagan hasn't seen much rain in her nearly two years, so she enjoyed watching the pitter patter outside almost as much as she enjoyed wearing my thigh highs.

After an errand that turned into a super fun morning with her little friend, we went for a "walk" in the rain. I was hoping she'd love splashing in puddles and spinning in circles on the wet street. How could I forget crawling on the sidewalk and jumping off our neighbour's rocks, those classic activities one can only do in a downpour? Silly Mummy.

I'm in the process of learning that when things don't go as perfectly as I plan them, they often turn out better. When life gives you rain...crawl in the street.

On this day in history...

A decade ago, a wide-eyed young man stepped off the plane in Sao Paulo, Brazil and into the Missionary Training Center to change his life forever (not to mention boost the average height of the population of Brazil). Elder Brandon Richards went on his mission 10 years ago today and served in Manaus, Brazil for two hot, sweaty years. They say that the harder you work on your mission, the more beautiful your wife will be but I know for a fact that he deserves someone who looks a lot more like Cindy Crawford or Halle Berry. Okay, maybe my "Most Beautiful Woman" reference list is a tad outdated, but my point still stands.
Look at that adorable baby face. It makes me so proud to be able to say that my husband dedicated two years of his life to serving the Lord. When I spoke to my Dad about Brandon for the first time, his first question was "Did he serve a mission?" All the more interesting when you find out that my Dad isn't LDS. But he knows and has seen what serving an honorable mission does for young men and wanted me to marry someone who'd made that sacrifice and had that experience. And boy, am I glad I did. (And I'm glad he survived those two years in the Amazon - the photos scared me more than a little. Tarantulas and snakes and rabid dogs, oh my!) What's scariest are the photos of him coming home at 180 pounds. But that's for another post. Still coming to grips with the fact that we're old enough to be using "mission" and "10 years ago" in the same sentence.

Southwest's Policy on Pole Dancing.

Well, it won't get you a better seat. But it has the potential to make you some friends on your flight. Just ask Teagan.

There isn't much to do while you're waiting to be called to board, so Little Miss Vegas found one of the poles Southwest uses in an attempt for their passengers to organize themselves and put it to another use. She grabbed it with both hands and shook her booty for all she's worth to the raucous laughter of our future fellow passengers.  Ever the entertainer, she soaked up the attention of strangers and squealed with glee as we chased her between rows of seats, in the interest of "getting the wiggles out".

If you've flown in the last few years, you probably know that Southwest isn't assigning seats. (If that's news to you, how's the weather under your rock?) They also allow families with small children (although I once encountered a women trying to pass her 12 year old off as a small child) to board earlier than most, allowing time for stroller folding, Goldfish grabbing, binkie finding and general wrestling.

Typically sane people tend to avoid the rows claimed by small children, a fact I was counting on since our flight wasn't full. No such luck. A glutton for punishment sat beside us (a kind-hearted Brandon left the aisle seat open, much more compassionate than his jaded, hard-core traveler wife) and proceeded to fall asleep at the exact moment Teagan unleashed a stink bomb. So I didn't feel bad [forcing Brandon into] asking him to move so the potty train could pass through...right? 

Teagan did incredibly well on the flight, sitting on her dad's lap the entire time. Her neurotic mother had been losing sleep for weeks worrying that she would be Baby Hulk on a plane. I lived and breathed Pinterest, trolling for busy bag ideas and scouring the dollar store for anything that might distract her from wanting to scream. With a full-to-the-brim backpack that rivals Dora's, I was packin' Dora & alphabet magnets complete with a small cookie sheet, colouring books and printed colouring pages, finger puppets, new books, all wrapped in Christmas paper, hoping that unwrapping them would kill some time. She's been an angel every time we've flown in the past, but a few months makes a world of difference when it comes to small children and I'm nothing if not prepared. I found a steal on a Dora DVD, filled to capacity with 8 (instead of the usual 3-4) episodes and resorted to it halfway into the flight when all of my tricks consumed a quarter of the time they were intended - epic fail. Speaking of failure, is there anything worse than finding out that your laptop doesn't play the DVD while you're on the flight with a squirmy toddler who's jonesin' for Dora? I submit there is not. Luckily, I packed another one - tried, tested and true and all was right with the world.

The flight home after our holiday (don't worry, I'll report on the antics soon enough) was a different story. There were 24 people on our flight. 2-4. We picked a row and for the most part, people actually kept their distance...aside from the drunk couple in the middle of inappropriately loud breaking up and eloping at the same time. Could have done without them. I'd arranged for my in-laws to bring their personal DVD player, much less cumbersome than our laptop and holds a charge for much longer.

So equipped with her own seat, a new Dora doll and a Dora movie, things couldn't get better for Teagan. That is, until they brought the snacks - Nilla Wafers! And then the drink cart came and put her over the edge. We were all flying pretty high.

With a San Francisco trip around the corner and a 5 hour flight to Canada (on my own) on the horizon, I'm going to save myself the time, tape and trouble and count on people avoiding our row like the plague so we can watch Dora in peace.

Buddy vs. Arachnis Deathicus

We have a house guest of the unwanted variety. The seven-legged variety. (He had eight legs before his run-in with Buddy the other day.)

I'm writing about this on one condition: I don't make Brandon look like a wuss. I plan instead to paint a picture of the concerned, protective hulk of a man that he is.

One day last week (I can't tell you exactly when, but I'm sure Brandon could because he hasn't slept well since) he noticed a disconcertingly large, black spider lurking between our bathroom cabinet and the wall. There were several failed attempts at squishing the arachnid with a shoe. Between said attempts, Brandon would pretend not to be distracted while we read or watched TV, all the while imagining himself in the spider's (several pairs of) shoes, plotting the demise of the Richardses.

The next evening, we held a photoshoot with arachnis deathicus, who (shocker) was uncooperative and difficult to capture. *rimshot* We were trying to identify the thing so we know whether or not to be concerned for the resident owner of tiny sausage fingers that seem to be able to find crevices, large and small. Only managed to get one, blurry shot, but if you have thoughts, please share!

Fast forward a tense night or two, I'm in bed reading when Brandon calmly and quietly walks out of the closet with one of my shoes. He was out the door before I recognized the weirdness of the scenario and followed him down the stairs, to discover that he had fastened my blue Croc (from our EFY days - perfectly matched my blue polo) to the end of the broom and was pouncing like a jungle cat at the lair of the beast. Not a wussy bone in his body.

Some sweet friends gave us some intense bug spray and Brandon's only hesitation in using it is that he wanted to be responsible for and witness the spee-ider's demise. He wanted to be sure that it was, in fact, deceased and hadn't merely relocated. So he stabbed it with the broomstick. Thanks to his incredible athleticism and hand-eye coordination he connected with the thing. More specifically, with one of his legs. Having separated arachnis deathicus from one of his limbs and rendering it motionless, we celebrated conservatively. It hadn't moved for a minute or two, so we were cautiously optimistic. We went to get a thinner tool in order to extract him. Here's where it gets fuzzy. At the touch of the knife, the spee-ider fell backwards. Whether he moved on his own or was pushed is a question we're still living with today. So we sprayed. We stuffed. We prayed. The blockade in front of his lair hasn't moved, so we're hoping we've seen the last of it.

While I wouldn't say that we have an infestation, we have managed to trap a few other critters around here lately. They're significantly scarier.

Playing Both Sides of the Border

Down the road, I'm sure Teagan will be a proud AmeriCanadian, intent on learning the history of the trio of countries that make her who she is. For now, she's just excited to party twice in one week. 

Our ward hosted a 4th of July Bike Parade in the church car park and we wouldn't miss it...even though she doesn't ride a bike.

I mustered all the American pride a green card holder can possibly muster, along with as much red, blue and white trinkets as I could find. I'd like to think that her Little Tikes "bike" would make immigration proud of me.

Teagan seemed a little more excited about running free in the empty car park than riding around on her pimped-out Patriotic ride.

 

 That and watching everyone else ride around.

There were plenty of things to see, everyone went all out decorating their bikes. They were also great about standing still and posing for a group picture. Teagan couldn't handle it and decided instead to fun towards...my Visiting Teacher, Dynelle. She might love her a little bit.

She thought she was big stuff and braved a scooter. Sure, can't walk a few feet without tripping over her own feet, but let's balance on a razor scooter. It helped that Greg was helping her. While he's our friend, Teagan tends to become paralyzed with fear whenever he's around, so I credit him for her balancing.

Two words for you: Donut Potluck. 'Nuff said. In true Richards fashion, Teagan elbowed her way to the front of the line. Look out.

Can a best friendship go one way? Teagan seems to think so. Poor Roma has no idea that she's Teagan's favourite part of any given ward activity.

Poor Brandon was slaving away at work while T & I were stuffing our faces (not pockets) with donuts and juice. He's required to work a certain number of holidays per year, and opted to work Memorial Day & 4th of July in order to get Labour Day off to spend in Canada with my family. And for all that, his lame wife didn't even save him a glazed.

For a girl torn between three different nationalities, she certainly manages to have a good time.

Canada Day Craziness

In past years, Canada Day has gotten a little lost in the shuffle of the 4th of July. Not this time.
Teagan and I dressed in our finest red & white and celebrated Canada Day at church...singing 'America The Beautiful'.

We were sure to fly the flag we borrowed from some fellow Canadians, a nd when it wasn't flying, it was keeping us warm, cozy and patriotic.

Teagan had it wrapped around her for the better part of the day. It was a little adorable.

Then when the Lady Gaga impressions came out, it became less adorable and more creepy.

I don't know if I've mentioned yet that we LOVE our ward. There are so many reasons, but one of them happens to be the fact that there is a calendar with a kid-oriented activity to do every single day of the summer (save for Sundays, of course). Hikes, movies, swimming, crafts - you name it, it's on there. July 2nd needed to be filled, and being the day after Canada Day, I offered to host a Canada Day Party, complete with party games, cake and crafts. 

We played Duck, Duck Moose.

Teagan thought she knew how to play. Apparently I didn't explain the rules well enough.

We made firework paintings by either rolling paint-covered marbles around in a box or blowing paint through a straw - they all turned out really cool.

We made paper bag beaver puppets. Brandon fancied himself Mel Gibson later on. (In case you missed it, he made a movie with a beaver puppet. I didn't see it and I don't think anyone else did, either.)

We had red & white treats, featuring mostly junk food, but there were some strawberries and red peppers thrown in with the Redvines, Hot Tamales and Hawaiian Punch...which I ended up wearing. I tried to get a picture of me with the cake I've been psyching myself up for years to make. I finally did it, but when I tried to pose with it to prove I made it and didn't just pull a photo off the internet, the strawberries did a sad little slide, ruining the effect. Although a Pinterest picture would have been much prettier, I opted for honesty - so here it is.

I dispelled some myths about Canada, like informing everyone that it isn't always cold. But undid that positive PR when I had the kids dress up in hats, gloves, scarves and winter coats and pose for a photo in front of the Canadian flag. They seemed to have fun doing it, though. It got a little crazy (in a good way) and it wasn't exactly a break for any of the moms, but it was great to see my house filled with fun. We get lonely when it's just the two of us.

I left the flag up for a day or two, taking it down in plenty of time for Independence Day and Teagan had fun letting her Canadian side run wild. 

Have you embraced YOUR heritage today?

None of the above.

Talking to yourself is sometimes the best conversation you can have. Apparently I've been having a lot of important conversations with myself lately. I didn't realize this at first, because someone one the other end of said conversations was nodding their cute, curly blond head and saying "I love the idea of putting money aside each month for a new car. That's a great idea. Let's do that", "You're so smart, my Belle" and other such complimentary things in his deep, manly, Kronk-like voice.*

Fast forward 6 months. Imagine my surprise as I tried to pick up our conversation about a new car purchase and how much we were setting aside each month and I was met with "What? We're already putting money aside for a car? How long have we been doing that?" I'd call it a minor meltdown, but then my pants might catch on fire. I called him out, to put it nicely, and he fessed up that there's a chance he may not have been listening. In his defense, he asked how he could improve. Unfortunately, he put it like this:

"So, in the future, should I just ignore you or pretend I'm listening?" with a straight face.

Um, none of the above. When I pointed out the secret third choice of actually listen, he laughed and admitted that hadn't occurred to him. He can make me laugh even when I'm trying my hardest to be mad. Love that man.

And I quote: "Old movies made this look easier." Love him.

*Did I ever mention that Brandon was mistaken for the voice of Kronk at EFY in 06? After two summers of hearing that he sounded just like Kronk, he joked that he was on vacation from recording and a sweet little girl came up to him and asked him for his autograph. Upon telling her that he was, in fact, kidding she said that she had to go call her Mom to tell her that Kronk wasn't at EFY with her.