Happy Birthday Big Guy

This year I was too sick to do a big family party. We ended up making pizza, opening presents, and eating cake (shamefully purchased at Costco) at grandma's house. I am saving my energy for the kid party this Friday. Should be a doozy!

Huh?

I was just told by my (almost) nine year old to stop using the word "shout" (in reference to him shouting all the time) because that word is SO 1937.

I don't know where he comes up with these things.

Oxymoron...or just moron

It is General Conference weekend once more. A weekend of church I look forward to every six months. Sure, you get to hear from living prophets, apostles, and other generally awesome people. But best of all, you listen in your jammies, in your bed, eating giant frosting-covered cinnamon rolls.

I always love listening to GC and every April and October I turn it on in the hopes of being truly edified, invogorated, and spiritually fed. However, inevitably my children start shouting, hitting, crying, whining, tattling, begging, and/or pestering just when the point of the talk is reaching it's peak. Therefore, I end up shouting, yelling, threatening, punishing, and generally driving out any good the talk was doing in a misguided effort to shut them up as fast as I can to hear what was being said. It...happens...every...time. It...happens...every...talk. They...just...know.

Thus, every General Conference I go in hoping to take 2 spiritual steps forward, but end up taking 3 spiritual steps back. Why do I even bother?