Bait and Switch

Not to brag or anything, but I can be a pretty good gift giver at times. I sometimes cross paths with just the right thing.... for just the right person.
And this Christmas, I feel like I hit the nail on the head for Yosh....

He experienced his first massage ever on December 15th, 2012 and it only took one.... he was sold. And don't you worry, I took eager note....it was an easy target for someone who had yet to buy a Christmas gift with only 10 days to spare. And that is how the bundle of massage gift certificates was birthed. 9 to be exact.
Can't think of a better gift....

to use for a girls day.

2 down, 7 more to go.
I could have never known that was the exact gift I was needing.

Close your Eyes, that's when I Appear

They say love finds you when you're least expecting it. Kind of a depressing thought for an over-aware love seeker. I was looking for love around every corner I turned, daring it to sneak up on me and surprise me, despite my superstitious belief that I was sealing my own fate.

I was dating this one guy, where we had more crazy connections than I could have ever dreamed of, and I knew that our relationship was a lot more than coincidence. It was meant to be, baby!

It was meant to be....minus the fact that he was super hot and cold with me, unpredictably on and off. And that last little thing...the one of him breaking up with me when we were on our way- literally 5 minutes away- from my brother's house for dinner. Wish I would've had the nerve to send him on his happy way with an empty stomach. Other than all of that...it was meant to be!

One week after the break-up, we were hanging out/seeing each other for the first time when my phone rang. And let me tell you, it was from one awkward conversation to the next! Some guy was on the other end, taking his sweet little time to even say hello. After getting out his greeting, along with participating in some background giggling, he finally deemed it time to start the conversation with me. The end point being, he wanted to take me out on a date.

Which should have been a dream come true for a lonely heart like me. But here was the problemo: I was sitting in the car with the guy that was surely right for me- he just didn't know it quite yet. Second issue being that I hated dating. Not that I ever went out on dates, but I was definitely more the hang-out-and-get-to-know-each-other kind of girl. I  was veeeerrrryyyy uncomfortable with the thought of spending an allotted amount of time with someone I had no idea whether or not we would connect. And guess where he was asking me out to?

A Cardinals game.
And dinner.
Not the shortest date in the world.

After skirting full-on commitment, I told him I would call him back. I went ahead with being my indecisive self, trying to come up with a legit reason to say no-- not because of him...just because of.....well, dating. But no dice. I had no reason to say no.

So the next day, I anxiously awaited rain, my only hope for canceling this outing. In the meantime, I tried to recall any details from our engaged {?} 5 minute conversation from the day before. After all, I was the one who took it upon myself to shout from a mile away, "HEEEEYYYY.....aren't you Lucas's friend?" Lucas had told me he had a friend coming in town and this lone boy at church looked the part to being that friend. So I said hi. Because I'm friendly.

And said friend called me because he was lonely. Lucas was busy being a committed employee which left his friend rolling solo for the weekend. That much I remember from our conversation. Which I'm sure is what prompted his introverted self to call a stranger and ask her out.

Alas, no rain came and I was committed to 4+ hours with an {almost} absolute stranger....

{there's still time to win a hot purse...come check it out!}

What Happens in Between Diapers and Depends

Considering the fact that Yosh calls me from work on average about, maybe 3 times per week, you can imagine my curiosity when I glanced at my phone to see that I had not only 2 missed calls and voicemails from him, but a text also. "Please call my work phone asap."
That was reason enough to stop the cart mid-aisle in Costco and push the freeze buttons on the four kids I had hanging from either the cart or myself, and attend to my curiosity.  I immediately pushed the 10 digits that connected me to my husband. 
"Hey." I've always been a sucker for wanting to know the unknown and that one spoken syllable told him I was ready for it.
"Did you get the email I sent you?" he asked me.
"This morning? That you're not feeling good. I did--"
"No, the one I just sent you."
"Well, no. But now that we're on the phone can't you just tell me whatever it says?"
"No, I need you to read the email and then call me back."
 What does he have to tell me that he can't say out loud? Did he just get fired? Did someone else get fired? Did someone die?
Well, these are the little moments in life that get my head spinning, where curiosity instantly shifts from 'oh fun and so excited' to...something's not right.
I quickly hung up the phone and waited for my emails to load on my phone before I opened the message:

Josh Hansen	12/31/12 (2 days ago)
to me

I need new clothes as soon as you can deliver, socks too

At which point, the hugest, most sympathetic smile robbed my face. There was no doubt in my mind that Yosh had caught what Deeter's been struggling with for the last few months- the ability to successfully get his poops in the toilet 100% of the time. The big difference being that Deeter still has a reliable back-up for his moments of weakness....it's called a diaper. Yosh, erroneously or not, graduated from diapers years ago. And there wasn't anything there to catch his slip.

The kids picked up on the change in energy as I told them we needed to double time it out of Costco.

"But, Mom, what's going on?"

"Well, Daddy's not feeling good and he needs us to help him. He needs some clothes."

"But why does he need clothes?"

And this is when honesty becomes not so black and white. Do I want to lie to my kids? Absolutely not. But with telling the truth, I'm running a big risk. That being, do I want my kids to tell every person we see for the next 2 days that Daddy crapped himself? While I might find this quite humorous, I'm not sure Yosh would- as I'd yet to ask him how he feels about the situation- and I've got a responsibility to watch out for my baby daddy.

So, I just repeat the same statement-- daddy's not feeling good and we need to get clothes to him.

We're rushing to the check-out line, and on the way looking for an outfit-- any outfit-- that will remedy the situation. Going home would've added an extra 40 minutes to delivery time, and let's be honest, 40 minutes is a loooooong time to be stuck in "soiled" clothing. So in true Costco style, we hurriedly picked up shorts and a shirt, one six pair of socks, and one three pair of underwear. And a bag of Depends just in case.

With the requested goods in hand, I stood in the elevator, making my way to the third floor to complete the deed. The doors opened and I saw my humble husband standing there in wet, wrung out pants, anxious for a change.

 The Hansen's have a family saying that originated from his dad and uncle....

Never trust a fart after 35.

Yosh long ago edited this saying after learning the hard way....

Never trust a fart after 25.

Maybe now he'll start taking his own advice.

{If you missed yesterday's post, go check it out!}

What to do when someone pops the question...

I can't tell you when I started dreaming about the day I would say "I do" to that special someone. But I'll have you know, it was right up there with how much I used to think about when I was going to get my next split cup slurp. And one summer, I averaged about 10 of those bad boys per week. No need to remind me that there's only 7 days in a week....
Point being, I remember always being very curious about who I would marry. I wasn't necessarily in a huge hurry to become a Mrs, but my curious nature was just a itching to know that important detail of whose Mrs I would be.
It didn't take long after meeting the Yosh that I thought perhaps...this would be the boy I'd be sealing the deal with.

So come one fall day in October, we- Yosh and I- were out the door to do do a little golfing. Golfing, what?!! I know. I'm not a golfer. Like at all. But please tell me, what spells love more than a stalwart gentleman teaching his lady the proper way to swing a golf club? Him having to hold her close to demonstrate the proper form, again and again......and again. I'm here to fully confess that golfing rivals the most romantic of outings....if done properly!
So basically, logistics aside, we were going to stand extra close to each other, get in a lot of love and affection, and chalk it all up in the name of golf. And all that was going as planned, when Yoshi suddenly dropped to one knee and switched the golf ball out for a small rectangular box and placed it squarely on the tee. The change of events registered quickly and I instantly knew what was going on.
And so I did as any nerve-infested girl would do. I started giggling. And slowly backing away. And giggling more. And backing away.
Yosh begged me to return back to the picture frame as it was getting kind of awkward kneeling all alone by the golf tee. As I made my way back to the props-- you know, the boy and the knee and the ring--, my nerves were still in overdrive and I was completely intoxicated with the giggles. One might say insanity? had taken over. At least that's what I'll be claiming til the day I die because what I did next could have made me a murderer faster than I could even become a wife. 
I found myself back by his side and unconsciously I drew that golf club back as the master himself had taught me to do, I let out a giddy "You're making me nervous!!!!"- excessive explanation marks intended-, and swung at Yosh's head with the precision of a novice golfer. You know, kinda like when you get all giddy and throw a light little playful punch. Along those lines. But....think golf club and maybe not too light....whoops. Yosh's eyes were as big as...well, just regular eyeballs but whatever, he has small eyes.  And he was just as confused as any Alzheimer-stricken grandma. The last thing a humble man expects to happen when you propose to the girl you love....is for her to take a strike at you. That's just not how the storybooks have it spelled out.  But despite his dazed and confused state, he managed to matrix back, avoiding the blow of heavy metal and face. And instead of kissing his face for the next few hours and calling everyone and their dog to tell them about our merry engagement, I would've been driving him to the ER, hoping that a plastic surgeon was on call to fix this whole, big misunderstanding.
I finally found it in myself to say yes, that yes I would marry him. More bewildering was the fact that he accepted my acceptance of the proposal even though he was quite sure I had nearly decapitated him. Because, let's be honest, a re-nig on the deal would've been understandable.
So the secret is out- the real foundation for a solid marriage...do something super crazy that scares the crap out of your man and makes him question your insanity. That way, anything else you do down the road pales in comparison. Take it from us. Today we're celebrating 9 years under our belt and are still going strong.

Because we all Need a Friend

When Yosh and I first met each other, we lived in two different states. And in between our weekly or bi-weekly sightings/dates, I learned a lot about him through Lucas, bka The Match Maker. I remember going downtown with Lucas on July 3rd, three days after my first date with Yosh, and as we sat there watching the fireworks show, he informed me, "If you marry Yosh, you'll be marrying into a great group of friends." And he was being dead serious. 

Now take your pick at which part of that declaration you want to laugh about. I took particular shock in the fact that Lucas was talking marriage to me 72 hours after a first date. And even if we were going to talk about marriage, I wasn't comprehending what friends had to do with it. 

But, as the end of the story is already told, Lucas had the last laugh. I did marry Yosh. And I did marry into a great group of friends. 

These boys are like brothers. I guess. Or maybe just real close friends. But, whatever the relationship is, when they're all back together, it's as if no time at all has passed. Us wives get to listen to the same stories from the archive circulate. We're getting better at knowing when to laugh, when to ignore them, and when to go make ourselves busy with our own conversations. Yosh and I are coming up on 9 years of marriage this year, and obviously a lot has changed in that time. Friends no longer have the luxury of being top priority as we all have families of our own and way more responsibility than we ever imagined in our young, single/newlywed days. That being said, there are enough opportunities to make things happen and keep the love affair friendships alive. This last month either Yosh or I have seen almost all of his people.

And as an added bonus, we get to watch the next generation play together and pick up right where all those boys left off. 

{DJ and Amy were just at our house visiting for a few days. I'm getting real real frustrated that I can't pull any pictures off my camera.}

Recently, a hot topic in our house has been friends. Dallin and Porter are at the age where they're making friends. And, as comes when having friends, you find along the way that some make you feel good and want to do good. And on the contrary, you come across those that frustrate you and bring out ugly competition and make you not feel great. When the boys come home with different stories, we try to help them identify the discrepancy in different friendships. Obviously, I hope they choose to keep those around that help them want to be better people and keep those others at arms' length. 

I look at Yosh and his group of friends, and as cheesy as they are, these friendships have helped each one of them to be better in lots of areas. They're living proof of what good friends can do for each other. I'm hoping my kids can figure out this power and benefit from good friends.

And as they go about figuring this out, I'm hoping I can keep my tongue on a leash and let them learn things for themselves instead of cussing out their little friends that are punks!

stalk AGNG:

Stank

Did you know on average, I hear the yell for 'mom' 783 times a day? How do I know that statistic? Because one day, my imaginary secretary's sole task was to keep track of how many times she heard that call.
The point being this...when I hear someone yell, "Moooooooooooommmmmm," I don't drop what I'm doing and run to the emergency. To the contrary, in fact. I put my earphones in and ignore them the first few times, really trying their dedication, which in turn measures the desperation of the situation. If they are persistent, I answer them and we go from there.
Well tonight I heard the first few rounds- barely, I must add- of someone yelling my name. It took no effort at all to ignore them. But the muffled sound kept coming and at some point- who knows, maybe 5 minutes in- I finally answered and responded to the dispatch. Now I've seen many a sights when responding to calls, but I'd be lying if I didn't say this scene caught me completely off guard.
I opened the bathroom door to see my son with his shorts down at his ankles, 2 inches of water on the ground, and doo-doo brown water filled in the toilet.

imagine this look plus a ground full of pungent water

Pathetic. It's a very pathetic scene to walk into. 
I was just standing there speechless, jaw on the ground. And he was doing the best he could to explain, "I don't know what happened, I flushed and the water kept coming. Someone put too many wipes in there, I didn't do it, I don't know what happened..." You know the drill.
And after his in depth explanation of what did or didn't happen, I was still just looking at the great flood of 2012 wondering how in the world this was caused by a 6-year-old and a lone two flushes. Either miraculous or impossible. I still don't know which word describes the situation. 
When my gawking didn't magically evaporate the disaster, I knew I needed back up. Instantly I started yelling, "Yoooooooooossssshhhh." Unfortunately, he's even more naturally gifted at ignoring me than I am at ignoring the kids. But I'm equally persistent and I got that boy's attention. He came bounding down the steps without the gift of a heads-up either. He entered the scene and mirrored my reaction and shock.
Having already regained my composure, I was in business mode, ready to attack this situation. "Go get the plunger." I know all guys love love love to use 'tools'. I'm guessing the plunger is the exception. But with no other option, Yosh got that bad boy and started on the task of producing a monster suction. Meanwhile, I was on the search for every spare towel in our house to mop up the water before our thirsty hardwood floors did. While doing this, I heard Yosh just muttering and cussing and searching deep in his soul. I returned with my towels and found him elbow deep in brown water, just on the brink of getting it to lower. Quite the feat for someone who prefers to do his house chores with a check book. 
The kids had already been evacuated from the contaminated area but they stood just around the corner, surely taking notes on how we- their dependable, responsible, wise wise wise parents- respond to trauma. Yes, straight-up, undiluted, dirty trauma. 
And we pulled through for our little on-lookers. Yosh emptied the toilet and walked away like a hero as he scooped his daughter up in his arms. I retrieved the SIX....digest that....six beach towels and threw them right in the trash washer before busting out the Costco size bottle of bleach. What is the moral here? Will I now be responding to those 783 'mooooooms' a day quicker? No, no I will not.  I will now first put in my earphones when I hear the call....and then my nose plug.

{ok, no more holding out! Remember this project?  It's time to get cracking and send me some pics of what beginning means to you....agirlnamedgay@gmail.com. And......GO!}   stalk AGNG:

So what we don't sleep

Nature vs Nurture.

DNA vs cra cra.

I don't know where to put the blame in my family's deficiency but make no mistake... we have a problem. An issue.

Within 4 minutes of talking to Yosh upon meeting him, you will definitely know he is an avid BYU football fan. I can guarantee that because your conversation will have ended, dried up, at 2 minutes unless BYU football is brought up. Or unless you're 5'9 with long legs and have a bizarre little twang to your talk. 

Point being, he's half man, half Cougar. And now he's also a dad. Big Papi Yosh. And these boys know the way to their daddy's heart...BYU football. Or, OR....were they born with BYU football already in their heart?

This past week, Yosh would come home from work everyday telling his boys how we was SOOOO excited, how it was hard to get through the work day, how he could barely sleep at night...

because he was anticipating the BYU/Utah football game.

For those of you that are neither BYU nor Utah fans, first of all, I commend you. You are not part of a highly outraged group of people. You probably have a little less hate in your heart than the average BYU/Utah. And you probably sleep 365 nights a year.

That being said, you should also know that this is serious. This game epitomizes "Rivalry Week." There is a lot more riding on this game than just a W. Although a W does induce more pride and adrenaline than necessary. And it's equal opposite induces depression and mourning.

I am not exaggerating. 

This rivalry game also somehow talks you into wearing an awesome vintage suit that is two sizes too small for you.

All for the love of the game.

So anyway, that is the kind of week we were having last week. And the boys, the big boys, the Dallin and Porter boys, they caught onto this excitement as well. 

Friday morning, they were up and at em at the crack of dawn getting ready for school laying out their outfits for the next day. This is a true story. This is all on their own volition. They were getting prepped, preparing themselves on the inside and outside for game day. 

That was Friday, now onto Saturday/game day.

Let me tell you what you don't want to wake up to on Saturday morning. You don't want to wake up to kids at 6 am. But I did, which instantly turned me into the wicked witch as I went flying into their bedroom with my finger already in pointing position telling them to get their tushies back in bed and don't make a sound because it was NOT WAKE UP TIME.

I know, I'm mean. And that's ok, you guys. We're allowed to be mean until 7 am. That's when we put on our big smiles and sweet voices. 

I kinda doubt we even made it til 7 before the whole dang crew was up and at em, wondering 

a) how many hours until the game, and

b) what were we going to do to pass time til the game.

So the torture of actually living continued until it was finally game time, 7 pm PST.

Our living room was mixed with Cougar fans and Ute fans alike in true hoosier style with beach chairs set up.

One moment the crowd looked like this:

Seconds later, like this:

I would apologize for the blurry picture, but that denotes action, ya'll. And come a good play {I assume, since I didn't watch a single second of the game, only the crowd's reactions}, half of the room was up in fits, while the other was a depressed mess. And each side took turns passing the emotional baton.
And with such an intense beginning to the day at 6 am and with an even more intense game,  Porter was tuckered out and fast asleep at his daddy's side at the beginning of the third quarter. His excitement of anticipating the game literally robbed him of watching the game. 
And after BYU's third and final loss of the night, with both Bronco Mendenhall and Kyle Whittingham's wife on the field {possibly arguable details but we'll let the boys hash those out} ,Yosh's fate was sealed. 
He would not be sleeping. 
Nature vs Nurture. DNA vs cra cra.
I don't know how BYU pride made it deep inside these boys, but it's there. These boys all got it bad and it's turning this house into insomniacs.  Except during game time apparently.
stalk AGNG:

{WTF}

Actually, I should call this post 

{WTF}- in no particular order. 

Or possibly

{WTF}- in reverse order.

I'm talking about the Yosh Train McGain.

The man in this picture.

Far greater mom than me.

Why have you never seen a picture like this with me and the kids?

Because this scene has never happened!

When I quit my job, I already know who the perfect replacement will be...

{Better yet, maybe I'll get fired. Or take a sabbatical. Or a leave of absence....with pay? Hmmm maybe that is a sabbatical.}

Too smart for my own good.

Yes you read correctly...he's too smart for my own good. 

See, the Yosh Train and I are supposed to share this here driveway.

The other day, after being forced to the street when coming home and finding no room to park his car in the driveway for the 307th time, and after listening to me tell my same ole story- Well, I thought I was going to leave again so i didn't park good but ended up not leaving again...- straight genius left his mouth,

"Gay....why don't you just park good every time."

Problem solved...

smarty pants.

Witty. 

Please note the rocks.

These rocks arrived a year ago. And at the beginning, I ran into them every time I did a legit pull-in-the-driveway-make-room-for-two-cars park job. After displacing these rocks mucho times, Yosh finally put out the request,  "Do you think you could at least hit the rocks backing up on your way out every now and then also?" Something about he was getting sick of moving them back into place......
I mean, seriously, who would've thought I'd land such a prize?  Like, WTF?!!
stalk AGNG: