Funny Kid

 

Henry and Clay July 2014

Henry's funnies lately:

Getting after his siblings for not letting him watch one of his shows.

Henry: Fine! I'll go watch my shows in mom's room - by myself!

(walking away) Come on, Olivia.

Henry came with Rylee, Clay and I to tour their middle school, yesterday.

Showing us the Art Room, the 8th grader leading our tour, says: you'll have class time over on this side, but you'll move over here when you get to do things like clay projects. It's pretty cool when you get to do stuff with clay.

Walking out of the art room, Henry: Does he know my name, too?

Henry clearly doing the 'potty dance'.

Me: Henry go potty.

Henry: I don't need to go potty, I'm doing the chicken dance.

We Are Here

 

We are here now, entering our 4th week here in the Garden State. What a ride it has been. Interesting I say ride, because I try and avoid driving at all costs ;) Oh man. That's a post for another day. It is a different world out here.  One that I need to try harder to find the best in...there are beautiful trees, a Dunkin Donuts on almost every corner (love me a Boston Cream), and I still can't believe how close we are to NYC. Every time I catch that skyline, it takes my breath away.

Anyway, I'm hoping to post here (much) more often and keep track of our adventures here in the Northeast. I hope you'll come along. Through the good, the bad, and maybe even the ugly.

Something that brought me comfort this week was from a missionary, Sister Bair, quoting her former Mission President, "God only sends the best to Jersey."

I will take it. And that, just may see us through.                       

 

These cute kids making their way through Denver International Airport

XOXO
Honey

Oh, the piles.

 

Hardly an interesting post to start with after so many months, but man, have I struggled with laundry lately.

I've had the thought - more than once, that if someone would have shown me what the laundry piles looked like for 8 people, would I still have had 6 kids?

Really?

Rylee and Clay have started doing their own laundry. I'm sure they grew tired of waiting for their dear mother to do it. I have found solace in knowing that I am not alone - letting (clean) baskets of laundry hang around for a week or two . . . bless those honest women.

 

For now, I will just have to trust President Monson.