Eleven.

My boy is eleven. Wowzers. Time flies by. My sister-in-law asked me the other day if I was sad they're growing up so fast. I said, "Not really." I've really enjoyed seeing this boy grow. How did I get SO lucky to be his mom? I figure it's because Heavenly Father was planning on sending me 2 very strong-willed daughters next.

Tag's been saving his money for a go kart and wanted one for his birthday, but Tommy, being the cheapskate (as always), said he'd have to pay for the majority of the go kart and we'd pitch in the rest. My BRILLIANT solution for earning some quick cash?? A birthday party, of course! We had a last-minute party at the lake with a bunch of his buddies. 14 to be exact. I figured it would be great father/son bonding time, so I loaded them up with drinks and snacks and sent Tommy and Craig off. You wouldn't believe the crusties I got from those two. Tommy's words (almost) exactly. "You've GOT to be (synonym of pooping) me!"

The best group of buddies, EVER!

What's a lake trip with the Stapes' family without anyone getting hurt? Maybe we should've had each kid sign a waiver prior.

Cliff jumping.

Tag has the greatest (and in Tag's opinion, one of the hottest) Primary teachers.

The naughty girls blowing out his candles. We had to re-light 3 times.

The Shmamily.

This CanNOT Be Good...

The other day, Keagan had a friend over and they were playing on my computer, listening to music. Somehow, they got onto my gym playlist and the next thing I hear is all 3 girls singing (in perfect tune, I might add), "It's gettin' hot in here - so take off all your clothes. I am gettin' too hot, I wanna take my clothes off!" (good 'ol Nelly). I mean, for real, how did they memorize this song in like 3.2 seconds? I took me 4 months! Luckily, knock on wood, I haven't gotten a phone call from the neighbor mommy, which might or might not be the Primary President. Sheesh! But just in case, I'm trying to think of a way to pin this one on Tommy.

I Love A Good Blackmail Every Now And Then.

No, I'm not talking about the David Letterman scandal. Since my dad's surgery, he hasn't been able to wash his hair or shave for 2 weeks until he had his staples removed, which, by the way, I'm hoping my mom saved. I'd love to whip up some necklace or something with those staples. Kidding. Anyhoo, my dad was quite anxious to get shaved and his hair did. These lovely ladies below apparently make house calls (my dad aka, Ricardo has always been quite the ladykiller and can always talk them into anything).

Pre cut and shave.

Call me weird, but I would LOVE to be a guy for an hour and have my face shaved. I said ONE HOUR. Guys don't get to wear makeup and sexy shoes. Or get to have a period once a month. That's the awesomest part. Again, kidding. Every time I take Tag to the barber, I'm always a teensy bit jealous of the old buzzers that get the hot shave.

I recall a certain "someone" (pictured above), making a stink about me dating a guy with a goatee.

The flavor saver, Tommy's personal fave.

Seriously, could he be more handsome?? (I love the cute little puke bucket in the background).

"I Left My Heart In San Francisco..."

I've been a little M.I.A. lately. We got some not-so-good news a week and a half ago. My dad had been quite sick for a while and my mom finally decided to take him to the hospital in Merced. They found a tumor the size of a lemon in his brain. Not good. They then transported him to UC San Francisco because they have a great neurological team. Kim, Andi and I all decided to fly up and see him. It was a great visit (under crummy circumstances) nonetheless. My dad talked a lot about his regret as a father. He regretted working so much. Not playing as much. All the coulda-shoulda-woulda's. I have NO regrets. None.

Now, it wasn't all tears last week. We had some pretty fun laughs, often at Kim's expense. My dad was on some heavy painkillers and we got to see a different side of him. He told me all about castrating horses with a pocket knife and some turpentine. We played the campout game and somehow my dad got out of alphabetical order and when it got to his turn (which was the letter D), he said he was going to take "Wong-Dong Tommy." Not quite the typical answer you'd hear from a Branch President, but it worked. It got a little raucous after that, you can only imagine all the nicknames for one body part, going down the row alphabetically. I thought Kim was going to pass out (she's the more angelic of the 3 sisters).

One of the evenings got a little too quiet for me, so I texted my mom (who was sitting right next to me) that we needed to pull a little prank on Kim. She was busy blog-stalking on the computer, so we sent my dad in to "go #2 in the bathroom" and my mom was going to "tell the nurse something out in the hall" while I was "going to get a phone call and take it out in the hall." You catchin' my drift? So Kim's all alone in the room with my dad, when he calls out for her and says he needs her help. He needs her to help him wipe. AND SHE DID IT! Well, not totally. She said, "Do you mind if I use a little more toilet paper than you normally use?" She really is the golden child, I tell you. She was actually going to wipe his butt! My mom and I were dying laughing out in the hall, when Kim comes out with a wad of toilet paper with a big brown schmear on it (from my leftover Oreo chocolate pudding surprise) and asked us, "Where should I put this?"

Ok, let's get back on track here. I couldn't have asked for a better father. I love his great example. I love the way he loves my mom. The doctors found a melanoma in his left eye, and have been toying with the idea of taking his eye. He said taking his eye is not even an option, because he needs to have both eyes to see my mom. How sweet it that?

I know it will be a very difficult road ahead for our family. I'm so grateful, more than ever for the gift of eternal families and am grateful to a loving Heavenly Father that listens to my prayers. I know he is very mindful of us.

Thank you for all your notes, visits, texts, flowers and phone calls. I love you all.

Can't Get Enough Of This Place!

Ok, so I'm not calling it an "annual" trip because there's always that possibility Tommy may have pulled one-too-many stunts to get us kicked off and never invited back. EVER. But we got to tag along with the Fishbecks and their posse a few weeks back. Once again, we had a great time.

The Crew

The Loverboys

Randall, always the ladies' man.

The blasted sandhill. I can't say enough how much I hate this part of Lake Powell. Why, on this beautiful earth does everyone think it's Powell tradition to climb it?! No joke, I was still tasting blood a week later.

It would take waaaayyy too long to explain this crazy game Kevin made up, but it involved eating dog food, cat food, 2 homophobes zipped up in a sleeping bag, public speaking/singing and other shenanigans.

Now if only Jason would pony up and be a real man and buy into this sweet pad, I might take back my "Douchebeck" comment. I said 'might Jason, 'might.

1000 Warriors Race

About a month ago, Tommy and the guys rode a craz-nasty race up in Utah. Without going into to details, a fellow friend/rider crashed during the race. Miraculously, he is alive, home and doing much better. There is no doubt in my mind that there was divine intervention that day, and that there are angels here on earth that helped save his life as well.

I'm so proud of these guys that decided to go ahead and finish the race. It was a long, hot, and very emotional day for them, but they knew that Dave would have wanted them to keep riding. I get a little teary each time I see Tommy finish each race, he works so hard at it, even though "Miss Cervelo" has become his "other" girlfriend lately.

I Got Duped.

I um, well, um, I'm speechless. Tag visited the dentist yesterday and had a few teeth pulled. This morning when Tag woke up, I asked him if the tooth fairy had stopped by for a visit last night. This is what I found. My boy's all grown up (or so he thinks). Tag thinks he's got it all figured out. It's a sad day in the Stapes' household. I think Santa's next.

May I Make A Recommendation?

I have a confession to make... I'm back on the sauce - the Diet Coke bandwagon.  I can't help it.  We have a love affair going on.  I can't stay away.  And just to add fuel to the fire, Lorie Tucker introduced me to the new metal Slurpee straws from 7-11.  Oh. My. Goodness. I couldn't believe there to be anything more glorious on earth than my new purple "too inappropriate for church" shoes.  But I was wrong.  Dead wrong. These babies come in a wide variety of colors.  I chose pink, it looks SO good on me.  I think I'm in love.  Don't walk, RUN to your nearest store.

"99 cents of pure awesomeness."

Metal Slurpee straw + a Route 44 Diet Coke w/ lime = a marriage made in heaven.  Welcome back, my  darling Diet Coke. How I've missed you.

I Won The Bet.

Last night, we watched the last few minutes of "Entertainment Tonight." Random, I know. Anyhoo, Tommy and I had a bet regarding the mystery celebrity birthday. I don't remember the question, but the 3 choices were Posh Spice, Geri Haliwell and Mel B. Tommy picked Posh and I picked Geri Haliwell. And there was a lot at stake. If Tommy won, he wanted, well, what does my Tommy always want? If I won, I'd get a pair of shoes. I had every finger and toe crossed at this point. Now, there are 3 games you don't want to play with me. I win EVERY time. 1) the car guessing game, 2) the radio station game, and 3) anything to do with celebritydom. Don't mess.

So of course I won, and I've been eyeing these little beauties for quite some time now. Even before the blogging world saw them here. So the burning question is this: Whattya think?? Tommy hates them, what's new? He thinks they're hideous, stripperific, too 80's punk rock. And VERY inappropriate for church. I think they're ferosh.

A Pleasant Surprise...

So, I get a phone call this afternoon from my dear friend, Tina.  She said they were going to California for 6 days and told me to get Swayze's bags packed because they were stealing her.  And she wouldn't take 'no for an answer.

Now, it's funny because I had just had a conversation with someone about how my idea of a perfect vacation would be to have an empty house (for a few days only, of course) with just me to myself.  I always get a little envious of Tommy when I go out of town with the kids because I'm thinking to myself, 'lucky dog.  He gets to come home to a clean, quiet, empty house.  He can watch whatever tv shows he wants, he gets the whole bed to himself, etc., etc. (I know I'm sounding like such a loser wife/mother right now, but just a few days wouldn't hurt, right??  And to be completely honest, I sleep much better when he's gone.  I could do without him molesting all night long.)  Well, now that my little Weezie is gone, I'm sitting here, biting my nails hoping she didn't puke all over Tina's car on the ride to Newport, hoping she'll sleep through the night, hoping Tina's girls will put enough sunscreen on her so she won't get 3rd degree burns at the beach, and praying she won't get eaten by sharks (it is, after all, "Sharkweek" on the Discovery Channel and Tag has made me watch one-too-many episodes).

I think everyone needs a "Tina" in their lives.  Just not MY Tina.  You can't have her.  She's taken.