Wednesday, February 16, 2011

A Child's Wish Ten Years Too Late


When Tracy and I saw this bag of off-brand Marshmallow Mateys, which ironically is an off-brand itself, our inner children jumped at the chance to eat a bowl with tons of marshmallows. When Tracy poured the first bowl, we started to regret it.

Okay. This will be fun . . .

Monday, February 7, 2011

Superbowl: A Family Event

Tracy and I will probably always struggle just a little with sports in our home. I like sports, but having SportsCenter and several games on every day is boring for me but relaxing and fun for him. But one thing we have agreed on is no sports on Sunday. We agree that Sunday should be a day of relaxation, peace, meditation, and family unity. But he really loves sports. So we have compromised that he cannot watch sports on Sunday except the Superbowl, but we will watch the Superbowl as a family--and the Wulfs will either go big or go home with it (even though we will be home when we watch it--sorry, bad joke).

In our second year of Superbowl Super Sunday, Tracy made his first round of jerky with his new dehydrator. His carnivorous eyes glowed with excitement all weekend.



In my family, we have an inside joke. Whenever my mom made roast on Sundays, her friends could always tell because the smell lingered in her hair and on her clothes for the rest of the day. I felt the same was going to happen to me. I wish the internet could communicate and transfer smells and their intensities. Usually after I've been in a room for awhile, I become accustomed to that smell. The jerky smell never went away! It was a good smell but a strong one. Interestingly, I went to a baby shower later that day with 6 or 7 pregnant women. I didn't know whether they would crave the smell and sniff my hair, try to lick me in hopes that the flavor also transferred, or just barf on me. Luckily, my "smell-pretties" (as Tracy calls perfumes and colognes in his child-like way) seemed to cover up the smell enough. No awkward moments or barfing.

Now to the main event.

Look at all this food. No we didn't eat all of it--we didn't even put a dent in it. There were only two of us! But we wanted options, and we had many!



Thank goodness the Packers won; otherwise there wouldn't be peace in the Wulf household for a long time. During the football game, however, I found that convenient times to go to the bathroom or do other things were mostly during the game itself, so I wouldn't miss commercials. :)



I'm excited that we are creating our family traditions. The Superbowl is a common one, but it still shows that we are consciously choosing and creating our own.

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Blogging

I read this fascinating article the other day about blogs--Mormon women's blogs to be more specific. I'll give you a few minutes to read it.

http://www.salon.com/life/feature/2011/01/15/feminist_obsessed_with_mormon_blogs

At first I felt an interesting mix of emotions.

I like this new-found respect for the thriftiness, happiness, and creativity of stay-at-home Mormon mommy bloggers, even if only for a momentary fantasy from a hectic work schedule. Even if some non-Mormon women only envy the happy family life portrayed in Mormon mommy blogs during what they consider stressful, "the grass is always greener" moments, at least others can recognize that family life can be happy. I believe that family is not the only way to feeling fulfillment, but I feel that it can be the most fulfilling endeavor in life through effort, love, communication, and compromise.

I also felt awkward that strangers would read the blogs of people they don't know and look at photos of kids they don't know. That's kinda . . . weird and creepy! I don't read strangers' blogs unless they have a legit business of some sort.

I'm sure that some of the Mormon mommies read this author's article and momentarily wished they had a career, a quiet and clean house, and no obligations once they got home, but then they, too, would realize that they just like daydreaming about it, that they love their lives, that they wouldn't trade what they have for anything.

To each her own.