Did you know?  Half birthdays do not require a lot of fanfare, but they do require a certain amount of attention.

To do a half birthday properly, wish a happy half birthday to the half-birthday girl.  Give her lots of kisses and tell her how much you love her.

Then give her a half donut (chocolate please).

If she is an adult (and I am), she can eat the other half after the toddler is asleep.

Happy half birthday to me!  (A few days late.)

And thank you to my husband for remembering and showering me with the undeserved, silly attention I absolutely relish and adore on such a silly day of remembrance.

Some things bring an instant smile to your face.  Like when your almost-3 year old says, “You look so pretty!”  Or when you step outside and feel YOUR perfect temperature, like the day was created just for you.  Or when your husband does an incredibly thorough job of cleaning the refrigerator.

Or when you see a group of kids holding up signs like these:

Today I got a free hug and a few big smiles.

Many funny sentences escape the mouths of the members of my household, especially since one  child often peppers her speech with German and the other is learning to speak for the first time ever.  Some of my favorite sentences spoken by my toddler lately are:

You look soooooo pretty today, little one!

I’ll be grown up in two five minutes.

But my favorite sentence of the week is this:

I think I liked that experience better than getting stabbed in the back of the head.

My husband uttered those words the other day when speaking about his childhood.  Before you think he was abused, let me tell you the story.  Well, the two stories.

When my husband was little, his brother Dave received a pocket knife for a present.  One day, Ryan was sitting in a big cardboard box.  Dave thought it would be fun to use the box to test the stabbing powers of his new knife.  He proceeded to stab the box over and over until…well, until Ryan’s head was accidentally stabbed.  Gross, right?  He’s ok now.  No worries.

And here is the story Ryan says was better than being stabbed in the head.

When he was a teenager, Ryan’s youth group was having a party with a pinata.  My husband’s brother was up to bat (with a METAL bat) and knocked the pinata down on his first try.  My husband, ever eager, dove for the candy while his blindfolded brother thought it wise to beat the downed pinata as hard as he could.  Since he couldn’t see (or maybe he could?), he beat the head of my husband instead.  My husband received a concussion and a mushy head for days.

Such choices for a “Would You Rather…” game, right?

Somehow Ryan made it through his childhood alive, for which I am very, very thankful.  I laugh hysterically when he tells these stories (he’s a very good storyteller.  I’m not a psychopath.), but I find it both funny and very, very sad that he ever uttered those words:

I think I liked that experience better than getting stabbed in the back of the head.

It also terrifies me that I am raising his offspring.

Kristina left a comment telling me that Germans eat french fries with little forks.  Of course, I had to investigate.  So I asked my resident German, “Do you eat french fries with a fork?”  (See what a good investigator I am!)

Her reply: “YES!  IT’S SO MUCH CLEANER THAT WAY!”

I suppose…but it’s not really finger lickin’ good if you’re using a fork.

Turns out Germans eat nearly nothing with their hands.  They’re very clean.  Pizza, french fries, bratwurst, even grilled cheese sandwiches are eaten with forks AND knives!  They also use a knife to scoop their peas onto their fork.  PEAS.  And KNIVES.

A week after Caroline got to the good ol’ US of A, she was subjected to ribs at a family function.  That was a hard one for her to handle, but she did a good job.

Last night, we fed her nachos.  We’ve been teasing her relentlessly about her knife and fork tendencies and she insisted she would show us and eat the nachos with her hands.  She’s here to experience sloppy Americans, after all.  She did amazing.  We promised her we wouldn’t tease her anymore.  So this is my last teasing.  Since it’s the last time, I decided to do it in a very public fashion.

But good job, Caroline.  Good job.

Could you use something uplifting today?  Well then, I’ve got just the thing for you.

Meet Erin Nightingale, 14 year old Californian.  She is nearly 100 % blind.  She can see light, color and shadow, which only sometimes allows her to recognize people and objects.  She was born that way.  She also has limited use of her right hand.

And she is an amazing pianist.

When she was 10, she was staying at her grandmother’s house and was bored out of her mind.  She made her way to the piano and started making up melodies.  She soon found she can play by ear.  BY EAR, friends.  Do you know how desirable a talent that is?

But what about that right hand?  She can’t use her middle or her ring finger when she plays.  She describes the way she uses that hand as “karate chopping” the keys.  You would think that would sound awful.  But it doesn’t.  It’s amazing.  It sounds beautiful. 

She has written 8 original songs and is working on her 9th.  And remember?  She’s 14.  When she composes, she gets an idea in her head, then plays off of it for a while.  After a few months, she realizes she should pray for guidance.  When she does that, it all comes together in a couple of days.  Remember?  This girl is FOURTEEN!

She even attends a public school and gets around almost completely on her own. 

And when you talk to this amazing Erin…you just feel good.  She has a special something.  She is taking piano lessons from a friend of mine and the three of us are currently working on a song together.  I’m so excited to be working with this amazing girl and I can’t wait to meet her in person one day.  So far, we have only spoken over the phone.

Do you want to see how amazing she is?  Yes, of course you do.  Here she is.

Let me tell you about a special hell reserved for high schoolers and their parents/guardians.  Oh, you have a high schooler?  Well, then surely you already know this place.  Don’t have a high schooler?  Prepare and beware.

Of what, you ask?

HIGH SCHOOL REGISTRATION

Do not bring a toddler.  And actually, if there is any possible way for you to avoid this day, DO IT.

I absolutely do not remember high school registration being so awful, horrible, miserable and LONG when I was in high school.  Of course, that may have been because I was there to flirt and look at everybody’s new outfits.  Rest assured, there was no flirting going on yesterday when I took my German daughter to high school registration.  I did, however, raise my eyebrows at a few outfits: mainly the 1980s neon aerobic outfit that walked past me a time or two.

Mostly, however, I spent my 3 1/2 hours (no joke.  THREE AND A HALF HOURS) in Murray High banging my head against the wall (figuratively, mind you. Figuratively).  Let me take you on my journey.

First, we arrived and received a number.  Then, we waited.  And waited.  And waited some more.  Things were going ok because I brought treats, books and stuffed animals for my toddler.

They finally called our number and we were ushered into a hallway where we waited some more.  Then, a door opened and in we went.  We talked to an assistant principal who welcomed Caroline to school.  While nice, waiting an hour to hear, “Welcome to our school and please come to our football games” feels a little less than welcoming.

Then, we waited for somebody to input information into a computer and were told to go wait in another line to pay some money.

Then it was off to pictures, after which we headed to another office where we waited.  And waited.  And waited.  Are you sensing a theme?

Finally, after allowing my toddler to do many bad things (like climb on tables, shout and rip paper) just so I could get some peace and stop saying NO all the time, Caroline’s name was called!  Joy of joys!  We were sent down the hall to…you guessed it…wait outside another office.  Meltdowns were now happening with an alarming frequency and intensity.  Some were by my toddler.  Many were by me.  Caroline was behaving quite well.  Germans are polite.

Finally, we went into the office to figure out Caroline’s schedule.  One meltdown too many and Lydia and I were in the hall where she was getting a firm talking to and I was giving myself a timeout.  While this was happening, the most confusing part of Caroline’s schedule was being explained to her.  She didn’t understand it and because I wasn’t there, I didn’t understand it.  We found ourselves in utter confusion.

Next, it was off to get a locker and finally her books.  We purposely walked out a door that clearly said NOT AN EXIT because I was so fed up and tired that I wasn’t going to look anywhere for another exit when a perfectly good open door was right in front of me.  Some 16 year old kid called out to me that I was going the wrong way, but I pretended I didn’t hear him.

We treated ourselves to Taco Bell afterwards.  It was Caroline’s first Taco Bell experience and, thankfully, after a day of confusion, she liked it.  But she is very happy she will never again have to experience another American high school registration.  I, on the other hand, get to do this again in 12 years.  Does anybody want to get paid to pretend to be me 12 years from now?

Things that are different between Germany and America, according to my uber wonderful foreign exchange student.

• Our refrigerator (which is bottom of the  line) is HUGE!  HUGE, according to German standards.  Let me tell you something: Our fridge doesn’t even compare with my mom’s or my sister’s or anybody’s refrigerator I’ve seen around here because it’s tiny, according to American standards.
• Our stove and oven (also bottom of the line) is also HUGE!  Again, please note: it is tiny, according to American standards.
• Her entire German school could fit comfortably, with wiggle room, in her new American high school PARKING LOT.
• Wal Mart (yes, I’m ashamed I took her there during her first American week, but we needed diapers!  And a bicycle tire repair kit.  Plus, she was happy to go because Wal Mart is famous.) is HUGE.
• Hardly anybody rides bikes in America.
• Coke is too sweet.
• Fanta tastes different.
• American food portions are enormous.

Are you surprised?

Our German daughter (technically, she’s our foreign exchange student, but that’s a mouthful) is here!  She arrived yesterday and the hilarious cultural confusions began happening immediately.

We waited patiently for her to arrive, practicing our sign holding along with several other families awaiting their German exchange students.

Soon, she came off the plane down the walkway with a group of German exchange students and, upon seeing us, immediately turned around to go back the other way.  We called her over to us and smothered her in hugs while she looked to her German friends in confusion and we tried to understand what she was asking them.  Finally, she verbalized what she was worried about. 

“Where is our luggage?” she asked.

It seems that in Germany, you get your luggage right after the plane, while in Salt Lake City your luggage awaits you at the end of the terminal.

Once we got that confusion cleared up, we had a grand time.  Well, in truth, we were having a grand time before we got the confusion cleared up.  It was quite silly.  Plus, we were excited and giddy to finally meet her after so many months of emails.

Her bag (only ONE.  What a packer) came off the belt right away so we were on our way within minutes.

She was hungry, but not for a meal, so we tried to figure out where to take her.  She wanted to walk, so we took her to the Gateway Mall, a lovely outdoor mall in downtown Salt Lake City, and showed her all the restaurants as well as the food court.

Upon hearing the name, “Hot Dog on a Stick,” she became intrigued.  “Why would you put a hot dog on a stick?” she asked.  It’s a very good question. 

She had to try it, so we bought one.  She said the fried part reminded her a little bit of Chinese food.  She’s been to actual China, so I believe her.

We then spent some time downtown and she decided she really likes it here.  We travelled to our house, let her unpack (which she did in record time) and because she felt like pizza, we took her to the best pizza in Salt Lake City, The Pie.  American food is quite heavy, she says.  She’s right.

We continue to encounter cultural differences and it’s oh-so fun. 

She is sweet and kind and talkative and not the least bit shy.  We absolutely adore her.

This is not just a Utah thing, but the first part of this post is directed to people living in and near Utah.  Please, PLEASE don’t stop reading if Utah doesn’t apply to you!  This is important! 

If you live in Utah, have you heard about Candlelight Serenade?  Oh my goodness, if you want to donate to a good cause, go to this concert August 21 (featuring Third Eye Blind, Chris Carraba of Dashboard Confessional, Nick Hexum of 311 and more). 

If you can’t go to the concert, think about giving money to the cause.  What’s the cause?  Ending childhood sex slavery in America.  Yeah, it happens here.  It’s horrifying, terrifying and disturbing as all get out.  But if we pay attention, donate money so law enforcement can focus on combating this dark issue, raise awareness or get involved in the cause in any way, shape or form, we can help end this awful, awful thing.

If you want to know more about the organization that is putting on the concert (and you do!), click here.  Child Rescue is a Canadian and United States organization and the United States director lives right here in Utah.  Lindsay Hadley is a mom to two little boys, is only 27, and is working her tail off to make a difference.  Child Rescue has a goal to reduce child trafficking by 90% by 2020.

Lindsay Hadley, who has travelled around the world working in different humanitarian efforts, said that when choosing how to help disadvantaged children, the choice became so clear to her.  “This child wants to go to school.  This one wants to stop being a sexual slave.  What would you do?”

At www.childrescue.org, you can sign up to donate $3 a week.  Lindsay says that much of what is needed is better resources for law enforcement and with donations, that can happen.  With so many gazillions of causes out there, it’s hard to choose how to help or who to help or if you should help at all.  It can all be so overwhelming. 

 But I urge you (URGE YOU!) to learn about this cause and consider helping however you can, even if it is not in a monetary way.  Simply raising awareness will make a world of difference.  This issue is one that many Americans don’t know enough about.  We MUST know about this in order for it to end.  So tell everyone.  Don’t let anyone ignore that this is happening right here in our own backyard.

Sorry for the lack of posting lately.  A few weeks ago, I was having bursts of creative thoughts at all times of the day and night.  My mind was on overload and I spent a good part of every day searching for paper on which to write my amazing ideas.

So then I bought a cute little idea journal- a place where I could write and store and keep all these ideas.

I was oh-so excited to start filling it.  But then my good friend irony paid a visit (or at least I think it’s irony.  I always thought I understood the definition of irony, but on the TV show Castle, the character Castle frequently bemoans the general public’s lack of understanding when it comes to the definition of irony.) and my idea notebook has sat empty for weeks.

But here’s an idea:  Don’t you love this shirt?

My uber creative sister in law, Raquel, concocted it from her brain and scraps of material.  I should take a closer picture so you can really see how cute it is.  (But I probably won’t.  Along with my lack of ideas, I’m kind of lazy these days.)  Would you pay for a shirt like this?  Cuz I would.  And I think Raquel should be selling these.

I have managed to get a few things written, if you’re interested.  This week, on www.alwayssomethingtotalkabout.com, we’re talking about working moms, work at home moms and stay at home moms.  I shared my frustrating experiences of being a work at home mom and tried to find some positives.

Also, check out my take on the Chase Home Museum at Visit Salt Lake.  You can read my post here.  It’s a delightful museum that more people should know about.  Plus, they do free outdoor concerts every Monday during the summer.  Next Monday is a Scottish group.  We’ll be there, for sure, being the crazy bagpipe lovers that we are.  (Once, in a student apartment, a guy was out practicing his bagpipe on his balcony.  I now realize that was probably a little bit strange for him to do, but I was like a bug to light, I tell you.  I ran over to watch and very nearly went up to his apartment to ask him out on a date.  I am a tidge shy, though, so the date never materialized.  No regrets.  I have the man I want and need- even if he completely lacks any form of bagpipe ability.)