Wes and I went to the Tulip Festival. I had never been and wasn’t sure it would be worth the entrance fee, but it totally was. The grounds were beautiful, the weather was warm, and the air smelled sweet like flowers.

Wes preferred to be out of his stroller, but when he was a few tulip petals met an unfortunate end.

When he wasn’t destroying tulips he was doing a lot of this:

My church calling involves working with the cub scouts and attending monthly pack meetings. At this week’s meeting, because it was Earth Day, the boys recycled trash by making junk sculptures. They were in teams of families, and siblings were encouraged to participate. When they finished each kid stood and shared their creation. It went like this:

– a robot
– another robot
– SpongeBob SquarePants
– a robot in the likeness of SpongeBob SquarePants
– a robot in the likeness of SpongeBob SquarePants wielding a ninja sword
– SpongeBob SquarePants with scissors stuck in his head

You get the idea.

Then the sole team of young girls stood to show what they had made:

– a cleaning supply bucket decorated with flowers, complete with cupholder and toilet brush

I was impressed. Makes me wonder how life will change once we add a girl to our family this summer.

I’m not sure how I got started on this today, but I spent a few minutes re-reading journal entries around the time I met and started dating John. I was barely 20; he was 23.

It started with a sentence I wrote on August 10, 2001: “I have zero prospects for dating.”

Eight days later, on August 18, I realized John would be perfect . . . for my former roommate, Melissa. I helped arrange a group hike to get them together.

On August 19 John and I started talking. The next night we took a walk in the rain. I wrote that I was “still developing and defining my feelings” for him.

Then there was that group hike on August 23. I didn’t write much about it but I recall the day clearly: my former roommate and I spent the whole time catching up and chatting while John hiked a few strides behind us. Melissa and John didn’t hit it off at all. Darn.

The next day he asked me out.

So in 14 days I went from zero prospects in dating to an actual date with the guy I would marry. Not too shabby.

My journal entries are priceless accounts of the developing relationship. I can clearly see our foundation of friendship and trust growing into shy love, and then ripening into the forever kind of love.

I’m not trying to be overly nostalgic; I’m just grateful. Grateful we met and felt so happy together from the very start.

Sometimes we live every day with our best gift and forget how blessed we are to have it.

Wes is 2 1/2. I just bought him his first box of diapers where the baby on front is actually standing and walking instead of sitting or crawling. Wes is really growing up, finally.

He’s tall enough to reach door handles and, if they’re the lever kind, to pull down on them and open the door. This I discovered today at church when he helped himself to a classroom whose door had been closed.

This week he and I went to a farm and he got his first-ever pony ride.

He likes to sort and organize things. Very meticulously. Here he was taking my “I Love Lucy” DVDs out of the cabinet and putting them back in, but sometimes he pauses to examine the DVD box covers. I think he’s looking at the picture of Lucy on the front.

Also notice in that picture his sharp haircut. This morning Wesley’s hair was verging on hippie-esque, so while he was in the bath I tried cutting it. After accepting defeat I let him finish his bath, and when John came in to see why Wes was screaming so much he stayed to give me a hand and hold Wes while I snipped. Wes is pretty good natured, but certain sounds scare him: loud noises make him uneasy, and so does the sound of slicing or cutting. He doesn’t like it when I cut his toast, or slice meat or fruit. So scissors slicing away at his hair millimeters from his ears? Forget about it.

Whenever I cut Wesley’s hair people at church will usually comment when they see him: “Oh, did someone find the scissors? Naughty boy!” “My, what a creative style!” “He looks like such a little boy!” or something along those lines. But I will take the criticism for the crooked lines because much blood, sweat, and tears went into his uneven haircut (actually, we managed to avoid blood. But Wes had the tears, and me the sweat). But at least his hair is shorter.

Wes is an eager helper these days. He knows that “Let’s go do laundry” means that he can hand me soggy items from the washer for me to put into the dryer. And sometimes it means he can put the dirty items into the washer or pull the clean items from the dryer. He hasn’t gotten the knack of folding yet.

Here he is sweeping the outdoors.

And running.

And back to the meticulous organization thing, here he is sorting some rolls of paper towels into a laundry basket.

Last of all, John gave me permission to get Wes a sandbox. But we’re trying to be frugal and those sandboxes cost a lot. We trimmed the cost by getting a wading pool and then bags of sand to fill it with, plus a tarp to cover it with. Tomorrow Wes gets to break it in with his sandcastle building supplies.

Ever find yourself in the middle of a frustrating day daydreaming about where else you’d rather be and what else you’d rather be doing?

So it’s only noon but already today I’ve had wishful thoughts about being in the following places, doing the following things:

* At a clothes store where the clothes I try in (in peace, without a fussy, whiny child kicking his feet and arching his back to get out of the stroller) make me look and feel incredible.

* In downtown Salt Lake City strolling Temple Square with the smell of flowers all around and the sun warming my shoulders.

* Anywhere with a tall, frosty, slightly melted ice cream milkshake in one hand and a spoon in the other.

* Traveling someplace I’ve never been before, all by myself, where I can wake up and feel the freedom and openness of the day and go wherever and do whatever I want during the day at my own pace without concern for anyone else.

Circulating around the same frustrations I’ve also found myself making a mental list of things I ought to stop doing/do less of in my actual real life:

* Eat fewer muffins from CostCo. And less chocolate milk.

* Stop leaving dirty dishes on the counter because I’m too lazy to put them in the sink or dishwasher.

* Stop being so tired at night so I can get more done in the day.

* Stop daydreaming about escaping my real life.

Is it time for my annual rant about door-to-door salespeople who want to know if my mom’s home?

Actual conversation yesterday:

Salesgirl, looking me over: “Are you the lady of the house?”

Me: “Yes.”

SG, skeptically: “Really? You…YOU’RE the lady of the house?”

Me: “Yes.”

SG: “Like, you’re the owner?”

Me: “Yes.”

SG, stammering: “Oh my gosh, because you…you look so YOUNG!”

Me: “Thanks.”

SG: “Like, you look 20! How old are you?”

(Yes, she really asked me that.)

Me: “28.”

SG: “Wow! [laughs nervously] Gosh… So, um…” [hands me a flyer] “I’m just going around your neighborhood and offering a carpet cleaning service…”

You can guess about how successful she was selling her service to me.

Am seriously considering posting my adult credentials outside my front door.