All about the munckins who steal our hearts

My boys are convinced that there is a hierarchy to our family and it starts at the bottom.

They all want to know why our youngest, the cute little bugger, is the favorite. He’s really not but I can’t convince the older ones of the truth of that statement. He is a charmer though. He’s sweet tempered and looks like a Precious Moments figurine with his big blue eyes and blonde hair.

I try telling them that he’s not the favorite but merely has the golden spot.

He came at a time when I didn’t know if I could ever have more children. And then when my doctor announced twins, my heart did a joyous loopity-loop! Four months into my pregnancy, we found out that one (my one and only little girl) was growing in the wrong place. He kindly sedated me and immediately rolled me into surgery to end the one pregnancy since it was her life or all of ours. It was tenuous at best as to whether Maison would survive or not. Thanks to a merciful God, he did. And once the crisis was over, I was told I could not have any more without putting myself in dire straits.

I appreciate Maison because he’s the end of an age for me. Just like a mother marvels at her firstborn’s life – each toe, finger and hair, a mother appreciates and takes in every minute, every milestone and every momentous occasion as she plows down motherhood’s path with her last knowing that an era is coming to an end.

I was no different. I could not, however, for the life of me convince my three older sons that birth order was the simple truth of the matter – he wasn’t my favorite, he was simply the last.

Through years of patient explanations, I finally convinced them that I sincerely did speak the truth. And then my oldest decided to serve a mission in Argentina.

He wasn’t down there long before the people wanted to see pictures of his family. He proudly flipped out his wallet and showed anyone and everyone his ‘la familia’ until about the 12th time after hearing the same thing again and again.

“Oh look at the little one. He is sooo cute! I bet he’s your mom’s favorite!”

Justin wrote home good naturedly complaining that even when he moves 5,000 miles away, he still can’t get away from living in his younger brother’s adorable shadow.

Being sensitive to his plight, I wrote back and gave him today’s “Life Saver” which is what my father used to tell me after my youngest brother was born;

“A dog who attends a flea circus will most likely steal the whole show. And a kid that cute will always steal the hearts of anyone who has eyes and a soul.”

He then followed up with a discourse on how life wasn’t fair but we have to learn how to deal with it. He’d then laugh and tousle my hair while saying, “Come on, Stace, can you resist a smile that charming?”

I remember looking at my brother and melting before I grabbed him and took him upstairs to get ready for bed.

Those maternal feelings have served me well through the years since I have become a surrogate ‘mom-figure’ to that brother since my parent’s untimely passing. Mom won’t be there to greet him when he comes home from his mission in 60 days. Mom won’t be there to stand proudly by him, physically anyway, on the day of his wedding. And mom won’t be able to hug him when his heart is breaking or smile with him when his heart is full.

But I will and it’s all because of his cute smile, big blue eyes and trusting faith that suckered me long ago and made me fall in love with a sibling who opened a new world for me.

Justin truly understands but prays he won’t have to stand in as a parental figure to his youngest brother because of birth order. He tells me and Brad to get our cancer screenings regularly.

Justin and I came to realize that day that we have more in common than we’d like to admit. By birth, we are the oldest in our families but by choice, we are suckers when it comes to falling for the wiles and cuteness of our youngest siblings – and that isn’t always a bad thing…;-).

Patience is turning me into a mental patient!

If patience is a virtue, then I am most definitely NOT a virtuous woman!

Patience is a very hard thing for me. I tend to want things and answers now and not a minute later than instantly. But this is not always the way it works. Matter of fact, as I’m coming to find out, it rarely works this way. I guess God keeps giving me those lessons on patience hoping that one day I will learn its virtues.

Apparently I’m a slow learner because they keep coming at regular intervals and with increasing frequency. Like the other day, the sun had finally made an appearance after hiding for the better part of the fall and winter. The temperatures were up and so I thought a nice walk would be in order. I grabbed my walking shoes and a water bottle and headed off.

I forgot one small detail though; one shouldn’t take a blood pressure pill with a diuretic right before heading out where bathrooms are few and far between. I hadn’t been gone long when my fast pace and pumping heart kicked that medication into overdrive and sent me frantically looking for a public restroom along the route.

I whizzed (no pun intended) down the hill to a local gas station where I knew there were clean restrooms. Just as I reached for the door, a sweet older lady smiled at me and then slipped in and locked the door after sweetly telling me, “I’ll only be a minute”.

I stood there with my mouth gaping and my legs crossed. I didn’t dare move for fear that any mild movement would certainly turn me into a leaky faucet. I stood immobilized praying that she would finish up her business and get the heck outta Dodge so the new sheriff could claim her potty in peace and overwhelming relief.

I think she must’ve taken a bath in the bowl.

I must admit however, that old people have a way of really putting things into perspective. When she finally did emerge, she smiled again – a bit broader as she watched me inch into the restroom with crossed legs – and gave me a bit of old- timer’s wisdom. This nugget has become today’s “Life Saver”;

“How long a minute is depends on what side of the bathroom door you are on. Praise be to the Good Lord who allowed me enough agility to beat you to the bathroom door. The old plumbing ain’t what it used to be and they would’ve needed a mop and a ten gallon bucket if I’d been the one waiting out here. ‘

Easy for her to say. Her minute was filled with the relief of dry Depends and a happy bladder. I looked back over my shoulder at her as she headed out to her car with a slightly more jovial step in her jaunt. I smiled.

It was nice to know that even when age does get the best of you, patience still isn’t a virtue but you can somehow manage to deal with the infirmity with a quick wit and a smile that makes others glad they had the ability to wait.

I like being peculiar - it makes me different!!!!

We are a peculiar people – or so Brigham Young said. But that’s okay. It’s good to be different!

Besides being known as an industrious and hard working people, we are also known as having integrity, generally honest, thrifty, clean cut, sober and we also know how to laugh at ourselves.

Everyone from the FBI, CIA, and ICE to Alaskan Bus Tours loves it when they see a Mormon walk in to apply for a position because they too know, from years of experience, that these things are true about the general Mormon populous. And I for one am proud to be part of such a heritage.

But what makes me even more proud is that most Mormon’s I’ve had the privilege of associating with know that there ARE things to be taken seriously,…..but themselves is not one of them!

And since I am the one usually leading the laughter, I decided to post this Utah Census form so that you too can decide whether or not you are a true Utah-ish Mormon because today’s “Life Saver” just happens to be;

Blessed are those who can laugh at themselves for they will never cease to be amused!


Laugh on, Friends!


Utah Census Form

1._____________________ _____________________

(GIVEN NAME) (SURNAME)

2. Descendant of:
A. Brigham Young _____
B. Heber C. Kimball _____
C. Laman and Lemuel _____
D. Cain _____

3. Tribe of Israel : _____________________

4. Number of occupants residing in home in each category: (List in chronological order)
A. Nursery _____
B. Junior Primary _____
C. Senior Primary _____
D. Young Women's _____
E. Young Men's _____
F. Relief Society _____
G. Elder _____
H. Dearly Departed _____
I. High Priest _____

5. Occupation [Please select all that apply]:
A. Amway dealer _____
B. Shaklee dealer _____
C. Nonie juice dealer _____
D. NuSkin dealer _____
E. Melaleuca dealer _____

6. Automobile:
A. Station Wagon _____
B. Van _____
C. Suburban _____
D. School Bus _____
E. Double Decker _____
F. BMW (Big Mormon Wagon) ________

7. Favorite place to eat the night before Fast Sunday:
A. Chuck-A-Rama _____
B. Hometown Buffet _____
C. Sumo Sam's All You Can Eat Feeding Trough _____

8. Favorite Hero:
A. Nephi _____
B. Abinadi _____
C. Samuel the Lamanite_____
D. Steve Young _____
E. Johnny Lingo _____

9. Which of the following do you bring to church [check all that apply]:
A. Scriptures _____
B. Franklin Planner/ Daytimer _____
C. Pen/Pencil _____
D. Lifesavers/ Cheerios _____
E. Tic Tacs _____
F. Game Boy _____
G. Big Gulp _____
H. Cooler _____
I. Sony Walkman _____
J. TV Watch _____
K. All of the above _____

10. Do you prepare your church lessons:
A. A month in advance _____
B. A week in advance _____
C. While in the bathtub _____
D. While on the toilet _____
E. During Sacrament Meeting _____
F. During the closing prayer of Sacrament Meeting
G. During the opening prayer of the class you're teaching _____
H. Just wing it [according to the promptings of the Spirit] _____

11. Do you think pews should be permanently equipped with Big Gulp holders:
A. yes___
B. no ___

12. How many years has your family sat in the same place for Sacrament Meeting:
A. 10-20 years _____
B. 20-30 years _____
C. 30-40 years _____
D. Over 3 generations ____

13. How much time does it take for you to fall asleep during a high council talk:
A. 1/100,000,000th of a second _____
B. 1/999,999,999th of a second _____
C. 1/999,999,998th of a second _____

14. Which day of the month do you go home/visiting teaching:
A. 31st ______
B. 31st ______
C. 31st ______
D. 31st ______

15. How many church basketball fights were you in last year:
A. 1-10 _____
B. 10-20 _____
C. 20-30 _____
D. You'll have to ask my lawyer _____

16. Which of the following has been your most effective Family Home Evening:
A. Arguing about getting along
B. Having an opening and closing prayer with dinner
C. Gathering around the television to watch, "Everybody Loves Raymond"

17. How many times a year do you make:
A. Green Jell-O salad _____
B. Funeral potatoes _____
C. Cabbage and Top Ramen salad _____
D. Turkey, cashews and grape-stuffed croissants_____

18. How many water-filled two-liter bottles do you own:
A. 1-2 thousand _____
B. 2-3 thousand _____
C. 3-4 thousand _____
D. Enough to fill the Great Salt Lake _____

19. Which of the following do you feel is the most secure facility in the nation:
A. Alcatraz
B. Fort Knox
C. Ward Libraries

20. How many structural engineers do you hire annually to insure you'll win the Pinewood Derby: _________

21. Keeping the Word of Wisdom in mind, how much of the following do you consume:
A. Chocolate: ___pounds daily X 365 days annually= ____
B. Cola: ____gallons daily X 365 days annually = ____

22. If you had to choose between witnessing the Second Coming or attending a BYU/UofU football game, which would you choose?
A. Second Coming _____
B. Football game _____

Lemondade or Bust

A few years ago, a national headline caught my attention. It was about the plight of a six year old girl and her highly illegal lemonade stand.

Apparently, a cranky neighbor who I am supposing was either jealous of her financial success or worried about the masses of traffic she was attracting, had called the police and reported her for not having a valid business license. Maybe the cause for said crankpot's displeasure was an inability to compete with the rock bottom prices offered by the kindergarten graduate or perhaps he was offended by the bait and switch to yellow when she ran out of pink lemonade.

Either way, the whole situation was so absurd, that even David Letterman had a heck of a time with this one at the expense of the crabby neigh-sayer and to the immense pleasure of many free-enterprise loving Americans.

I hear that this is not completely unusual. Matter of fact, we have a cantankerous 'ole fart' who lives on our street. We chidingly call him the governor of the neighborhood behind his back. It probably is not much of an insult though because I personally think he'd get a kick out of having a title and knowing that he attracts that much attention.

He is the one who patrols the front yard watering the dry spots until they resemble marshlands as he surveys all that goes on, up and down the street, at all hours of the day and evening. I've seen pearly white cherub fountains shooting continuous streams that are more water conservationally minded than him.

No matter. He needs an excuse to hose down anyone who looks at him sideways.

He chews out anyone on a scooter/bike/rollerblades/skateboard or tennis shoes that is going faster than an arthritic snail and points out how shocking it is that they are not wearing a helmet and thirty other pieces of protective equipment.

He issues his own neighborhood warning tickets and keeps track in the little notepad permanently Velcroed to his side and is ready at a moments notice to cite someone on any one of 339 infractions or simply make notes for the police should they need to be called in for reinforcement at a later date or time.

As a villain, his waving index finger and stern grimace is more well known by the kids on our street than the Joker in his classic purple suit and white pasty face with the ridiculous red smirking lips.

As I peered out my front window and watched him casually play with a pair of handcuffs dangling from the belt loop on his military camouflaged shorts and puffing out his chest in his Alcatraz tee shirt while reprimanding a wide eyed speechless eleven year old, I decided that enough was ENOUGH!

I threw open the door, marched right on out to the side walk, across the lawn, leaned over and harshly waved my own finger in my five year-old son's face.

"This neighborhood has had enough of your tyranny! You're going to your room until you can learn to play nice, Mister!" I then grabbed his wrist and caustically spat out today's "Life Saver" while marching him back to the house,

"Anyone who thinks you are too small to make a difference has never been alone in a tent with a hungry mosquito or lived on a street with my son!"


I guess every neighborhood has to have at least one.

When life hands you cow pies, make a splendid garden of opportunity!!!

Years ago, when I began my career as a journalist, I was given a lead by my editor to go cover a story in West Jordan about a sub-division who was growing monstrous vegetables. None could understand why this one little plot of land was so lucky when it came to the produce patch mother lode.

A little bit of research gave me my answer,….load and loads of crap – literally.

It turns out that this bit of suburbia had been built upon what was once the old Bateman Dairy Farm and the miles and piles of cow manure that once was, became the scoop about poop.

How was I supposed to go to my editor and tell her that my story which she was planning on putting on the front page above the crease was nothing more than a load of cow pucky?

It was then in a torment of frustration and angst that I looked up to the cork board above my desk and saw a little Ziggy comic my father had once kept on his bulletin board above his desk. Although I’d never really paid attention to it before, my father’s wisdom came to me from beyond the grave and gave me today’s “Life Saver”;

Even in a pile of manure, a flower will grow.



With confidence, I wrote my story and later on even won an award for it. The fun tone of it mixed with history was so popular, that my paper got more letters than they knew what to do with. Their readership went up and my stock as a new and upcoming writer soared.

To this day, when introducing myself in that area of the valley, my fame precedes me when I refer to myself as the journalist who cared about a load of crap. Apparently dairy kings and cow pies can create more than just a banana squash bonanza – it can create opportunities that bloom into the lives dreams are made of.

Simply enjoy the journey when you have to lead the sheep

I hate the spotlight. I hate cameras, being in the public eye and most of all I am really uncomfortable with the pressure of being an example and an inspiration to people who need it.

Don’t get me wrong,…. I love to help people find happiness through finding a better way. And if I can direct them towards their Savior – like a flagman would direct traffic during road construction - I’m more than happy to do it. But I am uncomfortable taking credit for the gifts and inspiration He has given me. I’d rather the spotlight be on Him. But since His work is done through others, I do the best I can through writing, through public speaking and other appearances to help people keep that focus on Him.

Recently, I was on my way to California to start my national TV and radio tour. To gain sanity, I planned a stop in Arizona where I could catch my breath with my Grandma and my Aunt. Since I was alone, I put myself on a strict schedule and was adamant that I adhere to it. I was clipping along a quite a good pace, when I came around a corner about 20 miles outside of Page on a road that descends quickly into the Indian reservation.

With the road improvements that have happened recently along this stretch of highway, I usually can make pretty good time through this area. And so I was naturally quite confused as to way there was back up of cars that equaled the Glen Canyon Dam I’d passed not 30 minutes before.

While sitting there, my mind took over and I started fretting about the tour and being in the public spotlight. My nerves started getting the better of me and I was about to go totally wonky when the reason for the back-up came into view.

It was an old Indian woman herding her goats and sheep down the two lane highway all the way back to her home at the base of the mountain.

She was completely unaware of the following she had or the back-up which she was causing. I had to smile. And in one of those precious moments that Heavenly Father gives to us when we are driving ourselves nuts, I found sanity as I enjoyed the slower pace and envied the old Indian woman who was oblivious to her following while she just enjoyed the walk with the animals.

That brings me to today’s “Life Saver”; If you have to be a leader with a large following, go slow on a two way street.

At the bottom of the hill, was a man with a truck and dogs who was obviously ready to take the herd back to where they were supposed to go. He was waiting patiently for her to do her part and bring the animals safely to him.

Today, whenever the stresses of leadership overwhelm me, I remember that old Indian woman and simply remember to slow it down and enjoy the journey as I lead His sheep back to home and the safety of His care.

Grace and decorum; the 'ant'-ithesis of my life...

I have always been fanatical about keeping my home in order. That doesn’t mean to say that my home is always in order, it just means that I go crazy when it’s not….

Our last home was a small tri-level with a natural propensity to attract bugs of every kind. Did I also mention that I hate anything that is creepy or crawly? That is probably what led to my obsession with keeping things in order. If the little creatures can’t find anything to hide under, they won’t come a callin’!

But raising three small sons can be a challenge where OCD cleanliness is concerned. On a day where I had decided it was time to go where no mom should ever have to go, I tore apart the couch and thrust my hand into the sides and corners where all the small stuff slips – or disintegrates into unidentifiable masses.

I found what I believed to be a pile of sandwich crumbs but as I tried to grab hold and pull it out,….it shifted. Not one to let a crumb – or a gaggle of them – get the best of me, I kept grabbing at them and trying to pull them out.

Suddenly my arm started tickling horribly and I reached over to scratch it only to discover that I had ants invading where no ant should ever be allowed to go!

With one fall swoop throwing caution and modesty to the wind, I tore off my clothes and danced around naked in a rather hasty and uncouth version of a Polynesian slap dance.

After assuring myself that I’d eradicated every little creepy bugger from my personal being, I looked up through my basement window as I was heading to get the vacuum and noticed that a group of neighbors was watching me from outside at street level.

They had the most interesting looks on their faces – something between what-the-crud-is-she-doing and I’m-glad-I’m-not-that-stupid!

For the first time in my life, I understood why Adam and Eve ran to hide when they realized they were naked and grabbed anything – including a dirty old fig leaf – to shield themselves from peering eyes and years of ridicule.

Later that week after the blush of shame had disappeared from 9/10ths of my body, my good friend from down the street called. She gave me the wise bit of advice that is today’s “Life Saver”;

“Stace,” she said, “A man who lives in a glass house should change in the basement,…..unless the basement has windows, in which case, spare us all and close the drapes first!”

If only the ants would’ve heeded that advice and given me the luxury to do so. So many could’ve been spared the sight of watching me wiggle and jiggle as I tried to get the ants out of my pants and I wouldn’t have had to move to a bigger house that had the foundation sealed by an exterminator and drapes installed before I moved in.