I whip my hair back and forth

And I so hope I just got that song stuck in your head.

:)

The kid with a thousand faces

If you know Orrin, then you know just how expressive he is.  His huge hand gestures, funny sound bytes, and his ever-changing facial expressions make listening to his stories quite entertaining.

Well, it seems that my Mr. Wyatt is following in his Dad's footsteps.

Ok, ok.  The kid still barely speaks.  But when he has everyone's attention he loves to perform. 

He was on stage and in rare form this morning over toast at the breakfast table.  The more the kids laughed, the more crazy his expressions got.

Prepare yourself for some straight-up adorableness.  And keep in mind that all of these pictures were taken in less than a minute.  You know, before he started throwing toast at me for having my phone in his face for too long.

And here it is, the internet debut of the "Hyrum Face" (if you're a Merrill, you'll know what I'm talking about).  This look is a lot like Blue Steel, only way more attention grabbing.

What?  Your kid eats breakfast with his shirt on?

How weird is that?

Orrin got to act like King for the day (and yes, we all survived)

As I have mentioned before, Orrin's work schedule can be likened unto my vacuum: it sucks. Because of this, he had to work Father's Day.  When I first saw this, I might have gotten a little excited thinking that I get out of babying him all day.

Yeah.  I'm that kind of a person.

Then the guilt set in, and I decided that we could celebrate Orrin and all his Daddy-ness on the Saturday before.

The kiddos woke up early to decorate while Orrin snoozed away.

It was serious business.

They also filled out these papers all about Orrin.  I had to keep reassuring the girls that it was ok if they got some of the questions wrong.  They aren't being graded on them.

Wyatt just ate a little and watched everyone else work.

When breakfast was ready,

and his "why we love you" last-minute gumball tree-thingy gift was complete,

We trooped into Dad's sleeping chambers to awaken him so we could shower our love and gratitude onto him.

But he was already awake and in the shower.

Plan ruin-ner!

So we waited until he declared himself ready, and we stomped back into the room (with a little less enthusiasm this time).

Why is Orrin wearing a button shirt?  Well, he thought that he would be tricky and wear just his garment top out so I couldn't post any pictures I felt like taking.

So I covered it up with digital stickers.  You can't win me at this game.

The kiddos gave him their papers all about him. Well, and Wyatt's handprints.

 When he had licked his platter clean, Orrin shooed the kids out of the room to let Mama take a nap.  Yes, I know that it was Father's Day, but we had stayed up really late the night before watching a movie and Wyatt decided the 4:40 was a excellent time to wake up that morning.

Plus, he got to play all of the Warcraft he wanted until I woke up.  Win, win.

After I made him us a delicious lunch of hot sandwiches, OP wanted to go to Lowes with all of us.

We've been doing a lot of comparison shopping on the carpet pricing, paint, doors, toilets, outlet covers, lighting... sigh.  This is one of the few shopping trips that I did not enjoy.

Orrin did, though.

We passed a QT on the way home.  It beckoned us to stop.  We, of course, obeyed.

That night the older kiddos preformed a special dance number for their Dad.

After getting all dressed up.

We tried to get Wyatt to rock out too, but he didn't really feel like it.

After the show came dinner. The girlies made programs/menus for everyone.

And we feasted on steak fajitas with homemade pinto beans (Orrin's choice).

Obviously we had to have a little IBC to celebrate Dad.

Orrin entertained us all with musical root beer bottles.

We also played a game where I would ask the kiddos something about their Dad.  They each got a turn to guess and then Orrin would tell them the correct answer.  Such as: What is Dad's favorite movie? (Last of the Mohicans).  Here's Orrin trying to whisper and answer to Porter, with Pipes listening in.

We ended the night with a little AFV and banana cream pie.

Happy Father's Day, Merrill.  Hope you thought this day was as fantastic as you are.

Also, remember how much work I put into it on Mother's Day next year.  Feel the guilt.

For the man who forced me to take Speech class

 
Once upon a time there was a very awkwardly shy 12 year old. She was on the cusp of everything great: braces just removed, contacts in her eyes, and an awesome pair of Doc Martens in the closet. There was only one problem: her very cruel father made her take a class entitled "Speech" as an elective during her very first year of Junior High. No, Speech wasn't for those with lisps and Elmer Fudd-ish speech impediments. It was a class solely dedicated to teaching you how to stand up in front of a group of people and give a speech.

Oh, the horror!  Oh, the terror!  Why did my Dad want to embarrass me to death in my 7th grade year?!  How I dreaded that class.  How I hated that man to the very tip-toes of my dramatic teenage body.  And boy, I must have made his life miserable.

But he wouldn't let me out of it, no matter how many tears were shed, no matter how many stomping fits I threw.  I had to take Speech.

A funny thing happened once I started that class: I actually enjoyed it.  Mrs. Riddle (I'm at least 80% sure that was her name) taught us how to write an outline.  An outline!  I have used her format ever since.  I learned that chewing gum while group speaking was an absolute no-no, to force myself to make eye contact with people who completely terrified me, to speak slowly and enunciate, and, most of all, not to say "um" ever when talking.  I actually ended up liking the class.

Yep.  It's the truth.

So, today on the day that we honor our fathers across this nation, I would like to publicly thank my father for making me do hard things.  Speech class was one of the few electives that I can actually remember and I still use the stuff I learned in my every day life (although I still have a bitter taste from the Drama class and the Debate class- hated those).

Thank you Dad, for making me ride the Colossus even though you literally had to pry me fingers from the gate and drag a kicking and screaming girl all the way onto the ride platform (remember how I wanted to ride it again and again after the first time?).

Thank you for making me drive Mom's huge ole Expedition after I totaled my first car (that was a hard horse to get back on).

Thanks for making me ask my teacher for the role of Snow White in my preschool play when I was cast as Baby Bear (I was still stuck as the annoying crying bear, but it taught me a bit of courage).

Thanks for pushing me into the AP classes when I was happy to coast by in the regular English class.

I would like to point out, again, how mad I was at my Dad over every one of these situations.  I was so sure that he was purposefully trying to ruin my life and that he enjoyed wringing his hands and laughing maniacally while I died of embarrassment and fear every time.

Because I am counting this blog post as the greatest part of my Father's Day gift (you always wanted me to write your life story, Dad), I am about to lay on the compliments really thick right here:

My Dad has always been the greatest fan of my life.  He is the one that, to this day, still thinks of me as the smartest, most creative person on earth- or at least he makes me feel that way.

To this day, when OP and I argue over something and I declare him to be wrong and myself obviously right, Orrin will say, "Oh- I forgot.  Your Dad says you're the genius."

Yes, yes he does.

Thanks for teaching me the magic of throwing cupcake liners on a blowing fan.  How to roll a hula-hoop along the ground so that it comes back to you.  The art of negotiating with the teenagers that work the carnival booths at amusement parks. Thanks for teaching me how to see an ugly scratch on furniture as a memory made.

You taught me to give to family and friends, without expectation of being paid back.   Also, that you have to wear your lace-up tennis shoes whenever you are doing anything important.  By important I mean mowing the lawn, walking around an amusement park, or flying on an airplane.  You are a fool if you don't have proper shoe attire.

And, we can't ever forget the sage secret of wiping Carmex on the inside of your sock to get the greasiness off of your fingers.

Thanks for everything, Dad.

Today you should go play a round of golf and pretend like I paid for it.  Make sure you go somewhere nice.




Oh, and you were right.  I should have gone to nursing school.

Hanging out with the long-lost Lopez Gang

Once upon a time, a long time ago (I'd say about five years ago), we used to gather at Aunt Rhonda's house once a week for Scrumptious Sunday Dinner.  By "we" I mean a bunch of us Merrill cousins and our kiddos.  Yeah, we were total leeches :).  This tradition stopped after we moved ourselves to Utah (duh).  Now we're back and everyone's life is going busily in every direction, so I get stuck making our Sunday dinner every week for our own family (really, it's not as much fun as you'd think). 

Sadly, we rarely get to visit those awesome Lopezes (I have no idea how to pluralize that name).  So when we were invited to a BBQ last Saturday at Ernie and Rhonda's house, I screamed "YES!" and did a happy dance.  I'm still not 100% sure that I didn't invite myself, but let's move past that.

This little party was exceptionally special because we got to meet the newest additions to the Lopez family tree.  First of all, Seth and Emily's tiny new guy Cory.  I was a dork and didn't think to snap a picture of this handsome fella until after we had left.  But I did get one of his proud parents.

Secondly, we got to meet our sweet cousin Leah's fiance.

Nope, I didn't get a pic of them either.  I really am quite pathetic.

We spent a small amount of time eating, and the majority watching the kiddos swim.

Let's be honest here- they didn't do that much swimming.  Mostly, they did a lot of jumping.

And Wyatt did a lot of envious staring.

The Daddies found a fun new sport called "Throw Your Children into the Pool".  And they rocked at it.

Wyatt finally got daring enough to sit on the pool step (he may or may not have already fallen in while chasing a ball).

As you can tell, I once again took all of the pictures on my old-school iPhone.  The sad part: I even had my camera with me.  But it was inside and the action was happening now.

Oh, and the flash is kinda broken, and I'm too afraid to use the camera in case I discover something else on it is also broken...

And I don't want to hear any comments about me and my camera care, got it?

In which Miss Piper is disappointed because she didn't get a cast put on

If you read my last post (and why wouldn't you?), you now know that our little Piper Pauline has, once again, broken a bone.

After she crashed on the now-infamous Pipe-Out Hill, she stood up holding her wrist and biting back tears.  While we cleaned her up (she walked away with some scratches and bruises too), she kept moaning about her wrist and cradling it to her body.

I feel the need to describe my Piper's personality to those who have not had the privilege of meeting her. Pip is tough.  Seriously.  I am constantly in awe of how well she handles pain.  She trips and lands face first on the cement (this happens more often than yo think)- she stands right back up, shakes it off, and says, "Well that was dumb."  She bangs her head on the corner of our high counter top- she rubs it out takes off running again.  No tears.  Her brother has slammed the bedroom door shut with her fingers in the way- again, she just hops around, saying (not crying) ow, and then she's find.

So when Pipes keeps saying something hurts, even if she says it with a smile, you know it hurts.

We got home from vacation the day after her fall, and as soon as OP had unloaded the truck, I drove us girlies to the nearest hospital- which is only 3 miles away- to have her wrist checked out.

The P.A. walked in our little room and started questioning Piper about her injury.  Pipes smiled and laughed as she told the story.  The nice doctor-man looked at me and said, "Well, it doesn't seem to be hurting her too much."

I just smiled.

He took off her little wrist guard and saw the swelling and watched her grimace when he felt around her petite little wrist.  "Hmmm... maybe it is broken."

Off to X-rays we went.

Lo and behold, there were two fractures (not that you can tell from my crappy iPhone picture): one across her radial and another, smaller one on her ulna.

*I am not going to pretend like I know any of those bone names.  I had to ask the P.A. twice where the fractures were and then immediately put it into my phone so I could remember*

She was fitted with a splint by a nice ER tech,

 and she loved every minute of it.  Such a weirdo.

She then chose a pink Powerade to help her feel better (not that she was feeling too bad), and we went home to await Monday morning when she would get her cast on.

I have to show you the picture Porter drew for Piper.

He titled it, "Piper on the rocks".

On Monday, Adi and I escorted Pipes to the pediatric orthopedic office.  They cut off her splint,

and then gave me the choice of whether to get a cast on her wrist or a removable brace that she can take off while she showers, but can leave on when she swims.

I chose the brace.

Piper was a bit angry over my choice.  She wanted the cast so she could have her friends sign it.

I tried to explain how horrible her last cast was.  How stinky it got, how she cried every day over how itchy it was... she was still upset.  Oh well.  She'll live.

The girlies and I then had a lunch date at Paradise Bakery.

When we got home, Piper realized that her new cast matches her new swimming suit.  She then insisted on modeling them together.

And she is now feeling much better about her brace.

**Oh dear, I nearly forgot to include the video of Piper explaining how she wiped out**