Perspective

I love that the Lord blessed me with one talent: the ability to learn from other peoples experiences.

Awhile ago, a friend of mine told me a very touching story about perspective.  She said she was feeling stressed and upset with life, etc.  We've all been there right?  The kids were wild, out of control, and as my cousin Abbie would say, "malfunctioning robots".  And even though she didn't give me specifics, I knew exactly how she felt.

Well, on one of these kids-gone-crazy days, those days where you've just about had it! a little cousin came running up the stairs to tell her her son was asleep and wouldn't wake up.

What she said next still gets me teary.  "It all just came into perspective.  All the things I was upset about just didn't matter anymore."  For those few minutes when her son wasn't responding, the good kind of tunnel vision set in.  The vision where you can only see those few things that really matter.  Those things that teach you to not say, "What else could possibly go wrong?" (Hiccoughs, that's what!)

She told me this a few days before I felt the exact same way.  I've felt that way for awhile now, but I get great comfort remembering her few words: "It all just came into perspective." 

I remind myself that even though I've been going through yucky stuff that I really would rather NOT experience, that it could be SO MUCH WORSE.  That I'm not like Job.  That my husband is healthy and has a wonderful job that makes him happy.  That for some reason he loves me, a lot.  That my children make me laugh more than they make me cry.  That they're healthy, happy, smart and very energetic. 

I remember that I know and, to a point, understand the Plan of Salvation.  That of all the things I have to think about and worry about, I don't have to worry about my eternal salvation.  My Savior has done it for me already.  That all I have to do now is the best I can do.

And suddenly I feel like I can take on any mental/physical/emotional ride you can throw at me.  I have the perspective I should have.  For now.

Happy December 9!

Kelly Out

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We all need that little electronic pat on the back, folks.

Good day, happy day, productive day

Brace yourself single reader...

I cleaned my house today.

Release the held in breath...and breathe.  Good work-out today, folks.

On a side note, I love my children.  My daughter keeps coming up to me, with puppy dog eyes, and saying, "Mommy, I'm so sorry I smashed the eggs in my carpet."

Please note, this was on Thanksgiving morning.  She truly seems remorseful. 

And then she eats my dads box of chocolates...sigh.  Oh well, we're all in the process of learning.

Happy December 4!

Kelly Out

I hate to complain, but...

...when you're watching your 4 year old play Knock-Out, or whatever it's called, and you really feel like you're the guy gettin' the crap kicked out of you...

It's been a rough couple of months.  Aside from mental/emotional issues going on that I won't bore you with for fear the flood-gates would release the tears, I've been on a physical roller-coaster as well.

Swine flu. UTI. Kidney Infection.  Kidney Stone.  Broken Hand.  And last night Bretts car broke down.  (BAH!)

Minus the cast, I thought I was on the UP n UP.  But I spent last night tossing and turning, wondering if the pain in my kidneys was a sure sign they were finally giving up and shutting down.  I mean, how much more can they possibly take?

I can take my own physical ailments pretty well: I've dealt with them my whole life!  But now I have kids and a husband and a house...the pressure is being felt on more than just my kidneys.

At what point is a person allowed to have a mental breakdown?  I vote for now!  Do I have a second?

Hahahaha, I'm reminded of one of my favorite lines in my favorite movie. 

Phillip: I feel like Job!
Catherine: Phillip, really!
Phillip: Okay, then I'm not Job!  But really...!

Which leads me to my favorite scripture, "Thou are not yet as Job..."  I love D&C!

I have a learned a very valuable lesson, and I pass it on to you as motherly wisdom:

The moment you ask yourself, what more could possibly happen, you get the hiccoughs.

Merry December 3!

Kelly Out

For Bethany...

...one of those funny, amazing women who underestimates her worth!

“I don’t want to drive up to the pearly gates in a shiny sports car, wearing beautifully, tailored clothes, my hair expertly coiffed, and with long, perfectly manicured fingernails. I want to drive up in a station wagon that has mud on the wheels from taking kids to scout camp. I want to be there with grass stains on my shoes from mowing Sister Schenk’s lawn. I want to be there with a smudge of peanut butter on my shirt from making sandwiches for a sick neighbor’s children. I want to be there with a little dirt under my fingernails from helping to weed someone’s garden. I want to be there with children’s sticky kisses on my cheeks and the tears of a friend on my shoulder. I want the Lord to know I was really here and that I really lived. “ – Marjorie Hinckley


Thanks Abbie for posting this quote a few months ago.

Oh, and thanks Sister Hinckley for being one of the most amazing women who have ever lived. 

Kelly Out

Some more regurgitation

'55* Greet him with a warm smile and show sincerity in your desire to please him.


'09* If I greet him with a warm smile, he knows something is up!


'55*Listen to him. You may have a dozen important things to tell him, but the moment of his arrival is no the time. Let him talk first-remember, his topics of conversation are more important than yours.

'09*Right. I'll wait until after the gin and tonic to let him know that I attempted to start a warm fire for him, and ended up burning down the garage.


'55*Make the evening his. Never complain if he comes home late or goes out to dinner, or other places of entertainment without you. Instead, try to understand his world of strain and pressure and his very real need to be at home and relax.

'09*First off, he won't even need to worry about me complaining, because if he decides to stay out late, I'm not speaking to him anyway. Secondly, if he needs to be home and relax, then he should COME HOME and RELAX.

Since I can't type, I'll regurgitate

The Good Wife's Guide


'55*Have dinner ready. Plan ahead, even the night before, to have a delicious meal ready, on time for his return. This is a way of letting him know that you have been thinking about him and are concerned about his needs. Most men are hungry when they come home and the prospect of a good meal (especially his favorite dish) is part of the warm welcome needed.

'09*Dinner is left over macaroni and cheese from lunch, which has probably been thrown on the floor by the kids by now. If you want something more, you'll have to cook it yourself, I'm going to the gym.

'55*Prepare yourself. Take 15 minutes to rest so you'll be refreshed when he arrives. Touch up your make-up, put a ribbon in your hair and be fresh-looking. He has just been with a lot of work-weary people.

'09*I've just been with two sticky, screaming, hyper children all day. 15 minutes to rest would be like an oasis in the middle of the salt flats. Not to mention the only bows around here go in the baby's hair, and she's probably thrown them in the toilet by now.

'55*Be a little gay and a little more interesting for him. His boring day may need a lift and one of your duties is to provide it.

'09*Give me a bottle of congac and we'll talk.


'55*Clear away clutter. Make one last trip through the main part of the house just before your husband arrives.

'09*He's lucky to make it through the door at the end of the day. If the kids are on bored, then maybe there wont be a giant train track built right in front of the front door when he comes home.  As for the "main part of the house"...yeah, our house is small enough that its ALL the main part of the house.

A new entry on the list of things that break my bones

I hit my hand on the piano.  I had a fight with the piano.  I didn't drop the piano on my hand.  How did I break a bone in my hand, if I didn't drop the piano on it?  Was I angry and punch the piano?  Impossible, I would have broken a bone near my knuckles if that was the case.  But alas, the bone I broke is closer to my wrist.  Well then how, you ask? 

Warning people: this story is very anti-climactic. 
I wouldn't blame you if you didn't bother to read on. 

But you've already read this far, why not find out so that we can all sleep at night.  Have I mentioned that I haven't been sleeping?  That's a great story, however unrelated with the current subject, and will not be discussed in this post.  We arrived home after an otherwise usual evening.  I'm sure that Cohen yelled up ahead to Brett and I on the porch about how he needs to open the door as if this somehow defines his level of independence which is the most important thing in his life right now.  He's very independent.  Cohen walks in the door, and I follow him.  The room is black and the light switch doesn't work because it is connected to a ceiling fan which does, in fact have a light attached, but the light is turned off and controlled by a ceiling fan control which is very convenient because you can control the light and the ceiling fan from the confort of the couch.  Said remote control is missing batteries, and is nowhere to be found.  Sucked into the Neff household vortex.  Those of you who are Neffs will know what I mean. 

In the dark living room where there are no nearby light switches I enter and pass the piano, and somehow swing my hand (with Super Hero Force) into the arm of the piano which I now know is very sharp, and can be used to break hand bones.  It is now on the list with the toilet, my own inside of my knee, and etcetera, etcetera. 

I know you were hoping for more, but since my hand is broken, Brett has to write this post, and you are stuck with what he wrote.  This is not my fault.  Anyways, you may want to take a hietas if you are addicted to this website for around four to six weeks while I regain function of one of my typing hands.  This means you Tanya, since you're the only one who reads it...

Brett (on behalf of Kelly) Out

P.S.  Here is the whole, unabridged list of things that have broken my bones - in chronological order:
A rollerskate (my wrist)
The collapsing space between a foot and a butt (every single bone in my foot - I know, right? I don't even know how it's possible, and I was there)
An ice skating rink (see a pattern yet? - my collar bone)
A curb (my ankle)
A toilet (my foot again)
A piano (my hand)

Kelly VS The Piano

Piano: 1
Kelly: 1 fractured hand

Needless to say I won't be blogging for awhile. 

Talk at you all soon I hope!

Kelly OUT!

P.S. Anyone interested in a traitorous piano?

10 Year Anniversary

In a few weeks, I will have been a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints for ten years.

What is it with making the double digits that causes nastalgia?

I dunno, but I do know I'm just as excited about this as I was to actually turn 10!  Remember the big ONE-OH?  Oh man, it was epic.

Sometimes I'm very talkative about becoming a member of the Church.  Sometimes I'm all about talking about the difficulties of conversion, loss of friends, side-ways glances from family members...you know, the usual stuff when you do anything different.

Other times, I'm really quiet about it, and would rather no one know.  Sometimes I'm a little embarassed I don't know more than I do.  It's at times like these I have to remind myself that my husband has been a member for 21 years - twice as long and then some - and that the one thing I love most about the Church is the opportunity for eternal progression.

So, happy anniversary to me.  It's been the greatest ten years of my short life.  I'm so grateful for Elder Nemmeth and Elder Loarca, and for the Staten Family, who were wonderful examples of member missionaries.

I lost a few friends, and it was sad.  My family didn't understand, and that was hard.  I felt alone a lot, but that's what trials are all about.  In the end (well, I guess the beginning), I found an amazing husband, was married in the Salt Lake Temple, and currently serve happily, if not well, as a Relief Society teacher. 

I could write all night about the reasons I became a member, about how the Gospel answered many of my questions, but in the end it was the strong feelings I felt when I saw a picture of a boy kneeling in a grove.  I didn't know who the boy was, but I started crying.  Elder Nemmeth asked me kindly, "Do you know why you're crying?"  I could only shake my head.  "That's the Spirit testifying to you that Joseph was a prophet of God."  I didn't even know the boys' name was Joseph, but I knew what Elder Nemmeth said was true.  There was no doubt in my heart, and hasn't been since, about that truth. 

Thanks for reading,

Kelly Out