And the winner IS....~drumroll~

Nanette from

is the winner of my lovely WINGS GIVEAWAY!!!

Congrats!

Stick around friends- who knows, i might do another giveaway soon!

Feel Good Friday and Letters Of Intent

Thank you so much to everyone who participated in my wings giveaway, which ended at Midnight last night. Please check back by this evening to find out who the winner is!

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As always, hop on over to Feel Good Friday, and link up to let us all know what's making YOU feel good!!

1. I am PSYCHED!!! Today, I had a pair of wings commissioned by a spa in the area for a hair show. There are going to be photographers, television, the whole shebang!!! The wings are supposed to mimic the Jabberwocky, which will be interesting to say the least. BUT, I'm sure I they will be epically cool!!!

2. I have also commissioned 4 other pairs of wings, and possibly a 5th. WOW- I am super worried that I might not be able to keep up!!!

3. Tonight was Lilly's parent teacher conference, and she is doing GREAT! She's the top of her class.

4. My cousins are coming to visit me on Saturday. I'm SO looking forward to it. Also, we are having some friends of Brandon's from work over for dinner on Sunday. I love company. It makes me clean my house.

5. Due to the rain that has been gracing us with it's presence lately (yes, that makes me happy too!) I let my dogs stay in the house the last 2 days while I am gone for about 5 hours while taking my son to preschool an hour away. They have a doggy door, and can go outside. But I wasn't 100% sure that Molly would behave herself, and not pee on everything, not chew on the shoes or toys or furniture. But she didn't!!!! And I'm so proud! I really didn't want to have to make her stay outside in the snow all winter for fear that she'd destroy my house. The one unfortunate thing is that she's started digging a hole under the fence...but fixing it is a small price to pay for having a very good dog in all other aspects.

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Dear Utah Drivers and the Cops Who Don't Pull Them Over,

I have written lots of Letters Of Intent to you, and I daresay that I could write a thousand more. You people tick me off every single day. I mean, I know I'm not the PERFECT driver, but I'm pretty dang close, and I am so sick of seeing you run red lights, drive down one way roads the WRONG way, make illegal u-turns and speed past me while cutting me off without ever seeing a cop anywhere near the premises, and yet, when I was speeding 5 over the limit last winter, I got an 88 dollar ticket.

If you don't know how to drive, or feel that you are above the rules of the road, then GET OFF IT.

Cops, you need to know that I am the least of your problems. Maybe focus on pulling over that lady that nearly caused a head on collision with the person in front of me when she turned down a one way road going the wrong way, as mentioned in the paragraph above. Does my 5 mph over the limit really matter compared to that?

Signed, I'm Tired of Driving

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Dear Self,

What the HECK were you thinking when you decided that cutting your hair was a good idea? You're huge and pregnant. Short hair makes you look fat. You know this.

Endearingly,

Always Second Guess Your Good Ideas

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Dear Hairstylist,

I asked for LAYERS, not a shelf of hair on top of a longer section of hair. It's honestly like 2 different hair cuts stacked on top of each other.

Sincerely,

This Sucks

LAST CHANCE TO ENTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Today is the LAST DAY to enter my giveaway for these gorgeous fairy wings!!!

Scroll down for pictures, and for details on how to enter!!!

Contest ends TONIGHT AT MIDNIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(Orange butterfly is removable)

See the iridescence?

Curious how to enter?

Well, I'm going to give you A LOT of chances to win this pair of my FAVORITE wings!!!

Contest ends: TODAY, Thursday, October 7th

***VERY IMPORTANT: If you qualify for ANY of these entries, I need you to COMMENT and tell me ALL of the things you have done to earn entries. For example, if you grab my button or blog about my giveaway, I might not know unless you tell me!!!*****

1. YOU MUST BE A U.S. RESIDENT! (I am SO SORRY! It just costs a LOT of money to send these out of the country!!!)

2. For a grand total of 3 ENTRIES, BLOG about my giveaway to get more traffic to this site!

3. 1 ENTRY- FOLLOW ME! And for an additional entry, if you hop on over to my OTHER blog (the one about fairies) at http://www.thegossamerjewelbox.blogspot.com/ and FOLLOW ME THERE TOO!!!

4. 1 ENTRY- Grab my button!!! This counts for either THIS blog's button or the one on http://www.thegossamerjewelbox.blogspot.com/ - and YES!!! If you grab both, you can get 2 ENTRIES!!!

5. 1 ENTRY- PLEASE click on the TOP MOMMY BLOGS button on the left side of my blog so as to vote for my blog- (after all, we know this is just a big popularity contest, right?? LOL- I'm kidding...sort of.)

6. 1 LAST ENTRY- Leave a comment on a DIFFERENT post of mine here, or at http://www.thegossamerjewelbox.blogspot.com/ - once again, yes, doing it in both places earns you an extra entry!

As you can tell, not only is this giveaway something that I want to do because A-My wings are awesome and I want to share them with you (and possibly sell some- hint, hint: http://www.gossamerjewelbox.etsy.com/ ) B- I LOVE MY READERS and it's such a wonderful way to say THANKS! C-Duh- to get more followers...

BUT...I'm trying to direct more traffic to my Fairy blog too.

Good luck with the contest friends!! You have a week!!!

(Orange butterfly is removable)

See the iridescence?

"Houston, we have a penis."

Two more days left, friends, in my fantastic Fairy Wings Giveaway!!! Please click the link to see these beautiful, hand crafted wings, and learn how to enter!

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Wordless Wednesday
(Click the above link to LINK UP!!!)

INTRODUCING: Teague Liam MacCool, Due January 13, 2011

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"You Know You're a Mom When...."
Now hosted by:

You know you're a mom when you can walk into a room and spot every last thing your child will ruin or get hurt on.

You know you're a mom when you step into a puddle of pee and you're not sure if you should scold the puppy or the potty training child.

Touchy Topic Tuesday- Skinny Jeans

Of course, I cannot go on with my Touchy Topic Tuesday without plugging for my Gorgeous Wings Giveaway!!!! It ends at Midnight this Thursday/Friday, and you DON'T want to miss it!

Just in time for HALLOWEEN!!!

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Touchy Topic Tuesday: Skinny Jeans

Recently, my mom and I had a garage sale, and I advertised on my facebook status, mentioning that there would be TONS of adorable boy and girl clothes from Gap and Old Navy, among other places, for sale.

I was surprised by how many (hordes, in fact) people jumped in with "Don't you believe in hand me downs?" and "You'll save a lot of money if you reuse those clothes!" - as though a mother of 3 (soon to be 4) has no idea about the cost of winter or summer wardrobes that have to be bought every single year due to that silly little side fact that children grow continually.

The truth of the matter is, I have 2 girls. One born in the summer, one born in the winter. And I have one boy, born in July, whose baby brother will be born in January. Even if I DID save their clothes, the right season wouldn't match up with the right size at the right time. On top of that, I move a lot, so far, due to my husbands stint in the military. Hauling around, respectively, 11 years worth of clothing just really sucks, to be blunt. Just because I am not done having children does not mean that I seriously want to store every onesie I have ever put on a child just in case I end up having another girl. I might have 2 more boys after this...and then I would have had a growing mound of girls clothes piling up for no good reason. And having had two girls, I have come to realize, I probably wouldn't reuse the clothes I intended to anyway.

It might sound shallow and worldly (which, by the way, I am not. This just happens to be one of my 'things' I like to do.) but I just plain don't like hand me downs, and one of the many things I love about being a mother is shopping for clothes for my children.

This year was particularly fun because my oldest daughter, Lilly, was really interested in the kinds of clothes we were buying her for Kindergarten. She had opinions on colors, sizes, what the shirts said, how her shoes fit, and everything else that comes with shopping. She tried on EVERY. SINGLE. SHIRT. AND. PAIR. OF. PANTS.

Even for me it got a bit tedious, never mind her dad, and her brother and sister who still don't care a lick what I put them in.

Lilly's favorite item of clothing?

A pair of very dark washed skinny jeans.

(Lilly on her first day of school in her most beloved skinny jeans)

I am being perfectly honest here when I say that I grabbed a pair of jeans in every color and shape that was her size, and let her try them all on, and then I bought what SHE liked.

Two of those pairs happened to be skinny jeans, and I didn't think twice about buying them for her.

First of all, they were a great price. Gap had a sale on all denim- 10.00 each if you buy 3 pairs. Yeah. I was ALL over that. Besides, I am absolutely an advocate for my child expressing her own opinion and styles. (Which is why her hair is never 'done'. She prefers it to be brushed down and put back with a headband. No, it's not my favorite thing ever, since her hair is the cottony stringy kind that ends up in knots minutes after you brush it thoroughly, but she likes it. So she does it.)

Shortly after purchasing her beloved items of clothing, I read this article that really saddened me. I mean, it didn't make me really angry, because I feel that people are entitled to their own opinions. But I feel that the woman on the anti-skinny-jeans side of the fence really had her points screwed up. If she thought they were ugly, I'd have no problem whatsoever with that. Personally, I hate peace signs and was a bit sickened to see that they're making a comeback this year. But to attach such meaning and symbolism and implications (have I used enough semantics yet?) to try and make your opinion seem as though it's correct really kind of gets my hair standing on end.

I mean, obviously, as parents, there are limits to the things we should let our children wear. A girl of ANY age should not be wearing a skirt that sways enough to show her panties (or lack thereof) or shirts that show off her cleavage. There are any number of things that a parent should limit from clothing that lets it all hang out, to certain jewelry, to piercings to tattoos, etc. But I think there are a lot of cases where a parent, because of an opinion that might be relevant in the adult world, makes the same thing that SHOULD be irrelevant in a child's world, forbidden. Which, inevitably, makes it desirable.

An argument that the woman uses is that these jeans are "designed to 'closely mimic the shape and style" of their adult counterpart'..." and then goes on to talk about how we shouldn't dress our little girls like adults anyway. I mean, what ELSE are they supposed to wear? Leggings and t-shirt dresses until they're 10? I didn't like that style when they were crawling let alone when they're old enough to wear braces on their teeth. And seriously, they're jeans. Not cocktail dresses. And when it comes down to it, when you compare the pictures, do they look that different?

Lilly's fave skinny jeans

Lilly in her "normal" jeans.

Does my daughter look too 'sexy' in her skinny jeans as opposed to her 'regular' jeans? In my humble opinion, if someone DOES think so, then maybe they'd ought to see someone about that.

As far as the whole "skinny" thing goes, Lilly has asked me once and once ONLY why they're called skinny jeans. I just told her "because they're tighter than 'regular' jeans." She was like "Oh, okay." Did my answer make her feel as though she were fat? Did my answer imply to her that she had to be stick thin to wear them? Does parenting really have to BE that controversial that if our child wants to wear a specific item of clothing, which, apparently is worth worrying about even though there are a thousand more things out there that are far more damaging, that we need to answer with a complicated "some people feel that a girl who is on the heavier side shouldn't be wearing 'skinny' jeans" or "I don't feel that the word 'skinny' should be in your vocabulary" or "You're too fat to wear those. You'll muffin top over the top of them."- because, really, when a parent is the one to express these opinions about an article of clothing meant for a young child, it implies in far more substantial disdain for the child herself that she is fat than the mocking of any other child her age ever will.

I mean, we all want to protect our children. But sometimes, there's just too much protection going on. A five year old isn't really going to have any clue whatsoever about a pair of jeans and being fat or skinny. If they do, then maybe the parents had better look at themselves a little closer and reevaluate the things that are priority in their homes.

My daughter is confident, healthy, neither skinny nor fat, sassy, and in my house, I am confident with my body weight, I am healthy, and I do not obsess about the scale, yet I emphasise healthy eating choices. Lilly is NOT going to become anorexic because I let her wear a pair of skinny jeans. If there is ever a problem, it will not stem from the clothes she wears, but instead will be rooted in what her dad and I, as her parents, instill in her as an important part of her blossoming self esteem. Do bullies at school help that along? Absolutely. And I'm not advocating that bullying is ever an activity that should be brushed aside. It can, in fact, cause much damage, as we've seen in recent news. However, I feel that the idea that the kind of clothes a child wears being made to take the blame for a possible future weight issue is really just a matter of people completely missing the mark.

It's an item of clothing, people. If YOU are self conscious about skinny jeans, learn to either let your own emotions go and let your child have their own desires without assuming that the world is out to get them, or find something else to be passionate about. Like circumcision. Because THAT matters so much too. ~eye roll~

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REMEMBER FRIENDS: Opinions on both sides and discussion of the matter is wonderful and encouraged- but personal attacks on myself or my other readers and their own opinions will not be tolerated in the slightest. Mean remarks, bad language or otherwise hateful comments will be deleted immediately without warning, without response or further discussion. Thank you.

There are few things that make me happier.

Of course, the first item of business is to pitch my Gorgeous Wings Giveaway!!!!

It ends THIS THURSDAY NIGHT, so get your entries IN!!!

Please click on the link to find out how to enter!

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There are few things that make me happier than:

Knowing there is an extra box of kitchen garbage bags in the pantry and that I won't run out any time soon.

Having laundry cleaned, folded and put away so that I don't have to dig through laundry baskets in the morning to find clothes for 5 people.

Having any of the rooms picked up and vacuumed well so that when I walk across the carpet I don't feel anything BUT carpet and so that I don't trip over anything if I have to get up at night.

When I can walk into any given room in my house and it smells good.

Freshly cleaned sheets and comforter on my bed.

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What kind of things make you infinitely content?

I have definately learned my lesson!

Don't forget friends! Just a few days left to enter my lovely WINGS GIVEAWAY. Please click the link to find out HOW!!!!

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THE FISH FRY AND THE FORGOTTEN CAMERA.

A tale of regret.

I really have an exceptional family.

I mean, I know everyone thinks they have the best family (except for those who think they have the worst), but really, mine takes the cake.

My immediate family is superior by far. They are the core of everything good. Hilarity ALWAYS ensues.

But from there on out, I have extensive family of cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents, on either side, who are just su-perb.

This particular moment in time, I'm bragging about the Hansen side. My dad's parents and siblings and their kids and their kids.

Yes, we're a very large group, the lot of us. And we're growing. There are near 60 descendants of my Grammy and Grandpa, who, coincidentally, just celebrated their 60th anniversary in August.

The truth of the matter is that we simply do not see enough of each other. So, when my cousin Kendal came home from his mission to Australia, and my grandparents decided to throw a Fish Fry, and with our kids in tow, we headed out to Sugarhouse, where my dad was raised in a 3 bedroom house with 5 brothers and sisters, and a giant backyard full of fruit trees, and metal play toys built by my grandpa's own hands.

I didn't take my camera. ~Hangs head in shame~

I know, I KNOW!!! It's an absolute loss.

As we were leaving, I grabbed the camera, and then threw it back onto the couch, thinking all about how we were going to be outdoors, we were going to be eating, my kids would probably spill at least one cup of water or juice or lemonade, probably ON my camera, I'd be busy talking to my aunts and uncles and chasing around my kids and my cousins kids.

NEVER AGAIN WILL I DOUBT MYSELF!!!!

As soon as we turned off the freeway and passed the giant, castle looking house that serves as a nursing home, the corner bakery where my dad worked as a teenager, and entered the street where my mom's grandma lived, 5 doors down from my dad's parents, I knew that leaving my camera at home was an epic mistake.

I hadn't been to that neighborhood in around 5 years. We'd been away in other states with the Air Force for 3 of those, and since we moved back to our hometown 2 years ago, our family has grown to a size that requires the reservation of a church building or a park for all of our family parties.

But nostalgia flooded in.

The house was one of only a few on the street that looked nearly exactly the same. Sugarhouse has gone through all the changes a neighborhood normally does over the years: quaint suburb to dangerous ghetto, back to a regenerated, cute little town with double the value due to people who just happen to care.

Along the left side of the house ran the same wide, black top driveway I ran up and down as a kid, the chain link fence heavy laden with grape vines hung with fat purple grapes. The back yard was lined with tables and chairs, and in the bare part of the garden- next to the giant raspberry bushes we used to pick berries off of for home made raspberry ice cream- was a fire pit ready for lighting so we could cook the fillets of fish my grandpa caught only a day before. Home made scones and canned jams of all flavors basked against the sinking rays of the sun, like they were some kind of stained glass jars.

At the end of the driveway was an extended garage where my dad worked with my grandpa until 2am, even on school nights, building cars, taking them apart, learning about tools and building the swing set, merry go round and slide that ended up in the back yard. (my dad can build ANYTHING and that's not just a daddy's-girl mentality. It's really truly true. He had to learn it somewhere- and I daresay it was from my grandpa back during those long nights spent in the garage.)

Inside the house, where we had to rush before exploring further so that my children could use the bathroom, my 2 year old hand prints still hang in the hallway, painted in red with a quaint poem about how my hands leave dirty little fingerprints, but someday, they'll be missed. We measured them against Scarlet's hands- but even as little as she is, mine were a knuckle smaller.

Again, we emerged into the cooling temperatures of the back yard, where my kids rushed to see the new terrain they hadn't had the pleasure of exploring yet.

There was the cherry tree where, at eight years old, my dad had first seen my mom, perched upon a branch with his younger sister, chowing down on ripe, dripping red cherries. She was only 5, wearing cats eye, rhinestone glasses. And he vowed he'd marry her.

Beyond that, the deeper part of the back yard held memories, thick as syrup.

As a child, the place seemed bigger to me. And it was a kind of wonderland, canopied so thickly with fruit trees of all kinds that there was hardly any sunlight allowed through their foliage. As kids, there were more trees, and the swing set did not yet creak with rust and age.

Back then, Grammy and Grandpa had a white Labrador named Sally who seemed monstrous to all of us kids at the time. Just now, I have a black lab, and she couldn't have been that big. But to us, she was the dragon that guarded the walk back to the house. Grandpa would have to hold her chain as she grinned a doggy grin, drooling down her tongue, wagging her thick lethal tail, as we skirted past her like she'd gobble us right up.

We played for hours back there, without supervision, climbing over everything, ducking under anything, until late in the night, the adults would call us for dessert, or to go home, as we sniffled goodbyes to our dear cousins, like it was the last time we'd see them.

That night, I ventured beyond the garage with my children, and the place was much different.

Now, the merry go round resides in my own parents' back yard, where it is used often by 3 and 4 year olds who attend my mom's home-run preschool. The wood pile was moved from against the back fence, where it was a towering turret of termites, to splay along the garage instead of plunging into the sky. The monkey bars had been piled with lead pipes from heaven knows what project Grandpa had taken apart, and the slide was posed next to it.

As a child, it seemed so harmless. As a parent, every jagged, rusty end that jutted out at my kids' eye level was like a mocking song. Every ladder leaned against a fence or tree taunted Mahone, the only great grandson at the very moment, to just try and climb it!

My aunt JoAnn and I dusted leaves off of the cement ends of the swing set to trace her siblings and her own name, etched clear back in 1965. Behind the swing set was a rusty bike cart. All it would take was one little daredevil, or Scarlet, to impale themselves against that bar...

When the food was ready, we lined up against the long tables full of jello salads, vegetables, tartar sauces and those delicious scones, juggling hand fulls of plates for the children that outnumbered the adults, and as the sky started darkening, the light bulbs hung along a wire contraption that Grandpa built from the roof of the house to the garage began to glow a warm halo.

The fish, flowered and fried to a crisp, yet flaky texture, looked like something out of a summer magazine on my plate- never mind that it is now October.

Somewhere along the dinner timeline, the children ran their little dirt caked feet back to the house to announce in panicked little voices: "Scarlet fell off the swing!!!"

Of course, my fears had come true, I knew that yard that was once so friendly was a death trap, especially for my accident prone almost-three-year-old! Behind the cousins, came my toddler, fussing a bit, but otherwise, just fine...with a mouth literally full of dirt.

The jokes ensued.

After a bit of washing up in the bathroom, a determination was made that there were no loose teeth or bloody goose eggs anywhere, and she busied herself with a slice of pumpkin pie, eaten as though it were a piece of pizza.

The night ended quietly as everyone eventually folded chairs and tablecloths, hugged goodbye, and drove off with only engines humming gently into the night.

And oh how I wish I had images to show you! Oh how I wish I had a picture of the tree where my parents met, or the rust covered metal constructions of hand made genius my Grandfather so lovingly built his brood of six children.

How I wish I could have showed you the delicious fillets of fresh trout or Scarlets muddy grin.

Alas, my camera lay at home, silent and smug as the house became dark.

And now, I wholeheartedly vow to surgically attach my camera to my shoulder by it's strap.