beadlefevre

Tender Mercies

2012-01-24T11:45:00.074-07:00

Mr. Beadle's brother, David, donated bone marrow for the transplant ~ a very painful procedure for the donor.

During the last part of 1997 and the beginning of 1998, during Mr. Beadle’s treatment for leukemia (AML) which included preparing for a bone marrow transplant, he spent many weeks in the “bubble” room up at the University. No one with a hint of a runny nose (his 2 young sons) could visit him there. Fortunately, i was able to stay well enough to spend lots of time with him. And i had great support from my friends and family. They loved our boys and cared for them so that we could spend that time together. And then there were the blessed days that he was able to come home. At home, he didn’t have nurses to flush his lines and administer his meds and a dietitian to plan his meals and a cafeteria staff to prepare them and a custodial staff to keep everything sanitary. That would be me. And we could all be together. Yay!

I hate to admit that even though i was thrilled to have that time we could be together as a family, it was very difficult and overwhelming to care for all of Mr. Beadle’s physical needs and take care of the kids while trying to hold myself and my whole world together.

One icy January day, Mr. Beadle was home, in his Papa Bear chair in the front room. He was resting and reading (He read the New Testament again and the Old Testament and all of Cleon Skousen’s books. He told me later that he wanted to recognize the prophets when he met them). I had given him a little bell that he could ring if he needed me. I was trying to keep the boys occupied or at least keep their volume down to a minimum and I was supposed to plan lunch and in a few minutes i needed to flush Mr. Beadle’s PICC line (i think that’s what they called it — he had a permanent IV line that ran straight into his heart) and i don’t remember, probably a thousand other things were either on my to-do list or running through my mind. Anyway, i just lost it. I was completely overwhelmed and alone and sad and afraid.

I went into our spare room and knelt down by the bed and just threw it out there: “I can’t do this alone.” Immediately, i was enveloped in a huge hug. I felt warm. I felt peace. I felt love. I literally felt the arms of God around me. I remember thinking, “I want to stay in this cozy bubble forever.” And just at that exact moment, just as soon as that thought had wriggled loose o' the gray matter, the tinkling of that confounded little bell pierced my peace.

My bubble turned to glass—shattered. Cold. Sharp.

And angry.

Why did you leave me? I said i couldn’t do it alone! Didn’t you hear me? This is exactly like so many years ago. The emptiness. The way i can never get back the feeling of newborn Wesley on my chest. It’s not right. It isn’t fair!

We lost our first baby, Wesley in a car accident in 1992. He was 3 months old.
**********
Fast-forward 13 and a half years.

I have a lovely family and a marriage that gets stronger every day. Mr. LeFevre is a gem. Really. The best. Not that we haven’t struggled, but we have together on this earth, 6 beautiful children and a relatively warm home and none of our children have killed any of the others yet. And we have our health. Who can complain, right? Trust me, Lorinda can always find a reason and a way to complain.

I complain about my home (it's warmer now—thanks, Chad).

I complain about my marriage (even though it gets better and better, there are still hard days).

I complain about my children (yes, the beautiful ones).

I complain about my body (the reasonably attractive, relatively healthy, occasionally pain-free one).
I complain about the things I am “supposed to” do:
wipe noses,

wipe bums,

wipe counters, wash laundry, plan food, cook food, clean up food,

organize,
pay bills, read my scriptures, say my prayers, go to meetings.

I especially complained for many years about saying my prayers and reading my scriptures. And I didn’t do it very much. Praying felt like talking to the ceiling. I never once got “the hug” again.

And the scriptures? The scriptures just infuriated me. Are these people who pick up the Book of Mormon and can't put it down again even reading the same book? Are they? All I could find were contradictions and whenever I read I became angry and confused.

Still, I go to my meetings. You know, the 14th article of faith: "We believe in meetings, we have endured many meetings and hope to be able to endure all meetings. If there is any reason for a meeting, we seek after these things." I didn’t make that up, but neither did Joseph Smith, who wrote the first 13. It’s kinda true, though.

And whenever I think, “i don’t really need to go to Relief Society today, I could go home and take a nap” or “i should go home and fix dinner right now—no one will miss me” and then i end up staying, there is always something there for me. And I’m glad that I stayed. And I think it’s ok that some days I only went because I was “supposed to” go.

Here’s a little secret: did you know that the “extra” meetings are a bonus? I’m talking about Leadership meetings and Stake Relief Society Meetings and the Adult Saturday night sessions of Stake Conference. the ones where no one will know if you don’t go. Don't tell anyone, but these are the best meetings.

So... let’s skip back to last Fall (2011): i’m sitting in the meeting for the women of the church (on a Saturday night... who goes to church on Saturday night?) where President Uchtdorf is telling us via satellite transmission not to be too hard on ourselves and to remember that the Lord loves us and when he says (to me), “Wherever you are, whatever your circumstances may be, you are not forgotten. No matter how dark your days may seem, no matter how insignificant you may feel, no matter how overshadowed you think you may be, your Heavenly Father has not forgotten you. He loves you with an infinite love.You are known and remembered by the most majestic, powerful, and glorious Being in the universe! You are loved by the King of infinite space and everlasting time! He who created and knows the stars knows you and your name—you are a daughter of His kingdom. God loves you because you are His child. He loves you even though at times you may feel lonely or make mistakes. My dear sister, you are closer to heaven than you suppose. You are destined for more than you can possibly imagine.”

Or when i go with my new friends who have been called to serve with me in the Young Women’s presidency of our ward to Young Women’s leadership training meeting and Elaine Dalton tells me (me!), “God knows you. He knows your strengths and your weaknesses. You were hand-picked to be in this place at this time.”
In these 2 moments, there could not have been a more powerful witness to me if my Savior, himself had been standing there talking to me. I knew it was true. I felt the warmth. I felt the love. I got another hug. And then I walked outside and I wasn’t “in” his arms. I didn’t feel it still. But I couldn’t deny that it had happened. I knew it and i knew that God knew it and I realized right then that those moment are gifts. My Heavenly Father hadn’t left me. I can feel that feeling again. I just have to go to “meetings.” And i mean the kind of meetings with just me and God: the super-extra meetings—when no one, no one knows you are there. I can read the scriptures over again as I would a letter from my mom(they might annoy me sometimes, but there is always something there for me). I can confide in him like i would a dear friend. I can remember the feeling and believe it or not, i may even be getting better at feeling it.
And it feels good.

a little nail polish

2011-08-16T22:26:00.010-06:00

When i was a young girl, i was always designing and making new couture for my Barbies. My Barbies always won the fashion contests (in my mind anyway).

I never thought twice about a naked Barbie. Naked Barbies were part of the landscape, right?

Then my friend with 4 boys had a daughter who turned 5 and started playing with Barbies. Now aside from all the other issues Barbies create, she's worried about it making her boys uncomfortable. So i started a little informal poll.

And boys (at least the ones i asked) are (wow) uncomfortable with Barbie nakedness. Plus, i guess, now that you mention it to me(a mom of teenage boys), teenage boys don't really need more, you know... stimulation.

So i got an idea.
A little nail polish (okay, a lot of nail polish) could do wonders!
some of my nail polish

I've always harbored a fear right down in the middle of myself
that i'm really not creative.

That i am just a copycat.
pre-dressed Barbies

Still, i am tickled with our results.

Help!

2011-06-09T01:04:00.013-06:00

For several months, I've known, deep down in some cavernous part of my being

that I needed to revamp my sheet music situation.
All of my children have inherited musical talent
from both sides of their family.
Add that to a mother who is determined that they will overcome
the general lack
of ambition they inherited from her
so she has enrolled them in every possible toddler music class available for the last 15 years.
Just ask me. I know which one is best.
Anyway, that, plus my tendency to gather all available
resources around me
has led to a ridiculous amount of
sheet music.

Two weeks ago, piano teacher says I need to buy the
John Thompson's First Grade Book.
I have this book. I know I do.
Somewhere.

Here Goes Nothin'.
Step 1 and 2:
Get all the music. Put it out on the floor.

Oops! I forgot a whole file drawer full!

I know, just get started, right?
Well, I was a little overwhelmed.
Luckily, Cherie
showed up
(Mr. LeFevre said I could hire her so that I have a small hope of getting it
all pulled together before my mom comes to visit next month).

Step 3: start sorting:
Christmas.
Vocal.
Religious.
Piano Perfomance.
Method.
Legend of Zelda (what???).

Step 4: go through the stacks and "de-junk"
the word makes my head pulse.
My breath quickens and I start to see spots of light.
Okay.
Breathe.
I can do this.

I gave a precious little to the
Deseret Industries.

Some got recycled (mostly practice copies).

Some even got thrown in the garbage.
Step 5: start filing.

I put the big books from all the categories on this shelf in my library:

In this armoire drawer in the piano room,
Guitar
Organ and...
harmonica music

And still... I have orphans.

More filing(seriously? only one drawer?):

Note the bag of flashcards in the back.

a stack for big boys to make heads or tails of:

and just
4 short hours after beginning,
Voila!
I have the floor in my front room back.

Someday, I hope to be Jenn's equal (ha!)
But for now...
at least I have my slightly used copy of John Thompson's First Book
(I guess I can take the one I just bought back and exchange it for Book the Second)
(oops, again).

Hooray for getting organized.
Did you know it can actually save you money?

Videos of Mom

2011-05-21T06:14:00.009-06:00

Lyndee's pediatrician suggested
at her
(1-year!!)
check up last week
that I make a video of myself
for her to watch
while we are in Alaska for 10 days this Summer.
Without her
(Boo Hoo!).

I know, some of you are wondering
"What is this lady's problem?
Get a life outside of your children."

Believe me, I have a life
outside of my children.

I have hobbies.
Several of them, in fact
(uh-oh. where'd they go?).

I have friends
(They keep track of themselves, thank goodness).

It's just that
Who doesn't want to nibble these cheeks
for lunch?
photo by Bonnie Jack

or kiss that forehead at the end of the day?

So, the video:

1. Can I stand to watch myself long enough to edit a decent video?

2. What are some songs or finger plays I can do?

I thought of

Tooth Bugs (I do not want to clean my teeth...)
Here's a Ball for Baby (so big and soft and round...)
10 Little Fingers (...and they all belong to me...)
My Hands (... upon my head I'll place...)

3. What else can I do? Why is this so hard?

HELP!!

Lyndee's on my Team!

2011-05-15T09:16:00.003-06:00

This is my first experiment with putting video
(woo hoo! high tech!)
on my blog.

aren't these two too cute?
and Landon?
(turn up the volume)

"Go Lyndee!"
This is the first race she won...
She'll be 1 year old next week.
Dexter is 7 months old.
This was the 4th or 5th race.
He was getting tired.
She's just getting the hang of it.

Old Year/New Year

2010-12-31T16:10:00.007-07:00

I can only aspire to be you.

and you know who you are... and you and you...
While y'all are all reflecting and making peace with the struggles of the past year and
making valiant and inspiring efforts at looking hopefully toward 2011

here I sit, planning my outfit
imagine this shirt in fuschia (my happy color) on my body which is about 10 lbs more than it should be
and my boots

my boots look kinda like the black upside down pair
and my earrings
for tonight.
and the food I'll make.
maybe.

Fancy Schmancy

2010-12-24T02:35:00.006-07:00

Someone please help me learn to use my camera.
Nikon D50
When the flash is not on(this is indoors in the dead of winter... only my 12 overhead kitchen lights plus the two lamps and the spotlight from the front room are on) my shutter speed is like a whole second.
Who can sit still for a whole second?

cool snowflake

When the flash is on, it looks like... well, the dead of winter... at night.
check out the freaky cat eyes

And i can see the gingerbread pictures I took yesterday on my camera's viewfinder, but they are not showing up on my PC... only the pix from the day before yesterday are here.

More cool stuff about Snowflakes.
Am I obsessed?

Ok, maybe a little.

Us and Them

2010-12-07T08:31:00.008-07:00

There are 2 kinds of people in this world. I am one and Cherie is the other. We are becoming more like each other and I think that's a good thing.

Of course, her house will never be so messy that you couldn't drop by with the photography crew from Good Housekeeping, but she's sometimes able to let go of the fact that her baseboards are "trashed" in order to, say, fix dinner for her family(as if her dinner weren't planned for a week and prepared that morning).

Cherie's House

And I have many more organizational systems in place than I once did. Still, though, my house will never be so clean that you couldn't drop by with the photography crew from Clean Sweep.

My house

Did you know that organizational systems are a living thing? I know this. And yet... my systems fall into disrepair. Either because they are not working and need to be revamped or because I simply don't do the upkeep on the system.

I've talked to both kinds of people. Neither has any concept of how the other functions.

We'll call me a B Type. B Types tell themselves stories like, "My self esteem is not based on how my house looks" and "Having a 'house of order' means having your priorities, not your desk straightened" and "We creative types thrive on chaos."

We're lying.

Deep down, we know that having a clean space brings a peace to our lives that we cannot obtain any other way and we know (from our limited experience with it) that order gives us the freedom to be more creative. We know that the "mess" rattles our brains and keeps us from doing the things that we are actually good at. In fact, we hardly ever get any satisfaction for doing the things that we are good at because WE CAN'T EVEN KEEP UP WITH THE BASIC NECESSITIES of running a healthy, functional home. Just like in the 4th grade: Miss Campbell wouldn't let me do the art projects because my math wasn't done. By the 4th grade, I had already identified myself as an artist. I failed art. In the 4th grade. How could I fail 4th grade art? Unless, well, I'm a failure.

But that should be a different post. They aren't judging us. At least not on purpose, but A Types really just don't get us. They wonder and are baffled that we just don't pull it together. They think maybe we don't want a clean house. That possibly we actually like germs or chaos or disorder. That maybe filth is where we find our odd brand of happiness. Truly, they know how much easier their lives are because they are organized and they do what they do TO MAKE THEIR LIVES EASIER. Heh. My favorite quote is,

"organized people are just too lazy to look for stuff."

Because it makes me laugh... And if i didn't laugh, i would cry.

sigh.

The lies we tell ourselves? We do it to survive. We do it to justify, i guess, the fact that we simply do not have the strength or the knowledge or the skill or the willpower... the whateveritisyouAtypepeoplehavethatwedon't. We are baffled, too. If we knew what it was, or how to get it, don't you think we would?

We buy books about it. We collect them. Sometimes we find both the books (amid the drifts of clutter and pet dander) and the time and strength to actually read these books. We study it. We interview organized people about how they do it. We are even fascinated when we "meet" people like Julie Morgenstern, who claim in O Magazine to have once been one of us. This kindles the flame. Keeps the hope alive that we too may, one day, aspire to attain the status of "organized."

Because, really, they are "right" and we are "wrong" right? They are "good" and we are "bad." Don't try to say no. Do they want to be us? No. Do we wish we were like them? You betcha.
Again, the stories we tell ourselves about the fact that A types are mentally ill. Neurotic. They must be, to be so all consumed with such "trivialities."

Lies, I tell you, all lies. We would trade places in a heart beat (and just take our creative minds with us. hah! oh... wait, that wouldn't work).

I'm not blaming Julie. I think her ideas are great. I'm thrilled that she has become an effective person. I think learning organizational skills is important. I have learned lots of skills from my friendship with Cherie. Maybe the problem is that deep down i don't believe i deserve to or have the potential of being effective/having a fulfilling life. Or maybe my brain just will never work that way. Maybe I would be happier if I stopped trying. I think many of us (B Types) get to that point. Sooner than later.

Sorry this is such a depressing post. I'm to that point I guess. I spent the morning happily dejunking the mudroom with my son, congratulating myself that i could say, when this son graduated from medical/law school, "You know, the only difference was that i worked with this son. Taught him the value of hard work by example. Yes, that's just what i did."

And then at 11:00, the phone rang. It was Mr. LeFevre. Upon hearing our son's voice in the background, he asks, "Didn't you take him to preschool?"

Why does that make me a failure? And yet, somehow, it does. And if I called Cherie, bless her heart, she would say, "You mean, you don't have 'Preschool' written in your planner?" Why would I need to write "Preschool" in my planner? How could I forget preschool? He loves preschool. Truth is, sometimes (only because she has said this before), I do write "Preschool" in my planner. And sometimes, I even look at my planner before 9:30 A.M. And sometimes, the words even make sense to me through the fog of my "creative mind." Just not today.

I am a failure. This erases all the good i have ever done. ever. And it stops me. I haven't even finished cleaning the mudroom. Maybe I'll go get a chocolate truffle from Costco out of the storage room. or a cherry vanilla diet Dr. Pepper. or a piece of australian black licorice. Oh, wait. I've already done those things. Maybe I'll just go switch over the laundry. After all, "Laundry" is written on my planner. December 7. Laundry.

Family! Home! Evening!?@$^#!

2010-11-30T10:45:00.000-07:00

For weeks, months (years?), Mr. LeFevre and i have been trying to teach our children (mostly unsuccessfully, it seems) what we consider important skills that they will need to succeed and be happy in this life:

getting along with others.
being kind.
helping those around us.
building them up.

Just recently, we have had multiple individual interviews with each of our children, telling them how proud we are of their accomplishments, how much we love them (a lot), pleading with them to nurture the most important relationships in their lives. We have created a family Mission Statement. We have tried to be positive in our interactions with them. We have had family dinners together, engaged them in working together, held regular family councils and family home evenings. We take them to church. We tell them the stories of Jesus. We look for and use teaching moments on almost a daily basis.

We are far from perfect as parents, but i ask you: how? How are we supposed to remain positive in the face of constant heartbreak? It breaks my heart when one of my children is reaching out for approval ~ of an idea or a feeling... or a piece of artwork~ and one of his siblings (the one from whom that approval is most needed) knocks him to the ground with "you're stupid!" or "you're an idiot!" or "I hate you!"? I feel dirty even typing these words. They have become to me some of my least favorite and most painful words.

Last night, it was my turn for the Family Home Evening lesson and after dinner, i said quietly to my husband, "how can i really teach another 'Love One Another' lesson? I want to just say, 'You win. I give up. I'm done(and finished)!' " So we decided that we would have a family council and ask our children what we could do to be a happy family.

Well, Megan(8) came up with the idea of making a chart with everyone's bedtimes on it and taking off five minutes for every hurtful comment, or mean action (meaning they have to go to bed earlier). It is a great idea, but part of me thinks it will just become another chart to add to the side of the fridge that is just part of the landscape: unnoticed. unheeded.

Except then my husband shared something that M. Russell Ballard taught recently, and I am paraphrasing: When a [family] council discusses an issue and comes to a conclusion and says, "This is what we will do..." there is a power in that synergy that [nothing] can stop.

And this morning, I read something my friend, Elisa, included in her blog about getting our kids to ask questions. I loved this: “The Savior said, "ask and ye shall receive... knock and it shall be opened unto you." He didn't say, "Be quiet and let me tell you what you need to know." When our kids ask questions, they are prepared to hear the answers. Listen for those questions and set up opportunities for them to ask questions.

A little nudge here, a bright idea there. That's how to do it. One day at a time. Being just a little bit better. Together. We can do this.

Our Family's Mission Statement

2010-11-30T07:11:00.008-07:00

Years ago, i jotted down in my planner a few lines that i thought would make a powerful "Mission Statement" for our family and help us stay focused on the most important things in life. Well, then i lost my planner and couldn't find it for 6 months!! It was under the desk at Costco. My untouched credit cards and driver's license and my Franklin/Covey pages and leather binder had long-since been replaced, but i could never quite recreate those few lines to my satisfaction, so our family remained afloat. When my planner was finally returned to me, that was the only thing i found missing. Had i imagined writing it?

Then a week or so ago, Mr. LeFevre and i decided it was time to start from scratch. I took a list of values i had scratched out in the front of my new planner (that i got from these guys) and wrote a new one:

Our home is a

Sanctuary.

In our home, each of

Heavenly Father’s children

feels acceptance and

Love;

We develop

our talents freely

here

and our

Creative Expression

is nurtured and allowed to

blossom.

~*~

As we create

Peace

and

Harmony

in our home,

we strive

to maintain an environment of

Health

and

Order

Here.

~*~

There is a spirit of

Faith

in our home.

Unite

in an

Attitude of Gratitude

and go forth

Serve

our fellow man.

Okay, so it's not great literature. We do our best. It fits on one page.

Puppy Love

2010-11-29T23:21:00.003-07:00

This is the picture i was looking for:

Best Friend

2010-11-18T23:22:00.008-07:00

Some posts take time

like this one.
We all grieve in our own way.
And in our own time.
Karlee asked me about 10 minutes later,
"When can we get a new dog?"
But then, she's the one who mentions Regi most often.
We miss you, sweetheart.

My Favorite

2010-11-11T17:40:00.003-07:00

Driving down I-15,
Landon shouts out,
"Look, Mom! Your favorite!!"

No Pictures

2010-11-11T16:47:00.004-07:00

I chose not to include any pictures in this post because even some of the mental images are pretty intense.

So... you've been warned.

Some parts about breastfeeding
are less pleasant that others,
say, oh infections, engorgement...
teeth.

Some parts are just downright amazing
and cool.
My body makes milk?
really?
wow.
I can sleep while she eats?
cool!

And then...
some parts are just funny.
When my babes are new
and their
heads
are smaller than my
breast
(no, my babies don't have small heads),
i have to use a finger
to move my flesh out of the way so
their nose can find enough air to
breathe ~ but now,
Baby Lyndee is doing this thing
that i don't remember
any of my other babies doing.

(i can't decide whether it's unpleasant, amazing or just plain funny)

She latches on
and then,
firmly planting
a hand on either side of my breast,
she not so gently,
does a little
baby marine
push-up, all the while
sucking away
like a little camper.

2010-10-05T12:28:00.002-06:00

What we saw on our trip back from the fire station today

And Lyndee got her first taste of big brother's sucker.

If you wanna hear Landon's new joke, give us a call.

Don't Die!!

2010-09-04T01:42:00.007-06:00

Lorinda: I need a Coke. My head is killing me.

Landon: Mo-om! Don't die!!

Landon: And if you do die... and Dad... and Will... I want Mar-Wee.

Landon: I wike Mar-Wee.

(I have to 'splain this picture. This is the only picture i have of my sister on the miraculous day she helped me survive Lyndee's birth. Part of that help included threatening my dad and my fourteen year old son that if they talked--at all--they would be escorted from the room and shot. The rest of the time, when cameras were not trained on her, her demeanor was gentle and loving)

Helloooooo, Kitty!

2010-07-26T00:11:00.005-06:00

I was feeling pretty overwhelmed by the whole prospect of making a cake for a little girl with something in mind... ya know? with boys, it's kinda like you make what you make and they're happy, but if you don't get it right for a little girl, it's different. Or maybe it's just personality, because this little girl didn't give me any quivery lips over this and it is faaaar from perfect.
I wish i'd taken pix of the pieces of the cake because that was pretty interesting, but this is the crumb coat. The heart was the left-over cake after the ears and the outside of the face.
Then i rolled the fondant out and set it on top. Isn't that magic? If i'd used fabric, i would have had to take seams to make it 3D. I'm still not sure how it works. The folds just disappear.

Here's the finished product. that shiny spot on her forehead is because after i moved the nose and the eyes, i had to wash off a little dye and i took the picture while it was still wet.

Here she is before i moved her eyes. See why i had to do that?

oh... here's what i learned:
1. Use a white crumb coat when you leave the fondant uncolored.
2. Use separate gloves for each color and do the light colors first.
3. Figure out another way to make whiskers.
4. A little dye goes a loooong way.
5. This was kinda fun, especially to see how happy it made my Karlee.

Thanks, Claire. I couldn't/wouldn't have done this without your encouragement :).

2010-07-16T00:14:00.004-06:00

so the bumper stickers on the car in front of me say

MEAT IS MURDER
and
Vegan

and i'm thinking to myself:
Which living thing has
a softer voice
with which to defend it's own
LIFE
an animal

or

a

plant

?

another bumper sticker:

freaky

2010-06-29T19:22:00.006-06:00

Speaking of Abby, i was going through some old photos... trying to "organize" them (really all i ever do is reminisce, deleting a photo here, moving a photo there) when i ran across this freaky picture of Abby on Christmas Eve. Brought back the chills i got when i first noticed her there in the center of the tree surrounded by wrapped gifts.

Come on guys.
Cough up the pet photos.
Or the pix of kids.
Or other pix with fun stories.
Put a link to your flickr photo or blog post in your comment.

Abby Yoga

2010-06-27T12:54:00.003-06:00

this is the pose I was doing just the other morning, yeah, uh-huh.
I did a little vanyasa flow class at our hotel in Hawaii.
Wow! Nearly killed myself.
Really, though, i am looking forward to
getting back to yoga.
Soon.
Are you exercising this summer?
with your pets?
Any funny pet photos?

"My Thomas Birthday"

2010-06-27T00:05:00.003-06:00

He's just so polite. i mean, "pwease, mom" and "tanks, mom" and "I wuv you, mom..." How can any self-respecting mom resist? He's been talking about his Thomas birthday cake for at least 6 months now. So i checked out a bunch of tutorials online about how to make a Thomas cake(do you have any idea how many people videotape themselves making a birthday cake and then post it on youtube?) I got a few good ideas and this was my finished product:

I mean, it isn't anything super professional... okay, it's nowhere near professional, but it isn't the worst one in cyberspace either. It's good to have a three year old.

Life on the North Shore

2010-06-24T22:15:00.004-06:00

So i'm driving along 200 West in Bountiful, daydreaming about Hawaii when out of the corner of my eye, i spot an old camp trailer all decked out in fine hippie style. Seriously~i thought i was hallucinating. I thought i was back on the North Shore of Oahu. Turns out, it's a Shave Ice stand... called "The North Shore." Who knew? and you can get ice cream in the bottom(i did) and sweet beans in it(i didn't) and everything.

When we first tried to go to Matsumoto's for shave ice, we unwittingly (I don't have a data plan on my smart phone... so, no map) took the Hale'iwa bypass of the Kamehameha Hwy, which takes you right on past the cute little town where Matsumoto's is. I was determined, though, so we bought a paper map and went back. This time, the boys were not too thrilled

before we went in...

but after... now, that's a different story. Mmmm! Thanks for the travel tips, Hillary!!
For a little more about Matsumoto's, click here.

A Rose by Any Name

2010-05-27T09:47:00.010-06:00

Don't you think it's a lot of pressure to choose the name by which another human being will be known for her whole life? I mean what if you name her Margaret and she's really a Debbie? Does that ever really happen, though? I mean, have you ever met someone and thought, "She doesn't seem like a Tiffanie?" Ok, so once it happened to me. My sister was dating this guy named Ryan (i think it was Ryan) and I could only call him James ~ he just seemed like James to me. So, his parents must've named him wrong, right?
So I know that kids are mean and they will find a way to make fun of your child's name no matter how careful you are. Still, it's a huge responsibility. You have to find a name that's not so strange that people can't understand you or laugh when they hear it, but it has to be unusual enough to not be the same as every other kindergartner the year your child starts school. Which I've decided is impossible. No matter how unusual the name you choose, it's a matter of collective consciousness and your name will be in the top 10 for that year because everyone else liked it and thought it wasn't too common.
After our little one finally opened her bruised and bloodstained eyes so we could see who she was,
we got out our "short" list of 25 or so names. The problem with girls is you have a little more freedom. You can choose something cute or whimsical like Chloe or Zoe and that's great, or you can totally use a boy name like Ryan or Cameron or Tyler and no one is going to question you... ok, so I really wanted to name our baby girl Derek and I did get a little resistance from the general population on that one, but you can't do the same thing to a boy and name him a girl name... not even a name that used to belong to boys, like Leslie or Shannon. The reason this freedom is a problem is that there are so many great names to choose from and we had a hard time eliminating any of them.
We knew her middle name already, because both of our older girls are named for one of their grandmas (Megan for Darlene and Karlee for Patricia Kathleen) and we really wanted to name this one after my Mom,
whose middle name is Jeanne. Still, there are about 24 perfect names that go really well with "Jeanne." And there was always the option of using Jeanne for the first name or using my mom's first name and another middle name.
We finally agreed on the name that we think is the perfect combination of adorable and pleasant, sweet and dignified, charming and well-possessed, original but not too strange:

Lyndee Jeanne

speaking of Roses, Karlee first wanted the Name Karlee Rose, then Katie Rose, then Rosella. Landon of course, wanted Derek, then Roselle. Megan came up with a lovely name every other day or so and the big boys never changed their votes from Kara (like Clark's cousin, Kara Kent... not obsessed with superheroes over here, nope). I really liked Lavender Rose and if this says anything about me, i wanted to name her that simply because when Megan told Darlene, her response was, "that's not a name for a baby." Then when Lyndee was born, she was more violet than lavender. oh, well.
and Michael says there is a rose named Lyndee (prob'ly Lindy). Looks like I get another rose bush to prune... or not prune.

Baby Story

2010-05-23T10:10:00.010-06:00

Anxious. Why did I feel so anxious about having this baby? Of all people I should know that I can handle pain. I've had 4 babies with no pain meds before this one. Heck, i've had my teeth drilled with no anesthetic before, so what was my problem?? Friday morning, my doctor stripped my membranes, so that kicked things up a notch and I started to have some contractions that were actually pretty uncomfortable. Then on Saturday at about 4 AM i started to have pretty regular, pretty painful contractions, and my husband had rubbed my feet with Clary Sage oil and we had tried some other methods to get things moving and so when the contractions got a little more intense and closer together (from 3 to 7 minutes), I decided it was time. After we got loaded in the car, stopped off at Inkley's to get a memory card for the camera, and then back at the house to get Mike's wallet, I only had 3 contractions on the way to the hospital. I said a little prayer, asking for help, and then asked Mike to find a nice little cliff to drive me over. No luck.
When i got here to the hospital, they hooked me up to the monitors, and checked me. I was dilated to 5 cm. and my cervix was completely soft, but not too thin. The baby was still floating, because as Dr. Voss loves to say to me, "When you've had this many babies..." there isn't really anywhere for the baby's head to engage. Everything's just kinda loose and floaty, I guess. So I'm thinking, they'll never send me home if i'm at a 5, but the resident doc comes in and says, "the partners don't want to start you this early so if you don't progress in the next hour, i guess you'll be going home to labor." Well, that actually, that sounded pretty good to me because, remember, i didn't really want to do this birth thing and a nap seemed just the right thing at that moment.
But Marilee (my doula) and Mike both insisted that I get up and at least walk around, then I went to the bathroom and after sitting on the toilet for a few minutes, and a few contractions, my water broke! aaaa!! and after one or two reeeeeallly painful contractions I got back to bed and started screaming for an epidural. The nurse said she had called the needle guy, and i said(well, yelled), "can you call him faster?" She asked, do you just want the epidural or should I check you? Well at that point, since i thought he was on his way and i was between contractions, I told her to go ahead and check me.
"You're complete!"
"What does that mean?"
"Well, when the dr. tells you to push, just take a deep breath, hold it and push as hard as you can."
"I can't do this!"
"Yes, you can."(Jinx on Marilee and the nurse).
So three contractions (9 pushes) later we have this gorgeous thing:

A Dr. from my Dr.'s practice just happened to be at the hospital delivering another baby, but he delivered mine first and then he and the nurse kneaded my stomach for 30 more minutes while I nursed my baby and let my placenta deliver itself(more details on the benefits of that later... maybe). Then the adorable nurse from the nursery gave Michael and my dad and Wade a tattoo of the baby's foot:

Next time: Does this baby have a name?

The Eyes (and Hands and Chins) Have It

2010-05-16T21:40:00.006-06:00

The writers of one of my favorite blogs recently challenged us to take pictures of eyes that capture us. I had just that day taken these photos of my daughters eyes by which I am completely mesmerized(the eyes, not the photos).
I mean, wow! You really have to see them in person, the photos don't do them justice. I can't even figure out what color they are. what color aren't they? They are brown and gray and blue and green and gold, even lavender on some days. I could spend days (years?) just looking at these eyes.
And then I realized that the miracle of these beautiful children who amazingly enough were once within my own womb have so many fascinating parts:
!Ihandsfingers and toes
chins

Lips
noses (... well)
elbows
smiles!
and especially cheeks.
And this doesn't even include those beautiful teenage boys who constantly amaze me with their size and their glorious adolescent faces.

What I (should) have learned from dying

2010-05-05T09:07:00.016-06:00

From all my experience with death... I mean, dye. And not hair dye. That's a different post for a different day. I'm talking about fabric. Tie-dye, RIT dye, Tulip dye, Dylon.
First, it does NOT pay to be lazy. Dye loses it's potency after the first few(20?) minutes. It probably starts to lose it immediately, so you can't mix the dye and save the left-overs for another day. If you do, you will be sorely disappointed in your results.
I had a beautiful white maternity dress that I made to wear to see Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat (starring Donny Osmond) when I was pregnant with Wade in 1996.
I put it on the other day and Landon says to me, as I fastened my Tallulahs pearls around my neck and buckled my sandals, "You getting marry?" Then I realized that I would wear the dress more often and it would make me happier for the next 3 weeks (until I have my 7th and final baby) if it were a happy fuschia instead of white. So I dug out my box of dye and pulled out two boxes of RIT "fuschia" which i mixed up in my big pan with hot water (oh, after i soaked the dress in a pan of "ash" dissolved in water). I put the dress in the water and when i started stirring, i realized that their version of fuschia was more like what i call magenta. not that magenta is bad, just that the color that Duncan brand Tulip dye is calling "tulip" is closer to what i envision as fuschia (my happy color). So i rinsed out the dress and dumped my last half a box of "tulip" in and dissolved it. Anyway, the dress turned out lovely, if not quite bright enough for my taste. I may dye it again... if i have time before little lolita is born (her name is not Lolita... it's just that Mike and i have serious naming issues and our short list is still 18 names long).
So then today, after I unpacked all my 0-3 month clothes to put in the nursery, I took my favorite receiving blanket from Landon's baby-hood in blue and brown polka-dots and wet it down (no ash... lazy), dissolved a box of RIT mauve, which i thought would mix with the blue to make a nice lavender (hah!) and dumped in the blanket ($$$)... only problem is that i didn't unfold it first (um... lazy?). I stirred it around on the stove (quick... lazy method) for about 30 minutes and then I thought, I'm just going to stick it in the sink and unfold it so I can stir it around a bit better. Well, the insides of the blanket were... still... blue, so I'm stirring and stirring and stirring, but remember what I said before about the potency of the dye?And the color variations are not because of lighting. So...off to Michael's to buy more dye... or maybe just to Sassy Babies to buy a more girly blanket for Lola (are you calling me lazy?).
Tune in next time for more about tie-dying and gestational diabetes and bows and bow boards. Because i still have 3 weeks in which to write about this stuff, right?

We Are So Awesome/Pathetic

2010-02-25T18:26:00.004-07:00

Can you believe how many medals we have? I mean, the athletes representing the United States of America (my country) have earned a truckload of medals so far at the Olympics in Vancouver.

Our athletes are amazing... and a little pathetic. I mean, do any of them know the words to "The Star Spangled Banner"? Some of them seemed proud and honored that they were playing our national anthem.

Evan Lysacek even put his hand over his heart, and one cute skier knew a phrase or two. Maybe they too overcome with emotion to mouth the words?
I was chastised by a friend recently for feeling that our country is the greatest country on Earth. She says it's conceited to feel that we are better than anyone else, though i don't think i necessarily feel "better" than anyone. I just think everyone should feel allegiance to and pride in their own country. I feel about The U.S. of A. how Captain Von Trapp felt about Austria... or at least how Christopher Plummer's version of him seemed to feel.
I'm just asking you to learn one verse of a not very long song, guys (and gals). Think you can you fit that in between workouts? Put it on your iPod. Listen to it in your private helicopter on the way to your very own private half-pipe.

Bed Rest

2010-02-24T10:37:00.005-07:00

So at 26 weeks, but looking more like 36 weeks (Cherie says to me yesterday "maybe you won't get any bigger"), I really did it yesterday. After a morning of laundry and cleaning house (it was an experiment to see if i'd feel better when i was productive... more on that later. maybe), I got in the car and went to Costco... then Home Depot... and then Super Target. I was kind of wandering back and forth at the back of the Target store because i knew they had pump needles for basketballs, but i couldn't find them... nor anyone wearing a red shirt and khaki pants. I was pretty sure no one worked there. Then i saw it: a red phone. I picked it up, pressed "1" at the prompt and was promised that an associate would find me within 60 seconds. Seriously, 7 seconds later, I was "found" and then we quickly found the pump needles. Hah! just as i suspected. on the basketball aisle. Walking away from the basketballs, i thought, "my back kinda hurts... no, it's really my hips." Then pretty soon, I was having a hard time putting one foot in front of the other. By the time I realized I was having a problem, I was half-way between the red phone and the front of the store, so i just kept trudging. 20 minutes later, I'm finally at the register. Luckily with no extra treats or videos or clothes in my cart (Karlee's usually a pretty efficient shopper, but i had my eagle eyes on ).
Needless to say, my laundry didn't quite get finished and i decided that today I would take it easy. Kinda self-imposed bed rest. Before Mike left for work, he brought me half a peeled orange i had him bring me some water, my computer, a book and my journal. i had fully intended to write and read the day away but all i've been doing is surfing other people's blogs looking at pretty pictures. Fun, but not what i meant to do.
And i hope i feel better soon because wow, sitting in bed makes your bum hurt... and one can only eat so many handfuls of "the snack that smiles back" and I'm starting to get hungry. I texted Cherie and she invited me over for lunch... tempting, but then i would have to climb the stairs.

2010-02-20T17:31:00.006-07:00

Watching TV the other night, Will says to me, "Della Street looks like Grandma Jeanne."

I can see that. Not as airbrushed and not as much eye make-up, but can you see it?

Can you see the problem?

2010-02-12T20:36:00.003-07:00

See how my half-square triangles are all curvy? now what? I can't figure out a way to pull or stretch them back. And do i have to square them up before i sew them together? I was thinking that I could just sew 4 of them into a pinwheel block (?) and then trim up, but it's not really working with this crazy seam thing. How do i avoid that in the first place? and what now?

Before and After

2010-02-09T21:29:00.000-07:00

Wade's hair has been growing and i sorta couldn't bear to cut it. Then he asked if i would give him a mullet. What child of the 80s can resist that request? I thought it would only last a day or so, but i think he kinda likes it.
So here he is before:

And after:

Then we were just messing around with before:

And after:

Check out the pectorals... ok, so the biceps need a little work, but he just made the school wrestling team so maybe he'll get a little exercise.

Groundhog Day

2010-02-06T15:28:00.001-07:00

was just that kind of day. Some days just require pajamas, slippers and Chocolate Satin Pie from Marie Callender's (all whole pies are $6.99 this month). It was a beautiful day and i was wondering what my problem was, but then my elementary school kids came home to remind me that we still have 6 more weeks of winter.

Baby Love

2010-02-02T05:10:00.001-07:00

It just doesn't get any better than this:
I think this picture was taken by Karlee on my iPhone, but that is looking suspiciously like a teenage knee there.

Birthday Cakes

2010-01-30T12:05:00.000-07:00

Here is the cake that Karlee wants for her birthday celebration(in July) :

Here is the one I want to make:

This one is probably a little more realistic, since I don't even know how to make or use or buy fondant (is that what it's called?):

And... I've got 3 birthday anniversary celebrations and one real birthday before that one. oy.

Wish me Luck!

2010-01-23T01:50:00.000-07:00

I've never pieced anything on an angle quite like this... well, except Olivia's, but that was in a different life. Don't you think i should sew it together before the kids wake up?

This is what Megan did while I was piecing the blocks. I guess these are the rules.

Rime and Reason

2010-01-15T18:39:00.001-07:00

I've begun doing the NY Times Crossword puzzles on my iPhone. Sometimes it feels like a waste of time, but I'm building my vocabulary and keeping my synapses in working order, right? Well, here's a confession... I can only do the Monday puzzles. It's the brain damage, right?
Well, there are recurring clues that you learn after doing dozens of puzzles. One of them happens to be "Hoarfrost" and the answer is "rime." Now, i wasn't really sure what hoarfrost was, but when i awoke this morning, I walked out in my front yard and I heard a voice actually speak to me(in my mind), "this is hoarfrost."

Can you feel it?

2009-12-31T06:37:00.000-07:00

Take 3 fingers and lightly drum them on your arm. That's what it feels like when you first notice your baby kicking. But that only lasts a couple of days. After that, it's pretty unmistakable. More like being tapped with a mallet and then jabbed with a knuckle. The baby is only 6 inches long. I'm not sure how it packs such a punch. Michael has even felt it.
Yay for baby kicks!!
Ultrasound next week!!!

A Few of My Favorite Things

2009-10-23T07:29:00.000-06:00

When i first started blogging, i made a list of my favorite things. Near the top of that list was "Tallulahs Packages" and my friends all asked me, "What's a Tallulahs Package?" so i promised them ages ago i would write about them. Really the packages themselves are pretty fabulous.

package pix by J.P. Hopper

Of Course, it's what's in the packages that's exciting.

Michelle isn't actually IN the package. Just the necklace.

Cindy and Barb met when their Air Force husbands were stationed in Valdosta, Ga, but often deployed to remote areas of the world for months on end. They had so many little children between them that none of the other mothers wanted to "play" with them. So they took care of each other, supported each other with chicken soup when sick, listened through mommy meltdowns when necessary, and laughed. And laughed some more. A strong bond was formed. That bond included similar design ideas, artistic dreaming and loads of creative energy. They spend hours pouring over magazines, creating clever things and being asked by friends to make more creative things for them. Eventually the pair and their families both got transferred to Anchorage , Alaska. Lonely, Sun-deprived Air Force wives who needed an outlet for their creative energy, they started sewing yummy flannel baby blankets (can you believe i found this picture of Karlee wrapped in a Tallulahs blankie on my computer?) Then they began to quilt and paint and experiment with home decor (well, Cindy admits that she sat around looking at magazines for ideas and Barb painted and decorated :). They quickly found that they worked well together and although their design styles are unique they complemented each other and together, they began a lifetime foray into new and even more amazing artistic endeavors. Pretty soon, these two lulus became Tallulahs.

One of their best pursuits(so far) has been making jewelry. One thing i love about Tallulahs is that they use precious metals (I love the sterling silver) and real semi-precious stones in their jewelry and their craftsmanship is first rate. The kind of jewelry they make is the kind you will be able to pass down for generations and the style is classic and sophisticated. You won't want to pass it on but your daughters definitely will want you to. Mine already bug me about wearing it every Sunday(or "when you die" they add). They don't want my other jewelry. They want Tallulahs. They can already spot quality, i guess.

They've been making and selling their jewelry to locals in Atlanta, Auburn, St. Louis, Anchorage, Houston, Chicago and Snailwell, England, and Kaysville, Utah(I know, that doesn't sound "local" but they have friends and family living in all those places) for years. And lucky us Wasatch Front locals!! They are allowing me and my sisters to have a "Sample Sale" with some of their inventory. The sale will be at my house in Bountiful on November 14, 2009 from 1:00-4:00 PM (just in time for Christmas-stuff your own stocking!!) We have a pretty big selection of inventory that we have the opportunity to offer at a 40% discount. Of course, you can always order their fabulous designs at the Tallulahs Website (yes, that is my gorgeous niece on the home page) and if you want to see another beautiful model (heh) displaying some of them, here ya go...

If you are as fascinated by the creative mind as i am, you will also want to read Cindy's blog. Of course she claims that the only reason i want to share her blog with you is so that you can compare my closet with hers. It isn't true. It's because i love the way her eyes see the world and I love to sit at a cafe and watch her watch people and since she lives on the other side of the country! this is the easiest way to indulge. She is a beautiful woman and an inspiration to me on so many levels. Thanks, Cindy!

This is the Place

2009-10-20T17:47:00.000-06:00

"A Place for Everything and Everything in it's Place" was the dream my mother had when we were children. That was the problem. I was pretty sure it was just a dream. Then I met Cherie. And it took me a few years knowing her to believe that she truly knows exactly what she owns and where every bit of it is.

Mudroom "System"

You may know that Cherie is an organizing guru. She is also my own personal angel. Not really, she spends her life in the service of all her friends and neighbors. Still, we are determined to get my house "organized" once and for all. Actually, if there is anything i've learned from Cherie, it is that there is no "once and for all." There is only repetition. She "dejunks" her whole house at least twice a year. Therein lies the key to knowing all her stuff. It isn't that she has all that infernal much less than i do. The difference is she touches everything she owns at least every 170 days. Oh, and her memory might be a little better than mine :).
I've also learned that you've got to have a system that works for you. That's my first big challenge. My brain just doesn't work that way. When something isn't working for me, and she suggests that i do it a different way, i (usually) think, "That makes sense. Why didn't i think of that?"

So i went to a local discount chain store (okay, Walmart) the other day to pick up some Sterilite containers for a project and the thing that makes me want to say bad words is that every season, Sterilite changes the styles of their drawers and boxes. When i'm finished organizing something, i want it to look nice and i want the new containers i use to stack nicely with the containers i used last time. Is that so much to ask? I mean, i know that the containers are not THAT expensive. If i wanted to, i guess i could just buy all new containers every time, but i have dozens of these containers going on in several rooms of my home. I should count them. i bet i have a hundred. And i just hate that the 27quart containers from last year won't even sit straight on top of the 27 quart from this year and if you pull the drawer open, the whole unit comes crashing down on your head. Argghh!
Another big challenge i face is curiosity. Cherie is always amazed at what lengths (or heights) my children will go to to "undo" my organizational efforts. I've just started realizing myself that when i "lose" my keys or my phone, more than half of the time, they aren't lost, but have been stolen and hidden. Sometimes the little thieves even remember that they've committed the crime and what they've done with the evidence. But it's also that they are interested in what i'm doing and what treasures i've uncovered on my foray. So they pick them up and carry them off. Sigh.

Game Closet "System"

One last thing... okay, two: first, how do i get people (my children and my husband) to use the organizational systems i so painstakingly create? I mean, i get that the labeling is for me, so i won't have to think through the process again (and again), but really, let's just put things back where we get them so we can find them next time. And then finally, will someone please tell me how to go from whining blogger to someone who can actually make a difference in the world (how can i contact the Sterilite Company and offer my valuable insight?)?

Handcart Heartburn

2009-07-24T09:35:00.000-06:00

it's 4:30 A.M. and my husband is shaking my shoulder, "we've got to go. come on."
"Are you kidding me? Oh, yeah. okay. Get the chairs. I'll be right up."
We decide not to wake up Wade since we think he needs his rest and we know he'll be grumpy by the time the fireworks are over tonight. Don't tell anyone, but the best spot for the parade is right in front of Zion's bank so we take our chairs up and sit by the wall of the bank and read our books until 7:00 A.M. when we are allowed to put our chairs out to the edge of the street to save our places for the parade at 6:00 P.M. Sound crazy? well, by 5:30 or 6:00 A.M. there aren't many places left. I mean, you can always come later and sit in the back, but then your kids have to climb over everyone to get the candy and you can't reach them and they could get killed by a fire engine or something, right?
Cherie was in charge of the committee that built the float for our stake. This is the first time i was ever aware that she hates parades. How long have we been friends? I didn't even know it was possible to hate parades. What's to hate? the heat? the crowds? the children, tripping over each other to get candy and crying when they don't get a piece? the traffic? the noise? Karlee crying when the clowns come within half a block of her? The "give a kid a flag" float from which they force a paper or plastic miniature of the symbol of our nation into the hand of every toddler so that there is something to sweep from the parade route when it's all over?
What about the stuff to love? Landon, dancing to the music and waving his flag and cheering whenever he sees a car. Karlee, sharing the candy she catches with her little brother. Me, using Grant's pocket knife to extract Megan's orthodontic bracket from the wire so the tooth that is stuck to the taffy can come out of her mouth. Wade, in the parade, saving candy until he sees us and then dumping his bag out in his sister's outstretched hands. Seeing the float for 30 seconds that took your friends 30 days to build. Bagpipes. Michael, grimacing that we are only on the 89th out of 110 entries (and we were worried about Wade being grumpy).
But i realize, sitting at the parade, that it isn't just the parade I enjoy. It's the being with family and friends. The celebrating our nation and our state and our heritage. Sharing that with our children. Right after the fireworks start, with Landon huddled in my arms against the gunfire and cannonshot, i'm wondering if all the effort is worth it, i hear a tiny voice behind me say, "i like the colorful ones. they make me happy." Yeah. That's it. I like this. It makes me happy.

We have the best fireworks ever. it's kind of a smallish event, so you're sitting right under it and the pyros are so proud of their handiwork. Whenever there is a really cool set, the crowd whistles and cheers and when there is a piddly one, everyone laughs and says "ooooh!" Really, though, they are artists and at the end, they come out carrying little flare thingies and take a big bow and everyone gives them a standing ovation. Last night there was even a big explosion right after they bowed. Fun!

The funny thing is, by the time the fireworks were over, he was all about fireworks. Ask him next time you see him. Sound effects and actions and everything.

The BEST float in the whole parade!

CARS!!

Homemade Bread? Are you Kidding?

2009-04-13T23:17:00.000-06:00

Well, I've been asked to take a few minutes to share my thoughts and experience with making homemade bread at our Home Family and Personal Enrichment class tomorrow night. So i need to get my thoughts in order and just in case i can't say everything i want to say in a "few minutes" i'll write it here so that everyone can read what i meant to say.

My mom made homemade rolls every Sunday that i can remember. She ground the wheat flour and mixed it half and half with store-bought white flour (wow, i sound like Laura Ingalls... my mom used the fancy store-bought sugar, too). I remember her Bosch bread mixer, but I also remember her kneading the bread by hand, after removing her wedding rings and setting them on the windowsill.

She taught all my older brothers and sisters to do it, too. so i had this vague impression that i would just be able to up and make a loaf of bread. Apparently, though, being the youngest of my mom's first family, i may not have had quite as many opportunities for growth as did my siblings. Sure, i knew how to make macaroni and cheese and (unlike some younger sisters of mine) i knew that you could cook a hot dog without a microwave oven and that cakes could be baked from scratch ("what's scratch?"). But i still have to call Mom(or Dad) sometimes for directions on a pot roast and few other "basics."

I've gone through nostalgic times where i yearn for the simplicity (?) of the olden days. I like the idea of hand-quilted blankets and hand-built butter churns and spinning wheels, so after being married for a couple of years (the 2nd time), i asked my mom if she would show me how to make bread... without the Bosch. Wow. What a... lot of work. Kinda therapeutic, though, all that punching. Unfortunately, it was still several years before all the stars aligned and i actually made bread on my own. I kept telling myself to start small, but with bread, there is no small.

Armed with knowledge, i then had to convince my husband that we needed a 300 some odd dollar bread mixer (none of that hand-kneaded stuff for this far-from-first-born child). Then i had to put up with interrogation concerning my intent for the next 3 years while i figured out what it was i really wanted out of life and my bread mixer. Then i needed pans and cotton towels and courage and willpower... and yeast. I had most of the other ingredients, except meanwhile, i had begun talking with Kaylyn, who is... well, let's just say she's conscious of issues relating to the health of her family. Kaylyn uses a variety of different grains in her bread for various nutritional (and psychological?) benefits. So of course, then i couldn't make my own bread until i had a "wheat" grinder. And Spelt and Millet and Rye and Pearled Barley and White Wheat and buckets to store it in and a new basement to store the buckets. Whew! I'm almost kidding about the new basement. I actually started MAKING BREAD about a year before we started construction on the addition to our home.
To get psyched up, i watched Darlene make bread a couple of times (isn't everything easier after you watch Rachael Ray do it?) and at family gatherings, i would pelt Darlene and Kaylyn with questions about the how when where why what who of bread making. It was a big relief to everyone when i actually MADE BREAD.

While we finished the addition to our home this last Summer, Fall, Thanksgiving and almost Christmas, I temporarily suspended the weekly bread-making. I asked Mike just the other day, if i died, is there anything you would miss about me? Can you believe he said "Your Bread." I may as well already be dead then. Except i guess there is some hope of bread in the future. hmmm... i wonder if (considering the pull his position gives him at church and all) he had anything to do with this "Take a Few Minutes" thing.

Too Old

2009-04-02T10:10:00.000-06:00

So i guess Landon is too old to come everywhere with me. Peeking in the shower to say hello, he giggled, pointed and said, "ew!"

i miss you

2009-03-18T17:35:00.000-06:00

Dear Wade,
What I forgot to tell you earlier when I said you could leave if you thought home was such a bad place and I was such a “sucky” mom was that I will miss you and our family won’t be complete without you and we are having taco salad for dinner and you are welcome to come home whenever you want to.
I love you.
Mom

What are you scared of?

2009-01-16T21:19:00.000-07:00

Cherie asked me the other day if i was scared of the future. I said that i was and she asked, "Why? What's the worst that can happen?" Knowing my personal beliefs, she knows i'm not afraid of death. I'm not. I'm afraid of the part before death. Cold. Hungry. Scared. Hurt. Watching others hurt. Discomfort. That's what it comes to: i'm afraid of not being comfortable.

I spent the day at Yvonne's house Monday, finishing up our latest illustration project and i froze! I asked Chris if he had fallen prey to that whole "turn your thermostat down one degree and you can save $50 a year" crapola. It felt like he'd been turning it down one degree a year since they've been married. Seriously, though, he said they just keep it cool because he is miserable if it is too hot. And I was a little uncomfortable. But i also realized that part of what made me so uncomfortable was the fact that when I heard about the energy savings, i thought to myself, "so it only costs $50 a year to be a little warmer?" and i turned my thermostat up a degree. I have acclimated myself to being 6 degrees warmer than I was that day.

That got me thinking. If i'm so afraid of being out of my comfort zone, maybe what i need to do is get myself used to a little less cozy lifestyle. Maybe i need to be a little cold and a little hungry and a little sore and a little scared. Just possibly i will be a better, stronger person if i turn my thermostat down a degree (or two). I might be better off if i exercise more. And eat a little less. If i stopped procrastinating the organizational tasks and awkward phone calling i'm supposed to do every day, i might even benefit in other ways.

So i'm doing that. Slowly. But i've also done some things that have made my lifestyle a lot cozier and more beautiful and fun. And i'm okay with that. When we decided to add on to this cute little house last Spring, we knew that it meant that we would probably be here for a while (God willing), so we decided to make it a little cuter and more functional while we were at it. We added a family room and a garage and we dug a basement under the family room to use as storage. Well, that meant the storage would be joining the house through our bedroom, so to me, that only meant one thing: WALK-IN CLOSET!!! We have a kind of funny shaped bedroom. it's long and skinny, but the closet on the end was really smallish. I'm to blame, but when we finished the basement the first time, i couldn't see any way around it. I should have covered up one of the ridiculously teeny totally useless windows. Okay, i'm sure if my life depended on it, i could get out of it, but maybe not if i was pregnant, and no way could a fully-dressed fireman get in or out. Our closet was built by Michael and Grant and Roland and Paul Crowther, and painted by me (thank you, thank you) but the shelves are from IKEA. Brilliant. I even put some of it together. William and Conor and Grant and Michael and Darlene helped, but i couldn't believe how easy it went together. Above is the view from the entrance. This is "my" wall of closets(closed and open).

To the left and below is Michael's wall. He thinks this is unfair somehow.

Don't feel too sorry for him, though.

He has two fancy drawers to organize his ties and he has another whole closet on the other side (not as deep, but still, he could have 20 pairs of shoes and a trunk full of sweaters if he wanted to. It's got tools stored in it right now. hmmm.)

This is (not to brag) the IKEA jewelry insert that holds just some of my Tallulahs wealth. Tawnie asked me when she saw my list of favorites, "What's a Tallulahs package?" I'm going to answer that question, Tawnie, I promise. Soon. This is just a sneak peek.

We have one of those fancy (read: expensive) keypad locks on the door from our closet to the storage room, but believe me, even though that means i have to go get the new bag of flour or the can of olives, it's worth it. Plus, Santa has a place to store his stuff. I had a friend in Jr. High whose dad used to lock the food storage and i thought that was so wrong. I couldn't believe he didn't trust his kids. I get it now. He trusted them implicitly. And he knew that next time he wanted to make cookies, the chocolate chips wouldn't be there. And in the future, I may be a little uncomfortable, but by golly, i'm going to have my earrings and some chocolate chips!

Crayola, the Religion

2009-01-07T11:12:00.000-07:00

Since becoming a pirate, i've realized how evil crayons are. They ruined my life when i was 9 because someone put a green one in the pocket of their pants and it ended up in the dryer with my yellow gingham dress. The "dust" from crayons is waxy (a hazard to books and clothing) and have you tried getting it off the wall? I know, Magic Eraser. But still, i have usually preferred a set of washable markers for my kids to make trouble with.

Well, Wade spied a renegade box of 64 that i had hidden on the top shelf of the library. He isn't the first to have noticed it, just the first lost boy tall enough and nervy enough to get it down without asking. So after the lecture on how sacred the "Box of 64 crayons with a sharpener" was, i resigned a ream of paper and myself to however long it would take to decimate that many crayons.

I'm surprised. Maybe my kids are old enough to understand the doctrine of this ancient sect. Maybe they are more civilized than i've given them credit for. It's been 3 days and only 2 crayons have been broken (they've been taped) and only one is lost. This is no thanks to Landon, who has ripped the flip-top lid off twice (taped and re-taped) Why. Won't. This. Darn. Lid. Come. Off!? and drawn in one school library book (grrr). I'm pretty sure he's also responsible for the 3 or 4 tips broken off in the sharpener.

These last 3 days have opened a page in the book of my childhood. I had forgotten how good it feels to draw a rainbow. And the good feeling it is to see all the crayons lined up in the box after having them scattered all over the table and floor. My life was defined by those 64 colors. There was a time, I'm sure that i could have named them all and shown you which was which. Actually, i was pretty surprised this morning when i tried to list them and exhausted myself at 43. I can't think of any more. The pack of 64 didn't include the 8 from the fluorescent pack did it(Hot-Pink and Ultra-Violet~remember those)?

Stop reading right now if you want to test your own color-name memory. I won't name all 43, just a few. First, you have the rainbow, red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, then you have the combos: green-yellow and yellow-green. Weren't those two mixed up? I would've named them the opposite way. then you have black and white and gray and the browns: burnt umber, raw umber, raw sienna and my fave, burnt sienna. Whatever umber and sienna were, i didn't care, just the thought of raw color and how you could burn it mystified me. Silver and Gold, which, on paper were very disappointing. Then you had cadet blue and brick red and olive green and maize and cornflower blue and midnight blue and periwinkle and carnation pink and salmon and magenta (was that one of those "hot" colors?). Oooh, and wasn't there an Indian Red? Why isn't that as controversial as when Peach was called "skin color" or "flesh" or something equally as alarming?

Crayola defined color for everyone. We all knew what forest green was or plum, but when "Mauve" became the vogue, it was always a fight, because there was no crayon. Was it like this lavender or like this dusty plum? Is it dark or light? is it more red or more purple? Well, problem solved. Crayola now has a color named Mauvelous. I don't know. Maybe they are a little late on the mauve question. Maybe they are a little late on anything but the original 64 since we have gone all artsy with color naming. I mean, what is Turkish Towel, anyway? Hint: it's the color my bedroom used to be. A little taupe, a little mauve, kinda tannish, with a pink tint. Still I think it would be fun to name colors for Sherwin Williams or OPI. You know what color of nail polish "I'm Not Really a Waitress" is. "Catherine the Grape" or "Yucatan if You Want" or "Cozu-Melted in the Sun" or "You're a Pisa Work" or "Louvre Me Louvre Me Not" maybe aren't as obvious. Still I wish I'd named them. Who do they hire to sit around all day thinking of color names/plays on words?

Shhh! Don't tell my kids. In one of the dusty tins on my shelf , i have a "collector's pack" of 8 of the original Crayola colors. Never-been-used. Virgins. I admit, some of the new Crayola flavors have good names: dandelion, macaroni and cheese, timberwolf, cerulean. I'm glad we have color and I grateful for the ever expanding palette de colour and for fun names. It makes me feel happy. And okay, I guess I'm grateful for crayons, too.

The Secret to Losing Weight

2008-12-20T07:26:00.000-07:00

When i was a teenager, i used to spend Saturdays at my Grandma's house pretending to help her clean and do laundry. I'm sure the things i did helped a little, but like looking back at most things, i wish i had worked a little harder. Anyway, i'm glad that i had the time with my grandparents that i did and got a chance to hear some of their stories. One thing i remember is that Grandma decided she was going to lose some weight. She went to a hypnotherapist who i thought was evil incarnate since he tried to brainwash her into thinking chocolate looked and tasted like animal excrement. He made her keep an elastic band on her wrist that she was supposed to snap herself with whenever she opened the fridge or thought longingly about food. It all seemed very masochistic to me, but the more i learn, the more i think hypnotherapy (psychotherapy?) makes sense because losing weight (and living life) is all in our head.

We all know how to lose weight. Eat less and exercise, right? Well, most of us also know that it is not nearly that simple. I'm not suggesting that i know everything about losing weight, but i'm going to share some of what i have learned over the past 10 months in the hopes that it may help someone get closer to their goal of reaching or maintaining a healthy weight. When i say "learned" i really mean "what i have come to believe" about food and eating and my body. Because the beliefs that i had about food and my body's needs were having me eat more than i needed and this was causing me to live a life about which i was not inspired.

So in a way, the process of losing weight for me was learning truths and in a way it has been about "brainwashing" myself into seeing things in a way that has me eating less and differently. Part of it has been about caring enough about myself to do what i need to do to feel better. I read an article that said when you binge you should be gentle to yourself. Don't hate yourself or beat yourself up. My sister, Cindy, told me, "disgust is not a good motivator."

Cindy was my inspiration. She was the reason that i believed that i could actually lose weight. She has been a Weight-Watchers life-time member for years. She is amazingly dedicated and I love how willing she is to share what she has learned and what has worked for her.

As it turns out, disgust actually did motivate me to get to my first WW meeting last March. Can you imagine not being disgusted that i was apparently perfectly happy at this weight? I had a hard time finding a "before" pic of myself. That is possibly because i am more often behind the camera than in front or it could be that everyone else knew how awful i looked and didn't want to break it to me by photographing me. So, yes, i was sick of looking and feeling the way i did, and that got me to a meeting, but what kept me there was the hope that the meetings gave me. I got all kinds of great recipes and formulas for success, which is part of why the program works. Whenever you are discouraged or have a bad day or a bad week, you go to meeting and you realize that you did have some success and that you have people and they are cheering for you. Now don't get me wrong. When i found out that I could only have 32 points (and that included 10 extra points because i was breast-feeding at the time), I was terrified. My eyes bugged out of my face. I thought they were joking. I didn't think it was possible to survive on that few calories.

Low Blood Sugar v. Low Blood Pressure

I really had never eaten that little in my life. I have always thought that i had low blood sugar, meaning when i fasted i would get deathly ill. Well, maybe not deathly, but i would get a horrible migraine (is there any other kind of migraine) and get sick to my stomach and feel like i was on the verge of losing consciousness. Consequently, i rarely fasted and i used my "blood sugar issues" as what i considered to be a perfectly valid excuse. Several events led to me reevaluate the blood sugar thing. My Mother-in-law mentioned to me that whenever she had a headache it was because she was dehydrated. I started to notice that was true for me too. Then my friend, Cherie asked me if i had ever been diagnosed or actually had a blood sugar test when i felt "low." I had to admit that i had not. It was a case of self-diagnosis. And finally, during my most recent pregnancy, i started feeling that, "I am in danger of passing out" feeling right before a check-up and i asked the receptionist for a sucker because i thought what i was feeling was low blood sugar. When I got settled in my room and the nurse took my blood pressure, it was 97/58 or something ridiculous like that. She told me that i needed to drink more water to bring my blood pressure up and that if i did, i would also not feel so spent.

When i remember that moment, i hear an actual "Click... ding dong ding dong ding dong." Wow! It all makes sense!! When i feel like i have low blood sugar, i really just have low blood pressure. This realization has changed my life. I fast now (well, in my husband's opinion, i'm not really fasting, since i still drink water) and i don't get sick. I no longer compose my life around making sure that i have ready access to food at all times. I drink more water (also a Weight Watchers principle). I carry water with me instead of food.

Some more tricks I've adopted:If i think i can't stand the growling stomach for one more second or if i'm feeling sorry for myself (what? you eat when you feel sorry for yourself?), sometimes i'll pop a bag of smart-pop 94% fat-free kettle corn and eat the whole thing, then down a tall glass of water. It makes ya feel kinda full and satisfies the munchies. Probably not the smartest thing, but this is survival, baby!

And truths I've learned: I used to think, "I need to eat a lot now, so i won't be hungry later." What i have learned is that even if i eat a lot now, i will still be hungry later. And if i save half of my Arby's Market-Fresh sandwich for later, i get to enjoy it twice! Because do we really enjoy the second half of our sandwich when we down it all in one sitting anyway (this is one of my mind tricks ~ heh heh)?

I have had a little success in losing weight and believe me, i'm not one of those self-disciplined people. I have to sort of hypnotize myself and consciously play little mind games with myself: First off, like i said, when i start to drag, i try to remember "i'm thirsty, not hungry." Then there is that thing i remind myself about being hungry later anyway, so I don't have to eat it all now. Then there is the story i tell myself that i actually enjoy it when my stomach growls. I remember my mom always told me that my stomach is only as big as my fist so that's the amount of food i should eat (Hang on a second... how come i can eat half a pizza and a thing of crazy bread and still be hungry?). Oh, and that thing she always says about how "it feels better to be thin than it does to eat something fattening." I'm still working on making that one a part of my belief system, and this next one I'm not even sure she believes: "if a food is going to hurt her tummy or her teeth, then she thinks it isn't worth the pain it will cause."

One of my favorite things is to do is to eat a salad or a Smart Ones frozen lunch because it tastes great and i feel like i'm doing something good for myself. I've even started to like things like edamame for lunch. pop a pack in the nuker and 3 minutes later, you are a vegetable-snarfing nut-cake.

Another "trick" that works for me is not to deprive myself. I'd rather go hungry for a week than miss my dad's turkey dressing at Thanksgiving dinner, so I do. I eat salads for a week and drink lots of water ~ or diet soda, which feels like a treat, without the calories ~ for a few days leading up to the big day. Or if i have an opportunity to eat something unplanned but fabulous, i just do it (in moderation... not the whole box of Cherie's hand-dipped rum-nut chocolates in one sitting, only half :)). I promise myself that i'll eat smaller portions for a couple of days or that i'll exercise, and sometimes i actually do, but i (usually) don't let myself feel guilty about it because, as i like to tell myself, that would be counterproductive and even harmful.
Reward yourself:

For a sweet treat, convince yourself that sugar-free gum is an indulgence... or oh, try one of these. Heavens, there are millions of health conscious treats and snacks on the market! And loads of resources for inspiration and information. One good place is hungrygirl.com. And finally, here's the big secret to weight loss (shhhh!): There is n-o - s-e-c-r-e-t. There's not a shortcut. There isn't a magic pill. You've just got to find what works for you and then you have to do the work. You are the only one who can make a lasting difference for yourself. You have the power. I'm not claiming to know everything. I don't know much, but i do know that the amount of weight i've lost this year is like setting down my chunky little (25 lb.) baby. Imagine carrying him with you all day. It makes your back hurt, doesn't it? I feel great. I have actually (gulp) even felt like running on occasion. I don't do it for long, but i do it in short bursts and it doesn't kill me. So, girls (and guys), whatever stories you have to tell yourself, whatever games you have to play with your mind, do it. It's worth it. You are worth it.

Water is... blue

2008-12-19T09:35:00.000-07:00

If you don't believe me, it's because your bathtub is not deep enough. i used to be under the vague impression that the blueness of the ocean was a reflection of the pitch blue of outer space or the blue of the swimming pool was because the tiles were blue.

My bathtub is white and the only other blue thing in the room was my eyes and they were behind the camera.

Another random thought: at first i was disappointed that my new tub was made of plastic, but guess what? Plastic is not nearly as cold on your back as cast iron covered with enamel.

Words that Landon says

2008-12-19T02:42:00.000-07:00

Landon uses a fork!! yay!
And he's talking, too. Here are some of the words he can say:

Ball!

Ball?

Where's the ball?

Balloon (more like "boon")

Poop (and then he lies down to get his diaper changed)

Boo (like peek-a-boo)

he signs "Milk" when he's thirsty

Lights (He started saying "lights" when his dad put up the Christmas lights this year. Every morning he wants to open the door and see the lights he knows were on last night)

And sometimes he says random stuff that i'm sure he means but doesn't repeat. Like yesterday, he pointed at his foot and said, "It's a foot." I asked him where his foot was and he showed me, but he didn't say it again. He nods a lot when you guess what he wants(and sometimes throws a fit if you try to give him what he doesn't want ~ like a nap or a nose-wipe). He's very independent and plays on his own a lot. It's scary when he's quiet for a while and i can't hear him. One time i ran all over the house looking and found him asleep on the floor in the girls' bedroom.

He's a pretty obedient kid most of the time. When i ask him to do something he does it happily. I know, he'll probably grow out of that soon. Sometimes if he doesn't want to do what someone (mostly Karlee) wants him to do, he does this amazing thing. He puts his head on the floor and throws his arms up behind him like a "downward facing dog" in a yoga for crazy people video. He actually posed for this picture. I asked him to do down-dog and he did.

Two Sundays ago marked his big 18-month move into the nursery. I had Megan take him the first time so he wouldn't have anxiety. It worked, and when i picked him up, he ran screaming from me to the door where they had locked his ball! Then last week he wouldn't have the nutty 6 year old carrying him again, so i figured it would be harder to say goodbye, but i let him look in the window and he wanted to get down and go in. Wahoo! Wahoo! Imagine me in the hall at church doing the victory dance, fingers pointed in the air, knees knocking.

He says more words, i just can't think what they are. Oh:

Yay! He throws both arms in the air and cheers "Yay!" after you finally guess what he wants to eat.

Surprisingly, no "Mama" yet... or "Daddy." Of course, i'm not listening as hard for that one. He knows his Daddy alright. When Dad's there, no one else will do. Unless... Dad's dressed up like a freaky old person in a red suit.

Funny, he didn't seem to have a problem sitting on this guy's lap. Of Course, this guy had candy. Karlee wouldn't go near either one, even though she saw the first one get dressed and knew who it was underneath all that combed polyester.

He says "shoes" and "juice" and "uh-uh" and "uh-oh" and probably about a dozen or so other words i can't remember right now. And maybe a thousand that he's saying and i just don't understand. This is my favorite age and i love this kid!!

Why is there PAIN in PAINT?

2008-11-12T03:08:00.000-07:00

We are ALMOST finished with this remodel. I know what you're thinking, "That's what you said in the middle of July." It's true, but this time I really mean it.
It has been a huge stress on our family, and i don't know that our marriage would have survived if we hadn't started therapy right before we started remodeling. Of course it would have survived, but it wouldn't have been nearly as much fun. Just a couple of illustrations: Wade almost failed his first term in English. This is my kid that loves to read! He even takes extra classes on reading!! Will's letter to Santa ended like this: P.S. The reason i'm having trouble controlling my anger lately is because we started too many projects at once. It's true. We added two rooms on to the house and it has affected every room in the house. We had to patch up the windows that were covered by the new rooms, so that means tile and paint in those rooms. We added a doorway and a closet to our bedroom, so that means paint and while we are carpeting the closet, the bedroom carpet is thrashed, so let's replace that and we really wanted to change the tile and the vanity and the tub and the tub surround (well, we didn't really want to replace the tub surround, but have you ever tried to pull a tub out and keep the marble surrounding it in one piece?) and the towel rack and the light bar, oh, and let's just throw in a toilet to make it a clean sweep. And because we got a new family room, that meant that we had an extra room that we could turn into a bedroom for Will and why don't we just replace the carpet in the whole basement? Round and Round we go and where we stop, nobody knows.

At some point during the finishing stages, which we told our contractor we would do to save money, we got a little overwhelmed and i called our friend, Paul who does finish work and handyman/carpenter stuff. He has been a gift from God. So we didn't save quite as much money as we'd hoped. instead, we saved a good portion of what was left of our sanity.

Anyway, right before Paul was finishing up the other day, he mentioned that the whole bed/bath/closet/foyer/stairs would be perfect if he added a kind of random, earthy texture to it. the thing that made me mad was that he was so right. i decided not to have him texture the stairs, since it was completely painted and finished and i'm going to hang pictures all up and down anyway, but it did mean that i had to re-prime the closet and the bathroom and i had to prime the bedroom, the hall and the foyer, which i wouldn't have had to prime otherwise. So as he drifted off to sleep at midnight-thirty, Michael says to me, "No wonder there is PAIN in Paint." "I'll show you pain, buddy," i thought. But then i decided to turn my anger into a productive use of energy. I started doing plies instead of bending. I thought that would strengthen my core and eliminate my back strain. That lasted about 10 minutes... really it lasted on and off until i finished with the priming, and i think it made it take quite a bit longer. But my core is strong. HooHaa!

Painting the white primer, playing over and over in my head was the word sanitorium. that is where they send crazy people, right (i know, random, repetitive, uncontrollable thoughts are a sign of mental illness)? not that i'm not crazy, but i was just so glad that we have color. Color makes me so happy. It warms me up, but that has got to be emotional because i don't think Mexican Sand or Chateau Brown register any higher on the thermometer than alabaster or arcade white. I guess if i get overwhelmed, I can always call Paul, but i am excited to do the actual painting. It's very rewarding and i want to do an antiquey rub or a glaze to give it even more texture. If i paint every day for 6 days, i figure i can wrap it up. Heh. not like i have anything else to do.

It's Christmas!!

2008-11-05T22:04:00.000-07:00

I had locked the front door so that i could take a bath and Karlee was worried that the kids wouldn't be able to get in after school, so she had me come open it and when i did, she burst out, "It's Christmas!" Indeed, the snow was coming down in big, fast bundles of flakes. It doesn't exactly make it Christmas, except... why not? That static you see in the background is SNOW!

End of an Era

2008-11-05T21:11:00.000-07:00

How can it be a happy moment for a Mom to see her son cry? Will's team played in their final little league play-off game together. Afterward, even the coaches got teary-eyed. And it wasn't because they didn't win their game. It was because they knew that this was the end of an era. The end of what they have spent the last 4 years building. The great thing is, i'm sure many of the friendships built on this team will last a lifetime. When you work and play that hard and long together, it doesn't just go away because play-offs are over.

These coaches have given their guts to the kids on this team. They're just kids themselves, most of them. They don't have kids on the team. Most of them don't even have kids. They didn't have to do this. It is a part-time job during the football season ~ except, wait. They don't get paid.

I'm having a hard time expressing the appreciation i have for what these coaches have done for our boys. They have made them run drills and do ladders and up-downs and laps and push-ups and sit-ups plus a list of other conditioning exercises that i've never even heard of until the boys are begging for mercy and/or hating their coaches. They've taught the cerebral part of the game as well as the physical. One of the coaches is a professional sports massage therapist, so he took care of the boys when they got muscle injuries. They have given all the kids who show up to practice and work hard equal opportunity to play in the game. It isn't that they don't have favorites, i'm sure they do, but their favorites didn't get more play time. And they have earned the respect of the boys. Those kids would do anything for Coach Tim and the rest of 'em. Including not drink soda because it might slow them down. I'm not sure why that impresses me so much.

Will has only played on the team for 2 seasons, but these 2 football seasons have given him a taste of what it is like to really work with passion for something and how good it feels to earn a measure of success ~ even if that success doesn't mean you win every game. As a parent, you can talk 'til you're blue in the face about how the things we have to work hard for are the only things worth having but until they get a taste of that, it is meaningless for a kid. So I want to say Thank you to the coaches of the Grey Juniors. Thank you for doing what i couldn't do for my son.

It's all ok... right?

2008-11-05T06:24:00.000-07:00

I started to wonder last night whether or not my dad's belief about living in this great country was adopted to calm his children. We turned on the news around 8 PM and watched John McCain's speech and my boys started to get a little upset. They began to repeat things they had heard people say about how now terrorists were going to be allowed to take over the country and one of them demanded, "How can we elect a person who doesn't even have a birth certificate?" So then i gave them the, "Aren't we blessed to live in a land where the outcome of an election doesn't start a war?" that my dad gave me.

At first, i attributed their worry to having ridden to the football game last Saturday with a couple of right-wing coaches who have no children of their own (so they don't worry how their conversation affects young children), but then i remembered that they have heard even members of our extended family rant about some pretty radical stuff.

And perhaps (shudder) i have something to do with it. I mean, his friend was in the car with him and he was also at our house last night and he wasn't upset at all. Of course, you have to account for William being a more serious kid than most 15 year olds. Okay, though. Have i entertained the idea that perhaps Barack Obama is not exactly who he says he is? Yes. Have i expressed that to my children? Probably in not so many words. Maybe my calm, rational explanations are more harmful than Grandma's ranting about terrorism and conspiracy.

Do our children have the right to (or should we afford them the luxury of) growing up with a feeling of relative security? Should we tell them that all is well? Do they really need to be worried about how the country is being run? Don't they need to focus on their schoolwork? Shouldn't we let them be kids? Or at least be a little carefree? Will there come a day when all is not well and they will need to know it? To be emotionally prepared?

Children are concrete thinkers. When we say things like, "The economy is going to pot! My retirement fund is not going to be worth anything!" or "I'm going to have to take out a loan to fill my gas tank." They think, "We aren't going to have enough money for food this week." Okay, maybe not all kids think that. When i was a kid, i heard my parents talking about some of their financial struggles and when life went on as usual, i figured that those kinds of problems weren't really all that important. My impression of my big brother was that he just took my parents' issues way too seriously (or took too much responsibility for them). But maybe i had my head in the sand thinking that their issues wouldn't have any effect on me. Or maybe i understood on some level that they also had made many good financial moves and those were not so readily "discussed."

Anyway, i think i'm going to adopt my niece's philosophy on the subject of the presidency. Can i quote you, Claire? "I will try my best to show him the respect that I think was lacking for President Bush over the past 8 years because he is now going to be our President. Not necessarily by agreeing with him on probably anything, but by not calling him stupid for one." We still both agree that we might have to call socialism socialism when we see it. I blame that less on Obama, though and more on ourselves. Socialism is what we want and socialism is what we are going to get. Maybe just sooner than later.

Oops. Can this entry duck under the cover of not being so controversial in the future? :)

My Favorite Things

2008-11-04T13:28:00.000-07:00

The smell of a newborn's head
kissing a chubby baby cheek
watching a good movie with popcorn at home in bed
reading a good book in a blankie with hot cocoa
hiking
biking
losing weight
eating chocolate (shoot!)
finishing a project
packages from Tallulahs
pictures of my family
hearing good music
singing good music
eating lunch with a friend
listening to my kids practice piano