Jay and I have no E-Mail at home right now. In Ruralville where we live we have only Internet option A and Internet option B and I have almost lost what is left of my mind trying to deal with A. Hopefully on to B in October. I'm posting from Jay's school this morning in hopes I can buy myself some time and that my 2 remaining readers won't give up entirely.
We had a tremendous rainstorm yesterday. No thunder or lightning, just steady rain all day long. In the evening we invited some friends over for chowder and cornbread. The Garcia family from our branch are good friends with whom Jay and I can practice our Spanish with no fear of scorn or mortification (I'm the only one who need worry about scorn and mort - Jay can still hold his own quite nicely). Also in attendance was out good friend, Francis Lizotte, who is a mentally challenged fellow about Jay's age whom our family has adopted. We had a nice dinner and later Jay and Fernando (Garcia father) left to take Francis back home. While they were gone the electricity went out and we were plunged into pitch blackness. Because this is not a terribly rare occasion I knew exactly where the flashlight was and we all cozied up in the family room. Cozying up anywhere in our house is easy because we don't have a single room in our entire house as big as JeNeale's master bathroom not including shower and closet. I brought out a fairy tale book that my mom used to read from when I was a child and we read in the dark The Six Travelers, Thick-Headed Jack, and The Twelve Dancing Princesses. When the daddies returned Fernando threatened to do what they do in Ecuador. They tell the children scary stories so that they are afraid to get out of bed. Hmm...I like it. Lacey Grace was downright terrified at the very mention of such an idea and may never trust Fernando, one of the nicest men I know, again. When it was time to go, Ryan, one of their teenagers asked to stay a little longer. The ultimate compliment - a teenager wanting to spend more time with a middle-aged couple and their young family. All of our children said as we were getting ready for bed that night by lantern light, "That was so much fun!" I couldn't agree more.
Favorite quote from Francis Lizotte, a devout Catholic on the issue of me not having developed film with pictures of him that he was eager to see, spoken with deep disappointment and with courage, "That's alright. I'm gracious, generous and merciful." Thank goodness because I still have some mission film I need to develope.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Don't give up on me
We are back in New Hampshire - home from a wonderful month spent with family and friends in Idaho. I have so much to write about but our internet is currently down and will be until a repairman comes to our home hopefully this week. I look forward to reading your Blogs and will be back online hopefully very soon.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Life lesson #2 - The Kiss
Jay and I met at church. On the day he reported his mission my family was sitting far in the back and my mother leaned over and said to my dad, “Now that is a boy I could let my daughter marry.” He was very impressive. But I was almost to go on my mission and felt very focused on that goal at the time. I heard him speak at Stake Conference and thought he was just so darn likeable. I spoke to him after church shortly thereafter congratulating him on a successful mission. He said, “Hey, we should get together sometime,” and I agreed. We got together that very night and had a great time talking. We seemed to become instant best friends. On the day of our first official date my mission papers were sent to Salt Lake. There was never any doubt as our relationship progressed that I would go, in his mind or mine. The Lord had made it very clear the previous year that I was to go and I wanted to. Jay wanted to have a little time for college and fun and didn’t feel the time was right for him either so he didn’t try to persuade me to stay.
I went and had a life changing 20 months that I am so grateful for as it shaped the rest of my life. Thank you, Jay for supporting and encouraging me during this time of great growth. More about that another time.
On my flight returning from the Dominican Republic I was almost as eager to see Jay as I was my own family. There had been a change in my itinerary that very day and Jay did not get the message that I would be coming in an hour earlier . As a result when I stepped off the plane he was not among the family and friends who were there to greet me. I cast my eyes about furtively hoping he would suddenly appear but he didn’t and I didn’t ask. But he called from the airport about an hour after we arrived home and came over. It was winter and I had just spent a year in the tropical sun and I remember thinking he was the whitest guy I had seen in a long time. But he looked great white!
I hate to confess this, but the thing I was most excited and terrified about was kissing him. I was pretty positive that he’d had a little practice while I was gone and I most certainly hadn’t and…well, it was a predicament. So when we came into the driveway of my parent’s home after our first post mission date and while the car was still rolling to a stop, I leaped out, ran into the house and shut the door. Leaning against it I suddenly thought, “What have I done????” I quickly opened the door. Jay was sitting in his car looking a bit bewildered and I called out, “Will I see you tomorrow?” “Your call,” he said. Thank goodness! “Then, yes. Yes! I will see you tomorrow. Goodnight!” I closed the door.
It went on like this for about 2 months as I recall. Mind you, Jay was living 5 hours away in Rexburg and we didn’t get to see each other all that often but I was thoroughly smitten and completely terrified that I might ruin everything with a less than perfect kiss. Each time we were together and he tried to kiss me I would suddenly jump up or turn my head and change the subject and it was all very miserable. I tried kissing a guy I knew who had just returned from his mission just to get the tiniest bit of practice. Bad, bad idea. Not even the tiniest bit of chemistry. A total waste of a good kiss – for him as well as me, I’m sure. So I was back to square one. What to do?
I planned a visit to Jay in Rexburg. I would stay with his FHE sisters and we would hang out (he and I, not the sisters) and I would let him kiss me. We would just get it over with and hopefully he would still like me as much as I knew I would still like him. Don’t get me wrong. I wanted to kiss him. My heart started racing any time I even thought about it – I was just afraid I would ruin everything. For one week we spent every waking minute together but something was terribly wrong. Jay didn’t try to kiss me. Not once. One day went by, then two, then three, then a week had gone by and no attempt. Had he given up? It seemed he had. That left the responsibility squarely on my shoulders. I would have to be the initiator. I would have to be the kisser and not the kissee. And there was not a moment to spare because I was going home the next day.
That night when he dropped me off at his sister’s apartment we stood outside the door. He turned to go and I knew that it was now or never. I grabbed his hand and pulled him back to me. His face came right to mine. We were eye to eye, nose to nose, almost mouth to mouth and then… And then he turned on his heel and started to laugh. He walked and laughed and I stood and watched him go. And then I started to laugh. I went home from Rexburg unkissed but wiser and much less tense. It’s a story we still laugh about today.
I learned that you shouldn’t dish it out if you can’t take it.
I learned that laughing is the very best way to ease a tense situation.
I learned that the man I was destined to marry had serious will power and was capable of doing whatever he set his mind to. It remains one of his best qualities.
I went and had a life changing 20 months that I am so grateful for as it shaped the rest of my life. Thank you, Jay for supporting and encouraging me during this time of great growth. More about that another time.
On my flight returning from the Dominican Republic I was almost as eager to see Jay as I was my own family. There had been a change in my itinerary that very day and Jay did not get the message that I would be coming in an hour earlier . As a result when I stepped off the plane he was not among the family and friends who were there to greet me. I cast my eyes about furtively hoping he would suddenly appear but he didn’t and I didn’t ask. But he called from the airport about an hour after we arrived home and came over. It was winter and I had just spent a year in the tropical sun and I remember thinking he was the whitest guy I had seen in a long time. But he looked great white!
I hate to confess this, but the thing I was most excited and terrified about was kissing him. I was pretty positive that he’d had a little practice while I was gone and I most certainly hadn’t and…well, it was a predicament. So when we came into the driveway of my parent’s home after our first post mission date and while the car was still rolling to a stop, I leaped out, ran into the house and shut the door. Leaning against it I suddenly thought, “What have I done????” I quickly opened the door. Jay was sitting in his car looking a bit bewildered and I called out, “Will I see you tomorrow?” “Your call,” he said. Thank goodness! “Then, yes. Yes! I will see you tomorrow. Goodnight!” I closed the door.
It went on like this for about 2 months as I recall. Mind you, Jay was living 5 hours away in Rexburg and we didn’t get to see each other all that often but I was thoroughly smitten and completely terrified that I might ruin everything with a less than perfect kiss. Each time we were together and he tried to kiss me I would suddenly jump up or turn my head and change the subject and it was all very miserable. I tried kissing a guy I knew who had just returned from his mission just to get the tiniest bit of practice. Bad, bad idea. Not even the tiniest bit of chemistry. A total waste of a good kiss – for him as well as me, I’m sure. So I was back to square one. What to do?
I planned a visit to Jay in Rexburg. I would stay with his FHE sisters and we would hang out (he and I, not the sisters) and I would let him kiss me. We would just get it over with and hopefully he would still like me as much as I knew I would still like him. Don’t get me wrong. I wanted to kiss him. My heart started racing any time I even thought about it – I was just afraid I would ruin everything. For one week we spent every waking minute together but something was terribly wrong. Jay didn’t try to kiss me. Not once. One day went by, then two, then three, then a week had gone by and no attempt. Had he given up? It seemed he had. That left the responsibility squarely on my shoulders. I would have to be the initiator. I would have to be the kisser and not the kissee. And there was not a moment to spare because I was going home the next day.
That night when he dropped me off at his sister’s apartment we stood outside the door. He turned to go and I knew that it was now or never. I grabbed his hand and pulled him back to me. His face came right to mine. We were eye to eye, nose to nose, almost mouth to mouth and then… And then he turned on his heel and started to laugh. He walked and laughed and I stood and watched him go. And then I started to laugh. I went home from Rexburg unkissed but wiser and much less tense. It’s a story we still laugh about today.
I learned that you shouldn’t dish it out if you can’t take it.
I learned that laughing is the very best way to ease a tense situation.
I learned that the man I was destined to marry had serious will power and was capable of doing whatever he set his mind to. It remains one of his best qualities.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Life Lesson #1 - Bullies
When I was in elementary school there was a bully on our bus. Carlos Aroyllo. He was several years older and several heads taller and several degrees meaner than anyone I knew. He specifically picked my younger brother, Paul, to bully and positioned himself in the seat behind Paul on the bus each morning. Paul was very short, very scrawny and had front teeth two different sizes because he'd been hit in the teeth with a baseball bat at a young age by my aunt who was clearly going for a homerun. Oh, and his ears stuck out. So, you see, he obviously deserved to be thumped by Carlos's hand all the way to school. "Thump! Thump! Thump!" went the bully's hand against Paul's head morning after morning.
I'm a non-violent person. I don't like to see anyone hurt. When I have to remove even a small sliver from the foot of a child I do it at night so the child isn't concious of pain. Immunizations? My worst nightmare. I could never be a nurse or a doctor or anyone remotely involved in the necessary pain that accompanies health and healing. I walked out of the new Joseph Smith movie because the thought of seeing the young Joseph enduring that bone surgery was more than I could bear. To a certain extent, it's debilitating to have such a tender heart and I wish I were a stronger and could be more useful when people, especially children, are hurt.
The point is that this bullying of my brother made me sick. I dreaded getting on the bus and seeing him abused. My parents tried speaking to the bus driver and then to the parents of Carlos but apparently, bullying is genetic. Finally my mother said, "Lauralee, it's up to you. You'll have to thwart the bully." She packed my metal lunchbox and filled my thermos (which was also placed inside my lunchbox) and told me the plan. When Carlos sat down behind Paul, I was to sit across from him and when he began to thump I would hit him in the head with my lunch box as hard as I could. I, the girl who had one day run frantically down the lane toward the departing bus with a white flag in my hand (a cloth diaper, clean thank heaven, that I'd been in the process of delivering to my mother when I'd heard the honking of the bus) was to declare war on Carlos the Bully. Terror is not a strong enough word for what I felt as I boarded the bus that morning and took my seat across from and one seat back from Paul. Carlos was at least predictable and moved immediately to sit behind my brother. Thump! Thump! Thump! Carlos's hand and my heart were thudding together. I wound up, which isn't easy when you're shorter than the seat and I swung. You will all be very sorry to hear that Carlos The Bully had eyes in the back of his head. He saw his life flash before those eyes as he was ducking. At that very moment Paul turned around to see why the thumping had stopped. Grand Slam! Into the wrong face! As I write this it occurs to me that maybe the reason Paul's other baby tooth never fell out to make way for his adult tooth had nothing to do with my aunt and the baseball bat. Oh well, water under the bridge and thank goodness for good dentists.
I cried. And cried. And cried. The rest of the bus laughed and laughed and laughed. Paul just sat there looking dazed and confused. When I got off the bus I still hadn't run out of tears. Halfway through the school morning they were still flowing freely. Teacher called me out to the hall and we had a talk. Then we took a walk down to Mr. Taylor's classroom. Mr. Taylor was infamous for two reasons. He was The Bully's teacher and he was the owner and wielder of the fearsome "JAWS."
I don't mean he had scary teeth, I mean he owned a paddle that occasionally took a bite out of the behinds of Paul Elementary School miscreants. That day Carlos got a taste of Thump! Thump! Thump! As I walked back to my classroom with
Teacher I heard those three thumps, covered my ears with my hands, and felt like I might be sick.
The moral of this story is: Things don't always turn out the way you planned. But that's O.K. because even though things sometimes go terribly haywire they usually work out. After that day Carlos never again even glanced at my brother or at me.
Moral #2: Families stand together. When someone picks on one member, they pick on the whole lot of us. Loyalty! Loyalty! Loyalty! Hurrah!
Moral #3: Sometimes moms do counter-intuitive things. For many years I thought my mother had a lapse of judgement. You know, fighting never solves anything and all those sayings. One day much later I asked my mom about it. She said that she and dad had tried everything they could think of and that her "plan" came about as an answer to prayer. While I was riding the bus that fateful morning she was on the phone with the school telling them what she had instructed me to do and why and then on her knees praying for my success.
Every so often I intend to do a life lesson post about a lesson I learned from my own experiences. I'd love to read about a life lesson from your childhood as well. So, tag - you're it all of y'all. I can't wait!
I'm a non-violent person. I don't like to see anyone hurt. When I have to remove even a small sliver from the foot of a child I do it at night so the child isn't concious of pain. Immunizations? My worst nightmare. I could never be a nurse or a doctor or anyone remotely involved in the necessary pain that accompanies health and healing. I walked out of the new Joseph Smith movie because the thought of seeing the young Joseph enduring that bone surgery was more than I could bear. To a certain extent, it's debilitating to have such a tender heart and I wish I were a stronger and could be more useful when people, especially children, are hurt.
The point is that this bullying of my brother made me sick. I dreaded getting on the bus and seeing him abused. My parents tried speaking to the bus driver and then to the parents of Carlos but apparently, bullying is genetic. Finally my mother said, "Lauralee, it's up to you. You'll have to thwart the bully." She packed my metal lunchbox and filled my thermos (which was also placed inside my lunchbox) and told me the plan. When Carlos sat down behind Paul, I was to sit across from him and when he began to thump I would hit him in the head with my lunch box as hard as I could. I, the girl who had one day run frantically down the lane toward the departing bus with a white flag in my hand (a cloth diaper, clean thank heaven, that I'd been in the process of delivering to my mother when I'd heard the honking of the bus) was to declare war on Carlos the Bully. Terror is not a strong enough word for what I felt as I boarded the bus that morning and took my seat across from and one seat back from Paul. Carlos was at least predictable and moved immediately to sit behind my brother. Thump! Thump! Thump! Carlos's hand and my heart were thudding together. I wound up, which isn't easy when you're shorter than the seat and I swung. You will all be very sorry to hear that Carlos The Bully had eyes in the back of his head. He saw his life flash before those eyes as he was ducking. At that very moment Paul turned around to see why the thumping had stopped. Grand Slam! Into the wrong face! As I write this it occurs to me that maybe the reason Paul's other baby tooth never fell out to make way for his adult tooth had nothing to do with my aunt and the baseball bat. Oh well, water under the bridge and thank goodness for good dentists.
I cried. And cried. And cried. The rest of the bus laughed and laughed and laughed. Paul just sat there looking dazed and confused. When I got off the bus I still hadn't run out of tears. Halfway through the school morning they were still flowing freely. Teacher called me out to the hall and we had a talk. Then we took a walk down to Mr. Taylor's classroom. Mr. Taylor was infamous for two reasons. He was The Bully's teacher and he was the owner and wielder of the fearsome "JAWS."
I don't mean he had scary teeth, I mean he owned a paddle that occasionally took a bite out of the behinds of Paul Elementary School miscreants. That day Carlos got a taste of Thump! Thump! Thump! As I walked back to my classroom with
Teacher I heard those three thumps, covered my ears with my hands, and felt like I might be sick.
The moral of this story is: Things don't always turn out the way you planned. But that's O.K. because even though things sometimes go terribly haywire they usually work out. After that day Carlos never again even glanced at my brother or at me.
Moral #2: Families stand together. When someone picks on one member, they pick on the whole lot of us. Loyalty! Loyalty! Loyalty! Hurrah!
Moral #3: Sometimes moms do counter-intuitive things. For many years I thought my mother had a lapse of judgement. You know, fighting never solves anything and all those sayings. One day much later I asked my mom about it. She said that she and dad had tried everything they could think of and that her "plan" came about as an answer to prayer. While I was riding the bus that fateful morning she was on the phone with the school telling them what she had instructed me to do and why and then on her knees praying for my success.
Every so often I intend to do a life lesson post about a lesson I learned from my own experiences. I'd love to read about a life lesson from your childhood as well. So, tag - you're it all of y'all. I can't wait!
Monday, June 2, 2008
Remember the Pinewood Derby post?
The following day Lacey Grace was playing at a friend's house and Lincoln took a long nap and I wrote about that experience in the form of a story and submitted it to The Friend magazine. Immediately I got an e-mail back asking if the story was true and I responded that very day. A month passed and I heard nothing. I hate checking my E-Mail but I checked it so often that Jay asked me if I was addicted to the computer. I know that none of you think it would be exciting to have something published in The Friend but to me it represents so much more. I want to write and don't have any idea how to do it or where to start and so this tiny effort represents the courage I have been trying to build for so long to try and keep trying in the face of lots of rejection.
I have submitted two articles in the past to other magazines. One to Family Fun Magazine and one to the Ensign. The Ensign wrote back to say that it would be about eight weeks before they made a decision. That was two years ago; haven't heard a word. Family Fun magazine was mute. Each time this happens it takes about a year for me to have the guts to try again. I have heard that most writers get about one hundred rejections before they ever get anything published and those are the lucky ones. Well, in three years I've only submitted three articles and I'm 39. At this rate things aren't looking very promising. And I don't know if I can even count those first two as rejections because I didn't receive even so much as an "Um, thanks anyway," or "You must be insane!" It's all very disheartening.
To make matters worse I recently sent JeNeale my favorite book and I inscribed it in pen. Reading back over it I noted that I had not only mispunctuated but had also used poor grammar which wouldn't be so mortifying except that JeNeale is an editor and the book was about puntuation. I had a brief flash of insight into the feelings of Mormon who, as he abridged the Book of Mormon made his mistakes on golden plates. At least only JeNeale, who loves me anyway, sees my mistakes as opposed to people by the billion all over the world throughout many generations of time. (Feeling a little better now - Phew!)
By now all ten of you who read this are probably on pins and needles wondering, "What did The Friend say?" Well, 69 days after I submitted the article (in other words, today) I got a response to my recent inquiry in which I succintly stated, "The suspense is killing me!" The response? "Did you submit an article? We have no record of any article submitted by a Lauralee Hill." And so I ask you, "Is that a rejection? Does that count? Are they trying to let me down nicely? easily?" I honestly think I would have preferred the reference to insanity.
I'm not looking for a show of support. What I'd really love to see are your ideas of a great rejection. What should the Ensign, the Friend, and Family Fun have said had they been more responsibly brutal? Maybe if they're really good I can count them toward my one hundred.
I have submitted two articles in the past to other magazines. One to Family Fun Magazine and one to the Ensign. The Ensign wrote back to say that it would be about eight weeks before they made a decision. That was two years ago; haven't heard a word. Family Fun magazine was mute. Each time this happens it takes about a year for me to have the guts to try again. I have heard that most writers get about one hundred rejections before they ever get anything published and those are the lucky ones. Well, in three years I've only submitted three articles and I'm 39. At this rate things aren't looking very promising. And I don't know if I can even count those first two as rejections because I didn't receive even so much as an "Um, thanks anyway," or "You must be insane!" It's all very disheartening.
To make matters worse I recently sent JeNeale my favorite book and I inscribed it in pen. Reading back over it I noted that I had not only mispunctuated but had also used poor grammar which wouldn't be so mortifying except that JeNeale is an editor and the book was about puntuation. I had a brief flash of insight into the feelings of Mormon who, as he abridged the Book of Mormon made his mistakes on golden plates. At least only JeNeale, who loves me anyway, sees my mistakes as opposed to people by the billion all over the world throughout many generations of time. (Feeling a little better now - Phew!)
By now all ten of you who read this are probably on pins and needles wondering, "What did The Friend say?" Well, 69 days after I submitted the article (in other words, today) I got a response to my recent inquiry in which I succintly stated, "The suspense is killing me!" The response? "Did you submit an article? We have no record of any article submitted by a Lauralee Hill." And so I ask you, "Is that a rejection? Does that count? Are they trying to let me down nicely? easily?" I honestly think I would have preferred the reference to insanity.
I'm not looking for a show of support. What I'd really love to see are your ideas of a great rejection. What should the Ensign, the Friend, and Family Fun have said had they been more responsibly brutal? Maybe if they're really good I can count them toward my one hundred.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Kites on the Beach
We loved having Jared and Maren and Preston (or "Presty" as Lacey Grace calls him) here. I think my favorite thing was just sitting around the table or in our teeny family room talking. I love being with family on Sunday especially, enjoying a quiet day and a little dinner together; I've taken that for granted in the past.
Other fun things we did: (Pictures up when Jay can get to them)
1. Painted ceramics at a pottery shop in Peterborough (Preston and Lacey Grace painted cereal bowls and the fellas painted dragons.
2. Went for a little ice cream at a fun seasonal ice cream place called Kimball's in Jaffrey.
3. Celebrated Maren's Birthday with a cake covered in nuts (Brilliant!)
4. Jared and Jay and the boys played Bocci and 500 outside our house.
5. Flew kites at Hampton Beach - one of the few beaches on New Hampshire's small seacoast and a place I love to go. Preston had no interest whatsoever in kites but lots of interest in sand and water. It was chilly and windy and we've never taken Lincoln before so that was exciting but, all in all, a fun time.
Mostly, it was just comfortable and so happy to have some of our family here with us. Thanks, Jared and Maren, for coming so far and loving us even though our bedrooms were messy, we had ants, and one of you had to sleep under a U of U blanket. We LOVED having you here.
Other fun things we did: (Pictures up when Jay can get to them)
1. Painted ceramics at a pottery shop in Peterborough (Preston and Lacey Grace painted cereal bowls and the fellas painted dragons.
2. Went for a little ice cream at a fun seasonal ice cream place called Kimball's in Jaffrey.
3. Celebrated Maren's Birthday with a cake covered in nuts (Brilliant!)
4. Jared and Jay and the boys played Bocci and 500 outside our house.
5. Flew kites at Hampton Beach - one of the few beaches on New Hampshire's small seacoast and a place I love to go. Preston had no interest whatsoever in kites but lots of interest in sand and water. It was chilly and windy and we've never taken Lincoln before so that was exciting but, all in all, a fun time.
Mostly, it was just comfortable and so happy to have some of our family here with us. Thanks, Jared and Maren, for coming so far and loving us even though our bedrooms were messy, we had ants, and one of you had to sleep under a U of U blanket. We LOVED having you here.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Dancing with the Stars
Don't you all think that Jared is secretly appearing on Dancing with the Stars under the stage name Christian de la Fuente?
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Good morning! Yes, indeed.
I have a vague and fond recollection of sleeping late and waking up of my own accord. Perhaps someday I'll have a vague (and fond?) recollection of being woken up by happy children and so, to remind my future self of how it really is I record a typical spring awakening as the mother of four.
Clap! Clap! The first sound I hear in the wee hours is often Clap! Clap!. This is the sound of Lincoln's chubby hands applauding the entrance of another New England morning; specifically a New England morning because in the spring the sun is fully up by 5:30 a.m.. (I know Jared and Maren are excited to hear that as they will be here in 10 days!!!!!!but who's counting?) I admit that I have never once leapt out of bed and leaned happily into the crib to pick that little guy up. I sometimes feel more like bursting into tears; but I'm too tired; so I roll over and wait for the cooing to begin. Phase II of Lincoln's wake up ritual is a cooing cacophony; squeals, nonsense syllables, gurgles, and occasional giggles getting progressively louder while I pray for the strength to get out of bed and brush my teeth. When I do get out of bed I have to slide stealthily off our high bed and creep into the bathroom because if Linc sees me and I don't immediately greet, the cooing turns to heartbreak and that is no way to start a morning. All this baby song wakes up the next little person, Lacey Grace, who shares a bedroom with Ro and she comes prancing in (yes, prancing) and sings back. Every morning I say, "It's still very early. Why don't you try to go back to sleep or curl up with your human blankie (daddy) and rest a little while longer?" Four days out of seven she curls up with Jay for 5 minutes. Three days out of seven she insists that she wants to stay up with Lincoln and I and she does with great joy, gusto, vigor, and volume. One day out of seven she actually goes back in and lays down. Zero days out of seven she falls back to sleep.
Because Jay has been working so late I usually change Linc's diaper and we leave the room so he can rest a little while longer. Occasionally I give Linc a bottle and he falls back to sleep but the odds of him returning to baby dreamland are about the same as LG's, nil. ( I actually have never written the word nil before and haven't the foggiest how to spell it. Was that right?) And besides, what's the point, Lacey is awake and now, none of us will sleep. One morning when I told her to look at books so I could sleep just a few more minutes she did. I think she read all 12 words of the book, "No, David" before she returned and with her mouth pressed to my ear very quietly and insistently whispered, "Cock-a-doodle-doo" which, by the way, is very funny when Jay is the cockadoodle dude but less so when it's happening on my side of the bed.
If it's a school morning Topher and Ronan are very tired and beg for extra time (I actually have found that if I carry Lincoln in and put him on the bed beside each one, respectively, they wake up in a good mood because the first thing they see is a drooly, happy, little chubster who is delighted to see them) but if it's a weekend and especially if Lincoln has gone back to sleep, they spring forth from their beds instantly. Then a party begins on the bed Jay and I bought before we had children; the very high lodgepole pine canopy bed we purposely chose so the children couldn't climb in with us. We now grimly joke that we didn't buy a bed, we purchased an indoor jungle gym. What fun!
On these Saturday mornings Lacey is already snuggling with her daddy and Ronan comes and climbs in between Jay and I. He wrestles around a bit adjusting the pillows and cheerfully greets Lacey Grace in the loudest whisper possible. Very occasionally he doesn't come in but lays in bed and sings. I've never heard an actual drunken sailor singing but I think I have a pretty good idea... However, he only sings on the mornings that Lacey Grace has not woken up early and gotten out of bed. On these mornings, laying beneath him in the lower bunk, she gets a taste of her own medicine. And then they both come into our room.
Being quiet is relative. To an adult, quiet means quiet. To a child it means small segments of stillness punctuated by loud shushing, giggles and scuffling. Even talking out loud is completely acceptable to a child being quiet if what he/she has to say is important enough. "Stop touching me!", "I'm so hungry!" and "Give it to me!" are examples of important statements to a child. Other examples include "My baloney has a first name," and "O-di-lay-di-hoo!"
Topher is ten. He comes in less frequently in the early mornings. This is because he barely left our bed. When Jay works late Topher comes in and sleeps in his daddy's spot. Then when Jay gets home at 1 or 2 or 3 a.m. he herds Toph back into his own bed by way of the bathroom. Speaking of drunken people, this is a sight to see. He bobs and weaves like a champ which makes him, I believe, a drunken boxer.
Because Toph likes to stay awake late and read he is less likely than the others to come in the following morning. He is growing up. Which is why I need to record all of this; because they're all growing up and I never want to forget
The Rooster, The Coo-ster, The Sailor or The Champ and what it feels like to be their mother at 5:30 a.m..
Clap! Clap! The first sound I hear in the wee hours is often Clap! Clap!. This is the sound of Lincoln's chubby hands applauding the entrance of another New England morning; specifically a New England morning because in the spring the sun is fully up by 5:30 a.m.. (I know Jared and Maren are excited to hear that as they will be here in 10 days!!!!!!but who's counting?) I admit that I have never once leapt out of bed and leaned happily into the crib to pick that little guy up. I sometimes feel more like bursting into tears; but I'm too tired; so I roll over and wait for the cooing to begin. Phase II of Lincoln's wake up ritual is a cooing cacophony; squeals, nonsense syllables, gurgles, and occasional giggles getting progressively louder while I pray for the strength to get out of bed and brush my teeth. When I do get out of bed I have to slide stealthily off our high bed and creep into the bathroom because if Linc sees me and I don't immediately greet, the cooing turns to heartbreak and that is no way to start a morning. All this baby song wakes up the next little person, Lacey Grace, who shares a bedroom with Ro and she comes prancing in (yes, prancing) and sings back. Every morning I say, "It's still very early. Why don't you try to go back to sleep or curl up with your human blankie (daddy) and rest a little while longer?" Four days out of seven she curls up with Jay for 5 minutes. Three days out of seven she insists that she wants to stay up with Lincoln and I and she does with great joy, gusto, vigor, and volume. One day out of seven she actually goes back in and lays down. Zero days out of seven she falls back to sleep.
Because Jay has been working so late I usually change Linc's diaper and we leave the room so he can rest a little while longer. Occasionally I give Linc a bottle and he falls back to sleep but the odds of him returning to baby dreamland are about the same as LG's, nil. ( I actually have never written the word nil before and haven't the foggiest how to spell it. Was that right?) And besides, what's the point, Lacey is awake and now, none of us will sleep. One morning when I told her to look at books so I could sleep just a few more minutes she did. I think she read all 12 words of the book, "No, David" before she returned and with her mouth pressed to my ear very quietly and insistently whispered, "Cock-a-doodle-doo" which, by the way, is very funny when Jay is the cockadoodle dude but less so when it's happening on my side of the bed.
If it's a school morning Topher and Ronan are very tired and beg for extra time (I actually have found that if I carry Lincoln in and put him on the bed beside each one, respectively, they wake up in a good mood because the first thing they see is a drooly, happy, little chubster who is delighted to see them) but if it's a weekend and especially if Lincoln has gone back to sleep, they spring forth from their beds instantly. Then a party begins on the bed Jay and I bought before we had children; the very high lodgepole pine canopy bed we purposely chose so the children couldn't climb in with us. We now grimly joke that we didn't buy a bed, we purchased an indoor jungle gym. What fun!
On these Saturday mornings Lacey is already snuggling with her daddy and Ronan comes and climbs in between Jay and I. He wrestles around a bit adjusting the pillows and cheerfully greets Lacey Grace in the loudest whisper possible. Very occasionally he doesn't come in but lays in bed and sings. I've never heard an actual drunken sailor singing but I think I have a pretty good idea... However, he only sings on the mornings that Lacey Grace has not woken up early and gotten out of bed. On these mornings, laying beneath him in the lower bunk, she gets a taste of her own medicine. And then they both come into our room.
Being quiet is relative. To an adult, quiet means quiet. To a child it means small segments of stillness punctuated by loud shushing, giggles and scuffling. Even talking out loud is completely acceptable to a child being quiet if what he/she has to say is important enough. "Stop touching me!", "I'm so hungry!" and "Give it to me!" are examples of important statements to a child. Other examples include "My baloney has a first name," and "O-di-lay-di-hoo!"
Topher is ten. He comes in less frequently in the early mornings. This is because he barely left our bed. When Jay works late Topher comes in and sleeps in his daddy's spot. Then when Jay gets home at 1 or 2 or 3 a.m. he herds Toph back into his own bed by way of the bathroom. Speaking of drunken people, this is a sight to see. He bobs and weaves like a champ which makes him, I believe, a drunken boxer.
Because Toph likes to stay awake late and read he is less likely than the others to come in the following morning. He is growing up. Which is why I need to record all of this; because they're all growing up and I never want to forget
The Rooster, The Coo-ster, The Sailor or The Champ and what it feels like to be their mother at 5:30 a.m..
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
JeNeale
I love all my sisters-in-law (how lucky can a girl get?) but today I am thinking about one in particular - JeNeale. We met for the first time right after Cassie was born if I remember correctly. I had just returned home from my mission. I don't remember a lot about that initial meeting because I was so ga-ga over Jay but I remember her little toddler, Dalin, with his ice blue eyes and big smile, and her chubster baby, Cassie. I remember that after our wedding we stayed and opened all our gifts before leaving on our reception because she and Brent would be returning to Arizona before we got back and we wanted her to be able to share that with us. The very next morning we called her from our hotel because we had forgotten our coats and she and Brent met us in the parking lot. I felt then that both she and Brent were happy for us and loved us deeply.
Our first Christmas she gave us a cookbook with handwritten recipes. Some were recipes she and Brent enjoyed and many were recipes she and Jay had grown up with in mom's kitchen. I have since acquired many cookbooks but that first one is still the one I most often reach for. Two weeks ago the back cover fell off and recipes that I had slipped into pockets on the back came spilling out all over. I picked everything back up and rubber-banded the book together. Some things just can't be replaced. Some of our favorites have been tater tot casserole, mom's chicken enchiladas and her hot fudge sauce. I have made them hundreds of times.
Since then I have received many gifts from her. One birthday she gave me a book called Simple Abundance and a gratitude journal inscribed by her. Most recently I received a white long-sleeve T-Shirt that I wore 3 of the 7 days of the week during the winter and early spring. She seems to innately know what I like. I remember going to a clearance sale at Old Navy with her during a time when money was very tight. I was going simply for the company. As we headed to the register she quickly turned back and with a "don't give me any nonsense" look that only mothers possess she picked up a skirt she had seen me admiring and bought it for me. Many things have been bestowed upon our family by her bounteous hand. My children have received the most wonderful care packages from Aunt JeNeale with candy, small gifts, "real" golden dollars, cards and clothing. She is one of the most generous people I have ever known.
When I have gone through those times in my life that have been very painful she is one with whom I have shared my deepest sorrows. After London died she was the one who pointed out that I might be going through clinical depression and the one who urged me to get help. She was the one I called and still call when I have questions or concerns about this illness.
She came with other family members and held our baby and cried and wrote both Jay and I individual and deeply personal letters of encouragement that we still treasure. She even had a grandchild named London (Cassie's doll). :) During another profoundly difficult time in my life she listened quietly and became an advocate for me and the decisions I sometimes made that didn't appear to make sense.
She does not judge me for the foolish things I've done or the unkind or downright absurd things I have said like the time right after my mission to a third world country when my heart was broken over the poverty of those great people and I wildly stated that mothers shouldn't rub expensive Bath and Body Works lotion on their daughters when other mothers didn't even have milk for their babies. I still want other mothers and children to have what they need and try to be aware and helpful but, I confess, sometimes Lacey Grace smells a little like a human grapefruit proving that JeNeale is kind enough to love and forgive even a complete hypocrite. She always gives me the benefit of the doubt.
She loves my children and my husband and wants our family to succeed. I feel that. She laughs at our jokes and compliments budding talents. Last year when Topher performed his very rudimentary tap dance for our family I had tears come to my eyes. I looked around at all the family noting their encouraging and amused smiles and and saw that JeNeale was looking at me. No words were spoken but in that moment I felt her vicarious love of my son and her tender sentiment toward me - an inordinately pleased mother.
She loves the work that Jay does and values his skills. She gives genuine compliments to him and to me and to our children. Once, after speaking at a funeral and completely losing my composure I found a note which I still have tucked away in my scripture journal. Among other things it said, "I am blessed to be your sister."
That is exactly how I feel. Blessed.
Our first Christmas she gave us a cookbook with handwritten recipes. Some were recipes she and Brent enjoyed and many were recipes she and Jay had grown up with in mom's kitchen. I have since acquired many cookbooks but that first one is still the one I most often reach for. Two weeks ago the back cover fell off and recipes that I had slipped into pockets on the back came spilling out all over. I picked everything back up and rubber-banded the book together. Some things just can't be replaced. Some of our favorites have been tater tot casserole, mom's chicken enchiladas and her hot fudge sauce. I have made them hundreds of times.
Since then I have received many gifts from her. One birthday she gave me a book called Simple Abundance and a gratitude journal inscribed by her. Most recently I received a white long-sleeve T-Shirt that I wore 3 of the 7 days of the week during the winter and early spring. She seems to innately know what I like. I remember going to a clearance sale at Old Navy with her during a time when money was very tight. I was going simply for the company. As we headed to the register she quickly turned back and with a "don't give me any nonsense" look that only mothers possess she picked up a skirt she had seen me admiring and bought it for me. Many things have been bestowed upon our family by her bounteous hand. My children have received the most wonderful care packages from Aunt JeNeale with candy, small gifts, "real" golden dollars, cards and clothing. She is one of the most generous people I have ever known.
When I have gone through those times in my life that have been very painful she is one with whom I have shared my deepest sorrows. After London died she was the one who pointed out that I might be going through clinical depression and the one who urged me to get help. She was the one I called and still call when I have questions or concerns about this illness.
She came with other family members and held our baby and cried and wrote both Jay and I individual and deeply personal letters of encouragement that we still treasure. She even had a grandchild named London (Cassie's doll). :) During another profoundly difficult time in my life she listened quietly and became an advocate for me and the decisions I sometimes made that didn't appear to make sense.
She does not judge me for the foolish things I've done or the unkind or downright absurd things I have said like the time right after my mission to a third world country when my heart was broken over the poverty of those great people and I wildly stated that mothers shouldn't rub expensive Bath and Body Works lotion on their daughters when other mothers didn't even have milk for their babies. I still want other mothers and children to have what they need and try to be aware and helpful but, I confess, sometimes Lacey Grace smells a little like a human grapefruit proving that JeNeale is kind enough to love and forgive even a complete hypocrite. She always gives me the benefit of the doubt.
She loves my children and my husband and wants our family to succeed. I feel that. She laughs at our jokes and compliments budding talents. Last year when Topher performed his very rudimentary tap dance for our family I had tears come to my eyes. I looked around at all the family noting their encouraging and amused smiles and and saw that JeNeale was looking at me. No words were spoken but in that moment I felt her vicarious love of my son and her tender sentiment toward me - an inordinately pleased mother.
She loves the work that Jay does and values his skills. She gives genuine compliments to him and to me and to our children. Once, after speaking at a funeral and completely losing my composure I found a note which I still have tucked away in my scripture journal. Among other things it said, "I am blessed to be your sister."
That is exactly how I feel. Blessed.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Things I love
1. The feeling of a 22 pound baby boy snuggled up against me as I go downstairs. The sound of his babbling and the way he reaches for me everytime he sees me. When he sees the piano he makes little wimpering sounds until someone sits down with him and lets him play.
2. Hamburgers or anything else fresh off the grill
3. The sound of croaking coming from all the ponds and swamps nearby. When I hear this for the first time each spring I roll down all the windows and listen in rapture. This is the song of spring after a long New England winter.
4. Topher's new glasses - red frames with thick black temples. Very hip. He is his father's boy.
5. Homemade pretzels hot from the oven and a houseful of little friends eager for a bite. Rolling them out with my good friend Jen who can do anything and noting that, amazingly, there is one thing I can do that she can't.
6. Talking with Jay. About art and music and children and our friends, the Devlins, who are taking the discussions. About books and writing and general conference and his job. About sticks and stones. But not about the cost of gasoline, or the fact that the missionaries are coming over for dinner and confirmed with him and not with me, or that he caught an older gentleman who stood up in Sacrament Meeting and fainted while I sat 3 chairs away, totally engrossed in a talk and didn't see. (I only learned that this happened tonight from another church member who observed the whole thing from several rows behind and the opposite side of the chapel!!!)
7. Emergency lullabies composed spontaneously by LG when Lincoln starts crying with words like, "Don't cry, my little candy heart," repeated over and over very softly to random melodies.
8. Sleeping through the night
9. Ronan's love of children and his attention to their needs. I call him "The friend of children" like Joseph Smith was sometimes called because he is. I love this tender side of a tough little boy.
10. My children's giggles when I read from the Dragonslayer's Academy series at night. The way they are understanding the scriptures and feeling the love of the Savior. Their courage to stand alone in a school where there are only 4 other members of the church. Their kindness.
2. Hamburgers or anything else fresh off the grill
3. The sound of croaking coming from all the ponds and swamps nearby. When I hear this for the first time each spring I roll down all the windows and listen in rapture. This is the song of spring after a long New England winter.
4. Topher's new glasses - red frames with thick black temples. Very hip. He is his father's boy.
5. Homemade pretzels hot from the oven and a houseful of little friends eager for a bite. Rolling them out with my good friend Jen who can do anything and noting that, amazingly, there is one thing I can do that she can't.
6. Talking with Jay. About art and music and children and our friends, the Devlins, who are taking the discussions. About books and writing and general conference and his job. About sticks and stones. But not about the cost of gasoline, or the fact that the missionaries are coming over for dinner and confirmed with him and not with me, or that he caught an older gentleman who stood up in Sacrament Meeting and fainted while I sat 3 chairs away, totally engrossed in a talk and didn't see. (I only learned that this happened tonight from another church member who observed the whole thing from several rows behind and the opposite side of the chapel!!!)
7. Emergency lullabies composed spontaneously by LG when Lincoln starts crying with words like, "Don't cry, my little candy heart," repeated over and over very softly to random melodies.
8. Sleeping through the night
9. Ronan's love of children and his attention to their needs. I call him "The friend of children" like Joseph Smith was sometimes called because he is. I love this tender side of a tough little boy.
10. My children's giggles when I read from the Dragonslayer's Academy series at night. The way they are understanding the scriptures and feeling the love of the Savior. Their courage to stand alone in a school where there are only 4 other members of the church. Their kindness.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Sticks and stones
My children's favorite playthings are sticks. Our front porch is covered with walking sticks, swords, spears, and lances, and wands. I remember being a little bit surprised that a close friend of mine, the mother of many boys, had so many pretend weapons for her sons to play with; swords, guns, etc.. I gave in when my boys started biting their toast into the shape of pistols and sword fighting with bananas. We made the rule that the fellas couldn't point the guns at each other but had to shoot wild beasts or dangerous monsters and other such creatures. Is that rule realistic? or is it absurd? I don't know. But that's how it is at our house.
Slaying imaginary dragons with stick swords only brings so much satisfaction, though. They don't really make very challenging opponents. So dueling occurs in earnest in the forest around our house. It's not just our boys, it's all the boys and some of the girls in our neck of the woods. For the most part it's good natured fighting (did I really just write that?) and the worst injuries sustained to this point have been grazed knuckles. The clacking of weaponry outside our house is as familiar to us here as the croaking of frogs.
Recently our neighbor, Jenn, who grew up in Colorado wondered out loud, "What is it with our kids and sticks? I don't remember ever playing with a stick when I was growing up. Jay matter of factly reminded, "What sticks? We had no trees." Oh, yeah.
Rocks are right up there. I rarely turn on the dryer without hearing thudding sounds. I know instantly that the rocks I just cleaned out of the washer weren't the only ones left in pockets. Every day when I find rocks on the counter I open the front door and throw them back out into the driveway. This works well as long as no one is sword fighting in that precise location. Occasionally one of the children will rediscover a rock that they had previously brought in for their "collection" and bring it in again. This astonishes me. "How can you be sure it is the very same rock?' you may be thinking. One day we put rocks in the oven and when they were very hot we drew with crayons on one side of them. When the children weren't looking a few days later I chucked those guys (the rocks) back out into the driveway. Within days the children had found all of the crayon rocks and another that didn't have crayon but was shaped like a heart and they had been returned to their home on the kitchen island.
Slaying imaginary dragons with stick swords only brings so much satisfaction, though. They don't really make very challenging opponents. So dueling occurs in earnest in the forest around our house. It's not just our boys, it's all the boys and some of the girls in our neck of the woods. For the most part it's good natured fighting (did I really just write that?) and the worst injuries sustained to this point have been grazed knuckles. The clacking of weaponry outside our house is as familiar to us here as the croaking of frogs.
Recently our neighbor, Jenn, who grew up in Colorado wondered out loud, "What is it with our kids and sticks? I don't remember ever playing with a stick when I was growing up. Jay matter of factly reminded, "What sticks? We had no trees." Oh, yeah.
Rocks are right up there. I rarely turn on the dryer without hearing thudding sounds. I know instantly that the rocks I just cleaned out of the washer weren't the only ones left in pockets. Every day when I find rocks on the counter I open the front door and throw them back out into the driveway. This works well as long as no one is sword fighting in that precise location. Occasionally one of the children will rediscover a rock that they had previously brought in for their "collection" and bring it in again. This astonishes me. "How can you be sure it is the very same rock?' you may be thinking. One day we put rocks in the oven and when they were very hot we drew with crayons on one side of them. When the children weren't looking a few days later I chucked those guys (the rocks) back out into the driveway. Within days the children had found all of the crayon rocks and another that didn't have crayon but was shaped like a heart and they had been returned to their home on the kitchen island.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
My Easter Talk
I gave a talk on Easter Sunday that I'd love to share but it's way to long and way too personal to put on my blog. If anyone is interested leave me your E-Mail. I feel a little embarrassed soliciting readership but I share it because I learned so much and because I love you guys - my family. I'd love to read any of your talks since I never am there to hear them and learn from you in person.
Wintry walk
Two days ago I took the kids for a walk/bike ride - our first of the season. It was 43 degrees and there is still snow everywhere but I couldn't help myself. I wrapped Lincoln in multitudinous blankets and he promptly fell asleep. I pushed my baby in the stroller and Lacey Grace pushed her baby in her's while the boys pedaled up and down the road. After we had walked up the driveway and onto the road where we live Lace was ready to stop for a snack. From underneath her doll she produced a bag of potato chips and a lemon yogurt with a spoon. Each brother was given four potato chips and a bite of yogurt. She helped herself to a few bites and then the chips went back into the stroller. The yogurt and spoon were left on a nearby wall to wait for our return and on we went. I tried to make chit chat with Lacey asking the name of her baby (Crystal Diamond Flower) and pretending that we were two mothers out on a walk with our babies but she soon set me straight. She was my daughter and her baby was actually a doll so that was that. The boys stopped their bikes at a small marshy area where we always stop on this particular walk and found a felled tree, skinny but surprisingly long, that they took turns toppling into the swamp. At this point there was a little arguing about so-and-so tossing the tree too far on purpose so the other couldn't retrieve it and so-and-so denying that it was true and then we carried on. There is an idyllic little neighborhood not far from where we live that is paved (we live on a dirt road - welcome to New Hampshire) and it's a great place for walks. There was nothing spectacular about the outing. In fact, on the way home we stopped so many times to warm Lacey's cold hands that I felt like a school bus. Ronan, by contrast, was riding maniacally and had shed his sweatshirt so we used that to wrap LG's hands. Topher complained once that Ronan had cut him off (shocker) and "put them in danger" (which he had) but for the most part there was much laughter, attention to rule following (not going to far ahead and circling back to check in, stopping at intersections (there's only one - again, welcome to NH)), and plenty of enjoying each other's company. It was a joyful outing. I just want to try to be more grateful for moments like this and remember the details of ordinary days.
P.S. Lacey Grace has a friend boy playing over this morning and I just overheard a bunch of talk about a kiss they had seen on a movie. The highlight:
LG: ...and then she had a true love kiss, from, not her prince, but....
Friend boy Aaron Johnson: Yes, but that was just gross!
Ah, the differences between little girls and little boys.
One other conversation recently heard between Lacey Grace and her doll Strawberry Shortcake:
Strawberry Shortcake: She started it! (referring to another doll)
LG (patiently but firmly): Strawberry Shortcake, soap and time out. (This means that Strawberry has to have soap in her mouth and have a time out which I felt was a little extreme but I'm not the parent...)
LG: I'm sorry, darling. (sound of squirting - we use soft soap at our house)
Strawberry Shortcake: Gagging sounds
Me: hushed giggling
P.S. Lacey Grace has a friend boy playing over this morning and I just overheard a bunch of talk about a kiss they had seen on a movie. The highlight:
LG: ...and then she had a true love kiss, from, not her prince, but....
Friend boy Aaron Johnson: Yes, but that was just gross!
Ah, the differences between little girls and little boys.
One other conversation recently heard between Lacey Grace and her doll Strawberry Shortcake:
Strawberry Shortcake: She started it! (referring to another doll)
LG (patiently but firmly): Strawberry Shortcake, soap and time out. (This means that Strawberry has to have soap in her mouth and have a time out which I felt was a little extreme but I'm not the parent...)
LG: I'm sorry, darling. (sound of squirting - we use soft soap at our house)
Strawberry Shortcake: Gagging sounds
Me: hushed giggling
Friday, April 4, 2008
Withdrawals
I have logged on to various blogs of certain people related to me over and over and over again and no change! No new post! Nothing! One blog in particular has not been updated since March 20th!!! Another since Easter! I think you should know that I'm starting to tremble and break out in cold sweats.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
April Fool's Day
April Fool's Day was never a huge holiday around our house and this is why. One year when my youngest brothers were very small my mother bought several boxes of sugared cereal which was a big deal. She replaced the Froot Loops and Lucky Charms with our usual, corn flakes, and waited and watched. When Kelly, expecting manna, poured corn flakes into his bowl he burst into tears. That was the end of my mother's April Fool's antics.
I, however, still long each year for a harmless little family joke. Our children's favorite was the year Jay and I served up ice cream for breakfast. My favorite was 2004 when Lacey Grace was just shy of one year old. From my journal: I played my first April Fool's joke on my children this year. Topher is 6 and Ronan is 4 - old enough to be included in the hallowed April Fool's tradition of Gotcha!. I undressed Lacey Grace and with a red marker I made little dots all over her body like Chicken Pox. When I completed my art project I carried her into the bathroom where Ronan was a shriveled raisin (of the golden variety) in the bathtub. Promptly, he played into my hands by saying, "Mom, why does Lacey have red spots all over her?" "Oh my," I gasped in mock alarm, "Lacey has the Chicken Pox!" Topher came racing in from doing homework at the kitchen table. He looked at Lacey quizzically and then said with one eyebrow cocked, "Mom, it looks like someone has drawn all over the baby with a red magic marker." "What?!!!" I spluttered. "How could you tell?" So much for bluffing. A poker face has never been my strong suit. We all laughed a little (Ronan remaining fairly bamboozled at the idea that on one day of the year it's O.K. to draw on the baby) and I went in to help Topher with his homework. I heard a series of splashes from the bathroom and not long afterward Lacey Grace came scooting out of the bathroom at record speed wearing a 50 pound diaper. There was only one red dot remaining at the top of her left cheek. Ronan had put his sister in the tub with him and "washed her off." This April Fool's Day the joke is on me.
I, however, still long each year for a harmless little family joke. Our children's favorite was the year Jay and I served up ice cream for breakfast. My favorite was 2004 when Lacey Grace was just shy of one year old. From my journal: I played my first April Fool's joke on my children this year. Topher is 6 and Ronan is 4 - old enough to be included in the hallowed April Fool's tradition of Gotcha!. I undressed Lacey Grace and with a red marker I made little dots all over her body like Chicken Pox. When I completed my art project I carried her into the bathroom where Ronan was a shriveled raisin (of the golden variety) in the bathtub. Promptly, he played into my hands by saying, "Mom, why does Lacey have red spots all over her?" "Oh my," I gasped in mock alarm, "Lacey has the Chicken Pox!" Topher came racing in from doing homework at the kitchen table. He looked at Lacey quizzically and then said with one eyebrow cocked, "Mom, it looks like someone has drawn all over the baby with a red magic marker." "What?!!!" I spluttered. "How could you tell?" So much for bluffing. A poker face has never been my strong suit. We all laughed a little (Ronan remaining fairly bamboozled at the idea that on one day of the year it's O.K. to draw on the baby) and I went in to help Topher with his homework. I heard a series of splashes from the bathroom and not long afterward Lacey Grace came scooting out of the bathroom at record speed wearing a 50 pound diaper. There was only one red dot remaining at the top of her left cheek. Ronan had put his sister in the tub with him and "washed her off." This April Fool's Day the joke is on me.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Magic
And I was expecting cattle and armadillos in Texas! I also saw lions, moose, badgers and a host of other wildlife.......on my first trip to Cabella's.
I visited Kaylyn in Austin, Texas over her 30th birthday. My parents and Renee came, too and we had a grand time eating Texas BBQ, visiting the Alamo and the riverwalk in San Antonio, and shopping at the huge outlet malls somewhere between Austin and San Antonio. Another highlight for me, I'm sorry to say, was going to Costco. I confess, I love Costco. All that bulk stuff makes me feel rich and the only thing I actually bought were fiber pills (no comments on that, please).
On the way home I got stranded at the airports, several, and when I finally arrived home 32 hours later it felt a little magical. I mean, when was the last time I saw 50 dirty baby food containers in the sink and teared up? With happiness, I mean. Maybe the magic had something to do with the fact that I had started to doubt that I would survive to see home again. I almost spent the night at LaGuardia airport in NYC (more details on that later), took a taxi from New Jersey to Brooklyn (way better than any rolller coaster I've ever ridden), and survived a windy landing in New Hampshire that, during one huge dip, made the retired army guy sitting across the aisle from me scream. When I stepped off the plane Jay looked better than he did on the day I married him! He did a great job with the kids and the house. He had even cleaned our bedroom and not one of you can fathom what a monumental effort that was. I feel so grateful for his selflessness. I often tell him he is a better homemaker than me and fortunately I'm not threatened by his efficiency. (Carry on, honey. Please.) I'd like to send him on an escape with his brothers next March and I'll stay with the kids. Cash, Jared, Brent, what do you say?
Sunday, March 16, 2008
It's finally happened
There are lots of things I have been looking forward to for a long time - a new couch, a flat stomach, a housekeeper, a college degree, rice cakes that taste like Snickers, and the list goes on. And so I ask you, why couldn't one of those things have finally happened. One of those things would have brought great joy and satisfaction. Instead another first occurred only minutes ago - one of my children cut their own hair.
Lacey Grace now has bangs, lots of them, all shapes and sizes. She came proudly into the kitchen where I was cooking pudding on the stove and showed me her handful of hair. "I just wanted to see what I would look like," she told me.
In the past I've made the daring and foolish comment, "Not one of my children has ever cut their hair." I haven't meant this in a self-righteous way, I was just stating a fact and one I felt very grateful for, too. Just days before Lincoln's birth I stated another fact. "I have got the laundry under control." This was not bragging. This was simple truth. You know how there are some things that are always true, always have been, always will be and then there are other less permanent kinds of truth? Well,...
With these and other rash statements in mind, I would like to publicly withdraw a recent remark, "To this point I've never had a child that colored on the wall." I really said that. Out loud. To a witness. I take small comfort in the fact that I did say "to this point," but I didn't really mean it. Today I'd like to humbly ask that those words be struck from the record.
the laundry as it currently stands (or sits)
the bottom of the pan the pudding was in when Lacey Grace came in with her new haircut
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Branch Talent Show
The branch talent show was lots of fun. Our family was last on the program. We did a piano quintet. Lacey Grace walked to the piano first and played a D over and over again. Ronan was next and played the melody Skip to My Lou while Lacey continued playing her D. Topher came in next and played a bass accompaniment, Jay next with more in the Bass Clef and then I came last with a jazzy treble part. All five parts sound great together and it's fun to hear them built. Then one by one we went out as we had come in starting with me while the others continue playing on down to Lacey. When only Lacey Grace is left she plays her solitary D several times and then stands up and does a magnificent curtsy. Everybody did a great job! If any of you are wondering if I wrote this number I regretfully confess, "No, I didn't. But I wish I had." My brother Kelly saw it performed on his mission, written by one of the moms in the ward in Canada and memorized all the parts so his family could one day perform it. So, thank you Sister from Manitoba. You are brilliant and we had fun. Pictures forthcoming. Also, there are now some pictures posted on my pinewood derby entry. (Thanks, Jay!)
We went maple sugaring today. Our Branch President's operation was named Best Maple Sugaring in New Hampshire by Yankee Magazine. The kids got to carry buckets of sap from trees to the sugar house, got to ride in the tractor-pulled wagon to collect the sap from huge containers in the woods, got to hang out in the sugar house (if heaven has a smell I think it must smell like maple sap being boiled down), and got to taste the original sap and then the finished syrup. It was a wonderful afternoon. Each child came home with their own little bottle of syrup and the family has a larger bottle.
We went maple sugaring today. Our Branch President's operation was named Best Maple Sugaring in New Hampshire by Yankee Magazine. The kids got to carry buckets of sap from trees to the sugar house, got to ride in the tractor-pulled wagon to collect the sap from huge containers in the woods, got to hang out in the sugar house (if heaven has a smell I think it must smell like maple sap being boiled down), and got to taste the original sap and then the finished syrup. It was a wonderful afternoon. Each child came home with their own little bottle of syrup and the family has a larger bottle.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
You might be a redneck
Whenever I change a diaper I put it in a grocery bag, tie it up and chuck it across the garage, over the van and into our enormous pile of garbage waiting for Jay to make a run to the "transfer station" (fancy word for dump except they haul the garbage away). Occasionally my aim is a little off and the diaper ends up on top of the van. I leave it there knowing that I will certainly see and remove it before I go anywhere. Sadly, this doesn't always happen and I drive around with a diaper on the roof. It never blows off because we have a luggage rack that keeps it securely in place. Today, while babysitting my friend's little boy I changed a very, very, very, infinity stinky diaper and tossed it in the direction of the garbage pile. It, of course, landed on top of the van and I of course, forgot and drove to a friend's house. Upon exiting the house, I saw the "baggage" and took it off the roof, placing it inside the car on the passenger seat until we got to the store where I could dispose of it. About one minute into the trip the smell was so overpowering that I stopped the car in the middle of the road (this is the country, you know). "What are you doing, mama?" queried Lacey Grace. Wordlessly, I grabbed the "diaper bag,"
stepped out of the van, and chucked it back on top of the roof.
stepped out of the van, and chucked it back on top of the roof.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Tag
10 Years ago: Jay and I were living in the Governor's Mansion in Salt Lake City with our baby boy, Topher. Jay was working at his first Ad Agency, Blaine/Olsen/White/Gurr, and we thought our dreams were beginning to come true. We were right.
Things on My ToDo List Today: Call my sister, Kaylyn, to wish her a happy birthday, bring in a load of wood for the stove, help Lincoln practice sitting up (he's almost got it!), bring in another load of wood, watch my friend Jenn's little boy while she teaches preschool, work on an upcoming talk for church, wood, exercise, play Polly Pockets or princesses with Lacey Grace, help the kids practice their parts for the branch talent show (a comedic family piano number), listen to Topher and Ronan read "Who's on First" (Abbott and Costello) which is hilarious - the actors as well as the script; how much WOOD would a woodchuck chuck if...., buy bar soap for the tub because Jay's is tired of using Johnson's Baby Soap
What would I do if I suddenly became a billionaire:
1. I'm not simply copying JeNeale, I really would love to do this - pay off the houses of my siblings and Jay's siblings.
2. Go with Jay and my children on fun adventures, a beachhouse for a week, Disneyworld, the Dominican Republic on a family service mission, a ski lodge with lessons for everyone, swimming with Dolphins in the Florida Keys, a cruise, etc.. I'd also love to do this with extended family members.
3. Build Jay an incredible studio over the garage where he could work and play and be inspired. (I think this would be my number one favorite thing to do.)
4. Pay off our student loans.
5. Publish my music - not necessarily for anyone else, just for my family.
6. Contribute more that $5 to the Perpetual Education Fund and the Humanitarian Fund.
7. Establish a scholarship fund in the name of my grandparents or my parents at BYUI or Iowa State.
8. Invest (not nearly so fun as the other stuff but important)
9. Give someone a $500 dollar Wal-Mart gift card (O.K. Cash and Jay, it doesn't have to be Wal-Mart) when they really need it like someone once did for us.
I think I just spent that billion dollars in five minutes. Can I have some more?
Bad Habits
1. Biting my lips
2. Eating candy (even if it belongs to my children and I haven't asked permission. I'm currently eating Ronan's Reese's and telling myself, "It's O.K.. I'll buy him another before he notices."
3. Losing my keys
4. Losing my cell phone
Places I've lived
1. Paul, Pocatello and Boise Idaho
2. Iowa
3. Dominican Republic
4. Salt Lake City
5. New Hampshire
Jobs I've Had
1. Video store customer service (3 times!)
2. Nanny
3. Governor's Mansion caretaker and manager.
4. Hotel maid (HATED this!!!)
5. Testing Center Proctor (Ricks College - fun place to meet boys)
Things people don't know about me
1. My feet are so flat that when I walk barefoot they make little suction-cup sounds.
2. I'm very scared of sharks
3. I'd love to go to cooking school.
4. I love cemetaries.
Things on My ToDo List Today: Call my sister, Kaylyn, to wish her a happy birthday, bring in a load of wood for the stove, help Lincoln practice sitting up (he's almost got it!), bring in another load of wood, watch my friend Jenn's little boy while she teaches preschool, work on an upcoming talk for church, wood, exercise, play Polly Pockets or princesses with Lacey Grace, help the kids practice their parts for the branch talent show (a comedic family piano number), listen to Topher and Ronan read "Who's on First" (Abbott and Costello) which is hilarious - the actors as well as the script; how much WOOD would a woodchuck chuck if...., buy bar soap for the tub because Jay's is tired of using Johnson's Baby Soap
What would I do if I suddenly became a billionaire:
1. I'm not simply copying JeNeale, I really would love to do this - pay off the houses of my siblings and Jay's siblings.
2. Go with Jay and my children on fun adventures, a beachhouse for a week, Disneyworld, the Dominican Republic on a family service mission, a ski lodge with lessons for everyone, swimming with Dolphins in the Florida Keys, a cruise, etc.. I'd also love to do this with extended family members.
3. Build Jay an incredible studio over the garage where he could work and play and be inspired. (I think this would be my number one favorite thing to do.)
4. Pay off our student loans.
5. Publish my music - not necessarily for anyone else, just for my family.
6. Contribute more that $5 to the Perpetual Education Fund and the Humanitarian Fund.
7. Establish a scholarship fund in the name of my grandparents or my parents at BYUI or Iowa State.
8. Invest (not nearly so fun as the other stuff but important)
9. Give someone a $500 dollar Wal-Mart gift card (O.K. Cash and Jay, it doesn't have to be Wal-Mart) when they really need it like someone once did for us.
I think I just spent that billion dollars in five minutes. Can I have some more?
Bad Habits
1. Biting my lips
2. Eating candy (even if it belongs to my children and I haven't asked permission. I'm currently eating Ronan's Reese's and telling myself, "It's O.K.. I'll buy him another before he notices."
3. Losing my keys
4. Losing my cell phone
Places I've lived
1. Paul, Pocatello and Boise Idaho
2. Iowa
3. Dominican Republic
4. Salt Lake City
5. New Hampshire
Jobs I've Had
1. Video store customer service (3 times!)
2. Nanny
3. Governor's Mansion caretaker and manager.
4. Hotel maid (HATED this!!!)
5. Testing Center Proctor (Ricks College - fun place to meet boys)
Things people don't know about me
1. My feet are so flat that when I walk barefoot they make little suction-cup sounds.
2. I'm very scared of sharks
3. I'd love to go to cooking school.
4. I love cemetaries.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Post-pinewood derby happys
Very Serious Warning: If you have not read and responded with your opinion to my previous pinewood derby entry you are forbidden go any further. Go directly to pre-pinewood derby jitters. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200 dollars.
That said, here's what happened at the pinewood derby. Topher's group, Webelos 1, raced second. His car was very fast. The computer program flashes the speed and placement of each car in each race. Jay had helped another boy from Toph's den with the wheels on his car and Jeremy's car was also fast. Topher won first place in his den and we could gage by looking at speeds in the following races that his car would be a contender for first place. I was incredibly conflicted. I approached Topher with the possibility of withdrawing from the grand championship race to give someone else a chance to win. I told him that I wasn't sure what was right or wrong but encouraged him to make the decision himself. When Ronan's Wolf group raced it was clear that Ronan had a very fast car too, and he won his division. The Tiger Cubs raced last and I checked in with Topher to see what he had decided to do. I confess, I really wanted him to withdraw from the race and I think he sensed that, but I also voiced my support of his ability to make a decision and that I would stand behind whatever decision he made. Just before the championship races were about to begin Topher quietly withdrew. Our very gregarious cub master called him to the front and asked him to publicly state what and why. I felt anxious and then so well-pleased when my son simply said that he had won before and felt like someone else should have a chance. The lady standing next to me looked at me and we both started to cry. We were not the only ones.
It was a rewarding experience for me as a mother. I felt like my son had done a selfless thing, a hard thing and that he had made a positive impression on many people. More rewarding was hugging my boy away from the action and seeing the tears in his eyes and sensing that they weren't tears of sorrow.
Ronan went on to win the championship with Jeremy in second. Let me also state that I was so proud of Ronan. He was a very gracious winner and a good sport and he made me happy. What a privelege to raise such sons!
That said, here's what happened at the pinewood derby. Topher's group, Webelos 1, raced second. His car was very fast. The computer program flashes the speed and placement of each car in each race. Jay had helped another boy from Toph's den with the wheels on his car and Jeremy's car was also fast. Topher won first place in his den and we could gage by looking at speeds in the following races that his car would be a contender for first place. I was incredibly conflicted. I approached Topher with the possibility of withdrawing from the grand championship race to give someone else a chance to win. I told him that I wasn't sure what was right or wrong but encouraged him to make the decision himself. When Ronan's Wolf group raced it was clear that Ronan had a very fast car too, and he won his division. The Tiger Cubs raced last and I checked in with Topher to see what he had decided to do. I confess, I really wanted him to withdraw from the race and I think he sensed that, but I also voiced my support of his ability to make a decision and that I would stand behind whatever decision he made. Just before the championship races were about to begin Topher quietly withdrew. Our very gregarious cub master called him to the front and asked him to publicly state what and why. I felt anxious and then so well-pleased when my son simply said that he had won before and felt like someone else should have a chance. The lady standing next to me looked at me and we both started to cry. We were not the only ones.
It was a rewarding experience for me as a mother. I felt like my son had done a selfless thing, a hard thing and that he had made a positive impression on many people. More rewarding was hugging my boy away from the action and seeing the tears in his eyes and sensing that they weren't tears of sorrow.
Ronan went on to win the championship with Jeremy in second. Let me also state that I was so proud of Ronan. He was a very gracious winner and a good sport and he made me happy. What a privelege to raise such sons!
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Pre-pinewood derby jitters
Today is the boy's pinewood derby. They belong to a local cub scout pack that consists of about 50 other cubs. When we moved here 2 1/2 years ago we learned that the pinewood derby was traditionally held on Sunday and with regret explained that we couldn't participate on Sunday because of our religious beliefs. I volunteered to head up the pinewood derby if our group would consider changing the day to Saturday. That exchange took place at the sign-up in September and I doubted anything would come of it because we were new to the area and had no connections or loyalties established. To my delight, when the pinewood derby was announced the following January it had been scheduled for a Saturday. I volunteered again to chair the event and ended up with brownie-baking duty. (Phew!) That year Topher won the pinewood derby.
Last year Topher's car won it's first race by quite a distance. (Just for the record, I have been interrupted seven times since I began writing this. Journaling used to be so therapeutic.) Back to the derby, I was concerned (another interuption, Ronan, showing me that his wart is finally falling off) let's see, I was concerned that Topher's car might win the championship again (interruption) and I want these people to like us. I literally was praying that his car would lose. (Interruption - Lincoln is now awake) He ended up taking third place overall. I felt O.K. except that they race in dens and then the winner of each den goes on to the championship race so for two years in a row Topher's car has won in his den. I don't want him to win the den this year. I'd like another boy to have a chance.
I spoke with Jay about my concerns. I don't want him to sabotage Topher's car per se (interruption), I simply want him to make sure it doesn't win (ahem). Jay doesn't seem to feel the same level of anxiety over this and the car looks darn fast. What do you people think of this dilemna? Opinions please.
Ronan's car, on the other hand, I'm really excited about. He's named it The Dart, (interruption) it's painted green with a silver windshield (interruption), and I'd (interruption, I'm not kidding) love to see it win.
P.S. You're all thinking, "Why doesn't she put a show on for those ill-behaved children to buy herself a little time?" and I'll tell you why. Today is Saturday morning. Job morning. Torture morning. (telephone interruption) Putting a show on before jobs is never advised and I had to send this into cyberspace before the race. There. Done. Off to help with toilet cleaning.
Last year Topher's car won it's first race by quite a distance. (Just for the record, I have been interrupted seven times since I began writing this. Journaling used to be so therapeutic.) Back to the derby, I was concerned (another interuption, Ronan, showing me that his wart is finally falling off) let's see, I was concerned that Topher's car might win the championship again (interruption) and I want these people to like us. I literally was praying that his car would lose. (Interruption - Lincoln is now awake) He ended up taking third place overall. I felt O.K. except that they race in dens and then the winner of each den goes on to the championship race so for two years in a row Topher's car has won in his den. I don't want him to win the den this year. I'd like another boy to have a chance.
I spoke with Jay about my concerns. I don't want him to sabotage Topher's car per se (interruption), I simply want him to make sure it doesn't win (ahem). Jay doesn't seem to feel the same level of anxiety over this and the car looks darn fast. What do you people think of this dilemna? Opinions please.
Ronan's car, on the other hand, I'm really excited about. He's named it The Dart, (interruption) it's painted green with a silver windshield (interruption), and I'd (interruption, I'm not kidding) love to see it win.
P.S. You're all thinking, "Why doesn't she put a show on for those ill-behaved children to buy herself a little time?" and I'll tell you why. Today is Saturday morning. Job morning. Torture morning. (telephone interruption) Putting a show on before jobs is never advised and I had to send this into cyberspace before the race. There. Done. Off to help with toilet cleaning.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
"I'm very excited and scared to be here."
Name that movie.
Scared because:
1. I feel an ulcer coming on every time I even walk by the computer.
2. I have been pretending for years to have all my ducks in a row and I'm about to reveal the truth.
Excited because:
1. I love to write. It helps me find perspective and joy.
I'm falling asleep writing this. These first 50 words have just taken me 45 minutes to compose. That's roughly one minute per word! I'd like to write something truly brilliant, this being my first official entry and all, but my brain just went on strike.
Scared because:
1. I feel an ulcer coming on every time I even walk by the computer.
2. I have been pretending for years to have all my ducks in a row and I'm about to reveal the truth.
Excited because:
1. I love to write. It helps me find perspective and joy.
I'm falling asleep writing this. These first 50 words have just taken me 45 minutes to compose. That's roughly one minute per word! I'd like to write something truly brilliant, this being my first official entry and all, but my brain just went on strike.
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