La Bonne Danse

Epiphany

2011-09-12T10:20:00.007-05:00

This morning I was folding laundry while I was thinking about the idea that in the USA, we have two major political parties. Either/or questions bug me!

One member of an online group I'm in said that a criterion for choosing your membership in one of these is whether your first concern is compassion or responsibility (autonomy/something else?)

I have been muddling over this . . . raised Republican, surrounded by mostly Republicans, sometimes bothered by the way they/we tend to think that our way is the only RIGHT and PRAGMATIC answer . . . then I thought that what really bothers me most is the idea that you're better off dying on your mission than coming home because of unworthiness. That might seem like a jump, but it has to do with compassion vs loyalty to the RULE. Sometimes when I'm doing the Love & Logic thing just right, I start to congratulate myself, and almost instantly, I loathe me.

I keep thinking of all these wonderful people who have lived very messy lives, because they love and are loved, and they're less concerned with the rules than with connecting to others. I realized that some people I know who have expressed that they feel unlovable because they are not perfect seem very brave to me, because I have the same underlying fear: if I break the rules, I'll get thrown away. But I was not always brave enough to stand up and speak my truth.

I lied to avoid disagreeing with my authority figure, and to keep the peace. But I don't like the settling for a lie, just to avoid being cast out.

Sadness, loneliness, despair.

Then I suddenly became aware, that to someone who insists that your honor is worth more than your life, I AM MY HONOR. HE DOESN'T WANT ME TO LIE OR SELL MYSELF. HE WANTS ME TO BE WHOLE. HE KNOWS MY LIFE HERE IS JUST A CHAPTER. SO IF HE SAYS THAT DEATH IS MORE HONORABLE THAN CHEATING, HE IS NOT DE-VALUING ME; HE'S ELEVATING ME OR ACKNOWLEDGING MY DIVINE CHARACTER AND INESTIMABLE VALUE.

Relief.

New Beginnings

2011-05-09T08:06:00.003-05:00

I found a great giveaway today at Carol Tuttle's web site.
I'm very interested in her Energy Profiling and Dressing Your Truth insights.
While I'm a classic Type 2, I'm finding I really enjoy Type 4 leaders.
Check it all out at thecarolblog.com
Here's a direct link to today's beautiful scarf giveaway:
http://thecarolblog.com/dressingyourtruth/from-the-dressing-your-truth-closet-enter-to-win-my-weekly-giveaway-10/comment-page-1#comment-12866

Little People Crack Me Up!

2010-04-27T13:09:00.003-05:00

Playing Rummikub with Louella today, I was sitting on the floor. We were using a little exercise trampoline as our game table. I guess my spread-eagle stance (avoiding the tramp's legs) made my knee visible to her.

Louella: {Gasp} what happened to your knee?
Me: I think it's warts.
Louella: What are warts?
Me: They're like what's on my knee... And that, my dear, is circular reasoning.
Louella: What's circular reasoning?
Me: OK, circular reasoning is like if I asked you, 'What's your name?' and you tell me, 'Louella,' and then I ask you, 'What is Louella?' and you say, 'It's my name,' and then I ask you, 'What's a name?'

Louella, blue eyes sparkling, smiles a very smart smile.

We keep playing. I'm reinforcing counting, colors, order, matching . . . and she says, "Mom, what is Louella?" with a great big smile on her face.

God Loves His Children So Much!

2010-04-20T17:40:00.007-05:00

A couple of days ago, I had the first opportunity in a long time to play the piano.

I had been sad, but now I was ecstatic!

I played children's songs from a church music book I'd received a strong impression to use this time, instead of the hymnal I was about to play from.

I was amazed at how good this one song sounded.

("We Are Different", Children's Songbook)

I had not played it for a very long time, but I was able to do it pretty well, and so I played it through several times, with feeling.

A little while later, I was driving my daughters to church during a blinding rainstorm.

I was very nervous, doubtful that I should even be trying to get to church during a downpour that could easily flood the old-town streets surrounding our little chapel.

But somehow, we had gotten in the car early enough, so I was able to take the long way, in order to avoid the more-likely-to-flood streets, and still make it to church on time. I decided to do that, and then as I continued to drive a little bit more slowly than I usually would, with the windshield wipers going as fast as they could, we sang the song I'd just played at home:

I know you, and you know me.
We are as different as the sun and the sea.
I know you, and you know me.
And that's the way it is supposed to be.

I help you, and you help me.
We learn from problems, and we're starting to see
I help you, and you help me.
And that's the way it is supposed to be.

I love you, and you love me.
We reach together for the best we can be.
I love you, and you love me.
And that's the way it is supposed to be!

The song has a Caribbean rhythm, and really is fun to sing.

I felt so much more calm and confident afterward.

After our worship service, I took my 4-y-o to the children's chapel, so that I could help her recite a scripture for the children's service.

The chapel was quickly filling up with darling energetic souls, and their devoted teachers, but the pianist was nowhere in sight.

I offered to play a few songs until she showed up, and soon began to play prelude music.

The pianist never showed up, probably because she's having terrible morning sickness.

I was blessed to participate in this most joyous children's worship.

My heart rejoiced with those innocent boys and girls as they sang their testimonies of truth in beautiful songs like "I am a Child of God" and "A Child's Prayer".

As I played newer songs, like "Scripture Power" and "I Know My Savior Loves Me", I was startled at how my childhood practice of sight-reading helped me to help the children.

God loves His children so much, that He prompted me to prepare to play for them.

And I felt so good, just being part of that blessing.

Truth for Tuesday: These are a Few of My Favorite Things

2010-04-20T06:39:00.006-05:00

Getting a letter from someone I love

Being given the ability to do something for someone else that I didn't know I could do

Finding a greater love for others as I'm serving them

Hearing my daughters laugh
Seeing my sons smile
Feeling my husband relax

Seeing them excel
Hearing them sing together
Watching them learn

Feeling together

Anxiously Engaged

2010-02-07T20:36:00.005-06:00

Maxine Campbell was my hero. I never saw her sitting still. I never saw her standing still. If she was sitting, she was waiting for sacrament meeting to begin, but she was eagerly waiting, thinking, looking for someone, getting her scriptures out, reading, smiling at someone. If she was standing, she was on her way to teach a lesson. And her lessons were memorable!

She taught a powerful Relief Society lesson once about having meaningful family home evenings and having them consistently, and how the tradition became a legacy. I remember that she related to us how she had had a strong desire to have family home evening when her children were young, even though she had not grown up with it; and that she had had to prepare the lessons on her own, since Bishop Campbell traveled a lot; and that she used whatever she had on hand in order to make visual aids for the children. She even mentioned that sometimes when David was little, that Bishop had to call for an intermission, and have David run up and down the stairs, before resuming the lesson. No excuses.

Sister Campbell rescued me at least twice while I was a teenager. There was not a day that went by, it seemed, that my mom wasn't talking to, or about, Maxine. We had her number memorized, and that was long before the advent of caller ID. If Mom wasn't reachable, I knew I could call her best friend. She was always there. My teenage years were no worse than anyone else's, but they were awkward. Many times I was almost paralyzed with fear that I would say or do the wrong thing, and be forever judged for a single word. But when Sister Campbell was there rescuing me in my most embarrassing moments, she was so quick to put me at ease by telling me about her own. She talked to me as if I were her equal. She talked to me about every-day things like a dream she had had the night before, and her plan to send a word processor with Rod when he went off to college.

I remember Sister Campbell came to a baby shower my mom threw for me at Sister Christiansen's home. She made sure I knew that the gifts she brought were not just from her. She explained that although attending a baby shower was too painful for her daughter-in-law, who had already had two beautiful children, but who could have no more, that Sharee had definitely contributed. It was the cutest little pink Piglet outfit!

While I was teaching Primary, I once took a child to the bathroom, and Sister Campbell was there. She observed my interactions with the child, and then told me that I was a good teacher. I did not feel that I deserved the praise, but I felt so appreciated, and I really valued her opinion, because she was just so good.

When I was in the hospital for a short time, she came to visit. I knew she knew what I was going through. During her illness, I was impressed that I so often saw her at church. I heard the prognosis was not great, but she just looked so good! When I asked her how she was doing one Sunday, she just said, "Keep praying for me." And then she was off to take care of some church business. No excuses, no complaints.

Shortly after Sister Campbell had been diagnosed with cancer a second time, she attended our ward's fast and testimony meeting. She stood and started walking toward the pulpit. She tripped and fell. She got right back up and headed forward. She fell again. Up again, and forward she walked. And then she fell a third time. Undeterred, she walked to the pulpit and bore her remarkable testimony. I know my Savior lives.

At Sister Campbell's funeral, I learned, or was reminded, of things about her that surprised me a little bit. Not that they were hard to believe, but I just don't remember her telling me all that stuff, like about how she loved to dance and to go to the beach. I love those things, too. Come to think of it, I really relate to Sister Campbell. She loved my family, especially my mom. I want to be more like Maxine. I want to be a best friend to my mom. I want to give priceless gifts to my children and grandchildren. I want to be in the temple every week.

A Mama's Prayer

2010-01-12T10:56:00.010-06:00

Fast Sunday. First one of the new year, and a new decade.
Kneeling to pray. But what to ask?
When there's so much to want, but nothing seems urgent. I pray for my son.

Sitting in Relief Society (women's church auxilary, largest & oldest in the world)
Sitting in the front row, nodding in response to the announcements and instructions. Changes are under way. Pray for understanding and confirmation.

Suddenly my mind's eye opens just enough so that instead of my dear sister at the podium facing me, I see the back of someone's legs in a public place. Struck hard from behind, someone slams the ground. It's Jack!

I close my eyes. I'm in the front row of the Relief Society room, with at least fifty women who are participating in a high-energy discussion--reverent, but close quarters, with women of all ages paying close attention--and the ladies at the front I'm trying to pay attention to with earnestness, I have to shut out by closing my eyes.

Dear Heavenly Father, Please just bless Jack. Really, really bless him. More even than ever, please.

meetings end. family gathers. we travel home. we break our fast. we cook and eat.

E-mailing my son a nice long newsletter-ish weekly message that evening, I suddenly remember my vision. I write to Jack about it, and then press "send".

Bedtime prayers and teeth brushing. The tucking in and tickles.

Next morning, checking emails. A message from Jack! I read, smiling, about everything from what he can buy at the Russian grocery store (called Magnet), to how he has adapted so well to the cold weather, that anything above 10 degrees is hot, and he starts sweating.

It's pretty rough, I'm not going to lie. I almost had someone punch me in the back when I wasn't watching the other day, but he decided to throw a snowball instead. Thanks for praying for me Mom. I'm pretty sure that helped. I would've fallen to the ground for sure. Some other elders in the mission got hit by a gazell on the sidewalk. It's a small bus. Well the success we have is really great and I love the work. Please keep praying. I'm in solnechniy right now in saratov. Love you all goodbye!

Day 2 Post 2

2009-12-21T11:29:00.003-06:00

Christmas is coming.
I'm thinking of baking tiny pumpkin pies.
I drank more water, took my supplements, and ate a bowl of spaghetti with pesto.

Later, I ate an apple, and some heavily buttered popcorn. The apple meant that I ate less popcorn than I otherwise would have.

For dinner, I had a homemade minestrone I guess you'd call it, with 2 small pieces of cheesy bread. Very satisfied.

Later, I ate a few of those gummy vitamins that are supposed to be for my kids. I love 'em. They have to be better for me than candy, right?

Did you ever notice how much exercise speeds up your digestion?

Day 2 Starts off with a BANG!

2009-12-21T08:02:00.003-06:00

I ate one yummy fat-burning exercise nutrition bar, and drank a lot of water, and went for a walk around my neighborhood. That was a whopping eight-tenths of a mile. Then I came home, shed the coat, gloves, and shoes, and stepped on the trampoline. My age showed quickly. While my momentum was up, I wanted to jump high, but my neck and my knee revolted! So I bounced a while. My teenagers revolted. *sigh* So the walking was about 20 minutes, and the bouncing, 5 minutes. My yoga DVD won't work. Gonna have to get creative. Anyone got some salsa music?

Day 1, Part 2

2009-12-20T20:42:00.002-06:00

So, after the first half of the day, I didn't do quite as well on eating. But I am going to report it anyway.

1 serving brown rice with pesto
multivitamin

2 servings spaghetti w/ meaty red sauce
4 small pieces cheesy bread
part of the crusts from my daughter's pecan raisin bread
supplements
water

It's obvious I need to eat more vegetables.

Accountability Versus FUN!

2009-12-20T11:41:00.005-06:00

A friend of mine bravely started a wellness blog to help his friends help him.

My sister has been doing something similar. Sponsorship!

Brave and smart.

I'm realizing that I need to do the same. But I don't need to re-invent the wheel. I'm giving them credit and following their lead!

So here goes:

I weigh at least 50 lb more than I want to weigh.
I wear at least 8 sizes bigger than I want to wear.
Wait, are all the numbers counted? Seems like the odd numbers are always skipped. Hmm.

Anyway. I'm going to ask you to check up on me from time to time.
You get to decide how often you check in.
I commit to posting daily.

I'll post both what I eat, and how (& how long) I exercise.

You get to choose whether you sponsor me, and if you do, what level, and what incentive.

I'm not asking for money, though. People in my sister's circle pledged incentives like getting a haircut or going shopping or going dancing with her when she's met a certain milestone.

If you feel so moved, feel free to pledge an incentive in the comments section.

So far today, I have eaten:

1 serving dry Life cereal
1 small apple
1 bowl spaghetti w/ meaty red sauce
1 jumbo banana nut muffin
2 bites of a banana
water and supplements

Since today is the Sabbath, I doubt I'll get a lot of exercise. I may go for a walk. I know with God's help, nothing is impossible. I know lots of things I should do, and I know what NOT to do. My plan is to focus on gratitude as I actively dance down to a size 8. I'm picturing that awesome youTube video of the piano staircase, with my goal being to be more and more active, having more and more fun. Have you seen it? Click on the title to this post.

Gratitude

2009-11-08T23:51:00.005-06:00

Today I knew that playing Christmas and other hymns on my piano would make me feel good.

It really, really did.

I played Sweet Hour of Prayer, Hark, the Herald Angels Sing, and lots of other favorites.

Then my four-year-old ran up and hugged me. Just when I think life can't get any better, she asks me to cuddle up with her!

I LOVE that girl :)

Talking to Strangers

2009-10-29T23:23:00.003-05:00

Imagine you're in a public place. Say a school. Maybe you're at a junior high school choir concert, for example. Purely hypothetical. And say you have a special-needs 8-y-o daughter who loves to talk to strangers. Only they don't stay strangers long.

You try to keep up with her, to set some limits, and sometimes, you have to resort to damage control.

Just imagine you are panicked for just a moment, when you realize she's gotten away while you helped another daughter get a drink of water, or while you were being introduced to your older daughter's school friends.

But then you locate her, and quickly catch up to her, because she's actually not running, at least, not for now. She's got a stranger by the hand, swinging that arm back and forth, and saying, "What's your name? What school do you go to? Do you ride in a carseat? Are you gonna have a baby? Why?"

Sometimes you feel compelled to answer her questions for this kindly stranger, who has miraculously not objected to being touched, handled, and interrogated. You do feel compelled, right? I mean, come on. What do you say?

And aren't you glad when this sweet stranger says kind things back to your darling, like when they ask questions in return? Oh, yes you are. Most definitely! Glad, and relieved. Some precious souls are just so understanding, and I LOVE them.

H.E.A.R.T.

2009-10-09T23:27:00.002-05:00

Healing & Education for African Refugees in Texas
Sometimes when I'm working on one thing, I get inspiration for another.
I love it when that happens!

Learning and Yearning

2009-09-24T23:24:00.004-05:00

Today I went to a class. I took more than 2 pages of notes, front and back. I'm not used to going to classes and taking notes, either.

Not that I don't love learning. I really really do. I want to go back to school so bad, I can SMELL it. Seriously. Today I smelled my alma mater on my daughter when she came home. Bandaids!

Anyway. This was a class wherein I learn to be an advocate for my special-needs daughter, who completely baffles me. I was brought to tears twice while I was there. There's just so much to learn, so much to do, and wow, am I overwhelmed on so many fronts.

I had left for class this morning, full of hope and determination and ideas and wanting to jot all sorts of things down that were popping into my head on the way there. I was pumped! But while I was there, I seemed to have so much less confidence and enthusiasm, so much less drive to ask the questions that I can't articulate.

Do I just not know the lingo? No. Am I a brand-new mom of this darling special girl? No, she's 8 years old. Am I new to the school, the district, or the state? No, it's been 5 years she's attended school here, in the district I grew up in.

I just want a silver bullet still. I want the book or class that tells me what kind of food I can cook that will nourish her mind enough to make her able to learn the same as everyone else. I want the medical diagnosis still that will tell me which organ failed her and how to revive or restore it. I want the cure, for me and for her. I want to know, not how to navigate the system of education for those who seem less able to learn, but how to navigate around all the existing systems, to the one that lifts us out of this mist of darkness.

And to be really honest, I have to admit that I was crying about losing my sons, who are making their own ways without much help from me. And I was crying about not being the other moms there, who I feel guilty for wishing to be.

One of them had a much needier child, the same age as mine, but they have plenty of money. That stay-at-home mom was as sharp as a person could be, and was a very willing and assertive advocate for her daughter.

The other one had a much younger child, with a concrete medical diagnosis, and she had a plan, and lots of services already in place. That stay-at-home mom was also very sharp, with a clear vision of what she wants to do, and apparently, the money to do it.

It wasn't just the money that I coveted, although that's a part of it. I was grieving. I still am.

One Day at a Time

2009-07-11T11:23:00.011-05:00

I have this darling page-a-day calendar by Mary Engelbreit. (Sorry I was unable to get the link to work in the title, but if you want to see Mary's art, just go to http://www.maryengelbreit.com) It was a gift from a great old friend of mine named Barbara.

Each page has a colorful Mary Engelbreit (ME) drawing on it, sometimes with a quote. I've been staring at these pictures and quotes this week.

On Monday, July 6th, the picture is of a young girl standing on the beach, pouring a collection of seashells from her pail onto the sand. Within 4 days, my runaway teen will be pouring out the contents of his backpack onto our living room floor, the color of sand, and showing me the shells he collected at Galveston. But for now, I look at this whimsical drawing of a swimsuit-wearing cutie-pie whose swim cap looks like something from a magazine. It's a lovely sunset-inspired color, with a big purple flower that only Mary Engelbreit would have thought to decorate it with, and oh, there are these pretty little curls sticking out all around her neck and face. The carefree feeling of this picture, an escape in which beauty is frozen yet glowing in every detail . . . I need to have this kind of escape. I need to be a child, adoring the beauties of nature, and imagine my collection of favorites, tumbling slow-motion from my own colorful pail, that I can play with and treasure . . . but for now, I am frozen in this place where I must call the sheriff, report my son as a runaway, and give the deputy his picture. Slow-motion, for sure, but not an escape.

On Tuesday July 7th, I see on my calendar, the drawing of a young skinny blond boy flexing his nearly invisible bicep, with a proud closed-eyes grin, accompanied by the quote: "Believe that you have it, and you have it." (Anonymous) My runaway blond-haired boy believes he does not have an addiction, or a problem; therefore (at least in his mind), he has none. Missing for a little over 24 hours, he returns home. When he arrives, we are away. At the temple, with his older brother, who is about his Father's business. The firstborn, he is not perfect. He is looking forward to being able to serve his brothers and sisters in Russia for two whole years, and he already misses his little bro. After the temple ceremony, we take family pictures in front of this palace, and then my husband and oldest son and oldest daughter travel with the extended family away from town, and I come home to what should be a dark and empty house, but instead is brightly lighted, smells funny, and feels very cold. After being greeted by my newly-returned prodigal son without a key, who broke and entered, I call the precinct again to let them know my runaway is home.

On Wednesday July 8th, my calendar shows me a glimpse of a father carrying his blond-haired toddler on a wooded path toward distant mountains, as the little boy points toward this horizon that reminds me of our former home. My blond-haired blue-eyed baby boy is craving escape and adventure, like he used to have, back near the mountains. Missing out on the especially-for-our-family's-teens-trip out-of-town with his cousins, brother, and sister, and dad, this thrill-seeker leaves again, refusing treatment. I call the precinct 5 number again (again, again!), and put all my friends and relatives on alert. Seven long hours after leaving, he shows up back at home again, this time willing to get checked into rehab. We drive the girls to my folks' place, and then to a psychiatric hospital, which turns out not to be the right kind of place for him. We are turned away, and we go home with a list of other possibilities. After 1:30 a.m., I fall asleep in my bed, alone.

On Thursday July 9th, the drawing on my calendar is of a man's arm holding a bouquet of flowers, and a woman's arms holding a vase. The caption is "A soul without a mate is like a vase without flowers." My husband is out of town. I feel I have to take care of getting our boy the treatment he needs, all by myself. I'm grateful to have a husband who has a job and insurance to cover the cost of this great care, and for parents and friends who are just a phone call away, ready and willing and able to fill in for me, take care of the children. My son has not a friend in the world that he really accepts love from. His only friend that he feels close to gave him enough pot to get him high, and then enough more to make him extremely sick. Said "friend" then dragged my son to the back yard before leaving him in the dirt to vomit alone and be chewed up by spiders and bugs. But that was Monday. Today, we take a tour of the wonderful place where my son will be tucked away for hopefully 30 days or more.

On Friday July 10th, the calendar features a darling young auburn-haired bookworm whose dreamscape includes a moonlit night at the beach, where a tuxedoed gentleman puts his white-gloved hand on the shoulder of a beautiful red-headed young lady in a ball gown adorned with flowers, ribbons, and jewels. The caption is "Use your imagination." I've done way too much of that! Just last night, my blondie told me that he always used to dream of wearing a brand-new tux every day. That goes along with his James Bond fantasy, I suppose. Today, I check my son into a prevention and recovery center for adolescents who have abused drugs and alcohol. This place's nickname is the same as the name we all use for a neighborhood playground. This place is beautiful, this place where my little boy will sleep, eat, study, and play. When he sits in the meeting room, he can look out these misty windows and see a gazebo, and ivy, so romantic. My dreamscape involves a 30-day miracle, a son with softened heart and a willingness to change.

To everything, turn, turn, turn, there is a season

2009-07-03T21:11:00.002-05:00

We've had a lot of funerals lately. A lot of people from church, and an aunt, and an uncle, and a slew of celebrities. While these losses affect others more than they do us, since everyone in our immediate family is still with us, it's hard not to notice, and wonder. I know those folks are in a better place, and I'm so grateful for that understanding. But as these ranks up and march away, I can't help but notice they're not all that old. And I didn't know enough about them before they died.

Then there's my baby boy, all grown up and ready to go on a mission, or almost ready. He's taking a big step in just 4 days. I'm thrilled for him, so glad he's making a big commitment to the Lord. This is a season of joy.

Then there's my other baby boy, so tall, artistic, clever and handsome, but so troubled. This is a season of sadness.

Then there are the darling daughters we adore. Drama queens, all four! This is a season of turning and turning and twirling for joy!

If Your Child Gets Stuck in a Baby Swing . . .

2009-06-10T21:31:00.005-05:00

...here's what you do. Ignore the yelling of strangers, codependent teens climbing the wrought iron fence between the park and the pool. Even when they gasp, cover their mouths, point, and yell, "Call the fire department!", remember your calm old friend Diane. She told her daughter that since she climbed up the tree, she could also climb down. You're not too far away to see what's going on. You saw this coming. Your 7-y-o dear daughter is not going to die. She may be really really stuck, as the smoking stranger insists, but that doesn't really change anything, now does it? Let him try to dump your darling, 80-lb daughter out of the baby swing on her head by trying to turn the whole thing upside down!

You got up on top of that graffitied multi-slide playground hunk of plastic and metal in order to see something, and see something you SHOULD. Your 12-y-o daughter is competing in the very first swim meet of her life, and you are not about to miss it just because your darling 7-y-o wanted to swing like a baby. You won't actually see her swim because you can only glimpse, over the sea of swimmers and their families and their canopies, a tiny patch of pool, just the last two lanes, in the middle of their race. But you don't know that yet, and you don't want to feel guilty later, so you just keep those numb feet planted right next to the curly slide, and lean on that heavy-duty plastic.

And besides, who wants to get any closer to the drama, and risk getting kicked?
Be sure to tell that darling 7-y-o to calm down, and that you're not coming down to help while she's kicking and screaming. And when her 9-y-o sister whispers that this is embarrassing and that people are taking pictures, just keep your focus on that oldest sister, the one blissfully unaware that this drama is unfolding just yards away from her, but who is probably sadly aware that no one she loves is watching her swim. Even in that crowd of crocodiles and piranhas and all their families, how can she not notice that she does not feel the gaze of her family, or hear their voices cheering her on?

But when you are good and sure that you have done all you could do to see her swim, and to let the 7-y-o feel the weight of her consequences, go straight over to her and squat right under that baby swing, and pull with all your might on that swing, while the kindly stranger and your older child also pull with all of theirs (him on the 7-y-o, and sister on the swing), and that darling 7-y-o pushes her feet on your thighs, until you feel your heart skip a beat, and the stranger says, "Wiggle!", and you ALL do, and she finally slips free.

Then go home and do nothing, because nothing is what you will get done around the house, because your darling 7-y-o daughter will be asking you and telling you all about that dramatic event all evening long. She will say, "I'm never going to the park again!" and you will try to reassure her that you understand she's afraid of getting stuck again, but then you'll give in to the temptation to tell her that you just don't believe that she'll never go there again.

Adamic (Eveish) Language

2009-05-10T00:08:00.005-05:00

At the grocery store recently, I was pushing a bright blue car cart with my two youngest darlings at the steering wheels. We were headed down the health food aisle for some sunflower seeds when Louella burst out with "Donut catchers! Can we get donut catchers?" I looked where she was pointing, and saw only pumpkin seeds. Sure enough, these little libido-raising snacks were the very catchers she was asking for. I agreed to buy some, and had a good time telling everyone who would listen about the new name these seeds had been given. When dh Sonny heard the story, he was a little less surprised than I thought he would be. He had been out of town on a campout with our son on the day of the donut catcher christening. And on that day, over two hours away, for the first time in just about forever, he was eating donuts.

Schoolbuses, Sinovial Fluid, and Sobriety

2009-04-23T13:27:00.003-05:00

My current gratitude short list.
A cross-section of our family life right now.
Tellingly Mormonish alliteration, tantalizingly randomish combination,

what do we do when we feel something we don't like?
when choosing what to do in order to feel better, do we get feedback about whether the choice is appropriate and healthy?

Sobriety requires that an addict check in with his sponsor when feeling doubtful, anxious, tempted. Before acting out or taking action which might be unhealthy, the addict is supposed to run his plan by a seasoned sober addiction-recovery graduate.

Reminds me of prayer. I can imagine that running a mile in the pouring rain would feel so good while I'm tempted to yell and scream and cry. I might tell someone that's what I'm thinking of doing. Someone else might say that exercise is a healthy way to cope with difficult emotions. But then if I pray about it, I just might get a very specific directive TO do that very thing, but in a certain place at a certain time with a certain someone, and wearing a certain reflective coat. And the answer might not make sense, to me or anyone I might tell about it, but to a loving all-powerful Divine Daddy, these are the best conditions for my plan to work to my best advantage . . . and then again, perhaps He will answer, "No, you will not."

My daughter with the mile-wide aura kept bringing up the idea of walking to school and home every day. I thought I had dissuaded her a time or two, but when the topic arose again, I knew it was time to give her the only answer she would understand. I said that if she was going to walk that route, she'd have to know that route, and how long it would take. So I offered to take that walk with her on the following Sunday evening. Sunday morning came, and my dramatic darling appeared and announced that today was THE day. I reminded her that we would take the walk LATER after supper.

Supper came and went. On went the walking shoes, and out WE went. Right on our street. Right on the street at the bus stop corner. Left at the end of that street. Right at the next corner. Left at the big street. Left soon again. Then just keep walking and mentally reviewing the directions for a long time. Lots of things to see and talk about. Finally this winding street ends and we go left, and we're almost there! We insisted on her going all the way to the front door and touching it before the timer was stopped. 45 minutes, one way!

That means that I would have to get up and get EVERYBODY ready quite early. My walk would be an hour and a half long, if there were no distractions, disruptions, or injury. Not that I couldn't use the exercise, but . . .

When I think of that big yellow schoolbus, I am grateful. No worries of whether my darlings make it all the way to their school. No having to get everyone up 45 minutes early. And no driving for me, which means less stress, and hopefully, fewer self injuries . . .

Several weeks ago, I was driving, and tried to put my left hand on the steering wheel the underhanded way. My index finger poked the wheel instead, and my finger was jammed. No breaks, no blood, just jammed. For a while it doesn't hurt, but then it does again. I had it checked out by a doctor, because I didn't want to suffer longer than I have to. He checked for breaks and assured me that I just have to give it time to heal. Having pulled this finger repeatedly, because that seems to alleviate the pain, I asked the doc whether that was wise. He said sure, that lets more sinovial fluid into the painful joints. It couldn't hurt.

Thank goodness these things I'm taking advantage of and grateful for are harmless enough.

That River in Egypt, or Emotional Roller Coaster Part 0.5

2009-04-10T00:38:00.003-05:00

Trying to accept the apparently pregnant state of my body, I realized that I needed divine intervention. I knelt down to pray, and the serenity prayer seemed appropriate. So I tried to recite it, but to no avail. I started out all wrong: God, grant me the courage to change the things I can (that's the second phrase, not first), the ummmm ... what is it? ... no, it can't be serenity, I know that's not it ... in fact, I don't know WHY it's called the Serenity Prayer. I don't think that word is even IN the prayer! ... the whatever to accept the things I cannot change, and the courage to know the difference.

Yeah. It wasn't 'til the parents' support group meeting that night that I realized how ironic that was.

The actual Serenity Prayer goes like this:

God grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change;
Courage to change the things I can;
And wisdom to know the difference.

Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
As it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
If I surrender to His Will;
So that I may be reasonably happy in this life
And supremely happy with Him
Forever and ever in the next.

At Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, and other recovery support meetings all over the world, recovering addicts and their loved ones stand together and embrace as they recite the first verse.

Tonight at a parents' support group meeting again, I remembered that I had not recorded this juicy little piece of the story. So out of order though it may be, here ya go.

And as for Emotional Roller Coaster Parts II through XVII, stay tuned . . .

How Sweet It Is

2009-04-09T15:30:00.002-05:00

It was a magical time. It was dinner time. The kids were here and they were hungry. We sat down to a home-cooked meal that I hadn't been super hopeful about, but which turned out to be very well received.

The Menu
Italian Green Beans
Steamed Broccoli
Lemon Chicken Pilaf

The Recipes

Italian Green Beans

3 c fresh green beans, cooked in boiling water til tender
GOPS all-purpose seasoning (1 part each: garlic, onion, pepper; 4 parts salt)
butter or olive oil
tomato paste
Parmesan cheese

Place green beans (drained) in shallow serving dish or pie plate. Sprinkle GOPS on. Slather with butter or drizzle melted butter or olive oil on top. Smear tomato paste over all, or over just half in case you have a tomato hater. Sprinkle Parmesan over, and heat in microwave or conventional oven just 'til heated through and melty cheese.

Lemon Chicken Pilaf

4 plump chicken breasts (boneless/skinless)
1 cup lemon juice
several cloves garlic
1.5 cups H.E.B. wild rice/brown rice pilaf
4 cups water
chicken bouillon

Cook first 3 ingredients in crock-pot 'til thoroughly cooked.
Cook pilaf with water and bouillon on stove top.
Shred the chicken.
Blend lemon juice and garlic in blender 'til milky.
Add chicken and garlic-lemon juice mixture to pilaf. Let simmer 'til you're done with prayer and salad.

Consider putting the steamed broccoli into the pilaf. Otherwise, place broccoli in covered bowl as far away from Mozy as possible 'til everyone else has had some.

Mmmmm-hmmmm!

Breakfast Table Banter

2009-03-20T11:44:00.004-05:00

Louella (3) "When I grow up I'm gonna be a WOK STAR!"
I smiled and encouraged her. "What will you sing?"
"Tinkle Tinkle Little Star."
12-y-o Jolie: "That would be a shooting star!"

Anticipating Hurricane Esther Jenn

2009-02-19T23:51:00.004-06:00

Hubby Sonny works nights every other month. On the evens, he misses church because he has to work on Sundays.

Jack will be moving out in a few months to go on a mission.

Bob will be moving out this weekend to live with a family whose son has attained sobriety.

That leaves me with four daughters. With only the occasional male presence. Can you say "estrogen overload"?

For Sonny: Stargazing, Surprises, and Sparklies

2009-02-17T22:21:00.013-06:00

Twenty years ago today, you asked me as we gazed at the stars
To wish on one of them.

The third of three proposals that Valentine week, this one caught me dozing off.
Had I been wide awake, I wonder . . . would I have been more shocked?

Running to the planetarium that night, after not being sure we wanted to go, I was feeling so yanked around. I even fell and skinned my knee and ripped my hose. But good thing I did, since my ducking into the ladies' room afforded you a few moments to be sure that your plan was under way.

Proposal # 1 was on Sunday night, when we were at your apartment, and it seemed to me like we were planning calendar items. But there must have been some goal setting going on. You asked me to prepare to go to the temple with you. I happily agreed. I dreamt later that night that you and I were at a party, looking for my mom, to tell her of our engagement. First thing in the morning, you called and asked me if we were, in fact, engaged. I laughed and said "No!"

Tuesday evening was a romantic end to a full day of Valentining for you and me. We had surprised each other all day long with cards in lockers, service (remember "breakfast in bed" at 4 pm?), and homemade gifts. We went to the BYU basketball game, and you held my hand. While playing with my ring, you asked me to go ring shopping with you. Afterward, we stood on the bridge between the Marriott Center and the admin bldg. I was on top of the world.

So we agreed to keep our engagement a surprise, a yummy little treat to share just between the two of us, for the time being. Mmm-mmm!

But our ring-shopping date did not happen. You stood me up for hours. That turned out to be a blessing for me, because while I waited for you at our spot in the library, I caught up on my journal writing. I realized that we had something serious going on, and that it was all developing really, really fast.

You finally did show up, and you were nervous. But I did not recognize that. I just noticed that you were holding back. No handholding?! Then you started talking about maybe slowing things down a bit. I thought, "Take your time, do what you gotta do. I'll be right here waiting for you when you get back!"

We walked to my apartment, since we decided that the ring shopping could wait. I was feeling let down, but I was also tired. It was Friday afternoon, and I just started unwinding. I was surprised when, at the last minute, you said, "Let's go!" to the much-earlier-planned planetarium show. Whatever.

I changed clothes fast, but not too fast to tell my old roommate Michelle that "Men were put on this Earth to frustrate and confuse women!"

Wearing my red suede skirt, a borrowed black top from my roomie Loraine, and black boots, I walked with you back up to campus. No, we did NOT walk. You held my hand and made me run! I'm sure we did the walk-20, run-20.

I guess those boots didn't have much traction on the ice.

Hmm, ice, stars, and diamonds . . .
clear, bright, and hard.

I fell on the ice, then a diamond fell into my hand, and finally, we climbed onto the planetarium roof . . . I've been freefalling ever since. Thanks for holding my hand.

How's that?

2009-02-16T15:07:00.003-06:00

So my hubby was having a little fun with our very special 7-y-o daughter Mozy. She was bearing her testimony in her own karaoke microphone. Then she was saying "I love you" to him, and then he took turns with her. It became a game of one-uppance and he said, "I love you oodles and gobs!" Mozelle answered, "I love you NOODLES and DOGS!"

The Emotional Roller Coaster, Part I

2009-02-14T07:09:00.009-06:00

Thursday, January, 8 2009

Peed on a stick. Hubby said "Looks like a nnnnnnnnnegative?"

I looked. Two lines. "No, that's a positive. [Moan.] I was not ready to know that."

I researched midwives and doctors. Made an appointment, midwife canceled because she was at a birth, I made another appointment with a doctor, went to the clinic and paid $25 to pee in their cup, learned more about the relative costs of delivering at different hospitals, canceled appointment, called another doctor, and made another appointment.

As this first prenatal visit loomed, I got a little bit excited. Also nauseous. I was dealing with the roller coaster ride of having a child in drug rehab, and I was so confused about how to pick the right care provider for this pregnancy, and I would cry . . . and take lots of naps . . . and worry about whether I should really exercise.

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

After hesitating and procrastinating for weeks, we finally tell the children. There are already 6 of them, so we might as well have held a press conference with the Associated Press and CNN. Instead, it went more like this:

Daddy tells Louella (3). She says "I went pee. I want candy."
Daddy tells Mozelle (7) while we're eating lunch at a Mexican restaurant. Mozy tells the waiters that I'm having a baby. Mozy tells her big brother Bob when we pick him up at school that I'm having a baby. Bob (16) looks at me in disbelief. I confirm with a smile. He gets belligerent. I ask Mozy to keep quiet about the baby. I drop Bob off at outpatient group therapy, and then finally Mozy gets to talk again about the baby. We go home, and I get the camera ready, and Mozy tells Jolie on video that I'm having a baby. Jolie (12) gets excited and has questions. Noelle (9) comes home from school, and Jolie tells Noelle on camera (game-show-style) that I'm having a baby. Noelle goes NUTS! Jack (18) comes home from work and Noelle tells Jack on camera (game-show-style) that I'm having a baby. Jack nearly posts the news on Facebook, until I politely ask him not to, as I have not yet shared the news with my parents.

Thursday February 5, 2009

Dropping the girls off at my folks' house before heading off to a parents' support group meeting, I enter their living room as Mozelle tells GrandDad that I'm having a baby. GrandDad looks at me in disbelief. I say, "Guess what?!" GrandDad calls Gram into the room. I tell them both that we are having a baby in mid-September. GrandDad says, "You're 40 years old!" I say, "Yep, and I'll be 41 when I deliver this baby."

Friday February 6, 2009

I take Louella with me to see the OB/gyn. Fill out papers, wait to be called, get weighed, pee in a cup, have blood pressure measured. Nurse says the pregnancy test is positive. I say, "Yeah, I'd hate to feel like this if I weren't having a baby."

I get undressed, meet the doctor. Ultrasound shows nothing but placenta. Doctor says "blighted ovum blah blah blah" and I get to learn more about reproduction. I am relieved that I will get to take some pain relievers now for this crazy headache I've had for over 24 hours.

I get dressed and explain to Louella that there's no baby inside my belly after all. We go into doctor's personal office, where we discuss things like further ultrasounds, D & C procedures, prescriptions for pain medications, and follow-up appointments.

We go to the front desk to check out, where we get a sucker for Louella. I get to make follow-up appointments (3 of them, because the scheduler cannot read the doctor's handwriting!), and I get to pay $25 as co-payment for this lovely experience.

Louella and I head down to the hospital registration department to get ready for a more high-tech ultrasound. It takes a half-mile hike, filling out paperwork twice, and four helpful and polite hospital workers.

While waiting, I try to get Louella to use the bathroom. She is steadfast in her need for only food and water, not for a toilet. I tell her that she has to hold still during the ultrasound. We do a lot of waiting and I do a lot of praying.

The hospital sound system blares loudly the lullaby tune that signals a newborn's arrival three or four times before I get to have my fancy shmancy ultrasound that gives me no more hope than the first one had.

We leave the hospital but not without getting some lunch first. Louella and I eat a turkey sandwich, a fruit salad, and quite a bit of pudding on our way home.

I lived in Heaven

2009-02-07T10:18:00.002-06:00

"I was with Jesus, and my mom got a new child, me!"--Louella, age 3

I love these precious moments of truth out of the mouths of babes.

I Feel LOVED

2009-02-05T21:45:00.003-06:00

I was tucking my youngest daughters into bed the other night, when my youngest asked me to sleep in her bed. I was glad to get off my feet for a few minutes. I lay down and she snuggled right up next to me and said, "I love you, Big Fat Mommy!" and then she growled.

Like Father Like Son: FAILURE

2009-01-27T10:29:00.002-06:00

Like Father Like Son: FAILURE
I really like this post because, well for one thing, it's funny! And also because I've been thinking a lot lately about how I have felt that I have a habit of failing. I'm not sure that's the best way to put it, but I want to learn the behaviors of successful people. Anyway.

Count Your Blessings

2009-01-27T09:52:00.011-06:00

Recently I was invited to sing with a quartet of ladies who have grown up in my hometown for the most part, and who all belong to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. We were to sing at a celebration of the 30-year anniversary of our meetinghouse. Our congregation here in this town has grown in the last 3 decades so much! We were a branch when my family moved here way back in 1975. Meetings were held (lots of meetings, all the time!) in a little duplex right by the railroad tracks, not far from the local high school. Fifteen years later, we had a stake!

We chose to sing "Put Your Shoulder to the Wheel", a favorite old hymn that reminds us of those early days when we were younger, and when perhaps our pianist only knew a few numbers. But I was thinking about what hymns I remember singing, and I suddenly remembered we ALWAYS used to sing, "Count Your Blessings", which begins with the phrase "When upon life's billows". I love that hymn!

I'm struggling to accept my circumstances lately. I'm tempted to think that 30 years after the groundbreaking for our chapel, I'm 40 yrs old, and 50 lbs overweight, and I wonder if I'm earning a 60% grade on my life . . . so I think it's time to count my blessings, or some of them, anyway:

1. I'm grateful to be the firstborn. This ensured my position as favorite ;)
2. I'm grateful to have been born of 2 goodly parents, taught somewhat according to the learning of my parents, and enriched by the teachings they encountered later.
3. I'm grateful that when I was 3, my parents joined the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Grateful to those dedicated missionaries and Flo Agee, our sweet neighbor, who knew the Truth.
4. I'm grateful that when I was 4, we were sealed in the Salt Lake City Temple.
5. I'm grateful that at the age of 5, I started attending school, a private kindergarten held in the home of my teacher, Mrs. Harris. I already knew how to read, thanks to #2.
6. I'm grateful to be one of 6 blessed children of our parents.
7. I'm grateful we moved to our hometown when I was almost 7 years old.
8. I'm grateful to have been baptized and to have received the gift of the Holy Ghost when I was 8 years old.
9. I'm grateful to have had fabulous gospel teachers, such as Esther Peterson. I loved the scripture chases, and memorizing Bible verses. Sister Peterson encouraged us to pick our own favorite verses. I chose Matthew 7:7 when I was 8 or 9 years old. Thanks Dad (Sunday School President)for making sure I got to have Sis. Peterson as my teacher for 2 years in a row :)
10. I'm grateful to have had wonderful school teachers, like Mrs. Hicks, Pearson, Longtain, Greer, Kohlmaier and Franer.
11. I'm grateful to have taken lots of lessons in dance and piano from wonderful teachers like Miss Lesa, LaDawn Cottongim, and Sister Abercrombie (and genealogy too).
12. I'm grateful for the YW program of the church. I loved being secretary of the Beehive class, and loved loved loved going to ward dances!
13. I'm grateful for the home I was brought up in. We moved to a larger house when I was in 7th grade. We had ample room. We had order. My parents loved beauty and peace.
14. I'm grateful for stake dances, the dance festival, and drill team, and especially seminary. Uncomparable teachers like Bishop Campbell and Bishop Layton!!! Remember being taught to rehearse potential situations of peer pressure and how I would react. Also personal interviews with Brother Layton. He asked about future goals, one of which was marriage. When he asked where, I didn't know how to answer, because to me, marriage meant temple marriage. I couldn't conceive of marriage outside the temple. All I could think was, how do I know which temple I'll be closest to when I get engaged?
15. I'm grateful for wonderful loving friends like Tricia Matthews and Lotte Hass, and later, Michelle Lesue.
16. I'm grateful my parents let me grow into greater responsibility, and saw that I was trained. I got a driver's license when I was 17.
17. I'm grateful to have a gift for learning and understanding languages like French and Latin. I had great teachers like Mr. Chandler.
18. I'm Grateful to have been accepted as a freshman student by BYU, with 3 scholarships.
19. I'm Grateful to have been taught by wonderful thoughtful spiritually-led professors like Eugene England.
20. I'm Grateful to have met and married my sweetheart in the Salt Lake City temple.
21. I'm Grateful to have born our first son, a spiritual leader.
22. I'm Grateful to have met wonderful friends (Kent and Keisha H) and to have served in callings in our Wymount ward.
23. I'm Grateful to have a romantic husband who swept me away for an anniversary getaway.
24. I'm Grateful to have born another son, a bold and daring leader of independence.
25. I'm Grateful to have had nurturing environments in which to bring up our family, especially the family home in Orem.
26. I'm grateful to learn more about health and the human body, for continuing education, and good doctors (Remington, Loveland)and friends (LaurieKae).
27. I'm grateful to have born a beautiful baby girl, who will greet us in Heaven someday.
28. I'm grateful to have born a beautiful bright healthy daughter who loves music and dance, and who excels.
29. I'm grateful for opportunities to grow through service, such as my primary music calling. Also having a foreign German student named Laura come and live with us, and the great opportunity of traveling around the world with my husband and baby daughter.
30. I'm grateful to have found a new home when it came our time to move away from the family home, and for good friends (Burtons and Holdens and Norrises and Swans)and a welcoming ward.
31. I'm grateful to have born another healthy beautiful daughter who loves learning, music and dance, and to have birthed at home finally.
32. I'm grateful to have performed as part of a great big community theatre family in a production of Fiddler on the Roof, and to be part of the audience and support team for other shows like Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat.
33. I'm grateful to have such a supportive extended family, who sacrifice a lot on our behalf, including wonderful in-laws, and Heidi and Matt Parker.
34. I'm grateful to community members and neighbors who served and loved our children.
35. I'm grateful for wonderful city libraries.
36. I'm grateful for the opportunity to serve as a part-time church service missionary in the Curriculum department, where I worked here a little and there a little. I enjoyed General Conference proofreading so much! The foreign language reading, and the visiting with wonderful proofreaders and editors like Carol Frasier.
37. I'm grateful to have born a beautiful healthy baby girl (whose struggles will teach me patience if it kills both of us) at home.
38. I'm grateful to have a wonderful warm and welcoming hometown to come home to, and to have found the home which I had previously seen only in a dream of promise.
39. I'm grateful to have born another beautiful healthy baby girl, a fair little Texas rose.
40. I'm grateful to have found an inspired program of rehabilitation for our rebelling teen, including AA, KCS, AIR, and the 12-step meetings at our church.

Looking for Jesus

2009-01-10T02:11:00.002-06:00

Today Louella (3) said that I had Heaven inside of me, that everyone has Heaven inside of them, and that this Heaven inside each one of us is looking for Jesus.

Comparative Costs of Carelessness

2008-11-25T13:51:00.004-06:00

A few weeks ago, I noticed a small corner of my big toenail breaking off. But I was too busy to clip the nail right then. Then I noticed a mega-huge-uber-sick-disgusting number of little bugs in the kitchen. I sprayed and squashed, and finally emptied the cupboards and called the exterminator. So I was a little bit busy with taking the kitchen apart and putting it back together. And figuring out how to feed the family without having a useable kitchen. Oh, throw in a baby shower that I was in charge of, and a daughter's 12th birthday on the same day, just for kicks! Oh yeah, I was also in the process of taking our dryer apart and fixing it and putting it back together (make that learning how to put it back together) . . .
So the dumb toenail became ingrown, and I bought Dr. Scholl's ingrown toenail pain relief treatment or something like that for around $10 at Wal-Mart. Sounds smart, no? Just say no! I spent 10 days in pain, and finally went to the urgent care clinic. The doc there could not remove the nail because I had a big bleeding growth of infected tissue covering a shockingly large portion of the toenail. So he burned some of that lovely tissue off, and his nurse dressed my wound. I was instructed to soak the toe in epsom salt solution 3x a day, and to take antibiotics prescribed for me. So I've shelled out a $50 co-pay at the clinic, and a $27 for prescription co-pays and first-aid items at the pharmacy, when I make an appointment with the podiatrist, who says that I have to come back when I've been on the antibiotic for several days. I go back and pay $45 co-pay to be told that the infection is not gone, and so he still can't remove the nail, and so I get to take a stronger medication and come back in another week. So I spend $14.20 on more first-aid-type items, and the pharmacist says he does not have my medicine in stock. So I am going to get to spend another $45 at least twice to get my foot treated and for the follow-up visit. And I'll probably have to spend $20 on the antibiotic co-pay.
So what are we up to now? $10+$50+$27+$45+14+$90+$20=$256 plus all the opportunities I missed out on while hobbling around . . . not to mention the price of yeast medications to combat the least fun of the side effects of antibiotics . . . So what's the take-home lesson? Wear shoes that fit you right, clip your toenails straight across, and if you notice a corner breaking off the nail, STOP everything and trim the darn thing.
Oh, and in the interest of full disclosure, I should update this post here. I went to the podiatrist for the removal of the nail, and the strangest thing happened. It was all going rather smoothly, until the nurse could not open a bottle of some chemical that the doctor needed. It's the stuff they use to deaden the nail-growth area below the cuticle. At this point, I've already had the offending toe deadened and tourniqueted (is that a word?) for a few minutes. The nurse could not get the lid off, and then the doctor couldn't either. So chances are, I'll end up with another ingrown nail. But the pre-existing dagger is now happily gone. And I can dance!

Kitty-Cat Comedienne

2008-11-25T13:44:00.002-06:00

Louella (3) said she wanted our neighborhood-prowling kitty-cat Chester to come home. Knowing that this fat old cat prefers to hang out on the other side of the street, where the older folks feed him and tend not to pull his tail, or chase him screaming down the street, I said, Oh, when do you think that Chester will come home? She said, "Fursday".

How Do I Help You Help Me?

2008-11-21T10:04:00.004-06:00

Recently I had a lot of frustration around getting medical treatment. Hubby has a new job, and new health insurance, but the insurance cards had not yet arrived by mail. So even though I had an appointment to see my doctor, and the pertinent insurance information written down, I was told that I would have to pay for the visit. They had a policy, the staff member said. She had asked three people. She had tried. Having suffered foot pain for 10 days, I could not wait another week 'til my cards would probably arrive. I could not justify writing a check for $95.00 for an office visit, and so I walked out of that office, determined never to return there, not for myself, or for any family member.

I drove down the street and parked in front of an urgent care clinic. I hobbled in painfully, slowly, and approached the counter. A lady in maroon scrubs asked me something nicely enough. I said, "I hope you can help me. " I proceeded to explain about my failed visit with my doctor, and I showed her the written insurance information that I had in my hand. She looked at me with her chin down, and she POINTED TO A SIGN ON HER OFFICE WINDOW. No smile, nod, or repeating what she'd heard. She merely POINTED TO THE BLASTED SIGN! It said, in a nutshell, YOU WILL PAY BY LIMBS IF YOU DON'T SHOW US THE MAGIC CARD. I said, "There must be somewhere I can go."

A lady in the back office had overheard, I guess, and started prompting the one at the window. The window witch explained to the hidden one (Glenda the good witch, perhaps?) that I didn't have my card, and that I ONLY had the group number. (This by the way, was a LIE. I had other pertinent information, but she obviously did NOT care.)

Window witch wrote down three items of information that I needed to acquire before being seen, on a pretty purple sticky note. She shoved a slip of white paper toward me with a pen and a great deal of purposeful force. The form I was looking at asked the reason for my visit. I shakily wrote down my symptoms, then reviewed the sticky note. Window witch suggested that I call my insurance company or my husband and get the numbers. Perhaps because my mind was befuddled with pain and frustration, I did not think to say, "Oh, OK, thanks! May I please use your phone, since you've been so very kind already?"

I left, came home, called my dad the babysitter, and called my insurance company, but not without great frustration just getting the Internet connection here at the house to work. Without that connection, I cannot even use the phone. My prayers must have been answered, because I got through to a very helpful person at the insurance company, who gave me all the information I needed, and who even had a sense of humor, bless her! Further blessings to this point include my parents taking care of my 3-y-o while I hobbled around town trying to get some help, and the kind police officer who had pulled me over before this whole ordeal began, having mercy on me and issuing me only a warning for speeding. (See, bending my foot to press the gas pedal down while my heel rested on the floorboard aggravated my painful toe, so I had changed my foot position so that my whole foot was resting firmly on the pedal.)

So I ate lunch and returned to the clinic, where Window Witch had evidently been lulled into a spell of civility (perhaps she'd had time to lunch?), or who was possibly magically entranced by my newfound numbers! In any case, she gave me the traditional tome to complete, and I was so ridiculously grateful!

Soon, I was seen by a nurse briefly, who took my vitals, and led me to a small exam room. She then instructed me to remove my shoe, and as soon as I had done so, she said, Actually, let's go to another room.

. . .and then I was finally seen by a doctor, who burned some kind of infected-tissue-growth on my big toe, and pulled some of it off. Thank goodness the nurse had put some kind of numbing agent on my toe first! I only wish she had used about 10 times as much. I had to use my breathing techniques from childbirth. That was alarming to the doctor and nurse, who kept asking me if I were OK. I kept telling them I was fine, alternating crying and laughing. And breathing deep and hard.

They gave me lots of instructions, and then I was discharged with lots of papers, including two prescriptions. As I was leaving, the nurse directed me to exit through a different door than the one with which I was familiar. I walked out and saw the longest hall I've ever seen in my life.

Grateful and Glad

2008-11-19T07:35:00.005-06:00

I'm so loving the sound of my efficiently-running dryer, freshly cleaned and repaired :)
It's been so long! It made this awful sound for a while, and then the rear drum seal came out, and it had been taking like 3 cycles to dry a load of clothes. Now I'm here to tell you the truth about dryers. They DO EAT SOCKS! I know, because I took mine apart, and found the eaten but not digested evidence. We had about a dozen little socks in there, covered with lint and marked with black grease.

Bookworm Award Meme

2008-11-18T09:05:00.005-06:00

I found this meme on a cool blog called
book:thirty Time to Read
which I found thru Dallas' whose I found thru Naomi's, and anyway, I chose to join in the fun.

This is how it goes. Pick up the book closest to you, and turn to page 56. Then copy the 5th sentence, and the following 2-5 sentences. (Poetic license says I can count any way I choose ;)) Then post those lines, and tag 5 blogfriends. Feel free to post in the comments here below, and/or in your own blog, and let me know if, and where, you do.

My closest couple of books were too short, so I pulled Milton Lomask's The Spirit of 1787 The Making of our Constitution down and found a page 56!

This has been a fun excuse to pick a book off the shelf that I would probably never have read otherwise :)

"Our sufferings," a 1787 Fourth of July orator told his Massachusetts audience, "have arisen from a deeper foundation than the deficiency of a single constitution. Even if Massachusetts had a perfect government, he said, its citizens would still be plagued by troubles "should our National Independence remain deprived of its proper federal authority."
Here was the voice of Federalism rising in a land that ony a year before had been almost entirely Antifederalist.
So swift was the change in public opinion during 1786 that historians tend to disagree as to which of the three larger developments of that year brought it about.
Was it the ferocious battle of words on the floor of the Congress over the Jay-Gardoqui treaty negotiations?
Was it the action-the daring action-of a few nation-minded men in the closing hours of the Annapolis Convention?
Was it the armed outbreak in rural New England known to us as Shay's Rebellion?
Or was it-as logic suggests-all three?

This selection seems appropos at this time of political activity and interest and unrest. So now I tag my blogfriends:

Naomi
Libby at Homemaker to the Rescue!
Karen
Sonny at firstsons
Sue at borrowedlight

Have fun y'all!

These Are a Few of My Favorite Things

2008-11-14T07:09:00.009-06:00

This is not a short list. But it is definitely limited. The more things I think of, the more things I think of.

1. white beads, cold and smooth, printed in blue with Asian design
2. Aaron Neville songs, especially I Hold You Up
3. Josh Groban music, especially Petit Papa Noel
4. Mormon Tabernacle Choir's Sunday morning broadcast of Music and the Spoken Word
5.Writer's Almanac and Prairie Home Companion with Garrison Keillor
6. Bugs:Poems by Mary Ann Hoberman
7. Rick Walton's children's poetry
8. Poetry Speaks to Children book and CD
9. folk music and folk dance
10. warm fuzzy socks
11. warm fuzzy newborns and their wonderful smell
12. daffodils
13. avocados
14. knee socks that stay up
15. three-quarter-length sleeves
16. the color teal
17. pockets
18. backpacks
19. Og Mandino
20. C.S. Lewis
21. Carol Lynn Pearson
22. zippers
23. Lloyd C. Douglas' Magnificent Obsession
24. journals
25. pens, especially fine-point pens with purple ink
26. the French language
27. DANCING

Now I dare you, my reader, to make your own favorites list. What makes you smile?

Just Shoot Me!

2008-11-13T07:08:00.002-06:00

So I'm realizing how blind I have been. I'm seeing pictures of myself taken earlier this year. I have a hard time accepting that this fat woman in the picture is me, and yet it looks suspiciously like a ripe pregnant me of years ago. Yikes, and ouch. So I look away from the picture, look back, and think, "Why didn't someone just shoot me?! Oh yeah, they did. Just with a slightly more compassionate weapon, the camera." So I'm going for a walk today.

When I was in elementary school P.E., I had this awesome coach. He taught us about all kinds of health and nutrition and exercise and everything. He told us a story one day that I have never forgotten. It was about a man who was so depressed that he had decided to end his life. Not being interested much in pain, he chose to kill himself by wearing himself out. So he ran. He was in very bad shape, so expected to run until he collapsed, and that would be the end of him. So he ran, and collapsed, and woke up. Every day for a while, he tried again to wear himself out by running to exhaustion, but every time that he did, he just ran a little bit farther, and he actually started feeling better. So he became healthier and happier. Now that I think about it, I wonder if that story was true, and if so, if it was about someone my coach knew personally . . .

Know any good Lawyer Jokes?

2008-11-08T09:01:00.006-06:00

I've been blessed with opportunities to see humorous things. I'm grateful my eyes were open.

The other day, I was driving down the street in my hometown and I saw a police officer who had pulled over a driver. The flashing lights got my attention. I figured the driver must have been speeding, but as I got closer, I realized it wasn't just any old car this citizen was driving. It was a larger, commercial-type vehicle, so I did a double-take and saw this printed on the window in huge white letters:

TRAFFIC TICKET LAWYER.

No kidding. I bet the officer had a good time with that one.

Happy Birthday, Sis!

2008-11-01T23:58:00.005-05:00

Dear Libby,

You were born the day after Halloween. I had been so looking forward to witnessing your birth, that I left a slumber party early so I could go to the hospital. I was so disappointed when I learned that I couldn't watch you make your grand entrance after all! But I'm so glad you made it out alive :)

I was 12 years old, and I so enjoyed holding you and singing to you. We had to wash up with special Phisoderm soap before we could hold you in our laps while sitting on the couch. Did we actually wear shower caps?!

We used to sing, "When it's Libby Libby Libby on your lap lap lap, you won't want to put her down for her nap nap nap!" Do you remember the jingle from the canned food commercial? ("When it's Libby's Libby's Libby's on the label label label you will love it love it love it on the table table table!").

I used to love dancing around the room with you in my arms when you were a little bit bigger, but still a baby. I think the music and motion calmed you down better than anything (when Mom wasn't home, that is).

You used to love to hold Mom's soft knit t-shirts, and you had a special place in all our hearts, because you were the soft little baby with the big blue eyes and dark brown hair.

I remember once I arrived at the church after a week of being away at Young Women's camp, to find that Mom and Dad were not there to pick me up. They had made arrangements for the Bennett family to take me home with them instead, because you were in the hospital. I think that was when you had swallowed a dime, and had to have it removed. What a miracle that the little coin, just the right size to choke you, hung vertically in your esophagus for weeks, even while you coughed every night!

Or was that the time that you had pneumonia? You had your scares and trials in those early months, and we are so grateful that you pulled through so healthy and strong.

Then before you know it, I was away at BYU, and would write you letters, and you wrote me back. You were starting elementary when I was starting college. I think I still have some of those pictures and notes. You were so loved by Grannie.

I remember when you and D were engaged, and then your wedding. Mom came from the bride's room in the temple and told us (me and L, I think) that you looked just like a queen. We have lots of good pictures of you and D outside the temple, and of the whole party.

You and I only attended two of the same schools, and years apart. It's been so good to be back home, closer to you, to be a little part of your life. You've been a wonderful aunt to our children, who adore you and now your family, too. I'm so happy for you, that you have such a beautiful son and loving husband.

I admire your honesty and strength. You're generous and talented! I love hearing you and D sing together . . . we should have another sing-along. Remember staying up late when we all still lived in Utah? Playing games, pigging out, and singing songs . . . those were the days!

I LOVE YOU, SIS!

Tick, Tock, Ticker

2008-11-01T08:42:00.003-05:00

I found this cute thang on the net today. Check it out at http://bf.lilypie.com/qaCZm5.png
or just click on today's post title (I hope that works).

I've been thinking a lot lately about when my child will wean, and whether I have to do much more than distract her in order to accomplish weaning, and whether I really want to. I was talking to a friend yesterday who had experienced something similar. Her last child was a little older than mine is now when she was wondering what had to happen in order for him to wean . . . did it have to be pregnancy, as had been the case with her older children?

That opens another whole can of worms. I've been meaning to lose 50 lbs for some time now. This fifty is not taking off on its own. Evidently I'm making it feel right at home, too darn comfy, right where it is, which by the way, is mostly very inconvenient and unsightly!

Degrees

2008-10-18T14:05:00.005-05:00

Driving home through my neighborhood the other day, I noticed Halloween decorations. I don't get into this kind of decorating. I'm doing good if I get the Christmas decorations up by December something, and back in the attic by the time school gets out in the spring. So I was thinking that some of my neighbors decorate in October for Halloween, then in November for Thanksgiving, and finally in late November or early December for Christmas. That's three holidays in three months. And I'd rather focus on Christmas that whole time. But then I thought of another future three-way breakdown. Christmas could be the Celestial Kingdom of holidays, with the lesser kingdoms or holidays preceding, just preparing us for the later greater glory.

The Dance: I Know

2008-10-12T23:26:00.001-05:00

Blog-hopping tonight, I came across the most awesome video clip. You will love this. Several of my favorite people ever appear in this short piece. Jesus is my most favorite. President Gordon B. Hinckley and Elder Jeffrey Holland are up way high on the list, too.

Click on this link, right after you make sure your speakers are on. Enjoy!

The Dance: I Know

Out of the Mouths of Babes

2008-09-09T11:24:00.005-05:00

Two-and-a-half-year-old Louella found Big Sis' umbrella, and brought it into the kitchen. She was describing the beautiful designs on the umbrella. First she said that Sleeping Beauty was a princess. Then she pointed to the Disney castle picture and said, "That's the temple you buried Daddy to!"

I can hear his commentary now . . .

an invisible connection

2008-09-09T11:10:00.003-05:00

I was reading blogs and emails this morning, while my darling Sleeping Beauty (Louella) napped in my lap. I smiled at a funny line in a message, and my Louella simultaneously laughed outloud. Still asleep! She's turning 3 years old in 1 month. I'm glad she's still nursing :)

Earlier, at the kitchen table, aforementioned Louella observed me as I chopped celery. She had previously asked me what I was doing. But now I was having deep thoughts of concern about her big sis, and we were fairly quiet. Louella suddenly said, "What are you thinking about?" Just like an adult!

A Contest and a Cause

2008-09-07T02:58:00.006-05:00

Please take a moment to visit the site (click on the title of this post).
I was blog-hopping the other day, and I learned of the heart-wrenching story of a beautiful family who is going through a very difficult recovery period right now. Please continue to pray for them, and maybe contribute to the fundraising efforts. There are many. One that caught my attention is the blogger book.
To be part of a fun and funny project, go to:
http://borrowedlight.blogspot.com/2008/08/blog-book.html

Please Pray for this Family

2008-09-07T00:43:00.003-05:00

Blazy* Lately, But Repentant Now

2008-09-05T02:30:00.011-05:00

It's September!!!
I'm forty years old now.

I celebrated with my family (way too much ice cream! and some fun, cutting the rug in our living room), and I had fun the next day, discovering Bed Bath and Beyond with my mom. Ever the thoughtful gift-giver, she gave us a whole new set of my favorite flatware (Thanks, MOM!), and took me out to lunch for my favorite fajitas, and to BBAB.

Kids are back in school, and work has been ebbing.

Two of our kiddos were assigned to do an "All About Me"-type of project.

Here's my version.

Cookie

eagle-eyed editor who loves to dance

Will proofread and procrastinate if given the chance

Loves letters, lingo, language, and to sing and prance

Blessed beyond belief, but seeking better balance

* See Naomi's blog @ durrantramblings.blogspot.com

A Daddy Blogger is Born

2008-08-26T15:05:00.002-05:00

They say that when a child is born, so is a grandma. Well, when a blog is born, so is a blogger.

Ever since I started blogging, my hubby has been saying stuff like, "Why DO you blog?" and more recently, "I wish I could stay home and blog!" So yesterday he finally did it. Check him out!

My Magnificent Obsession

2008-07-22T07:35:00.004-05:00

Written by Lloyd C. Douglas, my favorite book of fiction is called Magnificent Obsession. I have now read it at least 2 times through completely, but I think three times, actually. Anyway. I can't leave it alone. Now I have to talk about why I love it.

Themes: Work makes me happy. People need each other. Loneliness brings sadness. Service makes me feel great, and anonymous service is far better; in fact, anonymous service makes me a far better person. Science and religion are not as far apart on the belief spectrum as you might suspect. In romantic love, anonymity may have its place, but must give way to openness, in order to allow for unity.

There. I've said it. I LOVE Magnificent Obsession, even though it's a pretty impossible fairy tale, and has all these themes that might put some readers off. In fact, I'm pretty sure the outdatedness of the writing is a pretty big deterrent.

So here's my challenge for you, my dear reader. Yes, you. The few (only), the proud, the labonnedanse reader!

I DARE YOU TO READ Magnificent Obsession by Lloyd Douglas.

Please let me know if you are up to the challenge. Just leave me a comment. You can find M.O. at your local library, I'm betting, or buy it online on eBay. But don't bother with the movie. It's just not worth your time. That is, until I remake it. ;)

Still Clueless But Trying

2008-07-22T07:30:00.006-05:00

So I tried again to post my Mosaic Meme here. Not sure this is the best way, but at least now there are pictures :)

Mosaic Meme

2008-07-20T22:49:00.006-05:00

OK, I am clueless when it comes to adding pictures here. So you'll just have to click on the title please to see these gorgeous pictures :)

I just found a fun meme at Chocolate on My Cranium.

Aren't these pictures DELICIOUS!?!

I hereby tag Naomi, and everyone else who reads this ;)

Here's what you do:

1. Type your answer to each question below into Flickr Search.

2. Using only the first page, pick an image.

3. Copy and paste each URL for the images into Mosaic Maker. Choose 3 columns with 4 rows.

Questions:

1. What is your first name?

2. What is your favorite food?

3. What high school did you go to?

4. What is your favorite color?

5. Who is your celebrity crush?

6. Favorite drink?

7. Dream vacation?

8. Favorite dessert?

9. What you want to be when you grow up?

10. What do you love most in life?

11. One word to describe you.

12. Your flickr name (kid version: favorite animal?).

What Did You Just Say?

2008-06-10T07:27:00.002-05:00

You know how sometimes, when you hear somebody say something, you just have to say, "WHAT?!?!"

Even though you're sure you heard what you heard, you just have to ask.

Sometimes it's funny, sometimes it's shocking, and sometimes it's just plain original.

I don't usually read my horoscope, but if I did, I'm pretty sure this week or last, it would say something like:

Hold on, buckle up tight, and open your ears. You will get lots of bad news and strange surprises! If you tell the truth, and just try to show love to those around you, you just might find yourself showered with more loving kindness than you know what to do with.

First thing this morning, my 2-y-o said, "Please get the booger outta my nose."

And if that weren't cute enough, later, when I held her on my lap and asked if she was hungry, she answered, "I'm hungry for your milk," all while doing this darling move where she tilts her head to the side, shrugging her shoulders, and slid her hands up to my shoulders.

At church on Sunday, I was nursing this darling in the mother's lounge/ladies' room, when a probably 5-y-o cutie pie I used to teach in Primary (kinda like a junior Sunday school) came in to use the bathroom. She asked what my daughter was doing.

I said, "She's nursing. I'm feeding her." Since Cutie Pie is the youngest in her family, I wasn't sure she knew about nursing babies.

Cutie Pie said, "She's old to be doing that."

I loved hearing her say just exactly what she thought. Notice she did not say "TOO old", just "old". And she's right.

Last night at the dinner table, my 6-y-o special daughter said, "Thank you Mommy" and "Thank you Daddy" several times. Every time she said it, I was like, "Awwww!"

How sweet it is to hear these precious darlings' sweet signs of gratitude!

Just now, she woke up and started humming. The first thing she said was, "Mommy, I love you."

Sometimes I wonder if my sweet little girls are whispered to by the angels, to know just what to say, and just when to say it.

Lately, I've heard a lot of bad news, and I've been so tired of the excessive drama going on around me.

Just yesterday, I barely made it home in my vintage station wagon, with 3 overheated daughters (2 of whom were excessively whiny, by the way), after having traveled the wrong way, on the wrong road, for way too long, and the poor car was overheating for about an hour before we got home. We were sad, hot, tired, and hungry, and we had to use the bathroom!

We had been inside for maybe 10 minutes when my hubby came home with the news that his car was dying, and he'd had to use some gutsy daredevil driving tricks to get himself and his car home, too.

So the rest of the day was spent indoors, where we enjoyed our air conditioning, being together, and the tender, spontaneous offerings of love and affection from our little darlings.

Yeah, I'm choosing to focus on the positive. I thought that was a better direction than gritching about the obnoxiousness of teens and ancient vehicles.

How to Answer "How do you do it?"

2008-05-22T07:38:00.004-05:00

I get this question a lot. If you have a big family, you know what I'm talking about.

There are lots of questions, actually. Everything from "How do you do it, seriously? I had 2 and went crazy!" to "Why? Really, why?"

People sometimes ask me when they see my toddler and me alone together if she's my first. Or sometimes when I've been pregnant, they just start talking to me about what to expect about parenthood, and it quickly becomes obvious that they've assumed this is my first. ("It changes EVERYTHING!" they gush.)

One friend's mom (who had 6 kids, as I recall) told me that someone had once asked her whether she was crazy or stupid. I think she claimed stupid. It's funny the way she tells it.

But that's not the answer I'm looking for.

Do I claim to be such a good mom that I just can't say 'no' to a child who would otherwise be condemned to a life with some less-worthy parent? Or joke that I am still figuring out how to be a good mom, and this is just Rough Draft #7?

Mommy Mercy Missions

2008-05-21T16:07:00.007-05:00

Some days are SO perfect. Not what just anybody would call perfect, though.

It's Tuesday, and I have three youngsters at home, although two of them are normally at school. There have been headaches, stomach aches, sore throats, nausea, vomiting, and diarrhea.

Louella and Mozelle normally get along great, but not today. And Mozy keeps trying to run away. I'm sure I saw, heard, and smelled her vomit. How can she feel up to scheming and escaping?

When the phone rings for the fiftieth time, I'm sure it's just another bill collector, but the caller ID says otherwise. It's Jolie, who IS at school, and she is calling to ask me a favor. Seems her permission slip is inside a pants pocket at home, and she needs it turned in NOW.

Me:I don't know how I could do that, because I have three little girls here with the flu, and even if I did try, I'd probably run out of gas on my way up to the school.

Jolie: Will you please try to find a way to get it up here?

I sigh a pathetic, "I'll try" before hanging up and shaking my head.

A dear friend calls within the hour. She has heard that my kids are sick again. Says she has a little chicken we could maybe make a nice chicken soup out of. I say I'm thrilled to have it, as my oldest son had just told me that he needs chicken soup and nothing else.

She seems happy I said yes, but Kirsty doesn't stop there. She asks if there's anything else she can bring us.

I ask her if she would take Jolie's permission slip over to the school for me. Kirsty assures me that taking the note would be no problem, and that if I hadn't asked, she'd be offended! I hang up with a smile on my face.

I should kneel down right now and thank God for such a good sister-friend, but I have to determine my daughter's whereabouts.

A little while later, I am bringing Mozy home from one of her sneaky expeditions. I'd had to run out through the garage 'cause Mozy had locked the front door from the outside! I'm in my PJs, barefoot, and getting HOT. Holding Mozy by the arm, I meet Kirsty in my driveway.

Kirsty: I didn't see y'all come out--

Me: I'm just bringing Mozy home from across the street . . .

I take Mozy inside, and we start putting the bags of food on the kitchen table, but before we can put it into the fridge, Noelle alerts me to the fact that Mozelle is ON THE GATE!

So I guess my visit with Kirsty is cut short (AGAIN). . . I use my garden hose trick (see "Walk Swiftly" post) and ask Kirsty to lock us in . . . Later I finally get around to taking the little chickadee out of the bag, and find some yummy side dishes, and a BIG surprise.

A folded twenty-dollar bill with a note attached peeks out of the chicken bag. "Wouldn't want you to run out of gas on your Mommy mercy missions!"

Walk Swiftly, and Carry a Fire Hose

2008-05-20T11:28:00.003-05:00

When dealing with a special child, you might find yourself using unique techniques. I have a 6-year-old daughter, for example, who will do anything to run away. She has attempted to climb out of 2nd-story windows, and she has unlocked locks, locked us in, and climbed the fence. We propped heavy objects against the gate, and she climbed over that. Tired of running down the street, chasing a sometimes naked, sometimes cat-strangling, but always faster-than-me, 6-year-old, I finally got smart. When I knew she was attempting to climb the gate again, I stood in the front yard, holding my very powerful sprayer hose, pointed at the gate. I gave her one warning before blasting her. Every time her little hands re-appeared, I sent another blast. Sometimes she yelled, sometimes she squealed . . . but she always got wet . . . and she was soooo persistent! I almost ruined my strategy by telling her that I was getting tired of standing there . . . but I held my tongue, and held the sprayer. Viva la garden tools!

The Mother of all Mother's Day Gifts

2008-05-20T09:57:00.005-05:00

Mother's Day was awesome. My hubby gave me the best gift he has ever given me for Mother's Day in our 19 years of marriage. He could not wait 'til Mother's Day, though. So I got it a few days earlier, and I love it!

It's a digital picture display frame that also plays music. As cool as that is, that was not the real gift.

On Thursday evening prior to Mother's Day, my husband took me to our room, where the lights were turned off, and led me to stand at the foot of the bed, facing our captain's bed headboard, which is almost a bookcase with a lighted mirror above a shelf, and cubbies.

I heard music (that's OUR song!) and saw pictures of our family appearing on what I thought was my husband's work computer. First there was my baby picture, then my husband's baby picture, then one of us on our wedding day, one of me on the day after our wedding (which hubby says is his favorite picture ever), and then there came a baby picture of each one of our children as babies, followed by a current picture of them . . . so the oldest is shown first as a chubby 2-month-old, and immediately after as a nearly-18-year-old in his tuxedo with his prom date! Talk about a tear-jerker . . .

Our song is Forever Young by Alphaville, and it's playing repeatedly while I watch pictures of my babies growing up . . . mixing the exciting memory of our first slow dance together nearly 20 years ago with the sweet memories of meeting our newborns at each of their births. I'm crying and loving it. Near the end, there's a portrait of a younger me holding my infant daughter who is now a preteen blue-eyed bombshell, and finally a picture of the Houston Texas temple with an image of an oak tree superimposed on the background . . . the tree part is just an image of transparent light, and of course it's symbolic of our family tree.

My oldest daughter turned on the light, and I saw that the pictures were not in fact being shown on my hubby's computer, but on my very own musical digital picture player (reminds me of Picture Picture on Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood)!

Now I just have to figure out how to upload the whole video on to this blog, or convince hubby to do that for me ;)

Oh, and how do I follow this example of thoughtful gift-giving for Father's Day???

ABCs about Me

2008-05-02T18:58:00.004-05:00

I got this from Naomi's blog. Check her out at durrantramblings.blogspot.com

A - Attached or Single? Attached
B - Best Friend? my DH and my parents
C - Cake or Pie? CHEESECAKE baby! Some call it cherry cheese pie . . . what's in a name?
D - Day of Choice? Thursday
E - Essential Item? glasses, pen and computer . . . hard to pick just one . . . I like Naomi's answer.
F - Favorite Color? PURPLE and green and red and royal blue and pink and navy . . . BROWN
G - Gummy Bears or Worms? bears! like the real ones from Germany YUM!
H - Hometown? Katy, Texas
I - Favorite Indulgence? AVOCADOES . . . on potatoes, salads, eggs, and Mexican food
J - January or July? I love January and July both, 'cause I have loved ones with birthdays then. I love January for the newness, and coolness; I love July for the PATRIOTISM.
K - Kids? YES, and a whole slew of 'em. One little angel in Heaven, our running total is seven.
L - Life isn't complete without? DANCE! with DH, with babies, with Aaron Neville! Let's dance :)
M - Marriage Date? 28 April 1989
N - Number of brothers and sisters? 3 sisters and 2 brothers . . . I am the oldest and shortest!
O - Oranges or Apples? the best fruit in the world is GUAVA . . . I'll eat any fruit but a mango. and I LOVE LOVE LOVE oranges :) if it's an apple, it's got to be a jazz apple :)
P - Phobia or Fears? claustrophobia, but I'm starting to wonder if that's what it really is . . .
Q - Quote? Matthew 7:7 Ask and it shall be given you; seek and ye shall find; knock and it shall be opened unto you. There's a story to this . . . . I'll have to blog about that . . . remind me! I also have a favorite non-scriptural quote by Twain I think. "Worrying doesn't empty tomorrow of its struggles. It only empties today of its strength."
R - Reason to smile? KISSES, whether human, or doggie, or chocolate (the Cheesecake ones)
S - Season of choice? summer in the west, or fall anywhere else . . .
T - Tag ten people? I tag whoever is reading this ;)
U - Unknown fact about me? I'm a poet and editor and dancer. People who know me well do know those things already . . . .OK, when I was about 5, I was selling candy for Bluebirds (campfire girls, kinda like girl scouts), and an older girl stole all my candy. I do NOT like selling.
V - Vegetable? Potatoes, broccoli, carrots, beets, celery sticks with cream cheese . . . but the all-time best vegetable dish ever is my sister's recipe for (drum roll please) Sweet Potatoes!
W - Worst habit? Perfectionism . . . hopefully as I edit more, I'll stop picking on the rest of the world ;)
X - Xenophobic? No I am too often guilty of the opposite, gravitating to those who seem new and different . . . I am a certified tutor of English as a Second Language.
Y - Your favorite food? brown rice w/ veggies, granola with raisins, garlicky pasta & pesto, mostly anything that someone else cooks . . . my mom made a great steak dinner the other night
Z - Zodiac Sign? Virgo

Go Check out a great site for Moms called 5 Minutes for Mom

2008-05-01T22:22:00.002-05:00

Click on the title above to go to "5 Minutes for Mom". This is where you can enjoy a chuckle, enter a contest, and network like nuts! Enjoy :)

Amazing Trailer Bike! I hope I win it :) Click here to check it out

2008-05-01T22:12:00.006-05:00

Check it out! There's a great web site for all of us moms called 5 Minutes For Mom, and they have great contests that you can easily enter to win fabulous prizes. Click the title above to check out the amazing trailer that I hope to win for my special-needs 6-y-o. She is gonna love going for a bike ride with Mom and Dad!

If you want to win the trailer for someone you know, just go to www.5minutesformom.com and follow the directions then click on *contests* Have fun y'all!

Now I know you're gonna get hooked if you click on over to 5MinutesforMom.com, what with all their contests and all, but don't forget to come back here and read my latest every once in a while!

2008-05-01T17:02:00.002-05:00

This picture gives a good idea of what my daughters are like. My oldest is uber-diligent; my second, animated and dramatic; my third, in her own world; and my youngest, connecting all the rest of us and commanding all attention. Not sure when this one was taken, but it may have been Mother's Day 2007. Notice my oldest is NOT wearing her Easter dress!

Polishing the Silver

2008-03-11T10:09:00.003-05:00

Some people just have to do things the hard way.

Bob, my son with the lip ring, has swallowed his sharpest jewelry.

Three times.

X-rays showed nothing.

Then just the other night, when we were eating veggie pizza for dinner, yet ANOTHER lip ornament disappeared.

This time, it wasn't Bob who swallowed his own jewelry. See, he doesn't care for vegetables much, and so he generously gave all his pizza toppings to his older brother, who gladly scraped Bob's plate clean.

Jack didn't notice any difficulty swallowing or any pain or anything. Don't forget the cheese!

Prophets and Kumquats

2008-03-11T09:51:00.005-05:00

So I was driving my oldest son to seminary the other day (that's Bible study class for high-school students, who meet at the church at 6 a.m. weekdays) when he announced that he wished he were just an inch or two taller. He said that would be the perfect height for him.

Now I am not a tall person. OK, I'm not even average. But this has never bothered me, probably because I'm a woman who loves to dance. (OK, that's "a whole 'nother post for a whole 'nother day. . .)

Me: How tall are you?
Jack: 5'4"
Me: Are you as tall as my mom?
Jack: How tall is she?
Me: I don't know how tall she is, but I do know she has shrunk.
Jack: Great! I'm gonna be a freakin' kumquat by the time I'm old. They'll have to put a primary children's step-stool in front of the pulpit in the Conference Center! People will be like, "Look at the cute little prophet!" I'll drive a little black Geo Metro and be like, "Wow! This car is huge!"

I laughed throughout the day over the thought of a little wrinkled orange kumquat in a big black Metro. Surely he must know that the Prophet rides in the back of a limo?

Beans, beans, the magical fuel . . .

2008-03-10T22:56:00.003-05:00

Last night we were reading scriptures as a family. Afterward, we got to talking about what we had read. This doesn't happen every night, but we were enjoying the conversation and togetherness. I knelt down in the middle of the room to give the cue that I was ready for family prayer. I was hoping that the rest of the family would quickly get quiet and kneel down with me.

But things don't go as smoothly as I imagine.

So everyone is talking at once, and I'm tempted to say, "Take a number". I'm trying to listen to my Mozelle(6) who has been repeating some unintelligible question for just about long enough to signal an impending tantrum. I ask the others to let me listen to her, in the hope that they can help me figure out what she's asking me. She says it 2 or 3 more times before I come up with the answer.

She had very plainly asked if we were going to Burrito, Utah. Now, we used to live in Utah, and we have gone there since our move, for a family reunion. But never to a town named Burrito. I repeated what I had heard, and she seemed very pleased that I had finally gotten her message. Then Jolie (11) said, "The gas will be cheap there!"

You Know it's Time to Wean When . . .

2008-03-03T22:34:00.003-06:00

I've heard other moms say that they knew it was time to wean when their child lifted up their shirt at church and said something embarassing like "Booboo juice, Mom!"

I probably shouldn't wait 'til something quite that memorable happens, but as you know if you've read my previous posts, I'm just not a weaner . . .

My little Louella is over 2 years old now, and she's still nursing plenty. She'll ask to nurse by saying "I wanna nuhs" or "I wanna nuhs you."

The funny thing is what she says when she wants to switch sides, mid-feeding. She'll let go and say, "Udder side".

You da Best!

2008-02-27T10:05:00.001-06:00

I once heard a mom say that she would tell her children something like, "You're my favorite 5-year-old in the whole wide world!"

It seemed such a sweet thing to say. Now I find myself saying things like, "You're my favorite Mozelle Marie in the whole wide world!"

This morning as I took Louella out of her high chair, I told her, "I love you. You're the best!" She said, "No, Daddy da best!"

Wow. I can hardly wait to tell him, to make his day :)

What's in a Name? Fun Recipes

2008-02-26T00:13:00.000-06:00

Breakfast or brunch at our house is often decadent. I promise we're not really cannibals though.

Dutch Baby comes from my husband's family traditions, and breakfast pudding comes from mine.

Dutch Baby is pretty simple.

Preheat oven to 425. Melt 1/2 stick of butter in a cast-iron skillet.
Beat 8 eggs in a blender. Add 1 c flour, a dash of salt, and 1 c milk.
Pour all into the melted butter and bake for 20 minutes.

Breakfast pudding can be made while the Baby bakes.

Heat 6 c milk over medium heat in a nice big pasta pot with a dash of salt.
Add 1 c hot cereal (dry) of your choice ( I like malt-o-meal, cream of wheat).
Add 2/3 c sugar or a bunch of honey or whatever sweetener you like. A great holiday alternative is hot cocoa mix!
Blend up 5 eggs in blender or with a whisk.
When the cereal mixture is warm but not boiling, pour about 1/4 c into the beaten eggs and continue to beat them up. Then pour them into the pot and stir constantly 'til you get a beautiful pudding.
Turn off heat. Add vanilla.
If you like, add cinnamon, nutmeg, raisins . . .
Some pour cold milk over the top, or put a dab of butter on each serving.

Bon Appetit!

Monday, Bloody Monday

2008-02-25T23:05:00.001-06:00

So I'm taking this Love & Logic Parenting class, and trying to become a better mom.

My 6-y-o darling Mozelle gave me lots of practice today. The kids had a school holiday, and so I got to cook a whole lot more than usual. While I was in the kitchen cooking some vegetables, Mozy got out of control, so I took her to her bedroom for a little time out. She kept coming out of her room, and I kept trying to reassure her that she could come out after cooling down and getting back to her sweet self.

She even had lots of choices, like whether the light was on, and whether the door was open or closed. I kept taking her back up those stairs and depositing her in her room. She threw a fan and a bookcase, but I kept my cool. Her 15-y-o brother Bob cheered her up while I was sitting in her room with her, just trying to keep her from banging her head on the wall.

So 2-y-o darling Louella suddenly appeared in the room, with one red hand. I asked her what made her hand red, and what she had been playing with. She was very quiet, and very determined not to let me touch her hand. We went downstairs and found the culprit. My cutting board cupboard door was open, and the stupidest invention known to man was lying on the floor: a tiny plastic cutting board with a two-edged blade attached. There's a cover for the cutting blade, but it only covers one edge. Eventually Louella let me put bandaids on her finger, but that was all she let anyone do. Her favorite activity, washing hands, was absolutely off limits.

I asked Bob to throw away that stupid thing that I never should have kept in the easily-accessed cutting board cupboard. He removed the blade first. I asked him later to be sure and throw it away. He was bummed, but he did wrap it up and throw it away.

Noelle (big sis, age 8.5) got nauseated at the sight of Louella's blood, so I brewed some peppermint tea at her request.

Now I'd been a terrible no good very bad mom, and let the girls all have chocolate cake with chocolate frosting for breakfast, so I was determined to make them some good hot lunch. I got some added incentive when Bob came into the kitchen complaining of dizziness, and with a gauze-and-duct-tape-bandaged thumb. Seems he'd been trying to reshape an old blade from his Swiss Army knife . . . and who does he ask to help him stop the bleeding, but poor lil' queasy Noelle! Bob was having visual difficulties, probably due to his recent migraine.

So I cooked our family favorites, Dutch Baby and Breakfast Pudding (a double batch). Everyone got a piece of Dutch Baby, a bowl of the pudding, and even a glass of orange punch if they wanted it. I refereed the squabbles over the last piece of Dutch Baby, and made sure people did their own dishes, and finally ate some food myself. Man, it was good to sit down and eat!

Then the girls and I went for a walk, but not until after Mozelle had scraped her arm open on a neighbor's climbing tree. Louella and Mozelle and I had a glorious walk in the windy sun, and we ended up at the park. We had it all to ourselves. I lay my old bones down on the park bench and watched the girls dare gravity to slow them down. Mozelle helped Louella climb up the twisty slide, and even taught her to swing from the bar above the highest slide before pushing her down it. They were a delight to listen to and to watch, except when they scared me to death (Mozelle once pushed Louella while she was still swinging on that bar above the highest slide).

Another walk and a nursing and a nap later, I was cooking again. We get groceries tomorrow, so today is creative cooking 101. I made a casserole which included lasagna noodles, some ground beef and sausage, and a whole lot of other stuff you'd never guess, even if you ate it yourself. It seemed good enough while I was assembling the mess, alongside another pan of vegetarian lasagna for my 17-y-o Jack. But when I took it out of the oven, all I could think was, "What have I done?"

Well, all I could do was to have a sense of humor, especially while being repeatedly interrogated by my brood. What IS this? You LIED! Why are these noodles PINK?

We ate, we laughed, we ate some more. Bob dubbed it "Heart in a Blender". (You've heard that song, right? "Wanna put my tender heart in a blender/Watch it spin round to a beautiful oblivion . . . ") Everybody ate it, even though Bob made several gross remarks . . . at one point, Noelle put her fork down and excused herself for a while.

When she asked for a cookie, I asked her to finish her lasagna, and she did.

With an introduction like that, I'm sure you're dying for the recipe.

1 box lasagna noodles
1 acorn squash cooked with garlic and onion
1/4 c leftover spaghetti sauce
about a pound of mixed ground beef and sausage
2 or 3 T sour cream
3 cans tomato soup
2 cans cream of chicken soup
lots of cooked barley, millet, and wheat
less than 1/2 of a fresh cooked beet

Cook noodles . . . lay some in each of 2 pans (smaller one for the vegetarian).
Mix in blender the tomato soup, spaghetti sauce, acorn squash, and beet.
In one pan, top the noodles with meats. In the other, add 3-grain mixture.
Now pour blood-red sauce over both.
Add more noodles.
In vegetarian dish, add sour cream. In meaty dish, spread cream of chicken soup (undiluted).
Add grains to both pans.
Add more noodles.
I forget how long this went on . . . but I would strongly advise you to mix the grains up into the cream of chicken soup if you do get crazy daring some time . . .
the top layer of the vegetarian dish is blood-red-saucy grains, but the top layer of the meaty dish is cream of chicken soup.
Pretty good and hearty fare, especially when you're out of mozarella and eggs and ricotta!

I cooked both of them at 350 for half an hour, which is just enough time to get your skirt caught in the wheel of a tricycle while teaching a 2-y-o to ride, after rescuing a 6-year-old from suicide triking in the street.

Our family home evening started off with my bragging to my dh Sonny at the dinner table about all the great things I had seen and heard the kids do to help each other all day. Then we played games, everything from computer games to chess to a tickle fight on Mom and Dad's bed. We were having lots of fun, but I got my head crawled on, so I got off the bed just in time to avoid an injury that Noelle unfortunately got instead--Mozy's foot met with Nolle's nose, and you guessed it--we had a full-blown nosebleed!

So at least half of us bled today--Louella, Mozelle, Noelle and Bob. Seems it's dangerous to let the kids have a day off from school . . .

Are You my Mother?

2008-02-17T01:28:00.001-06:00

I have a special daughter named Mozelle who wraps strangers around her pinky for amusement. She's six and a half years old. Mozy really loves people, and I do mean really LOVES them. She's not afraid to touch them, talk to them, ask them to take her home . . .

Sometimes she even puts her hands on the chest of any adult human female on the elevator and asks, "Are you my mom?"

Last December, I had her in the opthamalogist's office. There were elderly people everywhere. She put her hand on this man's neck and started interrogating.

Where do you live? Can I go to your house? Why do you have glasses? Is that your mom? Did she bring you here? Can I go to your house?

I'm simultaneously trying to fill out new-patient forms and read microscopic data from insurance cards, monitor Mozelle's antics, and keep my toddler happy and still.

Periodically I say things like, "Honey, please don't bend the blinds", and "Please don't turn off the lights", and "It's not polite to touch strangers without their permission".

She asked the man if it was OK for her to touch him. He said "No" and she let go. That didn't discourage her, though. She went and found someone else to hug and hold on to.

We found out that day that Mozelle's vision was 20/80. She got glasses to help correct her farsightedness, astigmatism, and outward-drifting left eye.

Not long ago, we found ourselves at Gram's house, where Mozy gave an impromptu chest massage to my surprised mom.

Mozelle: Why do you have big nipples?

Gram: So I could feed your mommy.

Mozelle: You nursed her because you're her mom!

Gram: That's right.

Mozelle: And her nursed you?

Gram: No, Grannie Rozella nursed me.

Between me, my older daughter Noelle and my mom and Mozelle, we had a thorough review of the breastfeeding legacy. Angela decided that Grannie Rozella, in effect, had nursed all of my daughters . . .

Not long after all this, I was lamenting the fact that I just seem so uneducated when it comes to weaning my nurslings. I finally said, "I guess I'm just not a weaner." Gram said, "No, you're not!" She must have been thinking, "You're a BOOB!"