Mother's Day

Today is the day I officially became a mother, 14 years ago. I like to think of each of my childrens' birthdays as a sort of birthday for me, too: I became a new mother every time. With each new baby, I had to learn what works best for that child, and although past experience helps a lot, it is still a new mothering experience. I had to reshape myself with each baby, becoming first a mother to one, then two, then three, and, finally, four. It's been an amazing process. Difficult? Yes, but it's the most rewarding thing I've ever done.

So Happy Birthday, Atticus! I'm glad you're mine. And I'm glad you no longer look like Spaceman Spiff, though you sure were a cute little dude.

Are You There Yet?

There is a lot of cute stuff to buy, and it's all for a good cause. Go. Buy. And be happy.

Thank you, everyone.

Papa Trauma Fundraiser

This is a picture of my brother, Kerry, when he was helping me with a big project in my yard in February. He's a big guy with a generous and kind heart, but now he has a big problem. He was in a serious ATV accident on April 16th and is now paralyzed. With two sons on missions, and the type of "insurance" you can get when you are self-employed, you can imagine how tight finances are going to be. I know things are tight for a lot of people right now, and, really, Azucar makes a good point: it reeks that we have to ask for help in a situation like this, but I'm asking anyway. If you are in the area and would like to help, Kerry's neighbors have organized a fundraiser. Please stop by this Saturday and either donate stuff to sell or make a few purchases. Here is the information from the flier:

ASHBY FUNDRAISER
A tragic accident has left our friend Kerry Ashby paralyzed. All proceeds will go toward medical needs, making the home wheel chair accessible, and rehabilitation.

Neighborhood Yard Sale
Sat May 1st at 7 am
162 East 500 South Provo

Please donate any items that can be sold.
Drop off at the above address at any time.

A financial contribution would be greatly appreciated!
Donations will be collected at:

Freedom Credit Union
815 North Freedom Blvd.
Provo, UT 84604

Checks written to Kerry Ashby
Donations can also be dropped off at the yard sale location anytime.

For questions call Cheryl Sheffield at 801-830-8932

Thank you for your support in this effort!

And Life Goes On

Some of you know that my older brother, Kerry, was in a serious ATV accident last Friday. It's going to be a rough road. Friends and neighbors are combining efforts to help Kerry's family. With two missionaries out (the second one leaves on the 28th next week), added to the astronomical medical costs, the financial situation is going to be bad. The boys are concerned about the financial burden that their missions will be on top of everything else. If you can, please check out the button on my side bar for details about an online auction for the family on May 3rd. There will also be a huge yard sale/bake sale on Saturday, May 1st. If you want details on that, leave me your e-mail in the comments and I'll send you the information.

Thank you, everyone.

Musings

I had a birthday two days ago. It was a very nice, relaxing day for me. The most unusual experience for that day came at the beginning, and I feel prompted to share it.

Some of you know that I exercise in the morning at Curves. I don't usually go on Tuesdays, but I did this week. There are two women who are part of the Tuesday/Thursday workout group. They are women whom I greatly admire: they radiate their testimonies of Jesus Christ not only in their eyes but in the way they talk, act, and respond to other people. Their love for their families and for the people they serve at church is evident in every word they speak. (I must say here that they are not the only women I know who are this way. Visit with the women in my family, neighborhood, and circle of friends and you will agree. I know some amazing women!)

I was drawn into conversation Tuesday morning with one of the women (the other one wasn't there that day). For some reason, I began telling her of the things I've experienced in my life. These things are not pretty--they are the adversities that President Uchtdorf spoke of. It was rather sobering for me, putting everything out there in a condensed version. She asked me how it is that I kept going. I told her that I didn't have a choice. She reminded me that yes, I did have a choice. I could have chosen to leave, whether physically or spiritually. It's true: I could have chosen that. But it was never an option for me. It still isn't.

Then I told her this (and I know I've said it before, but it bears repeating):

"The mist of darkness that Lehi speaks of is real. It is tangible. But even when I could not feel the Spirit, even when I felt abandoned and alone, I knew Heavenly Father was still there. I knew He still loved me. And I know the only way to get through the mists of darkness is to cling with all my might to my Heavenly Father. There is no way around, under, or over: there is only through, and you can't do it without Him."

We were both in tears. We both felt that truth. It was particularly sweet for me because I needed to feel it. It's been a rough go lately, and sometimes I can't feel the sweet peace that the gospel brings. I needed that feeling on my birthday. Thank you, Father, for the birthday present. It will carry me through for quite some time, I think.

A dear friend of mine was saying the other day how much the phrase "endure to the end" disturbs her. Are we merely passive observers? Do we just roll over and let it all happen to us? The phrase brings to mind such images. I've never cared for it myself, though I've used it often enough. A few weeks ago, a neighbor was speaking in sacrament meeting, sharing some of his missionary experiences. He talked about certain gospel phrases that are better in Spanish. "Enduring" was one of those phrases. He taught us that in Spanish, the phrase is "persevering." I believe he's right: the Spanish is better. Persevering implies active participation in the events around you. I would rather persevere, moving forward continually in spite of the obstacles in front of me.

And that is what I will do. I will keep moving, even though there are times when I want to say, "You want me to do what? Um...really?" Because that is the only viable option for me.

Sunday Highlights

Favorite things about Sacrament Meeting today: the blinking shamrock light necklace worn by the elderly sister sitting behind us; the talks; the choir number ("Take My Life and Let It Be"--one of my favorites, partly because I love to play triplets); J Boo begging Phil (in full voice) to let her "swide" down his legs.

Worst part of coming home: Atticus accusing me of playing favorites and creating rules that apply only to him; lamenting, once again, that I cannot be as generous and flexible with Atticus as I can with Sweet Boy and Mr. Wiggle Brows because he will take advantage of it and use it against me in the future.

Best part of coming home: eating chocolate-covered strawberries, hand-dipped personally just for me and slipped surreptitiously into my hands when the choir got up to sing. I have amazing friends.

My Favorite News Story of the Day

This makes me giggle. Can you picture it? A rogue knitter making sweaters for tree branches and lamp poles under cover of darkness. I love it. What would you call this person? I like The Purl Shadow. And how about a name for the sidekick? Hmm...maybe The Drop Stitch.

How My New Year's Resolution Is Going

Parental Satisfaction

First, I need to set the scene for you. A couple of weeks ago, the boys had an extended weekend. Sometimes, as a family, we like to have a movie night on such occasions, but it didn't work out this particular weekend. Atticus was not happy about it. Not happy at all. Sunday evening rolled around and Atticus was trying to convince me, at 9 pm, that he HAD TO get on the computer to finish downloading and converting some video files for his mp3 player.



Atticus: MOOOOooooom, I have 2 minutes left on my computer time! You HAVE to log me in so I can finish this project!

Me: It's bedtime, Atticus. You should have finished this afternoon instead of terrorizing your brothers for fun. I'm not getting you on.

Atticus: But it's all your fault that I didn't get home in time from Grandma's house to get on the computer. Now YOU have to get me on. Because it's all YOUR FAULT!

Phil: Atticus, you're more than welcome to leave Grandma's early, if you need to get home to do something. We're not keeping you there.

Atticus: Nu-uh! You guys were late getting there, and that's why we're so late getting home. It's all YOUR FAULT!

Me: Atticus! Go and get ready for bed NOW! Perhaps, if you are ready quickly enough, I'll discuss the possibility of getting you on for your last 2 minutes, but not if it takes you 30 minutes to get ready for bed like it usually does.

Atticus: Fine! (stomps off in a huff and, miraculously, is completely ready for bed in 6 minutes)


Unfortunately for him, while Atticus finished up his bedtime preparations, I checked his computer time.

Me: Uh, Atticus? You have 43 seconds left, not 2 minutes.

Atticus: But that's enough time to finish what I need to do.

Me: No, it's not. I'm not logging you on. It's late, and you need to go to bed.

Atticus: WHAT?!?!?!?!? You can't do that! We're having movie night tonight, and we're watching Mythbusters on my mp3 player! You promised!

Me: I promised no such thing. I said we might be able to, if things worked out, but they didn't, so we aren't.

He was furious.

(Stay with me now, I'm still setting up the scene.)


I went off to help Sweet Boy clean his teeth. While I'm brushing, I asked him, "So what's this movie night Atticus is talking about you guys doing tonight?"

Sweet Boy: Huh?

I repeated the question and finally got an "Oh! Yeah."

Me: At what point were you two planning to tell me about this, let alone ask permission?

Sweet Boy: We weren't supposed to say anything to you.

Me: Ah. I see.

I think someone is busted.


Back in the kitchen, I ask Atticus the same question: When were you planning to tell me about this movie night?

Atticus: You already knew!

Me: No, I didn't. Were you ever going to ask my permission?

Sweet Boy (to Atticus): You said not to ask her.

Me: HA!!! You are so busted, my friend. There is no way I would log you on to the computer. No way, son. Now go to bed.


All was quiet, I thought, so I went to get myself ready for bed. But then I heard Atticus' voice. I knew something was up, and I was thirsty anyway, so I headed to the kitchen. On my way, I noticed that Atticus' door was wide open. Also, there was a funny light coming from the kitchen.

I walked very quietly into my kitchen to see Atticus and Sweet Boy standing at the kitchen counter in front of my open laptop. Obviously, Atticus had sneaked in to Sweet Boy's room and convinced him to get out of bed to log on to the laptop. (Sweet Boy knows the password, but Atticus does not because he cannot be trusted. A point he brought home, yet again, with his actions.) The boys were facing me, but because the lights were off and they were watching the computer screen intently, they didn't see me.

I walked up to the other side of the counter, not 3 feet away from them, and still, they did not see me. So I exacted my revenge.

Me: {SLAMMING my open hand down on the counter top} What the hell do you think you are doing?!?!?!?

Atticus' knees buckled and his voice cracked as he said, "What the crap?"

Sweet Boy looked up in horror and said nothing.

I started to laugh hysterically.

Me: You are so busted! I caught you red handed! I should ground you both.

Atticus: Oh please, Mom, pleeeeeeease don't do that!

Me: You know, the only thing that is saving both of you from grounding is the look on your face, Atticus. Just remember this: I always figure out what you are doing. Always.



Revenge is sweet.

And a Happy New Year to you, too!

We had some beautiful snow this past Wednesday, so (as previously promised) I took my boys sledding at "the bowl," a favorite sledding spot here. The snow was soft and fluffy, just perfect. It was a little hard to get started on the sleds, but once we got our momentum going, we could fly down the hill. It was awesome. Atticus went with his friend across the bowl to a steeper place and took a few jumps. I saw him a couple of times and was impressed with how much air he got. After an hour and a half, we were all tired from tramping up the steep hills in the soft snow, so we left, much to the disappointment of the boys. Atticus was especially vocal about not wanting to leave yet and made me promise to bring them again on Friday, New Year's Day.

New Year's Day was beautiful, but the snow at the bowl was packed and hard, and there were lots of people there. Atticus and Sweet Boy took off to the steeper hill again while I took Mr. Wiggle Brows down a kinder incline. We had been there no more than 15 minutes when I happened to look over to where Atticus was sledding. I watched him fly down the hill, hit the same jump that he did on Wednesday, and that was it. He didn't start walking back up the hill: he started walking towards me. As far away as he was, I could tell something was not right.

I began ushering Mr. Wiggle Brows over towards Atticus. Sweet Boy came running over ahead of Atticus to tell me that Atticus had hurt his wrist. When I saw Atticus, and the panic and pain on his face, I knew it was bad. Then I saw the wrist.

"Oh, honey, you broke it."

{sniff} "Is it bad?"

"I'm afraid so, son."

"How bad is it?"

"Pretty bad. We need to get you to the ER as soon as possible. Let's go."

I've never seen him in pain like that before. Never.

We got to the car, took Sweet Boy and Mr. Wiggle Brows home to Phil, and headed off to the InstaCare. We never made it to the exam room. The doctor was in the hallway when they called us back. He took one look at it and said, "He has to be knocked out to set this, and I can't do it here. Head directly to the ER."

Atticus was in quite a state. Not only was he slightly "shocky," he was panicked about the amount of pain he was in and exactly what they were going to do to him. I tried to reassure him as best I could, but it's hard to calm down when you hurt that bad.

Want to see how bad the break was? Of course you do. Because you love gruesome photos as much as I do.



What I learned from all of this: I can remain amazingly calm when disaster strikes; I can impress nurses with my fascination for gross stuff enough that they ask me why I'm not working in a hospital; and I know enough medical stuff to scare my children.



What Atticus learned from all of this: Listen to that little nudge that says, "DO NOT GO OFF THAT JUMP. No, REALLY, DON'T DO IT."

All [He] Wants for Christmas...

Atticus tells me that he wants a flame thrower for Christmas. (HA! In your dreams, son.)

But that's his answer every time I ask.

Anyone have any idea how I can give him a "flame thrower" without actually giving him a flame thrower?

Be creative. Think outside the normal parameters. I'm talking about the kind of thing my dad would come up with: a miniature three-legged stool glued inside a cup (a stool sample); a wooden circle with "TUIT" printed on it (an excuse breaker, as in "as soon as I get around to it I'll do _____").

Remember, this is a family friendly blog, so keep it clean.

Find me here!

Get it? Find me? Oh never mind. Go read my first Guest Blogger post (a repost of something I wrote a while back) here. I feel practically like a celebrity! (Thank you, Gerb, for the invitation.)

My Favorite Spooks

The Buzzy Bee (J Boo)

The Executioner (Sweet Boy), The Tall Man (Nephew M), and The Knight (Mr. Wiggle Brows)

The Scarecrow (Atticus)

The Mystery Woman

Er...MAN!

Kisses from Little "Bro" Peep (my brother Klay)

Little Bro Peep found his sheep (nephew D)

Sweet Boy and Mr. Wiggle Brows as a girls

And guess what J Boo ate for breakfast this morning?

Notice the chocolate clear down on the waist band of the diaper.
(It was under her arms, too.)
She bathed herself in chocolate, after which I bathed her in soap and water.

Oddities

In the texture on my kitchen ceiling, right above my sink, there is a Wallace and Grommit type sheep head. I see it every night after I use my asthma inhaler while I'm rinsing my throat and mouth. It's sticking its tongue out at me. I think it's making fun of the way I gargle. (You would too, if you had to see me gargle.)

And miles to go before I sleep

This was my day today:


*Up at 7:50am to take care of Princess J Boo, who was yelling, "Hey!!" and "Mommy!" from her crib (which is still in our room).

*Started laundry.

*Breakfast.

*Vacuumed the floors.

*Started listening to conference (all radios in the house are turned on LOUD so you can hear it wherever you are, whatever you are doing).

*Mopped floors.

*Cleaned nasty spiderwebs (and spiders) off of cement forms for window wells while my little (or, rather, younger) brother helped finish digging out the first window well that we started together a few weeks ago.

*Had to stop to take J Boo on a walk during the morning session of conference. Missed a couple of talks, but what can you do when an 18-month-old must go exploring that puddle on the sidewalk down the street? She found a lovely branch with leaves on it to take back to Daddy.

*Changed laundry.

*Resumed digging work on the two other window wells while listening to conference.

*Smacked myself in the cheek with a pry bar while digging out small boulders (damn rocks). It hurt.

*Got slap happy because my body was tired from the digging and my brother kept making silly jokes or singing chain gang songs. Surprised to learn from little brother that my dad sings songs while working.

*Finished up the third window well just after the afternoon session finished.

*Finally had a chance to eat something (skipped lunch to keep digging).

*Got in the shower and cleaned myself up enough to be presentable.

*Loaded kids in the car to head over to my mom's.

*All the girls (and kids) went out for pizza while the priesthood holders went to their meeting.

*On the way home, stopped to pick up prescriptions. Wondered how much we spend a year on prescriptions? Decided I don't really want to know.

*Got home to a disaster in my kitchen.

*Sent boys to go get pajamas.

*Chatted with my sister-in-law (who came to hang out with me) while I cleaned up the kitchen.

*Gave J Boo a bath (because she had bathed herself with ice cream twice)

*Asked boys AGAIN to please get pajamas on.

*Read stories to J Boo while chatting with sister-in-law.

*Tried to put J Boo down, but she freaked out because she wanted the milk that she insisted not 2 minutes previously that she did not want.

*Gave J Boo milk and read more books to her.

*Told Sweet Boy and Mr. Wiggle Brows that they absolutely MUST have pajamas on NOW!!!

*Walked SIL out to her car and said "hi" to my just-older brother.

*Said "hi" to Phil and Atticus as they, too, arrived.

*Handed J Boo to Phil when we got inside.

*Rerouted Atticus away from siblings and towards his room with orders to get ready for bed.

*Brushed Mr. Wiggle Brows teeth.

*Brushed Sweet Boy's teeth.

*Read story to Mr. Wiggle Brows and Sweet Boy (Bedtime for Francis).

*Was asked by Mr. Wiggle Brows, "Mom, when do you go to bed?" Answered, "Not until my jobs are done."
"When is that?"
"Pretty late, son."
"When does Daddy go to bed?"
"Whenever he wants to."
Thought of the unfairness of this statement, but remembered some of the talks today about accepting our trials willingly and cheerfully. Must try to be better.

*Returned to the kitchen to assemble soup for the crockpot for Sunday dinner with my family.

*Also made some desserts.

*Cleaned kitchen again. (It never ends! It never ends that way too!)

*Picked up living room for the umpteenth time.

*More laundry.

*Tried to start dishwasher but realized that when Phil fixed the outlet under the sink today, he made it so there is no power.

*Tracked down extension cord downstairs (in itself is a miracle if you've seen my basement and the amount of boxes Phil has with his stuff in them), got dishwasher plugged in and ready to go.

*Sat down to look at family photos that my brother Nihao took two Sundays ago.

*Decided to write this post.

*Still need to wash up and get myself in bed. It's almost 1:30am.




When does the mom get to go to bed?

Eh? Whatcha say, Sonny?

On Friday I went to a most delightful lunch with blog friends to celebrate suedonym's birthday. While in line to order my food, I was chatting with Geo. I noticed that one of the female servers there was quite pretty--one of those natural beauties who would look great in any situation. I pointed her out to Geo, commenting on how lovely I thought she was. Geo agreed, saying, and I quote:

"Yes, she looks like a star from a foreign film."



I didn't hear the "f" in "foreign," and I didn't hear a bisyllabic word. I heard a monosyllabic word beginning with "p" and rhyming with "corn."



I was understandably shocked, which made me start to laugh. But I lost it completely when Geo said, "I'm trying to think which movie it was."

Geo was confused. Why was I so entertained? Then I said, "Geo! I had no idea you were into [p]--- films!"

"NO, Julie! That's not what I said! I said 'For-eign films,' not [p]--- films!"



Poor Geo. I can be such a tease, and she put up with me so well. I may not ever let her live it down.

Grow Old Along with Me

When I was about the same age Atticus is now, Grandma B, my maternal grandmother, came to stay with us. She had been living on her own in an apartment close by, but it became obvious that she could no longer be left alone. Mom & Dad moved her in with us. She shared my room. (I had the only other bedroom on the main floor, I had a bunkbed, and I was right down the hall from my parents--it was a no brainer to give her the bottom bunk.)

At first, things went well. Grandma did weird things on occasion, but Mom was able to handle the strange stuff. Grandma liked to work and stay busy, so that's what she did. Unfortunately for me, I came home one day from a friend's house to find my posters torn off the walls and Grandma going persistently through my underwear drawer.

"Grandma! What are you doing?" I asked.

"You're parents told me to pack up your room because you're moving out. And I cannot believe what a messy girl you are!" she answered, obviously disgusted.

I was devastated.

What girl at that age wants anyone, especially her grandmother, going through her personal things? But Grandma was convinced that Mom & Dad had told her to move me out, so that's what she was going to do. She played favorites, and for some mysterious reason I was not on her golden list, so I knew no amount of explanation on my behalf was going to change her mind.

That's how it came to be that I was "roomless" for quite some time. Mom & Dad set up a bed for me in the basement family room, and they cleared out a storage closet for me, but there was no privacy. Even the storage closet door had a metal screen in it, so changing clothes was difficult to do with any measure of privacy. I had four older brothers and one younger, and only two of the five were kind enough to allow me the courtesy of dressing without harassment. It's an awkward age as it is. Having three brothers coming in and threatening to watch you dress does not build confidence.

Is it any wonder, then, that when my other grandma, Grandma A., moved in with us my Senior year that I was more than a little apprehensive? Granted, I was four years older then, and I had my own room in the basement (with a locking door) that I didn't have to share, but the damage was done. I was nervous to be around her. I didn't like being left alone with her, and I hated having to go on walks with her. My "boyfriend" at the time couldn't understand why I was so negative. She was my grandma, after all! But he didn't understand: the woman who thought the oranges on the table were sleeping (because they hadn't moved for so long) was not the grandma I knew and loved. I couldn't risk being vulnerable: what if she "moved me out" like Grandma B. had done?

My grandmothers have both died long since (I was 15 when Grandma B died and 26 when Grandma A died). I can look back on my experiences with more understanding for them and for myself. They couldn't help what they were doing, and I don't believe they would have knowingly hurt me. Will they forgive me for being immature and insensitive? I think so.

My MIL, Gert, has Alzheimer's and is in a care facility now. Recently, we went to visit her. I was nervous. What if all my past feelings came rushing back? What if I froze and couldn't think of what to say to her? Thankfully, I was fine. I can still "see" the real Gert, even if only for a few moments here and there. She may not know who I am for sure, but I'm okay with that. I can honor her, love her, and just be with her without fear.

Because of my experiences with my grandmothers, I recognized the nervousness in my sons as we walked into the center. I worried about how they would react. I needn't have worried. Somehow, they understood what my younger self did not. They were patient, loving, and kind. I think that when I am old and senile, I will be grateful to have them taking care of me.

Grow old along with me!
The best is yet to be,
The last of life, for which the first was made:
Our times are in His hand
Who saith 'A whole I planned,
Youth shows but half; trust God: see all, nor be afraid!'

Some Family Firsts

J Boo had her first tantrum (of many). She's entering into the terrible two's early, following the family pattern. Lovely. It's a good thing she's so dang cute.

























Mr. Wiggle Brows started Kindergarten. No, I didn't cry, and neither did he. Good times are had every day.






















Sweet Boy got his first retainer, although he hasn't had braces yet. Except for the first two, his baby teeth on the bottom have had to be pulled early by the dentist to make room for the permanent teeth. I am not looking forward to the orthodontic experience with him.



























Atticus got his braces off. Hooray and hallelujah!! I know I'm the mom and all, but I think he's a pretty handsome kid.

Uncanny Resemblance

And now a game of who's who...

Things I've Heard at My House Lately

These are the nice ones. I won't describe the one where Atticus called Phil a Nazi. (I kid you not.)

**************

While going through Atticus' shirts to see what still fits, he informed me that he would not be wearing the nice, hand-me-down sports T-shirts because he's not familiar with the teams.

"So?" I said.

"People ask me who the teams are and I don't know enough about sports to tell them." (spoken with that "duh" tone of voice that only a teenage son uses)

"And...?"

With an exasperated sigh, he replied, "Moooom, you might as well tattoo 'I don't get out much' on my forehead!" He used gestures and everything. I thought I was going to wet myself from laughing so hard. I know, you had to be there, but truly, it was funny.

**************

I took Sweet Boy and Mr. Wiggle Brows on errands yesterday, one of which included the office supply store. Mr. Wiggle Brows found several things of interest, but his favorites, the two that inspired a near melt down, were a packing tape dispenser and.......duct tape.

"But I want my OWN duct tape! I don't want to use yours. I NEED it."

Um, dude, you're not even in Kindergarten yet. What the hell do you need duct tape and a tape gun for?

**************

J Boo says lots of things now, and can get anything she wants from her Daddy by just saying "Thank you!" but she captivated us completely last night when we realized she was singing "Mahna Mahna." Yeah, that one. It was awesome. (That's for you, ~j.)