Snowball Effect

Last Sunday we were at my parent's house for dinner when my dad told Abby one of my all time favorite stories.  It is the story of the first time my parents met...

(Not an actual photograph of described events.)

It was a beautiful winter's day up at University of Utah campus.  There had been a huge snowstorm the night before, so in between classes, my mom and her friend decided to throw snowballs at all the cute boys walking by on their way to class.  Who knows how many snowballs were actually thrown, but as the story goes, my dad was the only one who stopped and threw one back.  And that is the way it all began...

As my dad finished telling Abby the story, he gestured to everyone sitting around the table: my mom, my seven siblings, our spouses and the nine grandchildren running wild through the house.  "See Abby, this is what happens when you throw snowballs at cute boys."

Without missing a beat, Abby said with newfound understanding, "Maybe that's why they don't want us throwing snowballs at recess."

It was a hilarious response - but over the past week, I have thought about the story and how grateful I am for those two crazy college kids who met during a snowball fight, were married a year and half later, have raised and loved eight kids and have been in love for more than 43 years.

Now that is the perfect definition of the snowball effect.

It Snowed, It Snowed, It Snowed Last Night....

Last night, after baths and teeth and jammies and scriptures, I had just finished tucking all my babies in bed, when I looked outside.  Only a short while before, it had been raining and sleeting and hailing, but now, huge snowflakes fell from the sky.  Our yard and our street had been transformed to a Winter Wonderland.

This was too spectacular to keep to myself.  "Abby, Isaac, Henry, Peter!" I called. "Come see this."

Four little pairs of feet came scampering from their cozy bedrooms to see what the fuss was about.  We looked out our big front window, mesmerized by the giant flakes blanketing the ground.  It didn't take long before our little group moved to the front porch.  The kids reached out their hands catching the snowflakes and then opened their mouths to taste them on the tips of their tongues.

"Let's go for a walk!" Abby suggested.

I hesitated for a moment.  The kids were all in their pajamas and had already been tucked in once.  Was it really worth the hassle to go through that again?

YES!  Most definitely, YES!

"Get your coat and boots," I said.  Faster than I've ever seen them move,  my four kids were dressed and ready to face the elements.  My little troop and I headed out the door into the snowy night.

There were no cars, no people, no noise -  just us, the snow-covered trees and lawns, and the flakes that continued to fall.

We walked along totally enchanted by all the cozy houses that line our street.  My kids squealed as they ran down the hill outside our house.  They twirled and danced in the snow.  They  caught the flakes on their mittened hands and watched them melt away.  They shook the branches that hung low, covered with snow - creating a blizzard all around them.  They made snowballs and laughed as they threw them at each other.

It was a perfect, peaceful, magical night.  When we got home to our own cozy house, after traipsing up and down our street, the kids made snow angels and built little snowmen until I said it was time to go in.  Reluctantly, my cold and wet babies came back inside and took off all their soggy clothes.

Then with smiles on their faces, they climbed back into their cozy beds and watched the snowflakes fall outside their windows until they fell asleep.

I am not a huge fan of winter, but there are few things in life that are more perfect or glorious or thrilling than the first big snowfall of the year.  And last night we went out and celebrated the grandness of it all.

Ode to Abby

We live in a great neighborhood.  I could make a long and elaborate list detailing all the things I love about where we live.  I love the mature trees,  and the winding street.  But more important than either of those things, is that I love the people who live in my neighborhood.  I love the great neighbors who are my friends and I love the children they are raising who are friends with my kids.

Abby is particularly lucky in the friend department.  There are so many darling girls her age who live around here.  They are kind, creative, smart and fun girls and I am so grateful that my daughter is surrounded by them.

Today, Abby came home from school bubbling with her usual enthusiasm.

"How was your day?" I asked.

"Great!" she replied.  "Becca wrote me a song.  Do you want to hear it?"

"Sure." was my response.  Then Abby explained that it was to the tune, "Utah, This is the Place." It's a song I am unfamiliar with, but apparently,  at least at our school, the kids learn it in 4th grade.  So, after a brief introduction, Abby started singing the song written for her by her friend.

Abby, wearing leggings and skirts,
Abby, wearing vans everyday,
She's the lead in the play,
Singing solos each day.
This is the girl.

Abby, voice strong til the end,
Abby, loves to play with a friend.
Loves to sew, loves to cook,
Loves to jump in a book.
This is the girl.

Abby, helping friends everyday,
Abby, she is leading the way,
She's the lead in the play
Singing solos each day,
This is the girl.

She was the dog in Annie
And an Oompa-Loompa too.
This year she is Jojo ooooooohhhh,

Abby, she's a lead in the play.
Loves to cook, loves to sew,
Wears her hair in a bow,
This is the girl.

Abby, Abby, Abby,
She is the GIRL!

By: Rebecca

When Abby finished singing the song for me, I had a strange mix of emotions.  First of all, I was amazed at how clever and cute Becca is, but more than that, I felt profound gratitude.  As a mother, I felt so grateful that my daughter has a friend who recognizes so much good in her and encourages and celebrates  it  - even in a song.  All girls (and women) should be so lucky.

This funny, cute  - and clever song written for Abby, has given me a big dose of gratitude today.  I am grateful for my Abby, who is all the things the songs says.  I am grateful to live in this great neighborhood and I am grateful for dear friends who look for and celebrate the good.  Hopefully, I can take a lesson from Becca, and be better at doing the same.

Strawberry and Cheetos. A Fall Classic.

Last week Isaac and Henry were too sick to go to school, but not too sick to go fishing.  Sounds a little bit like Huck Finn if you ask me.  

Seriously, I had just called the school, early enough that I wouldn't have to talk to anyone, and left a message saying that the boys would be missing school for a family event out of town with their grandpa.  This was all true, Elizabeth's dad (Grandpa) invited us fishing on a pontoon boat (family event) up at Strawberry reservoir (well out of town).   

Not long after making the phone call we had to stop the car so Isaac could get out and throw-up on the side of the road, much like Henry had the night before.   Why didn't I just call the school and tell them the basic facts, that both boys were sick, and would miss school.  We wouldn't want this stomach virus going to other kids, even though that's probably where we got it.  We wanted to keep this within our family.  Plus, puking over the side of a fishing boat is quite common.  I've read "The Perfect Storm" and have seen an episode of "The Deadliest Catch".  

It was a great early start.  The morning sun was impressive shining on the back side of Mt Timpanogus.  It looked like the perfect day.

As we approached the lake, we dropped down into a cloud that filled the valley.  It was 22 degrees but we were prepared for the cold.  We headed out onto the lake with zero visability, in no particular direction, hopefully towards the fish.  

Henry was bundled up and optimistic.  It seemed no one was on the lake but then we came upon this lone fisherman who appeared to be posing for a gear catalog or a motivational poster entitled "Persistence" or "Determination" or "Lose Yourself in Dense Fog".

I looked over to find Henry comatose on the bench.  I guess he figured he'd wake up when the sun burned through.  

Seriously, he slept in this position for over TWO hours.

Then came the fish.  Last time we went fishing, it was more about just enjoying the scenery, the time in the canoe with my son and my father in law, but this time, we caught fish.  We also re-lived one of Elizabeth's favorite childhood memories: fishing at Strawberry with her dad and licking cheetos residue off her fingers all afternoon.  This time, no paddling, great company, cheetos, and a surplus of willing 18 inch long cut throat trout.   And then the sun burned through.  What a sick day.  I've read fishing t-shirts and bumper stickers about this kind of a day.  Now I get it.

Jon, and his brother Steve reeled these in at the same time.  Steve's would not hold still for the picture and tried to bite his finger off, which is why he cannot stop laughing.

Henry chose a special white lure and sure enough, together we caught one.  He loved reeling it in and was very proud of his lure selection.  Here is his fish, just as grandpa was about to throw it back it flipped out of his hands for the picture.

Isaac was very patient, and had endured our last fishless day, never getting frustrated.   He was casting great and having a great time and knew his time would come.  His first one somehow broke the line just as we got it close to the boat.  Finally he yelled out, "got one" and sure enough, reeled in a beauty all on his own.  He was pretty happy.

It was beautiful sunny day and will have to become a November tradition

Keepers of the Light

This past summer, my family and I spent a few days touring the Oregon coast.  The first town we visited was Newport, Oregon.  We got there late in the afternoon just as the sun was starting to set.  As we stood on the beach, some miles away in the distance, I could see a light from a lighthouse flashing a steady signal and shining in the evening light. 

As the evening faded and the night grew darker, the flashing light from the lighthouse seemed to grow brighter. Even in the middle of the night, when Lucy woke up crying, I looked out our hotel window and saw the light flashing its continual beam.

The next day we went to visit the lighthouse.  It is a beautiful old building.  It was completed in 1873 and the tower stands 93 feet tall.  The lighthouse is located on a narrow strip of land that juts out above the rough and rocky surf of the Pacific Ocean.  While we visited lighthouse, a tour guide told us a little bit about its history. 

In the early days of the lighthouse, the men and women who lived there and took care of it were called “Light Keepers.”  To be a Light Keeper was a serious job.  Before a person could become a “Light Keeper” they were required to take an oath, promising to do whatever was necessary to keep their light burning.  Each keeper knew that he or she bore the awesome responsibility for the safety of countless ships’ crews and passengers. 

Being a “Light Keeper” was a 24-hour a day job.  They had to fill the lamps with oil and trim the wicks, polish the lens that reflected the light, clean the windows, and make any repairs necessary to ensure that the lighthouse was well maintained.  Throughout the night, the lamp was watched and carefully guarded to make sure it didn’t go out, leaving sailors without a light or a guide in the darkness.

As I listened to the guide at the lighthouse, I was struck with the thought, that as members of the Church, each of us is a “Light Keeper.”  Each of us has a light that we are responsible for.  Each of us has the light of Christ that burns within us.  In Matthew 5, we read: “Ye are the light of the world.  A city that is set on a hill cannot be hid.”  I repeat that to you tonight. YOU are the light of the world, and like the light keepers who took an oath to keep the lighthouse light burning, you made an oath at baptism to keep your light shining brightly.

Like the light keeper of the lighthouse, it requires constant diligence on our part to keep our light burning brightly.  Being the “light of the world” is not a part time job.  We don’t get to take a vacation from it, and we don’t get weekends off.  If we are diligent and consistent in keeping our light shining brightly, we can have peace in knowing that when the storms of life hit, our light will continue to burn.

Now, there are no longer “Light Keepers” at lighthouses.  Oil and wicks have been replaced by electricity and light bulbs.  I was surprised however, when we walked up the stairs of the lighthouse and saw that the light bulb that we had seen from miles away was not much larger than one of these light bulbs you see here.  It was a small light, but it shone brightly. In the night it shined brightly enough to be seen from up to 20 miles away.  It was small but it was bright enough to guide ships and sailors to a safe harbor.

Again, I thought of each of us.  Perhaps when we think of ourselves it may seem like our light is small – and we may think it’s insignificant.  But I testify to you that even the smallest light, can shine brightly and can be a guide to someone else who feels like they are alone in the dark. 

I also testify to you tonight, that not only are we keepers of the light, but we are also followers of the light.  In Mosiah 16, we read that Christ is “the light and the life of the world; yea, a light that is endless and can never be darkened.” Isn’t that the kind of light we want to follow?

When I was very young, my family went to Timpanogos Cave.  As we walked through the cave, we came to a point when the guide turned off all the lights and we were left in total darkness, there wasn’t a single shred of light.  We couldn’t see anything.  I don’t know how long we stood there in the darkness – it felt like an eternity.  I still remember the feeling I had as I stood there – a feeling like I was going to be swallowed by the darkness that surrounded me.  But, I also still remember the feeling of relief and joy I felt when they turned on even a small light so we could see again.

The Savior is like that light.  He brings peace and joy to those in darkness and his is the only true light we can follow knowing it won’t lead us into dangerous waters or to life threatening rocks.  In a conference talk given a few years ago, President Monson counseled the youth: “Look to the lighthouse of the Lord.  There is no fog so dense, no night so dark, no wind so strong, no sailor so lost but that its beacon light can rescue.  It calls, ‘This way to safety; this way to home.”  Jesus Christ is the light that will lead us safely home.

I testify that Jesus Christ is our Savior and the light of the world.  It is my prayer that we can each be Keepers of the Light and Followers of the Light.  Our greatest blessings and our greatest joys will come when we do both. 

I love the scripture in Ecclesiastes that reminds us, “truly the light is sweet.”  I testify that this is true.

In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

A Mess of Emesis

At about 10pm I said to Elizabeth, "listen to the silence."  All of our kids were sound asleep, and none of them were in our room.  We had closed the door on the new set of room mates,  Henry, Peter and Lucy, and hoped they would eventually settle down and fall asleep.   After months of discussing logistics, which seemed more like a series of "ill-logistics" of five kids into two rooms, we put in a bunk bed for Henry and Peter, and added Lucy to a crib in an 8x10 foot bedroom. (Yes, three kids in 80 square feet.  It's a little tight.)  It seemed to be working... all the kids were asleep.  We had our room to ourselves, stop the press! (Then fold up the pack and play by our bed.)

At 11:10 I heard a yelp from said room.  I bolted in, suspecting Henry had fallen out of the top bunk.  Good news, he was safely in his bunk.  Bad news, he showed strong signs of a stomach virus.  What signs?  He had vomited on his new sheets and freshly washed comforter.  I hoisted him out of bed and onto the ground: a very risky maneuver I later realized (compressing his mid abdomen while lifting him over my face).  I propped him in the doorway, almost completely over tile floor where he promptly emptied the remaining contents of his stomach with a loud splatter.  Unfortunately he hadn't quite cleared the already hideous shag carpet in his room, which is of such a mixture of yarn that no color stain could change its appearance, but would later require a disposable fork to comb out the solid matter.  Lucy was now awake, standing in her new crib screaming.  Peter slept through it all on the bottom bunk, small victory.

As I called to Elizabeth to announce the good news, she had just been summoned to Isaac and Abby's room, and responded, "He threw up too?"  We met in the middle, as we each undressed a more than moist son, in disbelief.  How could they have done this simultaneously?  We were being attacked on two fronts.

As we surveyed the damage, not quite knowing where to begin.  The boys both curled into balls in the hallway shivering and moaning.  We both seemed to pace from one room to the other, we both seemed somewhat directionless.  We both caught sight of a task we could complete, and raced to wipe off a small spot on the headboard.   Well, that's done.  Now what?  Haul out layers of blankets, sheets, pillow-cases, yes, pillows too, stuffed animals, bed liners, and even the mattress in one room.  Glad I have my handy wide edge spackling tool to scrape up the chunks.  I know, we've all been there.

Its not that bad right?  Wrong, it is terrible.  I work in the ER and people often ask, "How do you handle seeing all the blood?"  The answer: There are far worse things.  Name one: vomit.  Blood may be the least offensive bodily fluid.

If blood bothers you that much, you faint, and by the time you wake up, someone has cleaned it up.  Blood doesn't have a smell that triggers your gag reflex.   Why does vomit beget vomit?  Seeing or hearing someone else vomit makes one almost do the same.  Seeing someone bleed in front of you doesn't require everything in you to keep yourself from starting to bleed.  Oh, and did I mention blood is relatively odorless? Smelling blood does not trigger a spontaneous bleeding reflex.  Blood does not beg the question, "What did you eat?" nor does it actually answer the question with visual clues.  I'll take blood over vomit any day thank you.

Elizabeth said, "I'm glad you're here and not at work."  I responded, not altogether truthfully, "me too."

So, Isaac slept on the floor in his room, Henry in his room, and Lucy ...  back to the pack and play by our bed.  Maybe we'll try this again another night.  Time to do some laundry.

Here is the room one day after being completely spotless.  What can you do?

David & Janelle

In my last post I mentioned that amidst all the hype and hullabaloo of Halloween, there was also a family wedding.

 My brother David and his wife Janelle were sealed in the Salt Lake Temple last Saturday.  It was happy day and the whole family was there to celebrate with them.  It was a great event - a celebration of their love for each other and of all the fun things that make them who they are.

David recently finished his masters degree and they moved back to Utah from Chicago.  They are living in a quaint cottage up in the mountains just outside of Oakley - a far cry from the craziness and congestion of Chicago.  Living in the mountains has brought out their inner-cowboy and they showed it off in style.

Following the temple ceremony, they came out of the temple looking stunning - and both were wearing a great pair of cowboy boots.

The kids loved being at the temple and seeing David and Janelle all dressed up in their wedding finery.  All the little girls were enchanted by Janelle's dress and wanted to help carry her train up the stairs.  Abby looked like she had won the lottery when Janelle asked her to hold the bouquet for a moment.  (There is nothing sweeter than a little girl at a wedding.)

Dreaming of the distant day... a long, long, LONG time from now.

Janelle served her mission in Louisiana, so after pictures at the temple she changed her dress before going to the family luncheon.  The dress she chose was a beautiful shade of green and perfect for a southern belle.  She looked beautiful in it.

All day long, Peter was smitten with Janelle.  Several times throughout the day he went up to her and said timidly, "You look so pretty."  I think he fell in love with Janelle when he saw her come out of the temple wearing her beautiful dress, but when he saw Janelle in her stunning green dress, his infatuation only deepened.  

At the end of the day, when we were back home, Peter climbed up on my lap and said, "Janelle looked so pretty today in her green dress." And then with all sincerity, he whispered the highest compliment that this three-year-old boy could think of.  "She looked like a girl Yoda," he said.  (Isn't that what every girl wants to hear on her wedding day?)

I love David and Janelle.  They are a perfectly suited couple and they bring out the best in each other.  I loved being there to share in their special day.  Here's to an eternity of happiness together.  Mazel tov you two!

Halloween Edition 2010

I remember when I was little, I would spend days and weeks imagining and plotting what I wanted to be for Halloween.  Starting sometime in September, I would begin trying on dress-ups and accessories in various combinations until I found the perfect look and my Halloween costume was created.  From that point on, I would wait impatiently for Halloween Day - the ONE and ONLY day on which it was truly acceptable to wear the costume out of the house.

WOW, how things have changed!  Somewhere along the way, Halloween changed from a one-day-a-year spook-fest, to a weeklong celebration and donut/candy eating marathon.  By the time Halloween actually rolled around, my kids had grown weary of their costumes and we had acquired over 20 pounds of candy.  Whew!

What a crazy, but fun action-packed week we had.  There was the ward trunk-or-treat, three school parades, a pre-school program, parties at school, a costume party at a friend's house, the neighborhood party with homemade donuts and root beer (yum!) and of course, a full night of trick-or-treating.  (This was all combined with Abby and Isaac trying out for the school musical, piano lessons, soccer practices, two performances at Piano Federation, three kids sick with the stomach flu, and a family wedding.)  Needless to say, it was a crazy - but great week.

This year, Abby decided to dress up as the tooth fairy. (Notice the tooth I sewed on the front of her leotard and the bag of marshmallows, cut to look like teeth.)  Abby made this decision soon after she lost a tooth a couple of weeks ago, and right after we found the great skirt/wing combo.  I think Abby looks lovely in her costume, but to be honest, I always think she is lovely - in every possible way.

In the school parade.

Lucy was supposed to dress up as Abby's apprentice - a sort of "Tooth Fairy, Jr."  Unfortunately, she hated the little crown we had for her and she had no patience for the wings, so she ended up being "a baby in a full skirt."  Oh well, we thought she was pretty darn cute, anyway.

Who needs wings, when you've just learned to walk?

Isaac had a great costume this year.  He decided to be a magician.  He was pretty happy with the costume when it was just the cape, the hat, and the wand -- but he was even more excited when he tried it all on with the wig.  Although the wig looks like something between Lady Gaga and Tom Petty,  we all agreed it made the costume.  

Lucy wasn't content to just be Abby's assistant.  She decided to try her luck as a magician's assistant as well.  It's a role she may have to grow into:

When we were figuring out costumes, both Henry and Peter wanted to be astronauts.  Initially, I encouraged them to be different things for Halloween - you know, mix it up a little.  It turned out that it was impossible to dissuade either of them from their dream, so they ended up wearing matching costumes.  I have to admit, it was pretty adorable watching them walk around together.  It was probably just my imagination, but every time I saw the two of them walking toward me, it felt like they were moving in slow motion.

At the neighborhood "trunk-or-treat" they wisely positioned themselves right next to the donut table.  That way, as soon they finished one, they could immediately start the next one without interruption.  I can only assume Peter got more sugar into his mouth than he did on his face and uniform.

Space/snow explorers.

Peter in his preschool parade.

Two cute brothers.  I think they'll be ready for Space Camp next summer.

It was a great Halloween.  Today I am breathing a slight sigh of relief that it's over, but we really had so much fun this year.  Just think, only a few more months until my kids start talking about what they want to be next year.  Happy Haunting!