Bad Virus!

• So far we know of two Ross cousins (in two different families) who are sick. Lovely. I am SO sorry, guys! (Not to mention that Jen's husband got it, and Telima's oldest two got it, too...what a sneaky little virus.)

• Bradley and Em are feeling better today. Whew!

• I'm not sick yet. In fact, I'm totally craving Taco Bell. Mostly because, hello, didn't eat more than a bowl of cereal and a small bowl of macaroni and cheese today. And about fifty Red Vine licorices. Bad Keryn, very bad.

• Today was Gee's hearing and vision screening. (Mandated by the state before admission into a special needs preschool.) (Ugh. Does anyone hate the sound of "special needs" as much as I do?) His hearing--100% great. His vision--totally unknown still. He got bored and stopped paying attention. That'll happen to an almost three year old. I'm not too worried.

• And, just because I saw it on my friend's Facebook page:

That was a great game, wasn't it?

Dang life, interfering again

Today wasn't quite the day I had planned for it to be: The last day of Thanksgiving break, no traveling, just church and choir practice, a few visits--mostly just a day to gently rev back up to normal life, which starts again tomorrow with a vengeance.

I wasn't counting on bringing the violent stomach flu home with us from Vegas. (It's all your fault, Jen!) (To be fair, we all thought it was food poisoning that made her younger boy so sick the day they drove into Las Vegas.) But then, Thanksgiving night, both our youngest children were sick. And on the drive back on Friday, Gee was sick.

But we thought we were done, that the older two kids weren't going to get it. Ha! After spending ALL DAY LONG with the Ross side of cousins, Zee spent the first half of the night sick, and Em covered the second half. (Sorry, Kim, Michelle, Nicole, and Laurene! We really thought we were over it.) Although Zee woke up perfectly happy and healthy, Em has been continually sick over all day today, and is only now (at almost 9pm) able to keep saltines and water down.

And Bradley is really sick, with the same thing.

So! It's been a fun day! Except not at all.

I have three hopes:

• None of the cousins get this.
• Everyone in my family gets better by tomorrow morning. (It does seem to be a less-than-24-hour-flu.)
• And I don't get it.

Cross your fingers and your toes.

Time for Christmas

Christmas 2007

Sisters, Dressing Up, and Family

My older sister Jenafer

While we were at my mother's house this week*, my sister Jenafer found the trunk of dress-up clothes and dragged it out. Jenafer's three girls (ages 11, 6, and 4) and my three older kids had a marvelous time playing dress-up. (Oddly enough, Jen's two boys, almost 13 and 8, weren't interested in joining in the fun. I wonder why?)

Em, dressed as a "beautiful Indian ballerina princess"

Zee was boy enough to only try on the "boy" clothes (some kings' robes)...

...but Gee had no such compunction. "Momma, I a pretty prince."

I haven't seen my sister or her family for 2.5 years. Becoming reacquainted with her children was a real pleasure.

L, who at four is the baby of the family, has beautiful long, wavy, blonde hair. She is such a character--very personable and sweet and fun.


E, at six, is Jen's miniature. She has olive-toned skin, dark eyes, and amazingly crazy curly hair. She is a sweetheart and a half; helpful as can be. She totally stole my heart. She, L, and Em had so much fun playing together.


H is Jen's oldest daughter. She just turned eleven, and despite being at the awkward tween stage, she is beautiful! She is a budding artist and so much fun to be around. For her birthday she received oil pastels, and we got to experiment with them.


Jen's boys were less willing to pose for me. (Imagine that!) J, 8, was the friendliest kid around. He and Zee, despite the difference of two years between, ran around and played and had a sleepover and had a marvelous time.


B is the oldest of Jenafer's brood. He's not so interested in hanging out with aunts and little kids, but is so sweet and patient with his siblings' and cousins' games. (At one point, all the younger kids were running around playing some complicated game where B was the king. All he had to do was sit and play his game and occasionally hand out little "gemstones" to the others when they asked. Worked out well for everyone.)

A very happy Thanksgiving was had by all the beautiful princesses and handsome princes.

(*I thought about hiding the fact that we were out-of-town this week, in case of robbers, you know. But then I realized, there is nothing to steal in my house. Seriously, we have two Apple computers that are 3 and 7 years old, and a sad little broken laptop that sort of works. No TVs, no nice electronics (because we took our working laptops with us), no jewelry or silver or anything worth selling. It would be a pathetic haul for anyone who took the trouble. Anyway, we're home now, so robbers, stay away!)

Giving the "Thanks" in Thanksgiving

Em, 1/2048th part Wampanoag Indian

Really, it was nothing. No, really.

Well, okay. My pleasure. You're welcome.

Why are you thanking me? Well, it is because of my 11th Great-Grandfather (Thomas "the Pilgrim" Rogers) and Bradley's 10th Great-Grandfather (a Wampanoag Indian Chief named John Hyanno) that Thanksgiving even happened.

Now, aren't you grateful?

Okay, so we don't know much about Thomas "the Pilgrim" except that he was on the Mayflower, and didn't die before Thanksgiving-time; and we don't now much about Chief John Hyanno expect that he was a Wampanoag Indian Chief, but presumably they were both there, that First Thanksgiving. So we will gladly take credit.

On a more serious note, I am grateful for family. For healthy kids. For computers and cars and modern miracles. For my husband. For the Atonement of Jesus Christ. For the Gospel.

And I'm even grateful for Pilgrims and Indians. Especially the ones I'm related to.

Scientific Discovery

Today while Hebs was visiting Grandmama (my Grandmother Tobler), he played with some toys that she has stashed away in a little metal bucket. Inside were little plastic animals, Fisher-Price people, and alphabet magnets.

After amusing himself by carefully removing every toy from the bucket to the floor, Hebs made an amazing discovery. A few of the alphabet letters stuck to the bucket! This is a whole new way to have fun!

But then the spark of scientific inquiry blazed in his brain. Perhaps the other toys might stick. Here, a toy pig. Does it stick? No. Hmmmm. How about this Fisher-Price girl, what about her? No stickage here, she just slides right to the floor. A letter "M"? It sticks, it sticks! Did you see that, Momma?

He must have spent five minutes, trying to stick various toys to the outside of that little red bucket.

It is so amazing and so humbling to watch his brain work. Hebs doesn't walk, he is barely on the cusp of verbal communication, but he discovered something today. And then experimented to see what else might work. He's becoming a Real Boy, right before my eyes.

Wow. I love being a part of this!

A few things I am grateful for...

Our Second Football Game

Heber clapped every time the crowd cheered. Because Bingham won, there was a lot of clapping going on.

Our second football game was different than our first, in both good and bad ways.

The good:

• Bingham WON!
• The kids and I got to see the entire second half instead of just the fourth quarter.
• It was warmer.
• We got to see Aunt Kim and Uncle Steve during the game instead of after.
• We were very close to the action--we got to see some amazing plays by Ty.

The bad:

• There was no handicapped parking at the stadium, so Bradley had to drop us off and try to find parking.
• Finding parking took him an hour.
• He only got to see the last quarter.
• After the game, we had to wait outside for 30 minutes for him to get back to the car and come get us.
• The ticket sellers could only accept cash/check, so I waited outside the stadium for twenty minutes before decided to take the ATM fee hit.
• The ATM fee was probably $5.00, all told.
• Getting into a stadium and to the seats with four children, one in a stroller and one in a walker, isn't fun.

The ugly:

• My pleasure at watching the parking enforcement ticket people who illegally parked in handicapped spaces.

Spark of Creation

So, this parenting gig: It's hard. I've already been doing it for six years, you'd think I'd have it down, right? I mean, I'm a pretty sharp cookie, I learn fast, and after six years at any other job, I'd be a supervisor, or at the very least a team leader, right?

Not so much with this job, though. Almost every week I feel like a newbie. They just keep changing the rules, you see! I thought at first that it would be just fine. The sleep deprivation is brutal, but just change the diapers, feed the baby, keep him warm...no problem. I can do that. But then that baby started to talk, and walk, and--this one is the kicker--think, and all the rules changed.

And then there came a little sister, and eventually she started to think, too. And then a little brother, who is just now, at almost three, letting me know that he has opinions, too. Heaven help you if you don't take that into consideration! And then another little brother, who is starting on the whole walking and talking thing--and you can tell by his adorable expressions that he is thinking too.

We're going through some kind of giant family phase right now, trying to shake out our boundaries and consequences and learning respect for each other. I've been very preoccupied with trying to start good habits in my relationships with my eldest two children--they are learning and growing and being themselves, and I need to find the right way (or ways) to guide them.

Preferably without yelling.

Parenting advice has abounded around me lately: Church talks and lessons, the books I'm reading, the movies I'm watching. (Or maybe it just seems that way, because I am always thinking about it.) My favorite discovery, however, came from the play Bradley and I attended on Saturday afternoon. (Bless your heart, Telima, for watching the kids for us!)

Children of Eden. If you ever have a chance to see this play, I very highly recommend it.

Children of Eden was last performed at BYU ten years ago, and Bradley saw and loved it. Ever since then, he's wanted me to see it. We have the music album, and the piano music. We even went to a community theater performance, which was...okay. The sound was really bad (you could barely follow the plot) and the seats (on a grassy hill) weren't great and...well, it wasn't the best.

Last summer Bradley saw that BYU would be performing Children of Eden in November and early December. He actually put the opening ticket sales date on his calendar so he would not forget to get us good tickets. We arranged for my sister and her husband to watch the kids. And, since we missed celebrating our anniversary back in October (due to the Great Ross Home Swine Flu Outbreak of 2009), we made a date of it--dressing up, going out to eat, taking our time.

The play was everything I wanted it to be. The actors' voices were superb, the scenery interesting (there was this cool rotating stage that was just perfect), and story and music unforgettable. And it was just the two of us! (Novel, I know.) We had a marvelous, fun, amazing afternoon. (Despite the game-day traffic. Honestly, it was like people wanted to go see BYU play Air Force or some such--AND they wanted to park nearby! Forcing us to have to park in a more remote parking lot. I know. The humanity!)

But enough about the lovey-dovey dating anniversary stuff--back to parenting.

Children of Eden is a musical play (written by Stephan Schwartz, who also wrote Wicked, as well as the songs for Pocahontas and Enchanted, and the theme song for Johnny and the Sprites (now that's fame), among other things. The storyline is based on the stories of Adam and Eve, Cain and Abel, and Noah and his family. As Wikipedia says:

While using the Bible as a plot source, it freely deviates in many details, and is a story of parents and children without a specifically religious point-of-view.

In other words, don't go looking for biblical doctrine and a correct portrayal of God the Father, Adam or Eve, etc. But that isn't the point. The story is about families, about parents and children and choices and agency. And now we truly get (after a very long-winded setup) to my discovery about parenting:

In the very first song, "Let There Be", the character known as "Father" sings about creating mountains, stars, germs, animals of every kind, but it just isn't enough. He wants something more:

There is one more thing to build
One more void that must be filled
I'll make creatures I'll call children
Shaped like me!
...
Wander over my flaxen plains
Wonder up at my granite mountains
Count the stars and wish for wings
And hold a tool and think of things
And search for answers he cannot see
And dream of glory
And worship me!

In the beginning (heh), the creation of Adam and Eve is an essentially selfish act. "Father" is looking for children who will simply love and worship him. He doesn't reckon for the fact that they might eventually wish to make their own choices, and this oversight (or blindness) provides the catalyst for all the conflict in the story--first between "Father" and Adam and Eve, then between Adam and Cain, then between Noah and Japheth.

(Disclaimer: I don't believe that the actual creation of Adam and Eve, by God the Father, was selfish. We are discussing a play that, by using the oldest stories known to man, tries to teach us something about ourselves. That is all.)

Too often, lately, I have found myself expecting that Zee and Em do exactly what I want, when I want it. You must do such-and-such, Zee! Why, Momma? Because I said so, don't question me, just do it! Not surprisingly, they don't much care for this style of parenting. What's worse, when I actually do need to punish or correct them, I find myself unreasonably angry: How dare you disobey ME?!! I do everything for you!! You are so ungrateful! (This is what I say in my head, please understand. But even if I don't say it aloud, my actions are anything but loving.)

While watching the play, I realized that I have been incredibly selfish. Instead of seeing my children as real people, I have been looking at them as objects--put here to "worship" me. When they don't...well, it isn't pretty.

I don't want to be this way. I don't want my children to feel like they are obstacles to me. So, today, I tried to be better. I tried to remember that our family is simply the most important thing in the world to me. And even when I needed to correct and punish, I tried to be patient and loving.

And you know what? It made a difference. Em's temper tantrum wasn't any shorter, and Zee's frustration at me wasn't lessened in anyway, but the way I felt was different. I felt love, and compassion, and a little humor. I didn't instantly turn into bad-mood-momma. I was able to discipline, give loves afterward, and then go about my business, unsoured by the experience.

I don't expect it will always be this easy. I know that lessons fade and tempers rise and (perhaps most importantly) Bradley has to go to work, leaving me alone with the munchkins. But I hope I can look back and read this (impossibly long) post, and remember, and try to do better again.

They Won't Go To Bed

Despite that, they're pretty cute!

The State Championship (or Yay, Bingham! Part II)

Cookies

Tips for baking cookies that don't fall flat as a pancake:

• add a little more flour
• use non-insulated, thin, boring cookie sheets
• keep the dough and the cookie sheets COLD
• cook for one minute less than normal

And that's what you get for me today. I'm just home from RS presidency meeting, grocery shopping, and folding laundry, and I still have to cut out 21 turkeys for my son's kindergarten class.

Goodnight!

Overheard in November

Zee likes to cover his bases while praying: Please bless me not to get sick in the next few weeks...or years.

*****************
Em, coming in from the playroom: Mom, Zee has ordered a cheesy sandwich.
Mom (not moving): That's nice.
Em, returning to the playroom: Zee, she said, "That's nice."
Zee: (something indistinct)
Em, back to me: Zee orders a baby orange, too.
Mom: That's nice, too.
A few minutes later, Zee comes in.
Zee: Mo-om, I ordered a cheesy sandwich and baby orange!
Mom: Zee, is this a resturant?
Zee: No.
Mom: A McDonalds?
Zee: No
Mom: Then you don't get to "order" things here.
Zee: Oh.

*****************
Zee: Em, I have a deal for you. If you come downstairs with me, I'll either let you watch Dora whenever you want, or I'll let you do whatever you want.
Em: Okay, I want to do whatever I want.
Zee: Yay! Let's go downstairs now.
Em: But I want to stay upstairs. You said I could do anything I want!

*****************
This one needs a little setup: Zee wanted his cousin Ty to play a video game for him. Ty was busy doing other things. Zee came upstairs to talk to the adults.

Zee: Aunt Kim? Aunt Kim?
Momma: Zee, Aunt Kim is talking to Grandma. What do you need?
Zee: I need to talk to Aunt Kim.
Momma: She's busy right now. I can help you. What is it?
Zee: But I need Aunt Kim!!
Momma: Why?
Zee: (Sighs) It's like this, Mom: You know how you're the boss of me? Well, I need Aunt Kim to tell my cousin something.

*****************
(I actually have a video of this one, but, as I've already fussed about, Blogger having issues with video. So you'll have to imagine it.)

Em, holding four graham cracker sections in front of her face like a fan: Well, ah do declah!

*****************
Gee, with a hat over one eye: Arghh, my hearties! Momma! Momma! I'm a PIRATE! Arghh!

One is fun

One year ago this month, my little Heebie-Jeebie was born. (Yes, I call him that. Yes, I know it's sickeningly cute. Yes, I know there will come a time in his life that he will curl up with embarrassment because that was his nickname. Yes, I can hardly wait.)

We didn't end up celebrating Hebs' birthday on the actual day; he's one and therefore doesn't know or care. When we did celebrate, Grandpa and Grandma Ross were able to be there. (This was important, because they were on their mission in the West Indies when he was born. I was roundly scolded (not really) for getting pregnant and having a baby while they were gone. Hebs' was the first baby blessing they had to miss!)

Hebs, like most one-year-olds, didn't have a clue about unwrapping presents. Fortunately, his older siblings were more than happy to help.

He loves the "Pat the Bunny" book Grandma Tobler sent. Especially the mirror page. He loves looking at himself, and I can't blame him. He is adorable.

Wow, brother, that sure is one amazing toy. Here, let me help you with that!

Although Hebs enjoys throwing the Duplo Lego blocks Grandma Ross gave him, his favorite present, hands-down, was the little toy telephone I picked up at D.I. for a buck. He was (and is) thrilled with the buttons, the noises, and the pictures.

Hebs wasn't at all sure what to do with the cake.

My favorite part is about 8 seconds in, when he shudders with disgust over frosting on his hands. Eventually, though, he managed to figure it out.

The obligatory cake-smeared-everywhere photo.

Hebs is a complete joy to be around. He talks constantly, often pointing his finger at himself and having a rousing (incomprehensible) conversation. He loves to be around his brothers and sister--they love him and he really, really adores them.

I love the way you cuddle up to me, Hebs, and grab a piece of my shirt to hold in your hand while you suck your thumb. It's your way of being as close to me as you can. You have the cutest, most somber face sometimes. And I love the way your eyes light up--you have beautiful eyes, boyo!--whenever I walk into a room. The way you throw yourself (ineptly, but we're working on that) toward me, just to sit in my lap, melts me every time.

I love you, baby. Happy first birthday.

The Non-Homecoming

Yesterday Grandma and Grandpa Ross reported on their mission to their ward during sacrament meeting.

(That sentence sounds impossibly stifled and complex. How much easier was it when you could just say, "Yesterday was Grandma and Grandpa's missionary homecoming"? Sigh.)

To make it to 9am sacrament meeting in South Jordan, we left the house just after eight. The kids didn't behave quite as well as I would have liked behaved just like angels, all lined up on the pew, arms folded, and sweet, upturned faces gazing at the speaker. (What? Isn't this how your kids act?) (And you should have seen them at our sacrament meeting two hours later. Yes, we made our kids go to two sacrament meetings in one day. Abuse, I tell you.)

Children aside, I was actually able to listen to most of Eva's and George's talks. I very much appreciated how Eva spoke of the many blessings we here at home received while they were on their mission. There were a few family troubles that I know Eva found it hard to be away during, but all the siblings were able to pull together and help each other out. Having been witness to at least one of the situations to which she referred, it was pretty inspiring to see every single one of the brothers and sisters offer to help out in any way possible. It's a darn good family I married into.

(And I have to say: the chapel we were meeting in is decorated in sea-green and white, with the carpet a darker green. Eva wore a pretty green jacket that was just a shade different than the wall behind her, and it made such a gorgeous picture with all the colors complementing each other and Grandma's beautiful light hair shining...I'm pretty sure that is the first time I've ever wished to take a picture of a sacrament meeting speaker!)

George is such an amazing speaker--it's always fun to listen to him, and he always has such a great message to think about. Yesterday he spoke about how it is the Spirit that does the converting. Using the story of Jonah and the whale, he emphasized the importance of remembering that this is God's work we are doing. I loved the analogies he used to remind us how vital it is that we place the will of God first.

(At one point in his talk, Grandpa said, "Now he was in the belly of the whale for three days..." Em looked up at me and said, "That is just like Jonah!" At least she was listening a little bit.)

I'm so glad Grandma and Grandpa went on a mission, and I'm so glad they are home again. It's lovely to be able to see them so often, and I'm grateful my kids get to hear about the things they did on their mission. Thank you!

Famous

Who do you know that is:

• 5th cousin 5 times removed to Joseph Smith?
• 5th cousin 4 times removed to Wilford Woodruff?
• 9th cousin to Dallin Oaks? 3rd cousin 1 time removed to Robert D. Hales?(And actually related in some way to nine of the living apostles?)
• 4th cousin 1 time removed to Merrill J. Bateman?
• 7th cousin 4 times removed to that dang J. Golden Kimball?
• 4th cousin 7 times removed to John Adams (second president of the US)?
• 2nd cousin 7 times removed to Lyman Hall (signer of the Declaration of Independence)?
• 9th cousin 2 times removed to Bing Crosby?
• 8th cousin 2 times removed to Philo T. Farnsworth (inventer of the TV)?
• 6th cousin 15 times removed to William Shakespeare?
• 8th cousin 4 times removed to Mark Twain?
• And related in fewer than 10th cousins to George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, George H.W. Bush and George W. Bush, and Richard Nixon?

How did I figure all this out? Well, by dint of much exhaustive work...oh, okay, so all I did was go to this website and put in the Ancestral File numbers of all my great-grandparents! (Go to "advanced" in self-report.) If you want to generate your own report (and I didn't even add the part about Winston Churchill, or Orvill and Wilbur Wright, or all the royalty I'm related to...), you'll need the Ancestral File Numbers (AFN) of your great-grandparents. (To get the AFNs, you'll need to go to the old family search and search for your great-grandparents' names.) It actually turns out to be really fun. Who are you related to?

Have fun, all you famous people!

Their first football game

We're not a sports-oriented family, here at the Bradley Ross home. So it was no surprise when I realized that my children never been to a football game--probably never even watched one on TV. When I told them we were going to their cousin's game yesterday, they reacted with excitement untainted with understanding.

"I love football games, Momma!" Em told me sweetly. Sure you do, darling.

"I've been waiting to go to a football game forever!" Zee said. Well, six years is a long time, especially if you are six.

"Okay!" Gee chirps. He just likes to go places, and doesn't usually care where they are.

We bundled up well against the cold--Em even got a new coat (even at 50% off, coats are expensive!) when I realized the little thin one she usually wears is two sizes too small, and didn't cover half her forearm anymore. Hats, scarfs, mittens, blankets--all were packed into bags and bundles. And we definitely needed them!

Because of work obligations, traffic, and the dismissal time of Zee's school, we didn't reach the game until the start of the fourth quarter. Most of the drama of the game was over by then, with a commanding lead by Bingham that the Alta team could not quite overcome (although they tried, with two touchdowns in the last quarter). Bingham answered with one more touchdown, but they didn't even need it--the final score was 28-19. Yay Bingham!


As could have been predicted, my older two children paid absolutely no attention to the actual game. The Rice-Eccles Stadium at the U of U was possibly the most fascinating thing either of them had ever seen. Stairs! And seats! And bleachers! And tons of people cheering! Zee and Em spent most of the time climbing up to the high concourse, climbing back down, sitting wherever they wished (we were in an empty part of the stadium), and having a thoroughly marvelous time.

(I should correct myself. Em did pay attention to the game a little. Whenever the fans started the feet-stomping thing, Em would stop whatever she was doing, stand up, and stomp with them. She loved that part.)

Next week is the championship game against Davis. We're actually going to take Zee out of school a little early, because we'd like to see more of the game this time. The kids are incredibly excited that we are going back to that amazingly fun place, and I'm excited because I actually do enjoy football, even if I don't seek it out.

Go Miners!

Yay Bingham!

Bingham 28, Alta 19.

P.S.

About Glee: I forgot to add that it is a ridiculous premise that the school is too poor to pay for a handicapped accessible bus, but that the Glee Club adviser can afford to buy 12 wheelchairs. Or that a nursing home is holding a tag (thrift) sale at which they are selling 12 nice wheelchairs, some of which are top-of-the-line (you could see a Colours logo on one of them). Riiiiiiight. I could maybe see big, clunky wheelchairs like this:

But not nice, smooth, lightweight wheelchairs like this:


(I know it's TV magic, and I watch crime dramas where murders get solved in 12 hours with DNA matching, but--shoot, the whole wheelchair thing just bugged.)

And about children's television shows: my sister-in-law Laurene and my friend Kristy both pointed out that most of these shows are only irritating to adults. Fair enough--I'm not the target audience. But, I am the one with buying power. And guess what DVDs we get from "Santa" and for birthdays? It's not Dora, Kai-lan, Barney or Lampchop! (Heh heh heh, Kristy.)

Tonight are the semifinal 5A high school football games--Bingham versus Alta is the one to watch, and we'll be there watching! My nephew Ty Hannay is the quarterback for Bingham, and we are so excited to cheer for him. Go Miners!!

Of cinnamon rolls, leaves, and wheelchairs

Today I hosted our monthly Daughters of the Utah Pioneers meeting. Although I was unreasonably nervous about the event, it went off splendidly. For refreshments I made Ree's cinnamon rolls, hot spiced cider, little Toblerone chocolate peaks, and (the ubiquitous) mixed nuts (to which I added candy corn). A late autumn/early winter storm is blowing in, but the house was (hopefully) warm, bright, and inviting (and smelled really, really good because of all the baking).

We have (I believe) 18 members of our little camp, but usually between 12-15 attend each meeting. Not being a coffee drinker nor a teacher, I had to scavenge around all our cupboards for enough mugs for everyone. Fortunately, only eleven people attended, so I didn't even have to use the Wendover Casino mug. (Whew.) It seemed like everyone had a good time; they were all very complimentary toward the house and the refreshments.

(About the only hitch was the telephone call I received in the middle of Paula's ancestor history--Zee bumped his ear hard on the playground during recess, and it was bleeding. The school called me to report the injury, and to let me talk to Zee on the phone and calm him down a little more. He got to have a little ice pack to hold on his ear, and was thrilled to be the center of attention for the rest of kindergarten. He is so my child.)

And now, all the chairs are put away, the dishes in the dishwasher, and my children have pigged out on leftover rolls and candy corn. The main part of the house is sparkling clean--I really should entertain more often. I mopped and scrubbed and organized and dusted and tidied--I even raked the leaves off the lawn and swept the front walkway.

Of course, with the storm blowing in, raking the leaves was apparently pointless. This is what my yard looked like yesterday as we were finishing:


And this is what it looked like this morning:


At least Em had a great time helping me.

Finally, did you watch "Glee" last night? My cousin Aaron Fotheringham (he was born with spina bifida, just like Gee) was the stunt double for the character "Artie", a teenager with a wheelchair. We were all actually a little disappointed, because the only "stunts" we could see were tipping the wheelchair up and around, like dancing. That's not easy, I know, but Aaron does these amazing, crazy, scare-you-to-death skateboard-type tricks on his wheelchair. I was sort of hoping for something like that! But, anyway, if you pause the show at just the right spot, you can see Aaron's hand--much bigger and tanner than the actor who plays "Artie". I'm famous-by-association! (Or relation.)

Inconceivable!

What does it say about me that, at the first sign of trouble, I'm ready to jump ship?

I tried to post a video of Gee walking (yes, another one), and it won't work. Worse, the error message tells me to contact Google Help with this information (a bunch of odd letters and numbers presumably identifying my blog and the problem), but the link to Google Help only lets me see discussions and forums, no actual help. Other people have had this problem but solutions are not posted in the forums. And clicking "Contact Us" only sends me back to the Help discussions. Hey, Google! I do not think that word ("contact") means what you think it means!

Yes, I know this is a free service. And bugs happen, no big deal. But please please please don't tell me to contact you and then neglect to give me a way to, you know, actually do it. I just get all-out-of-proportion irritated and think about moving my blog to another platform. And we don't want that, do we?

So instead of a video, I'll leave you with a picture, worth a thousand words, yada yada yada. (The video is better.)

A less well-known fact about kids' TV

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that children's television programming can be placed into two categories: Annoying and Not Annoying.

Only slightly less well known is this: Most Annoying children's television shows have a given name in the title. Very few Not Annoying shows have a given name in the title.

Let me explain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up. A brief list, just for you:

Annoying Children's Television Shows:

• Dora the Explorer
• Caillou
• Ni Hao Kai-lan
• Arthur
• Thomas the Tank Engine
• Bob the Builder
• Blue's Clues
• Max and Ruby
• Barney
• Lampchop's Play Along

Not Annoying Children's Television Shows:

• The Backyardigans
• Zula Patrol
• WordWorld
• Cyber Chase
• Reading Rainbow
• Sesame Street

Exceptions that prove the rule:

• Sid the Science Kid (Not Annoying)
• It's a Big Big World (Annoying)

I rest my case.

A Plea for Help

Okay, so I am all-out-of-proportion nervous about hosting our monthly DUP (Daughters of the Utah Pioneers) meeting this Thursday.

Think of this as a non-luncheon tea party, but without the tea. (After all, we are daughters of the Utah pioneers.) At the three meetings I've attended, we've had fruit tarts, cheesecake, pumpkin cake, an apple cobbler-thing, fruit with cream, sherbet punch, sodas, lemonade, and--at all three--those little paper cups with mixed nuts and mints. In other words, multiple yummy treats. Every time these delectable and delicious treats have been served on pretty clear glass party plates and sweet little punch cups--the entertaining dishes these ladies received for their weddings in the 1950s.

Having been married in the year 2001, I have no pretty party plates and cups. I'm not too worried about that--I figure I'll either go buy some clear plastic plates and cups, or I'll just use my own (pretty beat-up, but still nice) regular dessert plates. And I'm planning on serving the Pioneer Woman's (how appropriate!) cinnamon rolls with spiced cider. But what else? And what about that blasted ubiquitous cup o' nuts?

No matter what I do, these ladies will be perfectly happy with it. I'm pretty sure if I appeared with a plate full of store-bought cookies they wouldn't be offended. But I want to show them that I think they are important, so I want this event to be nice. And I want to show them that, even though I am pretty much a young whippersnapper, I can do the proper things.

So: HELP!!! What should I serve with the cinnamon rolls? What about the nuts--should I just do it because It's Done, or should I break away and serve something else?

Tell me what you think!

An embarrassment of riches

How is it possible that my children have so many clothes? I mean, really. When Laura Ingalls was a little girl on the banks of Plum Creek, she had two calico dresses and maybe a good winter dress. I'll bet her mother never spent an entire Saturday sorting clothes for her and her three sisters!

(Of course, I've never spent several days making my children's clothes, either, so I suppose I come out ahead of Caroline Ingalls any day of the week, really.)

My kids insist on growing, so naturally their clothes get too small, or seasonally inappropriate. Organized mothers may have a system for taking care of this, I do not. I don't let my children wander around in clothes that are too small (usually), but I just drag out the next size and wait until I can no longer fit anything in their drawers before digging out and putting away the small clothes.

It's been nearly a year since a major clothes rehaul. I finally got sick of the piles of "too-small" clothes in various overflowing containers stashed in the laundry room (and hallway, and baby's bedroom), and I needed to get out the newborn baby girl things for my friend. So I declared Saturday the "War on Clothes" day, and arranged for my husband to wrangle the kids so I could sort in peace.

It was an overwhelming process, as you can see from the picture above. There are clothes piled all over my bed, on the floor next to it, and in every container from laundry baskets to the bassinet. I sorted and I tossed and I pruned and I moaned. I suppose when you have four children, all in various stages of growth, and of both sexes, you should expect many many clothes. And it is foolish to give away, say, the newborn clothes, just because nobody is wearing them right now.

One funny thing I discovered was that I have about two big boxes of girl clothes, but about eight boxes of boy clothes. Some of that has to do with hand-me-downs: I've received many boy clothes hand-me-downs, but very few girl clothes. And I admit to dressing the infant/toddler Em in little boy clothes, or clothes that could be considered unisex. Still, it was a curious thing, to realize I easily have twice as many boy clothes in any given size as girl clothes.

The entire process took probably five hours, but lasted from about 9:30 am to 4:30 pm. And by the end, I was a pretty cranky mom. But it is a relief: everything is put (neatly) away, labeled for future use, and now I have a good idea what is needed for Christmas.

Now, hopefully I don't have to do that again until next fall...

Saturday night

Gee, Kay, and Em after their bath this evening

Tonight I watched my sister's kids, so she and her husband could go out for dinner and a movie. Between us, we have seven kids under the age of seven, so it gets a little intense occasionally. But they are really sweet kids and I love that we live so near them.

Another Disjointed Post

(A) Bradley and I donated blood today. Yay! Except now I'm a little sick to my stomach. Ugh. Zee and Em were very fascinated by the blood, running through the tubes and into the bag. They have both decided to be doctors.

(B) Bradley was out of town this week helping Grandma Peters (his maternal grandmother) move from California to South Jordan, where she will now be living with my mother- and father-in-law. Before yesterday, I'd only ever met Grandma Peters once, six years ago. So it was really fun to see her again and to introduce her to all my kiddos. She is very lucid, although physically she is pretty weak.

Zee was especially excited to meet his "Grandma Peterson" (don't know where the "-son" came from), and talked her ear off for about fifteen minutes. He then asked me if she was his "highest" grandma, meaning, I finally ascertained, the most generations back.

It so happens that both my grandmothers are still living, so Zee and his siblings actually have three great-grandmas: Grandma Peters, Grandma Great, and Grandmama. But Grandma Peters is the oldest by about a decade, so we decided that, yes, Grandma Peters is his highest grandma.

(C) I didn't write about Bradley being gone until he got back, mostly because I am a scaredy-cat. I hate being the only adult in the house at night. As a teenager, I watched too many "Unsolved Mysteries" and read too many "Drama In Real Life" stories for my own peace of mind.

(D) My dear friends are bring preemie twin girls home on Sunday for foster care--I need to dig out and wash all the little girlie clothes I have packed away, to lend to them. It sure would be marvelous if this placement could turn into something more than foster care, but whatever happens, I hope these little babies can have a happy and settled life.

(E) Hebs had his 12-month checkup this morning. He is my little little boyo--just 18.1 lbs. No forward-facing car seat for you, Hebs! But all my worries about his gross motor skills (or lack thereof) have been put to rest--the doctor sees no reason to worry. Hebs is advanced in his language skills (oooooh, what a surprise!), and fine motor and social and all that is right on target. So, no worries, he'll crawl and pull himself up in his own sweet little time.

And he just woke up from his nap, grumpy from all the vaccinations he got today. Time for some sweet cuddles!

Relief Society Autumn Dinner

The Relief Society Fall Fling was a marvelous success. The turkey dinner was delicious, the company was wonderful, and the babysitters (thank you Jordan and Ben!) were very good at keeping my children busy and happy. The cleanup wasn't impossible, and we actually got home at 9pm, which is, any way you look at it, amazing.

Most of the guests good-naturedly allowed me to take their pictures. I know it is silly, but I think about how interesting it is to look at pictures taken at ward events 20+ years ago. Someday these might be just as intriguing to look at.

Talents were shared, mostly through displays. For me, I was a little humbled to realize the amount of creative genesis in our ward. Wow! (Let me tell you, the tatting in particular amazed me, probably because I tried to learn tatting and failed miserably. Sister M is a master at it--the gorgeous framed doily is her work.) And many many many thanks to Kimberly B. for playing that jazz number--it was the perfect mood with which to end the evening!

There is now an unexpected turkey breast cooking in my oven

Thing the First: I hate feeling out of the loop on an event that, for all intents and purposes, I should know everything about. Three facts: (1) Tonight is our RS Fall Fling dinner (husbands invited). (2) Of our RS presidency, I am the easiest to reach during the day. (3) I am completely in the dark about the event, because of last month's swine flu and because I am the education counselor.

I have now recieved four telephone calls and two after-school pickup conversations about the dinner tonight. Of those six encounters, I was able to help with exactly one: The turkey cooking in my oven. All the conversations ended with me apologizing and passing out other people's telephone numbers.

The latest phone call had to do with the Young Women (or the lack thereof) who were to provide a nursery. My husband is helping his grandmother move, and so he isn't around to help tonight. And so...well, with four rambunctious children of my own, I'm pretty sure I'll volunteer to do the nursery. It's not so fair to make someone else watch my crazy kids. And speaking of kids...

Thing the Second: How do you stop a six-year-old and a four-year-old from WHINING every second of the day? Time outs? Privilege revocation? Voodoo? Please leave your advice in the comments. Otherwise, I may have to sell my two oldest kids, and that would be a real pity, since they are just now getting old enough to do chores.

Thing the Third: I adore autumn. This week has been so amazingly beautiful, with bright yellow leaves and just a hint of chill in the day and yummy, smoky smells at night. We've tried to walk to and from school everyday this week so far, and it has been a pleasure.

Thing the Fourth: I got a telephone called today from "anonymous", which is almost always an unsolicited call from a survey or charity. Today, however, it was almost certainly a call from a scammer of some kind or another. First: he didn't ask for me or Bradley by name, just "May I speak to the homeowner?" Second: He had exactly two "survey" questions: "Are you concerned about the economy?" and "On a scale of 1 to 10, how worried about the economy are you?" Except that he wasn't following a script, because when I asked him to repeat the question (a combination of a really bad connection, talking children, and his rather difficult to decipher accent), he phrased it differently every time. Not having a script is a pretty good indication of scamming. Finally, and most glaringly, after the two questions, he told me I qualified for a prize. Riiiight. I told him I wasn't interested and please take me off the list, he protested that it was a PRIZE! I demurred, he again said but it's a PRIZE!, and then I again told him to take me off his list and hung up.

When I was telling my sister Telima about it later, it occurred to me that I should have strung him along, just to see what I had to do for this PRIZE. It would have been a better story then. But, alas, with noisy children and difficult accents, it just wasn't worth it to me. Sigh.

The Curse of the Amish

Do you know what Amish Friendship Bread is? It's a delightful, delicious, guilt-inducing way to show all your friends (and acquaintances, and neighbors, and random strangers you meet at the park...) how much you care.

Lovely.

Some fabulous homemaker whips up a batch of the starter, and then separates it into four, or six, or nineteen batches to share with her friends. With each bag of starter dough comes the instructions--not terribly difficult, but spanning several days. When baking day arrives, you separate out your four, six, or nineteen batches and then bake a wonderful loaf for your family. And it starts all over again.

Except for me.

If Amish Friendship Bread was a chain letter, I would have been killed by a falling grand piano many times over. The scenario is always the same:

Friend: I brought you a bag of starter for Amish Friendship Bread! (smiles brightly)
Me: (fakely beaming) Awesome! I love AFB! (This is not a lie. I really do love the taste of this stuff.)
Friend: Well, here you go!
Me: (Taking bag, putting it on counter) Thanks!

Bag sits on counter. Sometimes it gets punched, as per directions. Sometimes the needed ingredients are added on the correct days. Mostly it is my husband who does this. The bag gets hidden from view, but I cannot forget it. Even if I try to ignore it, it whispers to me. "You are a slacker homemaker. The Amish are vastly superior to you! You are so lazy you can't even make bread when someone has started it for you!"

Until I finally chuck it and the instructions/recipe in the garbage. To my husband's dismay (he really likes the taste of AFB, too).

So why don't I make it? I'm not a gourmet chef, but I can cook. But only when I feel like it. Generally the cooking day is a day that is busy, or hot, or I just don't want to cook it. So I throw it out.

Or maybe I just don't want to be told what to do. Even by the Amish.

Adventures in Cast-Art

Excuse me, Mom? What the heck is on my leg?

When Gee was two months old, his left leg was outfitted in a new thigh-to-toe cast every week for eight weeks. As is not uncommon for children with spina bifida, he was born with a club foot. His pediatric orthopedic surgeon hoped that using casts as a kind of corrective brace might help fix the foot without the need for surgery.

(Yes, my toddler has a orthopedic surgeon. And a neurosurgeon. And a urologist. And...well, you get the picture. He's all checked out in the medical specialist field.)

So, every Thursday for eight weeks, Gee and I (along with Em and Zee) would drive up to Primary Children's Hospital to have the old cast removed and the new cast put on. Not the most fun in the world, but at least it didn't hurt (the doctor said he expected it ached the same way a teenager's teeth hurt after getting her braces tightened). The worst part for the infant Gee was the noisy buzz of the cast saw.

Gee was a little harder to carry around with the giant cast on his leg, and keeping his other little leg warm was always an adventure (you never appreciate feetie pajamas until you can't use them!), but for the most part, the cast adventure was pretty low key. And it had one major upside.

Drawing. Every week, there was a new, blank expanse of beautiful white plaster cast. The possibilities were endless!

Ants

Produce

Fish (my personal favorite)

Bugs

Alphabet

Planets

Sports

Ultimately (and sadly), as is sometimes the case, the casting didn't manage to completely correct the club foot, and when Gee was 22 months old, he had to have surgery on that left foot. But, still, it was worth the try, and it is possible that his later surgery wasn't as invasive because of the corrective casting done 18 months earlier. And the total bummer about his surgery at 22 months? He got a fiberglass cast instead of a plaster one. Sigh. No creativity for me!