In which I discover I don't enjoy painting walls

Our upstairs bathroom has been, for the last five years, a pretty boring room. Walls the same nearly-white as the rest of the house, white-greyish ceramic tile, very pretty white shower tiles, and awful cheap wooden cabinets. Oh, and our chimney, of course. Because it was so white and sterile, it always seemed a cold room (when in fact, being above the furnace, it is the warmest room in the house).

Two years after we moved in, the roof leaked and the ceiling collapsed in the bathroom. What fun that was! Bradley patched the roof, cleaned the mess, and re-dry-walled the ceiling, but we never got around to repainting it. (You can see a little of this in the top right corner of the left picture below.)

After talking about painting for at least three years, I finally just did it.

(Nesting? Possibly. More probably I realized I have the entire Ross Family coming on the 24th of July for the family reunion, and I really hated the way the bathroom looked. But I should have done it two months ago. Bending down and up and getting over the baby gate I placed in the doorway would have been much easier were I not seven months' pregnant.)

I have never, ever painted walls before, not even helping someone else. But, I thought, it can't be that hard.

Well, it's not that hard. But it's darn tedious, and I hated nearly every part of the process. Cleaning, patching, sanding, taping, painting, cleaning the brushes, touching up, taking the tape down...all while taking care of the kiddos? So not a fan of painting.

I painted the trim and the cabinets and door bright white in semi-gloss, and the walls a celery green. I'm not sure I actually like the color (it's more yellow and brighter than I imagined), but I will not be repainting. Maybe in another five years.

And I actually do like the way it looks. A shiny new coat of paint, covering up the patches and the trouble spots, and just changing things, actually did wonders.

My Dad

My father and mother, 1975

Four years ago today my father died--May 29 was Memorial Day that year. He was born on Labor Day in 1950, and died on Memorial Day in 2006. (We joked he wanted to avoid yet another long, hot Las Vegas summer.)

I still miss him so.

I miss him when doing yard work (he would get us up at unearthly hours during the summer to weed and garden), I miss him when talking about taxes (he was a CPA), I miss him during Christmas (his favorite time of year), I miss him when church questions come up (he was a ward/stake executive secretary or clerk most of his adult life, it seemed).

But most of all, I just miss him. I miss seeing him when I go home, I miss calling him and asking his advice, I miss him at family reunions and baby blessings.

I am so blessed by having such a wonderful father. Thank you, Daddy. I love you.

Long day with not much to say

It has been a long day, full of kids (mine and others), angst (mostly mine, but some others), and a long walk to Carl's Jr. for a mommy-daughter dinner date (very fun!). So I will leave you with a cute picture of my three biggest kids, all helping out:


We have a lot of home-improvement projects to do this long Memorial weekend--hopefully I will have some awesome before/after pictures to show you soon. If I survive!

You obviously don't have very good manners, either...

Today, while at the store (a store I am heartily annoyed at, starting with nobody around to help, moving on to poorly stocked shelves, and ending with inaccurately labeled prices), I turned down an aisle only to be blocked by an older couple. He was on the left side of the aisle with the cart, she on the right side looking at products. There was enough room between them to manuever a cart, so with a polite "Excuse me", I began doing so.

As I passed behind the lady, she took a step backwards without looking, and we bumped into each other. I said, "Oh, I'm so sorry, excuse me," as I kept moving (to get out of her way). She said, in a tone I read as passive-aggressively sweet, "Sorry, I don't have eyes in the back of my head, you know."

Maybe it was the tone, maybe it was the two massive meltdowns* my 6-year-old had had before we even left the house, maybe it was just pregnancy hormones, but I just wanted to cry. She didn't have to be mean, did she? She was the one blocking most of the aisle, she was the one who stepped backwards without looking, right? Without looking back, we pushed on to the end of the aisle, where my three-year-old said, "You sad, Mommy?"

It has taken me most of the rest of the day to put the entire, stupid, petty situation into perspective. Obviously, it doesn't matter. And I don't think I usually overreact to things like that, so I'm probably just tired. But, still, it bothers me, like a little thorn from a sticker bush. Silly.

*Zee has been having massive meltdowns for the last week or so. I hope it is just because of the changes of school ending and summer beginning. Otherwise I fear this new stage. Freaking out because I would only let him take one book instead of two into the car?

Wasatch Front Update

Item 1: In regards to the I-15 Core Expansion project that I wrote about earlier this month, the Utah Department of Transportation (UDOT) is "encourag[ing] drivers to extend their holiday trips," e.g., leaving on Thursday rather than Friday or coming back Tuesday rather than Monday. I don't remember ever hearing anything like this during the Great Pre-Olympic I-15 Construction Nightmare. Perhaps UDOT learned their lesson last time. Or perhaps they expect this Utah Valley construction project to be much, much worse. Either way, I really hope we aren't planning on driving anywhere north this weekend.

Item 2: Bradley called me yesterday morning from campus, to tell me that Provo had at least an inch of snow. May 24, y'all. While we didn't get anything but lots and lots of rain here in Spanish, Salt Lake International Airport broke their previous measurable snowfall record: In 1960, and again in 1977, the airport measured snow on May 18. That's not the latest snow in the Salt Lake Valley, however, just latest measurable at the airport. In 1968, there was light snow on June 29. My grandmother remembers not-infrequent snow during June conference time growing up (She lived in the mountain valleys around Park City, so that makes a little more sense).

(Snowbird got 6 inches this morning. Is this the kind of snow you want to ski on? If so, yay for all my skiing/snowboarding friends! (Having lived in Utah for 15 years, I have never been skiing. I know, it is borderline blasphemous.))

Given that my internal thermostat is slowly inching upward with every week of pregnancy, I am really not at all sad to be having a wet, cold spring. Bring it on, baby.

And, of course, we've hit the 70s today. Crazy Utah weather!

Item 3: Finally, I have learned to be wary when I hear about the stomach flu anywhere on the Wasatch Front. Last week, I was reading in Cjane's blog (she's a fairly famous blogger who lives in Provo) about how they were passing the stomach flu around their family. And then, a day later, my friend up in northern Utah mentioned on Facebook that they had the stomach flu.

The very next day we got hit with it. So, either I need some serious virus protection for my computer, or the stomach flu can really get around. I'll be more wary next time I hear about it...

NO!

Hebs, at 18 months, is entering the terrible twos phase. This child is a study in contrasts, from talking early to walking late to being very very contrary very very early. His absolute favorite word is "NO!" Preferably said in the loudest, most definite tone available to 18-month-old vocal cords.

Because it really doesn't matter to me what he says (because, really, when I say "Are you ready for a nap?" his response doesn't make much a difference), it is more adorable than annoying. And sometimes it is endlessly amusing.

"Hebs, do you want a cracker?"
"NO!" (as he takes the cracker and consumes it.)

"Hebs, do you want a pony?"
"NO!"

"Hebs, do you want to go to Disneyland?"
"NO!"
(As Em perks up her eyes, "Momma, I want to go to Disneyland!")

"Hebs, do you want a super-late curfew when you're a teenager?"
"NO!"
(Did we get that one on tape?)

"Hebs, do you ever say anything but no?"
"NO!"
"Okay then."

Fathers and Sons Campout

Every May, many LDS wards commemorates the restoration of the Priesthood by having a Fathers and Sons Campout. (How huge bonfires and peeing on trees commemorates the Priesthood is a mystery to me, but just go with it. They have tons of fun, at any rate.) Our ward's campout was last Friday and Saturday.

The campsite chosen was a gravel turnout up Diamond Fork Canyon: Close to home, easy to find, and best of all, free.

The fact that it was bounded by a snow-melt creek was just a bonus.

A muddy good time was had by all.

A rope swing provided tons of fun:




While Gee "fished" in the creek (makes me think of Bert and Ernie "HERE, fishy fishy fishy!):



My muddy, tired, mostly happy campers came home around 10:00am--the morning spring snowstorm in the mountains had nixed any activity plans Daddy might have considered. That, and the fact that Em's stomach bug visited Zee in the night and morning. (And afternoon, as it turned out. And then I got it. It's been super lovely.)

After hearing about all their adventures, and cleaning up a little, I came downstairs to this:

12 noon--the aftermath of the trip

Zee's Kindergarten Graduation

Today was Zee's kindergarten graduation. Can it really have been nine months ago that I sent him off to school?

Apparently it can.

What a great first year of school it has been for both of us! Zee's teacher, Mrs. L., couldn't have been better. He learned so much socially and emotionally and even intellectually!

He can read. Zee's favorite books are "How Things Work" from the Childcraft series (that I picked up at D.I. for $3 each) and the space encyclopedia Grandma Tobler got him for his birthday. (Yes, it is clear that he was NOT switched at birth. How a little boy can be so much like the little girl I was...) He can read most every word, and his comprehension level is quite high.

Zee loves the multiplication tables. (I know. No, I don't claim that part of him.) He knows his 1's, 2's, and most of his 3's.

Zee has learned to get along with other children, to let them have turns, and to sit still (sometimes). He has learned to forgive when other kids are mean to him. He's starting to learn compassion.

The program today was cute, and not too long (smart, smart teachers). They sang several songs ("I'm proud to be an American" is the one we've been treated to the most during the last month), and some of the kids gave little speeches ("The funniest day in kindergarten this year was _____"), the kids got their "diplomas", and they marched in a processional.

Wrangling three little kids during the program was a bit of work; good thing there are two of us! Bradley took care of Em (sick with the stomach flu, poor baby) and Gee, and I had Hebs and the camera. Hebs was exceedingly interested in both the piano (of course) and the stage full of kids (naturally). So my pictures are not fabulous, but what can you do?

Afterword, Bradley took Em and Hebs home, and I took Gee to the "after party" in the classroom. There, we watched a slideshow of just Mrs. L.'s class, and ate cookies and punch. Zee was so proud to have his little brother there--he kept holding Gee's hand and hugging him, getting him cookies and a drink. Gee was thrilled, too--every time Zee's picture came up on the slideshow, Gee would shout, "There's Zee!"

It's hard to believe the school year is over for kindergarteners--all the other grades get out next week. (It doesn't help that the weather has been cold and wet--it certainly doesn't feel like summertime yet!) Next year Zee will be in first grade, and Em in kindergarten The excitement doesn't end!

Note about the videos: The first is really short (8 seconds). Zee is in a dark blue shirt striped with thin white stripes. The second video is cuter, but much longer (42 seconds). And it gets blurry, because Hebs was hanging off my legs and dancing. But the very loud child singing you can hear in the second video? That would be my Zee.

Smoking is a disgusting habit

There are many disgusting habits out there in the world, but there is one in particular that is really GETTING ON MY NERVES. Smoking.

(It has to be said, I do not hate smokers. But I detest smoking.)

Cigarettes are awful, smelly, messy, dirty, disgusting things. Yesterday, during a gigantic spring rain storm (so gorgeous, so much water), the gutter under our neighbor's driveway got plugged up. Our downstream neighbor.

So all the lovely spring water running through everyone's gutters pooled up into my (newly mulched) park strip, sidewalk, and half-way up my lawn.

It took Bradley and me a half-hour to finally unplug the gutter, so that the water stopped pooling up. By then, the damage had been done--we lost a lot of mulch, and had a lovely scum of garbage mixed in with the remaining mulch. I don't like picking up waterlogged papers and water bottles and drink cups, but I absolutely HATE the thousands (okay, I exaggerate; it was probably less than 20) cigarette butts.

And just now, outside, there is a car parked in front of my house. A man and woman are inside the car, another man is outside (standing in my (muddy) mulch in my park strip), and they are all smoking. And the man inside the car just chucked the butt of his cigarette INTO MY PARK STRIP.

You can't tell, but I am nearly pounding my keyboard in rage right now. It is a good thing they just all left while I was taking care of a crying child, because I probably would have marched right out there and given them all a piece of my mind. And they were kind of scary looking people. It probably wouldn't have been a good idea.

So: Yes, you have a horrible addictive habit, that is really hard to break. You have my sympathies. But that doesn't give you the right to be a disgusting littering jerk. Especially in my front yard. Jerks.

Humor

Zee: Mom, isn't Earth the best planet in the whole world?
Me: Uh-huh.
Zee: Get it? The whole world?

Seven, part seven

8:34 pm: Kay is asleep. Jay is not, Bay is not. After trying to comfort them (both refused to be stay comforted once back in bed), I am trying to wait it out. We'll see how this works.

8:40 pm: Whole seconds go by in silence. Well, at least two whole seconds, there a minute ago.

8:43 pm: Silence?

8:45 pm: Silence...

8:50 pm: I think they are asleep.

9:48 pm: Telima just called; they just got on the freeway at the airport. They should be home in 40-60 minutes (depending on traffic and construction). In other news, her downstairs neighbors just fired up the very loud music and/or TV. Nice.

10:40 pm: You have no idea how much I want to stomp on the floor right now. Really? That loud? At 10:40 pm? In an apartment???? REALLY?

10:45 pm: Arrival! And departure--I'm for home and bed. Yay!

Seven, part six

5:45 pm: Mac and cheese is about all I can handle tonight. Unfortunately only three of seven kids will/can eat it. But hot bagels will do for Zee, apples and bread for Jay (his entire diet: milk, bread, apples, goldfish, and tortilla chips), and baby food for the littles. Bradley takes over the mac and cheese, while I rally the energy to make the other things happen.

6:25 pm: Jay has a little breakdown--one minute he's standing there, just fine; the next, he collapses to the ground, scream/crying wildly. Considering this is day four of no Mommy/Daddy, I'm impressed this is his first truly random meltdown at my house. Fortunately, the storm passes in 10 minutes or so, before we have to put him in the crib for a little self-soothing quiet time.

6:30 pm: Bradley sends me downstairs for a little quiet time of my own. I can hear the kids upstairs, laughing loudly.

7:15 pm: While not melting down, Jay is making very unhappy sounds. I wasn't planning to take the kids back to their house until almost bedtime, but sooner rather than later sounds like a good idea.

7:40 pm: Arrive at Telima and Tyler's apartment. Kay immediately begins playing with her toys, Jay runs around joyfully, and Bay makes happy noises. Good decision.

8:00 pm: Jay collapses to the floor again, crying. This time I figure it out, though...and change his diaper once he was done. Singing a song, I put his binky in his mouth, his stuffed bear in his hand, and the whole kit-and-caboodle in the crib. That is one tired boyo.

8:05 pm: Kay asks for milk, and drinks it lying on the floor. She is tired, too.

8:15 pm: Songs, prayers, stories, rocking...Kay and Bay in bed. Jay is whimpering to himself, but I hope he'll fall asleep soon.

Seven, part five

3:30 pm: Hebs is in an excellent mood when he finally toddles upstairs. That is, until he see me sitting on the couch with Bay on my lap. Instant sadness.

4:00 pm: Telima calls; their flight has been delayed at least 45 minutes. Doesn't mean too much to me, because I'm hoping to have all the kids in bed by 8:30.

4:05 pm: Bay was sad while I was on the phone with Telima, which made Telima a little sad. Put Bay down for her third nap.

4:45 pm: Things are pretty mellow--Bay and Bradley are asleep, Em is coloring, Zee is reading, Gee and Kay are watching Dora-dora-dora, Hebs is wandering, and Jay is playing in the toy room.

4:50 pm: Bay is up, and drinking her bottle with a lot more enthusiasm then last time.

5:01 pm: Time to start thinking about dinner.

Seven, part four

1:35 pm: Bay gets up from her second nap, hungry. I sit down to feed her some baby food, only to have baby bird Hebs requesting food as well. He loves baby food. So I get out another jar, and try to keep track of which mouth to spoon which pureed fruit into. Unfortunately, I lose track a time or two, which means if Bay's stomach troubles are caused by a virus, Hebs will likely get it now. Oh, well.

1:45 pm: In the midst of all this feeding, Jay wakes up, angry. Usually he takes a 2-3 hour nap in the afternoon, even when he is visiting me. Not this time. His cries wake Bradley up, and Bradley tries (unsuccessfully) to comfort him and lull him back to sleep. Nothing I do helps him feel better, either. Eventually, a combination of milk and Baby Einstein Number Nursery (his absolute favorite) settles Jay out of his sadness.

2:15 pm: Hebs, increasingly tired, trips (again) and cries and cries. Downstairs for a nap he needs but doesn't want to take. After two minutes of howling, he is asleep. Yay.

2:20 pm: Bradley comes upstairs, feeling pretty crummy. We talk.

2:40 pm: Gee's bus arrives. "What did you do at school today, Gee?" "Good!" (His standard reply.)

2:45 pm: Em and Kay bring "Llama, llama, red pajama" to me to read. Four more books follow.

3:00 pm: Zee returns from the fifth-to-last-day of kindergarten. Full complement of children achieved.

3:10 pm: Hebs wakes up, angry. Daddy goes downstairs to comfort him and takes Zee with him. They are playing a math computer game.

Seven, part three

10:55 am: One child less! Gee heads off to school.

11:00 am: Hebs is unhappy with the present circumstances. I would worry that he is going to have trouble adjusting to Ralphette come August, but I've been through this before. Every one of my kids has been jealous of cousins/baby-sitting-charges/etc, and none have been jealous (well, for more than a day or two) of the new baby when he/she comes. (Zee tried to push Em off my lap once, as did Gee with Hebs. But only once, and only in the first couple of days.)

11:16 am: Great. Bay has...well, not to put too fine a point on it, unhappy bowels. Time to dig out some 9-12 month clothes. At least she is more interested in her bottle now.

11:55 am: Completely unexpectedly, Bradley comes home! He's taking the rest of the day. Hallelujah! I am saved! Call my friend and cancel Zee's pickup. Daddy can take him to school.

12:30 pm: Lunchtime! Chicken nuggets and peaches with goldfish crackers, apples with goldfish crackers, graham crackers with goldfish crackers...you get the idea.

12:50 pm: Jay falls asleep in the high chair with his apples and fishes. Despite his apparent exhaustion, he really doesn't want to take a nap. I think I've convinced him it's a good idea.

12:52 pm: Unfortunately, the reason Bradley came home early is because he is feeling crappy. Poor guy is out cold, fast asleep on top of the covers of our bed.

12:53 pm: Hebs has decided that my lunch (leftover seven-layer-bean-dip) should be shared. However, instead of putting it in his mouth, he paints the back of hair with it. Nice.

Seven, part two

8:55 am: Baby Bay wakes up whimpering. The telephone rings--it's my sister, Telima, calling from the airport. They just arrived back in Miami, and are now awaiting their flight (in five hours) back to SLC (arriving 9:50pm). They had a marvelous time, and are bringing me back a present. Yay!

9:10 am: Give Bay a bottle. She drinks approximately one ounce of formula. Hebs is more interested in this bottle than she is. Zee, Em, Kay, and Gee are running around the roundy-round, very exuberant. Amazingly, Jay, usually in his own little world, has joined in the fun, making his happy-excited yips. It is loud but fun.

9:20 am: Realizing that Bay is now mobile, I rally Em and Zee to clean up the toy room. Surprisingly (considering what a disaster it looked like), it takes us only "five" minutes (more like 15, but they don't notice the difference). Now I can let Bay army-crawl her way around the upstairs without worry.

9:50 am: Hebs, having fallen one time too many, sprawls where he tripped and howls to the high heaven. Life is not to his liking right now. I pick him up, comfort him, and pop him into the crib. That crib is going to be a busy place today.

10:00 am: Make arrangements for my friend to take Zee to school--all the kids don't fit into my car, and the idea of trying to walk the seven blocks to school with a 10-month-old, 1-year-old, 2-year-old, 3-year-old, 5-year-old, and 6-year-old boggles my mind. Fortunately, she can take him up.

10:18 am: Practically have a heart attack as a bird flies straight into my window. Fortunately he flew (somewhat drunkenly) off. Stupid bird--my windows are NOT that clean.

10:34 am: Surprisingly, calmness reigns. Maybe we'll make it through today with sanity intact.

Seven, part one

6:25 am: After waking up every hour or so, worried I wouldn't hear my alarm (set for 6:30), I finally get out of bed.

6:50 am: My sister's mother- and father-in-law drop off the kids: Kay (almost 4), Jay (2.5), and Bay (10 months). They have been watching the kids since late Thursday night, but have to be back in Vegas this afternoon. Telima and Tyler return from their cruise late tonight.

6:52 am: Gramma Terese and I realize that she forgot to bring Jay's stuffed animal. Potential tragedy averted, she drops it off on their way out of town.

7:05 am: I put on movies for the Smith kids (mine are still asleep): Dora-dora-dora-the-explorer for Kay, Baby Einstein for Jay. Bay is getting verrrrrrry tired, but is not inclined to go to sleep quite yet.

7:25 am: My children start to trickle upstairs. Hebs is distraught to see me holding baby Bay. He cries, I comfort, Bay cries, I comfort. Finally we compromise--both babies on my lap.

7:45 am: First attempt to put Bay down for her nap. While she screams in the crib, I get breakfast for my children.

7:55 am: Singing to Bay, I attempt to calm her down enough to sleep. She gets heavy-lidded in my arms, but immediately screams when I put her in the crib. I close the door anyway, hoping she'll drop off. Kiss Bradley good-bye. He tells me to call if it gets out of hand.

8:05 am: Listening to Bay's cries, I quickly empty and refill the dishwasher. Suddenly, I notice the absence of sound. Whew. She fell asleep. (Last time I watched her without her momma around, she refused to sleep AT ALL. Counting my blessing, and hoping for miracles this time around.)

8:15-8:45 am Change diapers and apply various ointments, unguents, creams, and lotions to my two youngest children. Realize I have five diapered children in the house today.

8:50 am Write this post while eating a healthy breakfast of delicious, moist, caramel-drizzled chocolate cake. Decide seconds are in order.

Leopards and Corythosauruses

While sitting at the dinner table after church today, Bradley asked Zee, "How is Mommy like a leopard?" (Bradley was referencing my freckles, or "spots", which have made their annual late-spring appearance.)

Zee, looking me over thoughtfully, slowly replied, "Because they're both omnivores?"*

*No, I don't know if leopards are omnivores**. I doubt it.
**How does he even know that word?
________________________

About a week ago, Em and Hebs were playing in the laundry room. Em came running out to find me, bubbling over with excitement. Hebs was close behind, with a furry pink purse over the top of his head.

"Look, Momma, look! I made Hebs into a corythosaurus!"


And she was right--he did look like he had a crest on his head.

My children are shaping up to be scientists. Who ever would have thought?

Art Lessons This Week

Won't this be fun?

The I-15 Core Project (otherwise known as 2.5 years of traffic nightmares for Utah County) is set to begin this month, and the yuckiest part is slated to be first:

The four-month work phase on the S-curve, which is between the University Parkway and Provo Center Street exits, will leave all three existing I-15 lanes open in both directions during the day as crews bring the freeway stretches up to current federal standards.

That doesn't sound so bad, does it? But then read the next paragraph.

Peak travel times may see as much as 30- to 60-minute delays through the S-curve area if people don't alter when and how they travel during the evening rush hour and other high-volume times, she said. Traffic delays on holiday weekends could be even longer if people don't look for other travel options this summer. Though UDOT's overall traffic volume reduction goal for the I-15 CORE project is 20 percent, for the S-curve construction work, transportation officials want to see one in three cars off that section of freeway during peak travel times.

In an earlier article, they were predicting 5-6 hour delays on the four major holidays during the construction (Memorial, Independence, Pioneer, and Labor Days). I have a very hard time wrapping my brain around that idea, because the entire S-curve could be walked in well less than an hour.

If motorists and employers don't make adjustments to their work schedules to compensate for the construction and use alternatives such as car pooling, mass transit, telecommuting or alternative routes, travel times in the S-curve could reach five to six hours during the four major summer holidays, Saturday afternoons and typical summer travel during the work period, Barnum said.

Won't that be fun?

Congratulations, Emily and Martin

One of my dearest friends, Emily, got married on Saturday.

Emily and I met on the first day of graduate school at BYU. She did her undergraduate work at SUU in Cedar City, and came up to BYU to work with Dr. Griffin in mineralogy. Her desk was three over from mine, in the same row.

On a field trip to Yellowstone National Park and the Stillwater platinum mine that September, we gradually got to know each other. Hiking around Martin's Cove (one of the great side field trips not uncommon on BYU field trips), we discovered we had a ton in common (besides geology)--we had both gone through the temple the previous summer, despite choosing to not go on a mission. We had both been dumped by guys we thought we were going to marry, the previous spring. We both had tons of sisters. We both loved to read. And on and on. (We later discovered we had the same bedding as children, and that we chose the same McCall pattern for our high school formal dresses. Weird, huh?

The second year of grad school, we were roommates. That was the awesomest year, we had so much fun in that apartment with our roommates, Anna and Anna. We rented a piano. We went on camping and hiking trips. We threw parties, stayed up late on campus, stayed overnight on campus to complete projects, and took road trips together.

Keryn and Emily, Spring 2001

When Bradley came back into my life, right before I was to leave for Buffalo, NY to start my Ph.D, Emily was the only roommate who encouraged me to see where this would go. (The others were worried about my heart getting broken again. Em knew I needed to try one more time.) She threw me a mini-party in our room, complete with (dried) flowers and cheese, crackers, and grapes, the night I came home with a ring on my finger.

She helped me plan my wedding, she was there in the temple when I was sealed to my sweetheart, and she has been my good friend despite the differences in our lives (I became a mother four times, she became a professor at Utah Valley University) for the last nine years.

Less than a year ago, she met Martin. They started dating in the fall, and fell in love. Engaged in mid-February, married in the South Jordan Temple on Saturday. It was a beautiful day--just overcast enough to make picture-taking easier, but not so overcast as to be cold.

Bradley and I dropped the kids off at Grandma and Grandpa's, and got to enjoy the sealing and the luncheon just the two of us. (While we walked around the temple between the sealing and the pictures, we noticed birds' nests in the trees--complete with momma birds sitting quietly on their eggs. They blended in so well, it was a fluke we even saw them.) And the children thoroughly enjoyed the reception that night--Zee found a friend in Em's niece L., Gee loved the rock candy chocolates, and Em devoured several chocolate-covered strawberries. (Much to the detriment to her Sunday dress.)

Emily's bridal pictures, early May 2010

Emily was a beautiful, radiant bride. I'm so happy for her and Martin. Congratulations, and here's to a happy, wonderful, fabulous family!

Good-bye, Senator Bennett

Much has been made in the national media about Senator Bob Bennett's defeat at the State Republican Convention on Saturday. The head of the Democratic National Committee said:

"That the Tea Party would consider Bob Bennett -- one of the most conservative members of the U.S. Senate -- too liberal just goes to show how extreme the Tea Party is," Timothy M. Kaine, chairman of the Democratic National Committee, said in a statement.

I can't speak for the delegates at the convention, but for me, the issue is NOT Bennett's conservative record. He's definitely conservative. But he's also part of the group of senators who eschewed limited government and supported George W. Bush in growing the federal government. He served on the banking committee, during the real estate/housing price bubble. He is very much part of the "Beltway" culture.

I am sure he is a very nice, very smart, very good man. But I haven't been pleased with his record, and I feel that it is time to hire someone else to try to do his job. Yes, Utah loses seniority by putting in a new senator in the fall--whoever it is. That doesn't bother me as much as not sending the message that we, the voters, are not pleased with the last six or eight years of federal government. It's worth the drop in seniority to get that across.

And the same goes for Orrin Hatch, who I am also sure is a good, decent man. But I will not vote for him again, either.

I like both Bridgewater and Lee, and have not yet decided between the two for the June primary. To be honest, at this point I would be perfectly happy with either.

(And a Happy Mother's Day for Me, Too)

(I have some pretty decided opinions about Mother's Day. I love to honor my mother, and a holiday celebrating a pretty selfless job is always great and all, but I detest "Hallmark" holidays, and Mother's Day is a good example of one. (So is Valentine's Day.) Mothers are very important, but Mother's Day has somehow turned into an angsty, fraught-with-emotion, full-of-ways-to-offend-and-be-offended holiday that it is just ridiculous.

So, for me, I try to come to Mother's Day with no expectations for myself--yes, I am a mother, but it is not my husband's responsibility to celebrate Mother's Day for me, that would be my kids' responsibility. My husband and I need to celebrate our mothers in whatever way we feel best. I think this holiday would work best if everyone just celebrated "up"--that is, their own mothers and mother-figures. Then nobody would get hurt and sad that they didn't get celebrated. Your mileage may vary, as they say in internet lingo, and I hope your day yesterday was lovely and wonderful.)

Having said all that, now, I will tell you about my Mother's Day. Because, oddly enough, my Mother's Day yesterday was amusingly stereotypical.

Within minutes of waking up, Zee remembered what the day was. Running to his bedroom, he retrieved the present he had hidden on Thursday, after bringing it home from school. He was so excited to give it to me. The paper plate with his handprint and the "handprint" poem is adorable, but even more precious to me is the little card he wrote--all by himself--that says "I love you" and "You are swet" (which I am interpreting as "sweet" rather than "sweaty"). It's so much fun to watch Zee blossom into a real boy, what with the reading and writing.

This gifting prompted Gee to remember his Mother's Day school present, which was then retrieved. This was a card (stickers applied by Gee), a painted wooden frame, and a beaded necklace. The necklace was immediately claimed by Gee, and it was only with great difficultly that I was able to convince him to let me wear it to church.

Em, who isn't in school, was very disturbed that she didn't have a present for me, so Daddy took her upstairs and supplied crayons and paper. And, oh, the pictures she drew! Pictures of me and her, of me and my sister Telima, of me surrounded by a tornado (but "a nice tornado, Momma"), of me surrounded by hearts, of me in a maze. So many beautiful pictures from my little artist.

Then my sweet husband (who also got me a new freezer cookbook, yay!) had the kids "help" him make pancakes and strawberries and orange juice, and they brought it down to me to eat in bed. Zee and Em were so proud of themselves, helping Daddy serve Momma. Zee was particularly adorable, asking what else he could do to help me today. It's nice to see that he isn't always a complete heathen, as six-year-olds often are.

So it was a wonderful and sweet Mother's Day altogether. Thank you, my marvelous family!

Happy Mother's Day!

I was raised by a marvelous, patient, fun-loving, sweet, kind, and wonderful mother. As I raise my own small children, I marvel at the enormous blessing of being sent to her family.

My husband was raised by an equally amazing, fabulous, loving woman.

My grandmothers are just as amazing.

Happy Mother's Day to all my mothers. Thank you for all you have done for me and my family.

On Not Doing It All

Last night I set my alarm to awaken me at midnight, so that I could register my older children for swimming lessons at the city pool this summer. Then I started scanning the lesson schedules, looking for the ideal class time.

First snag: We have an unusually busy summer. We're only going to be out of town once, for three days, but Bradley and I are teaching two mini-classes together (two days each) in June, there's two family reunions (in June and July), and anything past July 28 is out, because the baby will likely come sometime that last week of July/first week of August. When to swim, when to swim? In every single session (half-hour daily for two weeks) the pool offers, we would end up missing at least three (if not four) days.

Second snag: The four & five year old classes are offered at a different time than the six and up classes. (Is this different than last year? I could have sworn my friend's daughter (at least nine years old) had lessons the same time as my kids last year. But maybe she was in diving or something.) Instead of having to entertain the 3-year-old and the 1-year-old for a half hour, I would have to deal with them for a full hour, right at lunchtime. Plus whichever kid wasn't in the pool at the time.

Third snag: There is one session that we would only miss three days--and I could conceivably manage to miss only two, if I worked things out right--happens to be the mid-July session. Mid-July, three children at a time in the midday sun at the pool (which they aren't allowed to enter) for an hour, 38 weeks pregnant...

I wanted to cry.

Instead, I unset my alarm, and went to sleep.

I'm starting to learn that I can't do it all. Oh, I probably CAN do it, but not gracefully, not healthily (is that a word?), and not happily. And as important as it is to let my kids have lots of good experiences (and to learn to swim!), it's also important to be realistic as to what I can handle. Swimming lessons this summer is not something I can handle.

And you know what? I know I made a good decision. I'd like to say I'm perfectly all right with it, but I'm not. I do feel really guilty about it.

And I haven't told the kids yet. They will NOT be pleased. I will try to make it up to them, by taking them to the pool (when Daddy can stay home with the littles, when I can get a sitter, etc) lots of times before the baby comes. (Me in a swimsuit. It'll be lovely.)

But I can't do it all. I don't have to be SuperMom. I can just be Good-Enough-Mom. And that's okay.

My Two Toddlers

They're good boys, even if they are entering the long sibling-spat stage. Hebs steals Gee's goldfish crackers any chance he gets (often with a sly smile on his face), and Gee won't share certain toys with Hebs (even if Gee himself had no interest in that particular toy until Hebs wanted it). But they wrestle and play and talk and laugh--oh, how they laugh together!--and share everything from sippy cups (and the inevitable viruses) to their breakfast oatmeal (which sometimes results in a mess).

(And I love how loud their footsteps are in this video. I don't think they are that loud in real life. It sounds like my house is undergoing renovations, doesn't it?)

Well, he can't wield a machete quite yet...

I just read a fascinating (and encouraging) column at Slate Magazine titled "Developmental Milestones for Babies are Meaningless" by Nicholas Day. The key paragraph (for me):

Babies take different routes to the same destination. There's no right way to learn to walk, for example, and there's scarcely even a right time: The accurate range for when babies should start extends from 8 months to almost 20 months—an amazingly, almost meaninglessly broad stretch of time. The most interesting research on motor development in recent years treats it as the product of many different systems: the infant's environment, personality, nervous system, and personal physical limitations. When all these variables interact, you get a lot of different results, as countless studies have made clear.

What a relief, Hebs isn't completely hopeless! I mean, I knew that all along! Of course I haven't been at all worried about the fact that Hebs is 18 months old and just barely walking everywhere! He's just a "different result", right?

Actually, right. I really haven't been super-concerned about Hebs, probably because he's my fourth child and I've learned a lot about gross motor functions (walking, sitting, moving around) from Gee's therapists. But it is nice to know that, really, Hebs isn't even considered abnormally late in walking!

Of course, the article also has a picture of an eleven-month-old Efe infant (from the Democratic Republic of Congo), using a machete to cut open a piece of fruit. So, yeah, Hebs is a little behind. (So, for that matter, is Gee, Em, and Zee. I very rarely let them play with the machete while I am making fruit salad, so their skills are a little rough around the edges.)