Bolder Boulder and Last Week of School

I’m that far behind. It’s tempting to ignore these old picture posts and just begin again afresh but every time I think that, I think of the many missing picture posts from last year when I was pregnant and I don’t want to miss two summers! So...fewer words and more pictures to catch up.

For the past four years since we’ve lived here, school has ended the week before Memorial Day.  As the Bolder Boulder always takes place on Memorial Day Monday, we have been able to drive up and make it our first summer family event with possible trips to Six Flags Elitch Gardens or a Rockies baseball game in Coors field.  This year, it was a quick weekend trip with one fun day at Waterworld and celebrating our nephews, Michael and Jacob, graduation from high school.   For some reason, I didn’t take any pictures of them or their party or their new house.  I was really off my game.

Road trip!

Henry is not into having his picture taken.

It was warmish but definitely on the cooler side when you were wet because it was so windy.

Jay had zero desire to get a sunburn or suntan, for that matter, and made sure he was covered up.

Sarah came to do the race with us and it is always nice to spend time with her.

Henry’s bed at the hotel.  He thought it was pretty cool to have a couch bed.

This was Henry’s first year to do the race.  Seth and Sam both got their inaugural run when they were six and so it was only fair to extend the same invitation to Henry, although both Jay and I wondered if he could or would actually do it.  Thanks to Jay’s amazing patience, he came back after running his blazing fast 35 minute 10K to do it with Henry.  They finished in 2 1/2 hours.  Jay said it was like holding hands and walking with an anchor.  But, Henry thought it was great.  Seth and Sam ran it on their own even though Seth started throwing up after mile 1.  Like a concerned brother, Sam took off without him but they still finished within minutes of each other.

Sarah and I walked it with me packing Daniel.  He was on my back for the first two miles and then wanted his comfy front position, which was harder for me.  We didn’t break any speed records but we were both proud of ourselves for doing it and it was a lot of fun.

Going up that last killer hill into folsom field.

Running into the stadium of adoring masses.

After their big finish.  Henry is still happy!

Then...just like that, we were back for the big last week of school.  I know they need a certain amount of days to get accreditation but every day was either a field trip, field day or performance.

The 3rd, 4th, and 5th grade music concert.  It was so well done.  Probably the best elementary music concert I’ve ever been to.  Sam is on stage dancing with a scarf.

I had signed up to go with Sam’s class on a field trip.  Here they are playing with a parachute.

Didn’t know where to throw these pictures in so I’ll just stick them in here.  Jay taught Seth how to mow with the riding mower.  They cut the weeds to a manageable height.

Seth really struggled during the last trimester to get his work turned in.  He knew the consequence of not getting his grades up was forfeiting participating in any extra curricular activities next fall.  He got everything turned in and got his grades up but it frustrates me that A) he could get all that work done in 2 nights.  I mean...it isn’t that the work is overwhelming him. and B) that the teachers were so o.k. with him, and lots of other kids it turns out after talking to them, turning stuff in late.  I wish they had a better system to help these kids learn the skills to either get the work done during class time or turn it in within a certain period of time.  Seth was complete assignments from over a month ago.  Grrr...

Up late finishing assignments.

I went into Henry’s last day of Kindergarten for a program.  He loves it whenever I am in his classroom and I feel bad that I was in there so rarely.

His teacher had an award for every student.  Henry was award the super reader and super speller award.

Outside at the end of the day.  Sam bringing home some of his art.  Yay for summer break!

Say Anything

There isn’t one dominant reason as to why I have been so silent this summer break.  Of course, every day, there is usually one dominant reason:  I’m traveling, I have company staying with me, Daniel is sick or fussy, it is too hot in the house (my psyche is very sensitive to heat), I’m trying to do something...anything to make my house and life less cluttered and so on.  Occasionally, these forces combine and I am completely overwhelmed.

But those to-dos and day fillers aren’t really the reason I haven’t written.  My motivation to write usually stems from wanting a record of my memories, a desire to interact socially with family and friends and to be creative with my thoughts and opinions (i.e. book reviews).   Occasionally, I have used it to confess weaknesses or purge toxic ideas, although I know this is much less acceptable in the blogiverse.  Especially my blogiverse.  I am trying very hard not to do that anymore.  However, that plug in my pie-hole affects all my other motivation.  

It is said if you don’t have anything nice to say, then don’t say anything at all.  I thought I was following this advice.  But, I DO have nice things to say and I should say them.  We have been having a lot of fun this summer and I’ve seen some beautiful friends and shared wonderful experiences with family in amazing places and the fact that I’m going through some kind of pathetic mid-life crisis (should I die at age 72 which is on the young side of old age but not out of the question) that makes me question and doubt everything I do doesn’t negate those events.  But, I think for my own authenticity, I had to post this first.  As a kind of disclaimer, I suppose.  I already feel better.  It is such a disadvantage to be a sharer when things aren’t perfectly peachy.  I envy you private people.

Here’s to saying something...which I hope is better than saying nothing at all.

Daniel - 28 Weeks

I didn’t take any pictures on Monday so this is two days late. It shouldn’t matter but you are changing daily! You now get up on all fours to crawl. You haven’t figured out the moving of your knees but you get up, move one knee and collapse forward. Then, you get up and do it again, getting wherever you need to go. You even have managed to push yourself into a sitting position a few times. You roll ubiquitously. You throw major temper tantrums if you feel ignored or put in your bed too soon. You have two teeth! You still like to nurse but I’m not enjoying it as much with your teeth. You love books. Unfortunately, you don’t enjoy board books nearly as much as paper books. Hymnals are particularly entertaining to you. You have decided to sleep through the night. It works for me!

BYU Football Camp

Tackling drill

 Receiving drill

Scrimmaging

Sam just about to cross the line on the very last play on the very last day.

Sam won a BYU Football Camp honor award for telling the truth about not getting a touchdown when the coach thought he had.

Jen, always so fun to be with and a great help with Daniel.

Running for popsicles!

Popsicles at the end of practice!

Henry and Sadie stamp in the books Jen bought them.

Daniel taking a rare nap

Getting some shade

My, Amy's and Becky's kids at the park!

I love these girls.  It is always nice to meet up with them while in Utah.

Catching some SYTYCD with Sarah in hotel room.

Will Daniel need specs?

Didn't see much of Seth as he and Ansel stayed in the dorms all week but caught a bit of his camp one day.  

Daniel - 27 Weeks

You are spending your 27th week in Provo while your brothers attend BYU football camp. That means, you are pretty much either being held or in your stroller all the time. You catch some sleep while you can and Aunt Jen holds you a lot to give me a break.



In your “new-to-us” joovy stroller that I really like!



You hate baby food but you love handling all these french fries!

P.S.  I love you in little tank outfits.  Your dad calls it Whisky Tango but I think baby arms and their delicious rolls should be on display:)

Daniel - SIX MONTHS! - or 26 Weeks

Someday, maybe not tomorrow, I would like to feel like my head is on straight enough to post something other than a weekly picture of Daniel but, today, that is all I am capable of doing.

At six months you:

can sit up without assistance
have a favorite toy - your exersaucer
nurse and drink formula from a bottle
laugh
suck your thumbs (don’t seem to have a preference which one)
have the beginnings of a bottom tooth (it poked through yesterday!)
do NOT sleep through the night.
can roll over both ways and move quite a distance if you’ve got the mind to do it.
focus intensely on other people’s food but gag on your baby food.
love your brothers and your mom and dad
flirt unabashedly with anyone.

Weight 19 lb 1 oz (78%)
Height 27 in (72%)
Head Circumference 44.8 cm (78%)

Daniel - 25 Weeks

At 25 weeks, you are in transition.  Sick for the second time in your almost six month life, you are confused about wanting me or the bottle.  The last week had me convinced you preferred the bottle but these past few days, not to mention your many, many middle of the night feedings, has me thinking otherwise.  My body is as confused as you must be and doesn’t know whether to stop making milk or to make more.

It makes me sad to see you so sick.  You are feverish and stuffy.  But, as the above picture shows, you still smile when smiled at.  It is just part of your nature to flirt with someone looking at you.

You probably need a regular schedule to figure out how to sleep better but I can already tell with the start of summer that it is going to be hard to provide that for you.  With three older brothers, we are on the go to do fun things a lot.

This also happens to be your dad’s 38th birthday so you were sweet to make time for snuggles with him.  And even though you were sick and hadn’t seen your dad for a week, with your new bottle drinking skills, you were watched by Grandma and Derek for three hours while mom and dad went on a date.  It was so nice going somewhere without you (not that I don’t like being with you but...well...you know) and not worrying about whether or not you were starving.

Next week you will be six months old!

Daniel - 24 Weeks

You spent your 24th week birthday (that’s five and a half months for my sister, Maureen, who thinks week counting is getting confusing:P) in the car for eight hours.  You slept, cooed and entertained us all with your new high pitched screech.  Yay!




Thankfully, you decided a bottle could be placed in proximity to your mouth without a major tantrum a couple of days before the trip and come road trip time...you were a bottle drinking star.

To Err Is Human...To Forgive Is Divine

One of the most shocking discoveries upon becoming an adult was learning that Dad wasn't perfect.  For a long time, I assumed that Dad was a bit God-like:  omniscient and omnipotent.  I wouldn't say the fear of those powers were what kept me on the straight and narrow for the majority of my youthful years, but the idea of his possible disappointment in me definitely contributed to my motivation to make good choices.  Years later, when some bad behavior and choices went undetected by Dad, the perk of avoiding his disappointment, not to mention his judgment and punishment, came at the cost of realizing he was human after all.

I think when he finally became aware of my actions and the consequences of my behavior, he was blindsided.  As baffled as I was by his surprise, I was more bewildered by the absence of any anger.  Instead, he was immensely concerned about me and offered me advice and help.  There was no question of his forgiveness because it was automatic.  After the dust had settled, I remember asking him why he was never suspicious of who I was with or where I was going.

"Dad!  You've been a bishop! You've been in a stake presidency!  You are a lawyer!  You understand human nature and that people get in trouble and do dumb things!" I reasoned.

"But those are stupid people!" Dad replied.  "And my children are not stupid people."

I still smile when I think of his response.  I love the faith he has in his children.   He may not be omniscient or omnipotent but he is merciful and full of charity... quite Godlike after all.

Self-Fullfilling Prophesies

Dad does not enjoy eating out.  Contributing to his cantankerous attitude towards the restaurant industry is the loud music played at many establishments, poor lighting, poor service and, of course, the inflated expense.  But, he claims that the thing that prevents him from enjoying restaurants the most is the quality of the food.  It’s just not as good as homemade.  

It might be due to how he requests it.  On one of his less agreeable outings, I recall Dad choosing a hamburger for dinner at a Red Robin or restaurant like it with multiple hamburger varieties on its menu.  

When the waitress came to take our order, he responded, “I just want a plain hamburger!”  He even made some slightly aggressive hand motions to emphasize his point.  

The food arrived and his burger sat there unadorned.  “It doesn’t come with onions?  Or tomatoes?  Or lettuce?” he complained.  

“Dad, you ordered it plain.  Remember?”  

He didn’t like his burger.  Surprise, surprise.  :)

The Boys’ Memories of Grandpa

Seth:

One of my memories of Grandpa took place at our house in Edgemont Ranch. Grandpa had come to visit us. Sam and I were of on summer break and we were horsing around and having a good time outside. During Grandpa’s stay with us, Sam and I were trying to see which one of us could complete this short little bike course on Henry’s tricycle. The course was a hill from our drive way to a little roundabout, the roundabout itself and them the hill again, but this time you had to peddle up the hill, which was quite difficult to do on a tricycle where you had to be really careful about your knees hitting the handle bars. So far neither Sam nor I had been able to successfully get up the hill without getting off the trike and walking up the hill. After this had been going on for a while, we had another person give it a go. This person was Grandpa. After finally managing to get himself on the tricycle he had his debut. I remember watching him come up the hill and on to our driveway. He wasn’t even breathing that hard! This is one of my memories of Grandpa.

One of my favorite things about Grandpa is how he wakes up super early in the morning and makes me hotcakes (Also known as pancakes). Breakfast is my favorite meal of the day by far and hotcakes is my favorite breakfast. Whenever I come to visit, grandpa will wake up super early in the morning and make me hotcakes or whatever other meal I feel like eating that day. Hotcakes has always been a special part of my relationship with grandpa.

Sam:

Something that I remember from when I was little about my Grandpa is that he will always take you to the park if you want to go. The park is humungous but with him it’s more merriment. If you want to play a game with him, he’ll play the game with you. If you want to be pushed in the swing he’ll push you in the swing. If you want to be pushed around in the tire swing then he’ll push you round in the tire swing.That is what I remember about my Grandpa when I was little. 

Henry:


being pushed on a tire swing.

playing at the whole park.

playing with the magnets at Grandpa’s house.

Walking to the museum.

working in the yard with him

Crossword Clues

This is Jay’s memory contribution:

“My dad’s name is Carl. And he’s an attorney”.

These words rang in my head as I drove with Lucy from Utah to Montana for the “first meeting” of whom I hoped would be my future father-in-law. I had been mulling over and over in my mind what this man might be like.  I imagined an intimidating, overbearing, condescending man, who would interrogate me like an opposing witness.

Fortunately for me, what I found was a humble, cheerful, helpful and righteous man, who welcomed me into his home and family as soon as I walked through the door.

While there for our visit, I sat down to breakfast that first morning with the Helena Independent Record.  Carl was already long gone for the day, having been up for hours before that, I’m sure.  As I lazily munched through some cereal, I solved the crossword puzzle, something I love to do.

One by one, each of Carl’s daughters found their way upstairs and asked me what I was doing.

“Solving the crossword” I answered smugly, with a bit of an air of “aren’t I smart”.

Sarah had a look of dread on her face when I said this, but I didn’t know why.  Lucy said, “oh no”.  Emily came and asked what had happened. “Jay did the crossword puzzle,” was Sarah’s answer.  Emily’s look seemed to be one of condescension and “how could you”. Maureen looked at the floor.  But Jennifer had the worst reaction.  What I imagined as a look of terror, annoyance, anger and shock crossed her face, as she said, “Wait ‘til dad gets home. He always does the crossword at lunch.”

“Really?”

“Always” Lucy and Sarah answered in unison while avoiding eye contact.

I tried to laugh it off, but I could tell by the somber tone in the room that I had committed a grave error. Karen tried to console me, patting me on the back and saying something like, “It’ll be okay. There are other crossword puzzles”.

This just made it worse.  I had crossed an invisible line, and now had to face a punishment that was merciless and inescapable. Like a gunfighter awaiting the dreaded showdown at high noon, I awaited the hour with apprehension and trepidation. Tick-tock-tick-tock the clock toned like a march to my grave.

For the next several hours I tried to forget my unintentional error – to no avail.  Jon and Tara came up and asked what was going on. “Jay did the crossword” came the piercing reply.  Each comment was as a dagger knifing me in my heart.  Day one of my attempt to make a good impression was going to end in an inferno of anger and excuses.

I tried to find a reason not to be home at that awful hour. Too late, I thought about going out to buy a new paper to replace the one that I had so carelessly desecrated.  I wanted to hide as I heard the car pull up the driveway.

“Maybe he won’t notice. Maybe I can distract him with conversation for an hour. Maybe he’ll be too busy today. “

Carl came in the house. He greeted his family.  He sat down for lunch. He grabbed the paper. He turned to the crossword puzzle.  I wanted to crawl inside the couch.

“Jay did the crossword puzzle,” Sarah blurted out before I could act. A deadly silence filled the room.

“I…I…I…I didn’t know you did it,” was my meager defense.

And then Carl did what he has since done a thousand times to me.  He smiled. No words were spoken, no accusations were hurled at my wounded ego, no censure was placed on my back.

He went back to his lunch, disappointed I’m sure, but without another word.  He never mentioned it again. 

However simple this example may seem, it was my first memory of the kindness, generosity, forgiveness and love that to me define my father-in-law.

Yes, he may be an attorney, but he didn’t prosecute or persecute me that day – or any moment since.  He truly demonstrates a love and charity toward his family, and acceptance to those of us who have joined his family, that is an example to me.

By the way, I never did his crossword again.

Driving Mr. Carl

Cars are not Dad's things.  If it has four wheels and runs, he's good to go.  I have lots of memories of road trips and various automobiles belonging to Dad.   Here are some of my favorites:

• Driving up the long, winding dirt road to see the giant golf ball at Island Park

• Taking the dirt road "shortcut" at Boulder to get to Sheridan.

• Overheating the diesel on McDonald Pass to Drummond.

• Getting out of the overheated diesel on McDonald pass only to watch Dad drive off without warning and watching plumes of black smoke come out of the exhaust while listening to mom cry, "Stop, Carl!  You're going to blow up!"

• Dad stopping once he realized he was probably going to blow up.  Then, having all of us that were traveling in two cars squeezing into one.  Then bottoming out and ripping a hole in the oil pan on the railroad tracks on the way to the church.  Then leaving an oil trail all the way to the church.  Then waiting at the church for a welder to come and fix the oil pan so we could drive home and pick up the station wagon that was hopefully cooled down.  

• Watching dad use two feet while driving - his right on the gas pedal and his left on the brake.

• Wondering when he was going to break when going around the curves on McDonald Pass.

• Wondering when he was going to use the windshield wipers if it was raining (he likes to get the windshield good and wet before he lets those wipers go to work).  

• When the Brown Beast died, Dad downsizing to a big blue car that WASN'T a station wagon.

• The loaner cars from Ron Benson when whatever car had most recently died.  My favorite was the white car with the red interior and gold hubcaps!  When we got whatever car had been repaired, Dad would always say, "It's like a new car!"  I get it now, Dad!

• Dad being nonplused driving the Oldsmobile Delta 88 after I had ruined the front seat in an accident.  It reclined deeply so he just used his stomach muscles sit upright.

• Dad striking up a conversation with a woman at a gas station on our great road trip back east and discovering they had a common acquaintance.  

• Stopping in Wisdom, MT for some unknown reason (lunch?) and Dad taking off in a sprint down the dirt road as soon as we were about to leave.  

These are just a few but they make me smile.  

Guiding Light

I didn't see it everyday but on those days when I stayed home sick from school or on summer days if I happened to still be around and not off playing with my friends, from 1:00 to 2:00 pm, everyday, I remember Dad heating up some leftovers in the microwave or maybe just cutting himself off a big piece of cheese and going to sit in the armchair next to the door in Grandma's room.  Together, they'd watch an hour of Guiding Light and then, without lingering, he'd be back off to his office and his afternoon's work.  

An adult's perspective changes a memory.  I honestly thought as a young child that Dad came home to eat lunch just so that he could watch Guiding Light.  It didn't occur to me then that  a man who has six children and a mother-in-law all living under the same 2,200 square foot of living space roof might justifiably choose to go elsewhere for lunch.  It didn't even occur to me that he probably didn't particularly enjoy watching a soap opera.  He easily could have packed a sack lunch and eaten at the office.  Or, like most men, he could have gone out to a restaurant with a business colleague or friend to relax.  But he didn't.  He came home for lunch.  And having that memory has taught me many things.  

First and foremost is that Dad loves his family.  He loved and respected Grandma Parker and I will be forever grateful to have been raised by someone who didn't talk about having compassion or being generous but WAS compassionate and very generous.  Also, this memory highlights Dad's abhorrence for restaurants and spending money on eating out but that's another memory.

Because I was young when the decision was made, I'm not privy to all the details that went into where Grandma Parker would live when she needed assistance but I'm so astonished and relieved that Dad was the kind of husband and son-in-law to give his children the opportunity to learn about love and service by having her live with us.  It must have been stressful - emotionally, financially, physically - for both Mom and Dad.  He could have handled the stress by choosing a hobby so that he had some alone time.  Instead, there Dad was, everyday, breaking bread with Grandma at lunch and following the drama between Reva and Josh.  

When Grandma died, I remember calling from the office phone at C.R. Anderson for a ride home because I had just returned from a few days at Las Vegas for a student council trip.  I asked how Grandma was doing, because she had stopped eating and been sick for several previous weeks, and Dad matter-of-factly said, "Well, she just died about 15 minutes ago."  

I cried.  I sat down on the linoleum floor of the office and cried in front of my friends and other curious students walking the halls.  It seemed cold to me that he wasn't weeping when he shared that news on the phone.  Worse, it seemed even colder to watch him smiling and laughing with family members and friends at her funeral.  

There is a picture somewhere that has Dad and Don Smith arm in arm next to Grandma's headstone, both smiling as if they had just spent the day at a ballgame instead of at my beloved Grandmother's funeral service.  To the side, I stand, watching and glaring at them.  I was too young then to appreciate Dad's complete faith and understanding in the Plan of Salvation.  Now, as a grown woman with a testimony of my own, I still marvel at his unwavering hope.  He was smiling because he knew death was not the end.  I know it too, thanks in large part to him.

Guiding Light might be the name of a silly daytime soap opera but but I'm forever thankful to Dad for watching it with Grandma. Because I have the memory of that simple act of service, I have a real guiding light to follow.

Memories Of My Father

My sweet papa turned 75 last Friday.   Since I can remember, he has hated money being spent on gifts for him and more than once, my dear mother’s feelings have been hurt as she has bought him something he actually needs, like shoes or pants, only to be scolded for her extravagance.  She has learned through the years not to take it personally, hang the new clothes in his closet and wait for a few months.  When enough time has passed or the hole in the bottom of his shoe has gotten large enough to bother him, out come the new things!

Needless to say, it is tricky to find a good gift idea for him.  In my younger years, when tape recorders were all the rage, I would simply place that boom box or recorder on top of the piano, push the button with the red circle on it and play my latest recital piece.  Believe me, as poor as the sound quality was on those old tapes, he liked them more than any new tie or wallet.

Emily came across a wonderful idea on Pinterest that involved friends, family, acquaintances, neighbors...really anyone that has crossed paths with a particular person writing and sending their memories of the person being celebrated.  She sent out a form letter to relatives, old law school peers, members of his current and old wards, neighbors, students, and more and with our own family memories included, he opened more than 75 envelopes on the day after his birthday (none of the kids visiting could get there in time on Friday make much ado on his actual birthday.  Like I said, he’s not the type to care).

I throughly enjoyed thinking and writing some of my memories of my dad.  We were only asked to write one, but once I started, I think I could have written 75 of my own had I had the time.  Instead, I managed four and the boys and Jay each added their own.  Because I want my own record, I’m going to post our memories.  I can’t wait to get home and read all the others.

Happy Birthday, Dad.  You are a hero to me.

Daniel - 23 Weeks

You light up my life!