Stream of Consciousness

Six posts in August. I am not a six-post girl. What has happened to me? Can I only blog when I have nothing else to do? I enjoy it so why do I feel so guilty if I blog. Like I'm being selfish with my time. Enough of that. Six....never again.

Do kids come so differently so that we never get to gain true confidence in parenting? Seth's first tooth lost was such a big deal. It wiggled, wiggled, wiggled for forever and when it finally came out, it practically got its own party. Of course the tooth fairy remembered to come and of course I saved the tooth (until we moved. Then it just seemed....gross....to keep).

Sammy's tooth fell out at church on Sunday - during his primary class. He came back into primary for music time and kept looking at me with this retarded toothy grin. Finally, finally, I noticed why he had his lower lip pulled down so far. A gap! What the....really? Was it loose? Apparently. Huh. This big event lacked the necessary fanfare, I think. Without the fanfare, it's kind of hard for the tooth fairy to remember to come. She forgot. Sam woke up in absolute tears and Jay and I both slapped our foreheads.

It's a good thing that tooth in a sandwich baggie fell from underneath his pillow and onto the floor because, without missing a beat, Jay explained with complete logic, that the tooth fairy probably came but couldn't find the tooth so couldn't leave any money. Yes. Of course that's what happened.

The senile tooth fairy almost struck again, but Jay remembered right before lights out. Sam rushed out of bed this morning, showed off his dollar bill, and must have been thinking "cha-ching" as he vigorously wiggled his other loose tooth.

I'm the primary chorister now. It's a perfect calling for me except for all the work. I don't enjoy making posters or other cute games, and the last two Saturday nights, I've remembered why I'm a better primary president than primary chorister. Lots more computer spreadsheets vs. card stock, laminating machines and colored pencils. Actually, I'm loving it. I love seeing Sam and Seth in there, doing their best to mimic my mouth movements because, apparently, they don't know any of the songs (how can this be?). And I get to go into nursery and sing with Henry too. Those two hours of church now feel half as long. It goes fast when you have to be the perky singing lady instead of the quiet listener of lessons.

Somehow, I've been put in charge of the music for the upcoming visiting teaching enrichment activity. It started as the presidency member over the event asked me to do a special musical number which has now turned into choosing hymns, playing for the event, singing a musical number and...get this...helping a trio learn their musical number and accompanying then. Hmmm. Wait a minute. This sort of "help" sounds oddly familiar. ***Flashback Alert!**** ""Lucy is offering help to anyone interested in learning a musical number! For 75 points, ladies....come one....75 points!" See? This is what I do. This is what I'm good at. Why did it feel so lame that night? I'm just as points worthy as fresh chocolate-chip zucchini bread. It's just that no one realized it that night. But no true service comes alongside a "na, na, na, na, na, na...I told you so" so I'm going to let it drop.

My sister, Sarah, came this weekend. I was so excited to show the town off to her but it was also a major, major bikers rally this weekend, so the entire region was taken over by leather-clad, fringe wearing hog riders. It was loud and tough and, frankly, a little scary downtown. Yesterday, we took Jay's dad's boat out and had to drive through the heart of the rally to get there. All sorts of portable tattoo parlors, beer tents and leather goods shops were set up. If any of you are having a hard time finding a leather vest with fringe adorning your bosom area - labor day weekend, 2009, I'm sure I can find one for you. They seemed to have an ample supply.

While Sarah and I were driving, and passing motorcycle after motorcycle, I thought to myself how unappealing the world of motorcycling is to me. The chaps, the braided hair and bandanas. But mostly, it's the back of the bike where the women always seem to be. That's not me. Ever. I'd have to be driving with my hands on the handlebar. Which would put Jay on the back, looking over my shoulder, arms around my waist. After getting all the giggles out, I let Sarah in on my comical vision and she laughed and said, "Independent woman." I suppose Jay and I could just ride side by side on different bikes.

I'm learning to wakeboard. Usually, I'm not really very willing to try new things. It seems like the few times I get to go to the lake, I always reason, "I'd rather ski, because I already know how to do it, than spend my one day learning something new." Same thing when we go downhill skiing. I've never been willing to spend a day and the cost of a lift ticket to try snowboarding. I tend to spend my time and money on things I'm sure about. How boring! I don't want to be boring! So, thanks to a pair of skis that are so "universal" my feet slip and slide inside the boots, I decided to finally try the wakeboard. I got up for the first time yesterday, but had no control once I was up. It felt like ice skating sideways. I'm glad I tried. I'm not going to be 30-something and not try anything anymore. That just makes me....old.

Last night, one of the radiologists invited the entire group and their families to their home for a barbecue. Steak and shrimp and fruit and grilled veggies. Yum. Plus, it was nice to finally put a face with the names I've seen on the refrigerator for the last two months. It's a nice group. Decent family-oriented men, with kind wives and pretty laid-back personalities. I think Jay will be really happy here.

I'm sick. My throat hurts terribly and I'm wiped out. The most important thing, besides getting well, is staying away from Jay so that he doesn't get sick. He always gets whatever I get and it always seems to hit him ten times worse. His big race is on Saturday, so there couldn't be a worse time for him to become ill. Why is it that even when I'm sick, and I feel lousy, my worry is on Jay? It's like I'm a martyr, or something. Did I decide to become like this? When? How?

Even though my house was clean on Friday for Sarah's visit, it's dirty again. Laundry, dishes, floors, bathrooms, dusting....it all needs done again. I feel like a gerbil, sometimes.

Henry stinks and needs a fresh diaper. And so it ends.....

How The Drama-Prone Do First Days

"Come here and take your medicine," I scold Seth. The child seriously overreacts to the bitter taste of his bubble-gum flavored penicillin.

"Wait! I need to have my water ready first!" he pleads as he fills a large cup up to the rim.

Tap, tap, tap goes my flip-flop on the kitchen floor.

He takes his two teaspoons...runs around the kitchen with his cheeks puffed out and eyes closed until he finally swallows - takes a sip of water - and then gasps heavily with relief.

Only eight days and 24 more more times to go before I'm done with this routine.

Sammy takes his medicine like a champ.

You see, both boys have strep throat and we hope that with 24 hours of rest and TLC, they will both be ready for their first day of school on Wednesday.

Tuesday night rolls around and Sammy is particularly nervous about school tomorrow.

"I don't want to go. They'll hate me. I don't want to be in kindergarten!" the irrational five year-old cries.

"You'll be fine. You're a big boy now and all ready for school." I reassure him.

After dinner and a bath, I read Sammy a story and say prayers with him at 7:00. He can be hard to wake up in the morning and I know an early bedtime is a must as 6:45 AM will come bright and early.

An hour later, I tell Seth it's time for bed and he climbs up the ladder to his own soft bed.

"Goodnight, Seth. I love you. See you in the morning."

"Goodnight, Mom."

I wish. It was not a good night.

'Twas the night before school starts and all through the house, not a backpack for Sammy could be found in the house. Nothing spells disaster like a late night trip to Wal-Mart.

At Wal-Mart, I battled with the the other ill-prepared mothers, teenagers and college students looking for a lunch box, backpack and gym shoes that Sammy's list insists he needs for the first day. After finding what I needed, I drove home through the dark night only to find BOTH boys still awake when I returned.

"What are you still doing up?" I asked as I hear Seth scamper from his room to the bathroom.

"I need a drink of water." Always.

"Goodnight, boys."

"Goodnight, Mom."

I spend the next hour on the couch, filling out forms for Sam's teacher, putting a Star-Wars Millennium Falcon key chain on Seth's backpack and a Y-fighter on Sam's, watch a little television and eventually head down the hallway to my bedroom.

As I near the doors, I hear crying and open Seth and Sam's bedroom door to investigate. Seth is quietly whimpering in his bed while Sammy proceeds to tell me all about it. I climb a few steps up the ladder for a better view and Seth complains that he can't fall asleep.

"Don't get worried about it. I know you're not used to going to bed as early as you did tonight. Just relax, close your eyes, and your body will eventually fall asleep." I assured him.

A few kisses and perhaps some stern words later, I crawl into bed myself at 11:30.

At 11:45, Sam comes into my room to tell me that Seth's still crying.

I grab a pillow, go into Seth's room and tell him to come with me. We use the sectional sofa in the living room as our bed and with our heads together in the middle, I softly sing him some songs while rubbing his arm - hoping, wishing, praying that he will quickly fall asleep.

Twenty minutes later, Sammy comes out with his own blankets and says he needs his "momma".

He lies on top of me, making it a lot more difficult to breath but soon my body adjusts to his extra 50 pounds and I rub his back while simultaneously counting backwards from 100....veeerrry sllllooooowwwwlly.

Then I tell a story.

Then I sing the Mary Poppins lullaby over and over and over and over. And over.

Shortly after 2:00 AM, I am confident Seth is asleep.

The problem is, Sam is not.

He has spent the last two hours on top of me squirming and wiggling and shifting so I know for sure that none of my stories or songs or rubs has had the same effect on him.

Making sure Seth is covered with blankets, I tell Sam that he's going back to bed. We scurry down the hall together and both climb into his full bottom bunk for another dose of lullaby's, backrubs and "shhhhh"s.

He fidgets regularly enough to let me know that he is not falling asleep. Whereas before I felt filled with compassion and understanding about their nerves and penicillin-filled bodies, I feel myself becoming angry and resentful. It is after 3:00 in the morning, for crying out loud!

"Sammy, you have GOT to go to sleep. Good night." And with that, I get out of his bed and shut his door and instantly fall asleep in my own bed.

At 6:30, the youngest of my sons, and the only one that managed a full night's sleep, announces that it's time to wake up. I'm nowhere near ready to get out of bed but know there are lunches to pack, backpacks to fill and boys to dress. Groggily, I put on my robe, rinse out the least dirty sippy cup I can find, and mix together Henry's morning chocolate milk.

One boy down, two to go, I open Seth and Sam's door and wake both boys up. Sam immediately starts crying that he's too tired to wake up. I know. I know.

In my less sleep deprived state, I imagined a more nutritious breakfast that included brain-boosting protein, vitamin-packed fruit and some complex carbohydrates. With three hours tucked under my belt, however, I pour each boy a bowl of Lucky Charms.

Seth ravenously digs in, Sam complains that the lights are too bright, and Henry is crying, I suppose, because I'm not over cuddling with him on the couch. Or because his brothers are getting something he's not. Or because the Russians have invaded Georgia. I don't know the exact reason but it's not helping with my fragile thin patience.

I lean over the kitchen sink to give Seth his dose of medicine and with Lucky Charms in his mouth, he starts shaking his head back and forth. "Take it," I demand. He does and proceeds to spit his mouthful of cereal back into his bowl. A crack appears in the fragile ice.

Sam refuses to eat but continues to cry. "My tummy hurts! I'm not going to school today! My head hurts!" and on and on and on. My rational side tells myself to breath in and out but my tired self starts to grumble and growl about ingratitude, no help, and unfairness. The crack grows.

Jay has already left for work, by the way. Some guys have all the luck.

The drama continues on as described above until we reach the morning's climax. I am kneeling beside Sammy's bed while he's lying on his back crying and carrying on about his stomach, his head, how he already hates school, etc., etc., when Henry comes into the bedroom.....the bedroom with off-white carpet....and vomits. Chocolate milk vomit split that crack wide open.

"AAAAAAAAAAHHHHH! I hate my job! I hate, hate, hate this!" said the mature caretaker in the middle of a meltdown.

Both Seth and Sam immediately stop whining about whatever it is that they were whining about, and I pick Henry up, strip off his clothes, give him the shortest bath in the history of baths and tell everyone to get in the car.

My mom-dar was telling me that Sam was only tired, scared, and anxious and not sick, so I insist on him going to his first day of school. I reason that if we get there and he's clearly unwell, he'll at least get to see his desk, meet his teacher and hopefully be less apprehensive about going the next day.

We pull out of the driveway at 7:48 AM. The first bell rings at 7:50 and the tardy bell at 7:55. We live approximately twelve to fifteen minutes from the school. Nothing like starting the year off right!

Of course, it being the first day and all, the parking lot, as well as all the streets surrounding the school, are filled with parked cars. Parents everywhere are smiling and walking hand-in-hand with their little ones, and I wonder if any of these happy people have to go home and clean up chocolate vomit.

The current state of the stain. I think I need professional help.

With Henry on my hip, and two boys beside me, we walk into the unfamiliar school. A very large crowd congregates in the front foyer, and with quite a bit of annoyance and difficulty, we weave in and out of the multitude and into the....empty....halls. We definitely missed a memo.

As my hunch suspected, Sam's class is empty. I figure Seth's will be too so we walk back to where the crowd was gathering and find an assembly already started in the school's gymnasium. There is no room for more bodies so the boys and I make our way to the cafeteria bordering the gym and struggle for the next thirty minutes as the principle does her best to motivate the kids into having their best year yet. I silently wish she'd get on with it already.

The kindergartners are dismissed....finally....at 8:35 and I walk Sammy to his classroom. He pulls backwards on my hand the entire way as I equally force him forward. Seth walks nervously beside me until we get to Sam's classroom. I help Sam find the hook with his name above it and we hang up his backpack. Then we head over to the blue table, where his name tag reserves his seat and he sees a lump of play-doh sitting on top of the table.

"Huh? Play-doh?" he says with his happy, silly voice.

"See ya, Mom!"

Really? All that was required to calm the nerves was a ball of play-doh? I guess that's why they pay those kindergarten teachers the big bucks....they know stuff. :)

I leave a content, healthy, and confident Sam in his classroom and head to the third grade hall with Seth and Henry.

Seth's class has already started, so he's a bit embarrassed to walk in late, but his teacher warmly welcomes him and, as I'm the only parent there, I quickly wave good-bye and hope for the best.

At 2:55, I re-enter the school and find two, very content little boys ready to tell me all about their days. They both love their teachers, love the school, and, apparently, I've recovered enough from last week's dramatics to write about it. As for the boys recovering from hearing their mom shout that she hates her job...well...that's going to take some future therapy sessions.


The really happy ending? They finished their antibiotics yesterday. Next time, they are getting a shot in the behind.

Big boys, big backpacks on the first day of school last Wednesday.

They don't appear all that dramatic. Don't be fooled.

Book Review #2 - Ellen Foster

When I was eleven years old, and in sixth grade, I remember getting a bloody nose during school. While I was holding the tissue to my hemorrhaging nostril, a mean-spirited girl, whose mom had already picked a fight with my mom because I didn't invite her daughter to my birthday party that summer, commented loudly to the rest of the class, "I bet she was picking her nose!"

I still remember the humiliation I felt as several people started chanting "nose picker! nose picker!" Humiliation remembered, 22 years later, even though mixed with that memory is a sixth grade full of good friends, a wonderful home to go home to, and eleven, equally drama-free years preceding it.

This memory of mine was triggered last night after reading this short book (only 144 pages) and I was left wondering what Ellen Foster would categorize as "humiliating" from her eleventh year, twenty-two years later.

Eleven year-old Ellen's entire family existence is the very definition of dysfunctional. Alcoholic and mean spirited father. Helpless, sad and sick mother. Cruel, angry and spiteful grandmother. Ellen finds a way to survive in each and every situation she unwillingly finds herself in, without any friends to lean on for support except a young black girl named Starletta.

Confused by the racial segregation and stereotypes that, while no longer enforced by law, are still enforced by popular belief in the South, Ellen observes a loving family in action while spending time with Starletta's family, her hippie art teacher and husband and later with the woman she calls her "new mama" - a foster parent.

Even though it created some frustration for me when normal details, like the names of the story's supporting characters, were left out, the author, Kaye Gibbons, never veers from her narrator's eleven year-old perspective. We readers are never privy to the background story of her parent's eroded marriage, the subsequent abuse and health problems, or what Ellen's world looked outside of Ellen's own view. It is Ellen's story, and she tells what matters to her - holes and all.

We stand by and watch Ellen going to more than her fair share of funerals, being made of fun of for her dirty clothes, uncombed hair, and crazy father who shows up for school drunk, holding money and shouting, "I'll pay you for it!", being forced by the court to go live with her grandmother who makes her go work the fields picking rows of cotton alongside her other "niggers" and then, finally cheer for her as she learns what it means to be loved and safe.

Honest, tragic, triumphant and heartbreaking - if only Ellen knew that she was supposed to be heartbroken, this is a fantastic glimpse into a young girl's horrifying world and how she fights to find a better one.

Kicking It Old School

First of all, how annoying is my blog now with all of those family reunion pictures. Takes forever to open. Sorry 'bout that.


I know I appear to not be able to make a decision and stick to it, but I am not loving my separate book review blog. I have four books that need reviewing, and that separate blog isn't motivating me to write them down.

I think I'll keep it, though, and just duplicate my reviews from here and paste them over there. It's so much more organized and easier to find past reviews that the method I use over here. Think of it as my own little card catalog system.

I've been in another reading slump. I haven't felt like I've had great books to read, thus, very little reading done by me. The library here does things differently than other libraries I'm used to. I prefer to do my browsing online, place holds, and run in to collect books with my name taped to them. That way, I avoid the sideways searching neck cramp AND my brain isn't bombarded with the thousands of other books in front of me, causing me to forget what it was I was looking for in the first place.

Rather, this library will pull and hold a book for you ONLY if it isn't already shelved. That means, only books that are already checked out or inter-library loans. Frustrating. I went yesterday and spent 45 minutes looking for something I wanted to read, only to end up finding books I've already read and a bunch of stuff I've never heard of (and classics. They seem to always be available). I ended up choosing four books I'm not even sure I want to read. No wonder I haven't been reading as much, lately.

But, a reader I am, so a reader I'll be. I just need to get back to what works. Setting a goal and writing about what I read.

Setting a goal of reading seventy-five books in a year was a good goal for me. It's a number that kept the juices flowing. Seventy-five books is my goal from August 26th, 2008 to August 26th,2009.

Here's #1:

Breaking Dawn by Stephanie Meyer


I've decided that as rich and famous as Stephanie Meyer is, I would never want to be her. I don't believe I've ever read about any other author who has sold as many books as she has, but has also been as harshly criticized as she has been. As likely as it is to find someone who stays up all night to finish her books, it's just as easy to find someone who hates her writing, hates her characters and pretty darn near hates anybody who reads her books.

As in most areas of my life, I am a Stephanie Meyer moderate. The right makes me shiver with their extreme obsession and devotion and the left gives me a head ache from all the eye rolls I'm forced to do after reading overly critical reviews.

Breaking Dawn brought the Twilight series full circle for me. I'm not even going to bother with a recap because if you don't know what it's about by now, then you can't possibly care about what I'm going to write. I excuse you.

With all my up-to-date hindsight, I can say that I really enjoyed Twilight, was disappointed with New Moon, was slightly confused and cared less about Eclipse and thought Breaking Dawn did a satisfactory job of tying up some of the more important loose ends.

Finally, finally....Bella gets to have sex with Edward. Phew! I'm so glad Meyer got it over with at the beginning of the book instead of drawing it out for another 500 pages. She writes it modestly, honestly and kept it what all married sex should be....private. I could say more, but suffice it to say, I appreciate Meyer keeping it real. The passion was there, the awkwardness and anxiety ever present, but most importantly, the love and fun were there too.

Like a lot of readers, I found the "Jacob" chapters boring. I have never felt the connection between Bella and Jacob and only believed it because the author kept telling me, again and again and again, that they had one. So they had one and it felt even more unbelievable and creepy after Bella was married. Considering the ending and the birth of Edward and Bella's baby, Reneseme (worst baby name ever, I believe) I understand the need; we need to believe Jacob's devotion to Bella and live through his own confusion over it, in order not be completely disturbed by Jacob's subsequent devotion to Reneseme. Still, it didn't make for great reading.

I really liked the end. I liked the happy ending. I liked the other vampire characters and the description of their cool gifts. I liked that the good guys won. That is young adult literature. Good triumphs over evil! Stand up to the bully! Work together and accomplish the impossible! Mostly, I liked Bella being a vampire. Finally, she was comfortable in her own skin and it actually made her likable. Perhaps, Meyer meant to have Bella annoy us readers through three long books so that we could see the improvement when Bella makes the transition from mortal to immortal, although I doubt it. Meyer is a genius at writing conflict - not characterization.

My greatest complaint was that Edward never got back to being Edward. I'm going to have to accept the character she gave me in books 2, 3 and 4 and forget about the interesting and better developed Edward from Twilight, who has never reappeared in any of the sequels. Oh well.

Oh, and the word, "Ugh". Nothing screams false like an angry teenage werewolf feeling frustrated and shouting, "ugh!". I'm not promoting obscene language or anything, but...really? Ugh?

I'm glad she releases her books in the summertime, because Breaking Dawn is an enjoyable summer read.

Like A Ton Of Bricks

I really didn't want to offer baby-sitting as my service for our relief society's service auction held last night.

Obviously, I can do it, but it didn't feel very imaginative, or fun, and...well...I don't actually like baby-sitting.

I didn't want to offer to cook for someone either.

Cleaning their bathroom. Nope.

Running errands. No way.

These were the acts of service that ran through my head when the sign-up sheet came around during church for the Enrichment activity held last night, and none of them felt like gold. Especially when I read some of the other offerings from women in my ward.

A haircut.

FHE kits for a month.

A lesson on making jewelry.

These were only some of the really creative and interesting things to be auctioned off on Wednesday night, so putting down babysitting didn't seem...enough.

So, I stretched. Really stretched. Like pulled-the-taffy-into-a-piece-so-long-that-it-could-only-droop-in-the-middle stretched.

My offering: Helping someone learn any piece of music.

It felt dorky, but I worked it out in my mind to be a good thing. After all, when thinking back on the things I've felt the most helpful with at church, musical things came to mind: the music for the road show, teaching parts for the Stake musical, accompanying various musical numbers, preparing the program for a missionary fireside, playing the organ at a funeral etc., etc., etc.

I reasoned that many people like to sing, or have nice voices, but don't have the confidence or musical training to tackle an unknown piece of music on their own. I can help with that. I can be of service.

However, as soon as the auction started, I felt anxious. I didn't feel a Rudy-esque happy ending coming on. No one really knows me here. I'm just a new girl that has been gone half the time I've been a member of the ward. I felt in my bones that my service wouldn't be a popular item.

Through out the evening, everyone in attendance (except perhaps me) was having a good time. A light dinner of chicken salad with croissants had been prepared and by the time the auction started, sisters were raising paddles and calling out, "200!" "250!" for a massage....a basket of laundry ironed...a dinner date.

Then the auctioneer unpinned my piece of paper from the bulletin board.

"Lucy is offering help to anyone interested in learning a musical number!"

Silence.

"What is it?" someone called from the back.

"Um, Lucy, can you clarify what you're willing to do?" the auctioneer requested.

"Oh...you know. I'll teach somebody the music to anything they're interested in learning. A musical number for church, christmas music, Musical theater. Whatever." I replied with a red face.

"O.K. Let's start the bidding. Learn a musical number for 75 points! 75! Do I have a 75! 75 ladies! C'mon! I need a 75!"

The paddles stayed on the table.

I almost called out, "It's o.k. You can just move on to the next one." but after the umpteenth desperate sounding. "75!" a kind looking woman raised her paddle and the auctioneer quickly called out, "Sold for 75 points!"

And that was that.

I should have offered up baby-sitting. Those offerings were flying off the wall like hotcakes.

Sigh.

My Marathon

No...I'm not joining the ranks of the super-fit 30 something club that runs insane distances just to prove she can. I'm not that crazy (or fit)....

Instead, I'm only crazy enough to haul my kids through six vast, western states and two large Canadian provinces in pursuit of family, friends and fun.

To ensure that I had the fortitude to make it to the end, my strategy focused on activity pacing: bursts of energy followed by temperate days of whatever. For the most part, this strategery (I'll always thank W for that great word) was a huge success. I'd give it a 96 % success rating; points taken away for being away from Jay for so long, car stresses, Henry theatrics and no alone time to recharge. I'm a girl that craves isolation every so often, and there were times I felt the emotional wear that came from being "on" too many days in a row. I'm glad I didn't cave into the alluring temptation to separate off and hide, however, because there really were too many people to see...places to go...and things to do.

The whole trip really did compare to a marathon, though. Blogging about it is even more similar.

Ergo...the marathon blog post...mile by mile.

Mile 1: Is my car ready for a man-free 4,000 mile performance?

Answer: No. My brakes needed replacing (again) the day I wanted to leave. Jay took the car in for an oil change and brake check "just to be sure" and was told they needed replacing. Of course they did. Hundreds of dollars later and hours after I wanted to go, I finally blasted off around 3:00 pm on Tuesday, the 22nd of July. Hold on to your bladders, kiddos, 'cause mama needs to make good time.

We got to my sister's house about 10:00 pm and I put the kids straight to bed.

Mile 2: Getting To the Glory of the West (i.e. Montana).

Welcome!

I love the drive between Utah and Montana. It's not particularly exciting with long stretches of straight roads and all of that Idaho in between (sorry Idahoans...but Southern Idaho is not your selling point), but it's a drive I've done so many times that almost every town, rest stop, mountain pass, and curve of the road triggers a memory for me. Like the time Jay and I discussed me serving a mission vs. us getting married on our first road trip. Or stopping alongside the interstate to do snow angels in eight feet of snow. Like I said...good times.

But the best part of this particular drive home was the fact that once I got there, I got to leave all three of my younglings with their grandpa and grandma while I jetted away for a weekend in Seattle. I've already posted about my dear friend's wedding, which was fabulous, but I also met my sister, Jennifer, there for a little sister's retreat. Two nights in a hotel, shopping and good food made a great weekend even better.

Before I left, we took the boys downtown to a kiddie parade. Totally my kind of parade. It lasted about ten minutes and they threw out tons of candy.

Grandpa with his grandboys

First, we hit Chipotle.

The next day we went to some factory outlet stores in Tulalip. I don't shop often, but when I do, I kind of go crazy. I felt like I had more than this picture shows.

Late in the afternoon, we ate at the cheesecake factory. Tragedy of tragedy, I ordered a Tuxedo cheesecake to go, but was too full to eat it before the wedding, it was too late after the wedding, and I forgot it in the hotel refrigerator the next day. I was sad about it for a while.

Jen got to enjoy hers:( No, I'm happy for her...really.

Mile 3: Hanging Out A Home With The Cousins

Jen brought me back to Montana in her van and we spent the week together with our kids sans husbands. The noise level was off the charts, but the energy and fun levels were too. All the kids were treated to whatever they wanted for breakfast each morning from grandpa, lots and lots of parks and walks to tire them out and a nice, cool basement to crash in after the activity-filled days. My car had a little stressful incident when the tire-pressure gauge came on for no apparent reason. The mechanic put more air in the tires and I simply hoped for the best.

Feeding this many children, especially boys, takes some quick thinking and fast hands. Somehow, they managed to get fed everyday.

Downstairs playing with the magnets.

Henry tripped on the outside concrete on the patio and looked like Charlie Chaplin (or Hitler if you lean towards the darker side of things) for a good week.

We spent a very pleasant evening listening to a band perform in the band shell while the kids played on a nearby playground. Love summer nights in Montana.

Sam and Owen get a brownie at the outdoor band concert.

Charlie, er....Henry, gets a swing ride to keep him away from the concert goers.

Grandpa is always playful and gets Sammy a dose of cold water while playing.

the boys take a break to warm up.

One night, my mom and sisters went and saw the play The Secret Garden at a local theater. I saw my old 4th grade teacher there. Hello, Mr. Murphy!

Spring Meadow, a small lake-ish park in town, was a perfect mid afternoon activity for the boys.

Maureen helped me keep an eye on them.

Mile 4: Hiking

Jen and I hiked our favorite mountain twice: once with our older boys and oncewith just the two of us. Sadly, my ideal pace is much closer to what the kids were able to do than what Jen was capable of. There are some really steep sections to conquer and after feeling pathetically lame after needing to stop so much, I only felt that much more out of shape when I called Jay later that week to hear that he had ran up a 13,000 ft. mountain as part of his training. Oh, how I wish I matched him more.

I love how tired the boys look.

Stopping at Devil's Kitchen, a cave hikers pass on the way up.

At the summit.

A picture with my sister on the way back down.

They made it up, I guess they can make it down.

Mile 5: Local Sprinkler Park

I went to the local sprinkler park twice during my stay. Through a non-profit government program, a free lunch is provided to anyone under the age of eighteen between the hours of 12:00 and 1:00. Well..."free" meaning it's paid for by the taxpayer, because, after all, there is no such thing as a free lunch. Politics aside, our children had a great time running between the sprinkler park and the playground.

Seth is loving his new waterproof cast.

Cousin fun

Henry tries to find a dry spot.

Warming up

Henry loved these toy cars and was very possessive of them. I'm glad this boy let him sit with him.

Owen takes a turn with Henry

Mile 6: Staggering Ox

Seth had his first clubfoot sandwich at my favorite sandwich shop. Previously, he had stuck with the guts dipped in ranch dressing. I think the Ox may have a new convert. I had the Nuke Deluxe potato that day, but we went two other times with two different sandwiches, so I had all my bases covered.

My nuke potatoe (ham, turkey, two kinds of cheeses, onions, peppers and mushrooms broiled on top of a potato) and Seth taking a bite of his ham and cheese.

Mile 7: Visit with Kari

My great friend, Kari, moved back to our hometown a couple of years ago, but this was the first time I really had a chance to spend time with her there. I met her for her birthday lunch at Chili's. Kari is one of those friends who when you see her, it feels like no time at all has passed. You just pick up from where you left off the last time you met...years previously.

Me and Kari. We've always loved each other, even when we couldn't stand each other.

Mile 8: The Tour Train

I love the tour train. Yes, it's touristy, and yes, I've done it plenty of times before, but I never get tired of going out in that fun contraption seeing the best of my hometown. Mom/Grandma offered up this activity to anyone who wanted to do it and everyone but grandpa signed up. Sammy has been struggling through some post-move/trip separation anxiety, so I had to turn around about 30 times to wave "hello" to him and reassure him that all was well, but he survived...even being several rows away.

The ox sculpture art in front of where we waited for the tour train.

Big enough to play inside.

All aboard. Sammy wanted to sit with his cousins, even though that meant a little separation from mom. Hence, the waving.

Maureen helped me with Henry. I totally needed it. Open moving car? Yeah...

We even had gummy bears from grandma to keep him busy. He threw them over the edge sometime during the middle of the ride.

Mile 9: From Montana, I headed further north to stay with my sister, Emily, in Canada. In case you didn't know, the border has gotten much stricter (and much more anxiety producing) to cross. I did remember to bring the kids' birth certificates and my own passport, but I didn't have a letter from Jay granting me permission to travel out of the country with our children. I knew I did actually have permission, only no letter to prove it, so I had my mom forge me a note. Her handwriting looks exactly like her handwriting, so I was really, really hoping they wouldn't ask for the note. They did.

Know this: I would never, ever, ever pass a polygraph test. My heart was pounding answering the simple questions like, "Why are you visiting Canada? Where is your intended destination? Are you bringing any produce, guns, drugs across the border with you?" All easily answered, but I was sweating as a result of that forged note! I couldn't even look at the border patrol person's face while waiting. for her to look at it. Instead, I pretended to busy myself with something on the passenger seat until I heard her say, "thank you. Have a good day." As stressful as that was, I have to say the Canadians were much nicer to me than the Americans on the other side of the border.

Look at this fabulous rainbow I snapped a picture of just before crossing the border.

Attempting a four person self-portrait at the Alberta sign. Semi success.

Proof of the sign

Mile 10: Hanging Out With More Cousins

The best part about being at Emily's house, other than finally visiting after a seven year span, was watching our kids play together. She has a great house for play...a big basement, a nice shady backyard with a trampoline, and a safe neighborhood with a park nearby. And it also didn't hurt that her husband, Jim, is so willing to watch the kids when he can. We went to Calgary for a day, we went to a movie one night (the X-files. It was bad. Don't go. But if you do...bring a coat. Brrrr.)

Waiting to cross the street on the way to the park.

Not a very good picture, but one of the only ones I have of everyone playing at the park.

Emily and Erin. They both like to keep you on your toes.

Some trampoline fun.

Feeding the masses, yet again.

Mile 11: Lake Day

Emily and I met two of her good friends, Amanda and Karla, at a small provincial lake for the day. It was exactly what me and my kids needed right then. A beach with sand toys that kept Henry safe and occupied for hours, water that was shallow enough to frolic in, and ice cream when the going got tough. Add the pleasant 80 something degrees temperature (they know it in Celsius, but that's just crazy talk), no wind and plenty of shade for the moms and we managed to stay until almost 5:00. It was that kind of fun.

Yummy ice cream. I didn't get any. I stood in line to get some, but got stuck behind a European gentleman, ordering for a whole lot of people, who was wearing a speedo. My senses were totally overwhelmed, so I left.

Playing

More playing

Mile 12: Leaving Canada.

It was a long drive between Emily's house and Spokane. I wanted to arrive at Chad and KariAnn's house at a decent hour so that our kids could play and reconnect satisfyingly before bedtime. I left relatively early (as early as packing up all my belongings allows) and Emily packed us sandwiches so that we could stop and eat at a rest stop instead of a restaurant. The trouble is, Canada doesn't find it necessary to advertise their rest areas as much as I'm used to in the States. As soon as I saw the sign, it was too late to turn so I'd drive on by until the next one. Of course, I missed the next one too, and the one after that and before I knew it, my kids were hungry and we were in a town. A & W it was.

I ordered the boys all kids meals and myself a teen burger and four waters. Want to know the cost of our deluxe dining? $27.00. Canadian dollars. I only had American money, which, I was told, was not worth as much as Canadian, so it cost me even more than that. Darn rest stops signs!

I made it out of Canada, but not before some major grilling from the border patrol. Yes, they needed to see the letter from my husband (this time written by my brother-in-law, who has much more masculine looking handwriting), they needed me to take off my sunglasses, open the sliding door so that he could ask my kids some questions, ask me why my plates say I'm from Utah if I'm not, ask me why my husband is not with me, what he does, where he works and for how long, chastise Seth for not having his seat belt on (which I'm sure he did have on before our twenty minute stop at the border. Seth was horrified) and then tell us, "O.K. Move along." I get the tension. We are on high alert. But if a mother and three young children in a mini-van, registered in the US, with proof of US citizenship are now treated as a threat, heaven help the poor foreigner coming to visit our great country. Yikes.

I thought this line cut into the trees was kind of bizarre. That's the difference between Canada and the USA.

Mile 13: Girls Night

My favorite group of girls came to KariAnn's to say hello. I'm so glad they did. It was very fun to catch up face to face and enjoy this beautiful bunch once more.

lovely ladies

Mile 14: Lake Day Take Two

Our friends, Chad and KariAnn and Jason and Andrea, spend their summers on the lake. It's just what they do. Although boat less ourselves, after five years of being friends with these two couples, Jay and I spent our fair share on their boats during the summer months as well. Therefore, it felt totally appropriate to spend my one full day in Spokane doing my favorite summer thing with some of our favorite people in the world.

The big kids helping take care of the little kids. Seth and Abbie did this for quite a while.

This is adorable to me.

Sam and Alec were much more in their own world. These two boys are the best of friends.

Daring young things on the water logs.

Sandy at snack time.

KariAnn got in the water to help Sammy in his first attempt at waterskiing. He didn't get up, but he tried and never cried. Such a brave boy.

He did wakeskate with Chad. The first time they got up, he panicked and cried. He tried again and after knowing what to expect, liked it a whole lot more.

They crashed. Can you see all four feet?

Then it was time for tubing. Sam, Jack and Alec have a go (check out jack's hair from the speedy ride.)

Then it was the threesome's turn to go. Seth and his girlfriends, Abbie and Emma.

A self-portrait with KariAnn while the three tube.

Andrea a.k.a master tube driver.

We even had Henry take a turn. We went slow. Really slow.

Too slow, in fact. They got daring after awhile. Including Henry.

Mile 16: My Ward Family

After we moved, they realigned the ward boundaries in our former stake and the ward we belonged to was split. Realizing that many families I loved were not there on Sunday, it still felt like coming home. As soon as the boys and I walked into the chapel, there were familiar faces smiling and hands waving and all three men in the bishopric welcoming us back with their eyes.

Henry was an absolute pill the entire meeting, so I was mostly out in the hall and foyer, but when the meeting ended and I went in for the good-bye hugs, my heart longed to stay. Forever. I love those people.

Mile 17: Sunday Dinner With The Neighbors

Before I left on this epic journey, I emailed Neighbor Jane to request a visit with not only her, but two other local neighbors, Melanie and Susan. Not only did she warmly respond, but she topped any expectation I had of meeting bloggers for the first time.

The directions she gave me were very easy, with names like "Road 3" and "Road 0.5", but Jane will admit it did miss one critical direction from the interstate exit and I unfortunately got lost. Thankfully, I had her phone number and arrived only a quarter-hour late. As soon as I pulled into her driveway, I smiled at what greeted me.



Jane must have sensed this was necessary, for as soon as I took the kids out of the van, a man that had an uncanny resemblance to one I've seen on a blog came out and asked me what I needed.

I sort of chuckled, but with a totally straight face, he told me I was at the Johnson place and I needed to go further down the road to get to where I needed. If those welcoming words weren't written on the garage, I have no doubt I would have gotten back into the car in search for the right place. Thankfully, he cracked a smile at the end and, a little bashfully, I made my way into the house.

There was absolutely no need to be bashful, however, because I was immediately greeted by the most friendly faces in the world. Talk about kindred spirits! As soon as I saw Susan and her family, who I have actually met before, it felt just like seeing old friends again. And sweet Jane. A neighbor indeed.

I didn't know quite what to expect, but I did not expect a full dinner including shredded BBQ beef, all sorts of salads, fresh corn on the cob and fruit. And I certainly didn't expect everyone to bring their families.

It was beyond great to see Melanie's Milo, Jane's Calvin and see Susan's Terry. Add their children to the mix, who played with my own children (actually, Susan's Zoey watched Henry all night) and I enjoyed a very relaxing, comfortable and fun evening.

Calvin started a fire and we spent the better part of the evening outside attempting to perfect the roasted marshmallow (impossible) and feeling like models as our own posses snapped our picture (we all concurred that we preferred it to the self-portrait).

I left with a smile on my face and three additional real-life friends. They are as down to earth and kind as anyone you'd ever meet. Thank you. All of you.

Jane, Melanie, me and Susan

The kids and Melanie's husband, Milo, taking a look at the chickens.

Starting our s'more roast.

Sammy got some in his hair.

Endless things for Henry to explore at Jane's place.

jumping his way into the sunset right before we left.

Mile 18: My 33rd Birthday

I like birthdays. I love my birthday. I really try not to be a diva about it, because it's no fun forcing other's to be jolly on your behalf, but I do enjoy having a day that celebrates me. I'm really glad I exist, and I hope there are a few others that are glad too. Spending my birthday on the road wasn't ideal, but my sisters, Jen and Sarah, and my parents did their best to make me feel special. It was a nice day, with a girl's lunch at Chico's Tacos followed by pedicures where I enjoyed a chair massage that had me shimmying like a stripper. Seriously, those chairs can make you bounce! I left it on so that Jen could have a good laugh at my expense and now enjoy my bright red toes and slightly less cracked heels.

my toes are the bright red, tree-climbing toes. Jay calls them finger toes.

My ice-cream cake from Dairy Queen.

A cute picture of my sister, Sarah, across the table..

A kiss from Sammy. Jen got me all sorts of fancy hair products and shampoos. As you can tell from my frizz, I was needing some.

My mom put on a candle she brought back from China. I'm guessing their products don't have to pass the same kind of safety inspections that ours do. We were all worried about burning the place down.

Mile 19: My first temper tantrum

I admit to being a little emotional on my birthday. For no obvious reason, other than maybe fatigue and missing my husband, I felt like crying a lot of the day. I would be ungrateful if I didn't acknowledge the efforts of Jen and Christopher, my parents and Sarah to wish me a happy birthday. They were awesome. But, I still felt disappointed with the day and that carried over to the next day as well.

I hate it when I become publicly grumpy, and usually try to channel my inner hermit to avoid such displays of moodiness, but there was no where to go in Jen's temporary apartment and everyone within my immediate parameter was treated to a full display of hmmphs, eye rolls, mutterings and the shaping of my hair into a pony tail (a sure sign of annoyance on my part).

It didn't help that my car started to make funny noises. During my visit with Jane, Melanie and Susan, Zoey came over at one point to inform me that Henry was putting rocks in my tires. I didn't think anything of it, but as I was driving away from Jane's, I didn't notice a funny sound, that after inspection, seemed to be nothing. My drive to Jen's place was completely alarm-free and to have the van making a sound right then, the day we were leaving for a family reunion in a relatively isolated place, had me stressed out.

I drove over three hours with my wheel going "clink, clink, clink" and greeted my awesome family with more ponytail making. Thankfully, I managed to cool down in my cute, woodsy room and remember that I was only there for a short time, and there was no time for my bad attitude.

Mile 20: Arriving at the Family Reunion

My sister-in-law, Tara, could be a professional party planner. Our reunion was so well organized, with every last detail attended to, that it really was easy to go with the flow and have a good time. When everybody had arrived, the kids all went on a treasure hunt with the clues read to them by their grandpa. The sprinted from clue to clue until they all found their "treasures" which was a basket for each family containing cups with our names stamped on them, straws to use for the reunion, t-shirts for those that ordered them, a printed itinerary and job list, and bubbles for fun. So cute. Guess what? I am in charge of the next reunion and I just might have to buy a few stamps now! I don't think the black sharpie has the same effect.

Grandpa reads a clue to the treasure seekers.

The treasure. Cute!

That evening, we played a fun game of BINGO, with cute prizes awarded to the winners, had a delicious BBQ dinner, with dutch oven peach cobbler for dessert. Yummy.

All fourteen grandkids in mostly order of age. Ian and Owen are out of place on the front row.

B-4 (and after!)

Henry plays his own kind of bingo called eat all the m&m markers.

Mile 21: Losing Our "Weigh" To Mt. Rainier

Back in late April, I organized a family weight loss competition via a private blog that was based on earning points for good lifestyle habits (eating right, exercising, getting enough sleep, daily attention to our spiritual fitness, and keeping motivated by blogging about it) and that evening, the winners of the competition were awarded their prizes: $500 each. As embarrassing as it is to admit, even though I organized the whole thing, I probably performed the worst. There aren't any good excuses, but I can still come up with a bunch (packing, moving, traveling...hard!) But, I did manage to lose some weight. Not as much as our winners, Tara, who looked fantastic, and Jim, who was down to his wedding weight. He had lost almost 13% percent of his body weight since starting the competition. Incredible. My brother, Jon, was runner up in both categories, and looked great too. It was a fun night and we all learned a lot from the challenge. It's all about consistency. Blast.

$500 smackers to Tara! (I kind of felt like Bob Barker handing them out)

A former cheerleader, Tara knows how to celebrate a victory.

Jim happily gets his own prize money.

Mile 22: Mt. Rainier National Park

We spent the majority of the second day at Mt. Rainier National Park. It included a short hike to view some falls, a picnic lunch, and another hike around Paradise with everyone but my mom, who had done enough hill climbing back up from the falls, and little Natalie, who was sick with a fever. The park is such a beautiful place to be and the day would have been perfect had Henry not lost one of the lenses from his glasses on our hike. I really hate children's glasses.

Minus Jay, my beautiful family in front of a beautiful mountain.

The entire gang except for Jay and a sick Natalie who was asleep in the car.

Devilishly cute.

Snow in August? I'd hate to visit in June.

Tara and pausing before walking on the snow.

Here's the proof that Henry's lens came out on the hike. His left on is in...his right one is gone.

Brother Jon, Sister Sarah.

Self portrait with Maureen.

My siblings and I. Jon, Emily, Maureen, me, Jen and Sarah

Mile 23: 40th Anniversary Celebration

That evening, we had a pre-celebration of my parent's 40th wedding anniversary, that will actually occur in September. All of the grandkids had filled out a questionaire about their grandma and grandpa and Jon had put together a 30 minute DVD with pictures from the last 40 years set to music. It was perfect and everyone, even Henry, enjoyed watching it. We had some cake, put the kids to bed, and then I had my parents answer some question for an Oldy-Wed game. It was fun to celebrate my parents as a couple and what child doesn't love to be reassured that his/her parent's love each other. Mine really do. It's incredible to witness, even 40 years later.

Ian getting help from his mom reading his answers for Grandma and Grandpa.

My parents on their wedding day

Almost 40 years later. We recreated the cake (kind of) my dad's parents were surprised with on their 40th wedding anniversary.

Jon helping us sing a song Tara wrote to the tune of the Brady Bunch about my parents.

Mile 24: NW Trek

I am not a lover of zoos. This is so much better than one! Set in an absolutely beautiful and remote location, we enjoyed spending the day walking around the park looking at big cats like cougars and bobcats, bears, eagles and owls and wolves. The best part was riding a tram into a preserved habitat where bison, mountain goats, moose, elk, and caribou all roam freely. Really freely. Like very close to our tram freely.

The lodge we stayed at was perfect for all 25 of us. Everyone had a bed.

My brother...my personal comedian.

Getting help from a cousin and Uncle Christopher with Henry as we walk into the park.

Jennifer with Sadie, Jonas and Ansel on Jonas's birthday.

Henry gets more and more daring all the time.

I love this picture. It's just how they always are. Happy and completely unaware of the rest of us grown-ups around. As it should be.

Poor Natalie is still sick. She was a trooper through.

My parents sharing a funny moment.

How close the wolves were to us. All the boys were howling at one point.

Grandpa with his oldest granddaughter, Alyssa.

How close a caribou came to the tram.

I always knew a bison was big, but they're really big this close up.

Pretty incredible to see.

Sarah and Sam.

Mile 25: Jim fixes my wheel problem and the Talent Show/Dance Party

It's nice to have a handy brother-in-law when you are thousands of miles away from home and your car is making a funny noise. After getting home from NW Trek, Jim took the wheel off my car and found the problem. One of the clips holding the brake pad to the brake wasn't on straight, or something like that. Anyway, he completely fixed it saving me hundreds of dollars, hours waiting for a mechanic and the absolute priceless give of peace of mind.

Jim puts the wheel back on after some tinkering.

While I was worried about my tire, the rest of the kids played in the sprinkler. It was a hot day for rural Washington.

Henry, balancing again.

Sadie snatching some of her mom's soda.

Later that evening was the true essence of our family fashion...the singing and dancing. My nephew and niece started off the evening with an entertaining recreation song and dance from one of the High School Musicals (I'm kind of proud of myself that I truly don't know)
which was followed by Ansel and Jonas reading a funny poem.


My kids and I followed their act with our own song of "Peanut Butter and Jelly"


(yes, I made the costumes. Aren't I crafty?) and then Alyssa did her gymnastics routine (she's going to the Olympics....I can feel it).

Jon followed with his own talent of performing of Alyssa's gymnastics routine (we were crying with laughter by this point) My dad led us in the Hokey Pokey,

AND the Macarena and then we all just dancing our hearts out underneath the stars. The s'mores were melting, the relationships strengthening and the reunion ended as a huge success.

The Macarena is a really long song, as we all soon discovered.

Brendan (green t-shirt) was quite the break dancer.

Who doesn't love the Thriller dance?

Some robot dancing, in honor of Jay.

The stuff memories are made from.

Olympics watching after the kids are in bed.

Mile 26: The Long Drive Home

The hardest mile, by far. I just wanted to be home, at this point, and I tried make it happen as quickly as possible. We drove ten hours the first day, stopping to stay with my Aunt LaRae and Uncle Jim in Idaho. We went the rest of the way the following day, with only a brief stop in Utah for a Cafe Rio lunch and visit with Amy M./ park play break for the kids. It was really fun to see her again after a couple of months and get caught up on all the goings on, as neither of us have been blogging much this summer.

a bit stop in no-man's land, Idaho.

My kids with my dad's sister and husband.

An SP with Amy.

Mile 26.1: The sickies

Most marathoners want acknowledgment that the race is not 26 miles. It is 26.2 miles, and those last .2 miles can be wickedly hard. The same can be said of my own marathon here. Although we are home, the enduring is not over. All three of my kids are presently sick with strep throat and some vomiting. It's not a good time.

Mile 26.2: Cast Off and First Day of School

all Seth could do was lie there and whimper...he really doesn't feel well.

Seth went and had his cast removed, which will no doubt make writing and life in general easier now that both Seth and Sam have left for their first day of school. It was a chaotic morning, with neither boy falling asleep until the wee hours of the morning (and when I say wee, I mean wee. Seth couldn't fall asleep until around 2:00 am and Sammy had me singing and back rubbing until almost 3:30. I don't know if it was nerves, a reaction to his antibiotics, but both of them were super restless. At first, I was super kind and compassionate until this morning, when my tiredness got the best of me and I sort of lost it with three crying, tired kids and Henry throwing up his chocolate milk on the bedroom carpet. It seemed like the hard stuff would never, ever end but....

it did.

They've been gone at school all day, I've had that alone time I've been craving (Henry is on his 4th hour of napping....hallelujah!) and the world seems right again.

I did it! I finished! I'm home!

And I finally finished this blog post. Sorry for the typos but I'm too sick of it to go back and check. Whew.....