Something's Missing

Yesterday, as I finished my walk with Henry in the stroller, which I shortened because I wasn't in the mood to go farther, I crossed paths with Jay who was just starting his run. He looked so runner-esque in his quick-dry special-fabric running shirt and shorts. He had his GPS Garmin watch on his wrist and looked exactly like what you'd think a passionate runner would look like.

Meanwhile, I was walking in my chocolate brown velour pants, which end up being high waters when I walk because they don't stay down on my hips but ride up to the thinnest part of my waist, creating a very mom-jean look, except for the non-jean material. I had on a regular old t-shirt and dirty white sketcher sneakers that are at least 6 years old. In other words, I did not look exactly like what you'd think a passionate walker would look like.

He went his way, completing 6 minute/mile pace 1000 meter splits (he's in training) and I ambled my way back the van feeling the oppressive funk of the passionless.

This all came to a head a couple of days ago when Jay announced that he had found a race he wanted to run in this coming weekend while we are in Arizona. My responses rarely seem to satisfy his expectations, but my silent stare definitely took the zip out of his a-dee-doo-dah.

It took me awhile to explain why I was bothered. Of course, the assumption was that I didn't want him to run in the race; that I was annoyed that he'd spend his time racing instead of being with the family. I even felt that must be the reason for my irritation. But, it didn't make sense. The race is at 7:00 on Saturday morning, which means he will likely get there, run, and return before the rest of us wake up, get ready and eat the continental breakfast that he can't have. Logic and reason told me that participating in the race itself was not my problem.

I diagnosed the correct feeling yesterday after seeing him in his glory.

I'm jealous.

I'm jealous of his passion. I'm jealous that he has this thing that he's really good at and that he finds time to do regardless of convenience. I'm jealous that he can justify spending money on specialized clothing and gear and races....because he belongs in that world.

The obvious remedy is to get a passion of my own. But what? When I told Jay, "I don't have a passion." He contradicted me with, "That's not true. You are passionate about reading. You are passionate about blogging." And then he stopped. Because we both know that if I'm passionate about anything, it would be either of those things that take up most of my free time.

But, here's the thing. I don't think that I am. Passionate about either, I mean. Sure, I like to read. Give me a great book and there's a high probability you'll find me reading it until I'm finished. Not all books are great, however, and if I'm not caught up in it, I find myself reading merely to finish....to get on with my next book. And, to be totally honest, I read as much as I do because I enjoy the reputation of being a voracious reader. I'm not sure those motivations qualify it as a passion, though. I've known a few individuals who actually are very passionate about reading and I'm not them. It's not the same. It's just something that's cheap and easy that I enjoy and find relaxing.

Likewise with blogging. In Jay's opinion, I must be passionate about it because I blog or read blogs every day. He has a point, but I don't feel passionate about it. I think I used to, but it's been awhile since I could hardly wait to post something. Audiences change and when I blog now, it feels much less intense than back in my heyday when the day wasn't complete until I hit the publish button. Now, it's more a means to communicate with friends and family and keeping a record of my thoughts and goings on than the experiment in writing that it used to be. Likewise, long gone are the days when I casually blog hopped - reading blogs of strangers or friends of friends and making new blog friends along the way. Contrary to the long list on my sidebar, I don't read all that many blogs anymore. Ocassionally, I will and inevitably will be consumed with blenvy (blenvy means blog envy. From CJane's blog. Talk about blog envy! That woman is a blogging genius). So, I stick with who I know. Lately, it's felt quite stagnant.

I've even thought that perhaps my interpretation of "passion" is too lofty and unattainable. Like maybe what I see as others' passions is really just discipline, hard work and interest. But doesn't the word "passion" mean doing something because the desire to do so is powerful and compelling? That's what I'm missing. Nothing compels me so much that it must be done. It's very disheartening.

I just want a thing. I want it to be mine and so connected to me that when people think of me, they think of my thing too. I want to travel and have the trip be that much more perfect because I got to do my thing too. Yoga, photography, shopping, bird watching, cake decorating, running....whatever. Just something.

I don't know how to find my thing. I take pictures and have never felt compelled to really learn how to do it well. I have decorated cakes and have never felt compelled to have my icing look just so. I have jogged and have never felt compelled to go faster. I live a life without passion. It's not a bad life. In fact, it's a rather good one, considering. But, I want more.

I want the passion.

Do you have a passion? How did you get it?
Has it been your passion for a long time? How do I find one?

Easter Sunday

The boys and I have had a lovely Easter Sunday. Jay has been working like a dog. I was so excited to get "matching" pictures today as the boys all coordinated with some kind of orange, I bought Jay a snazzy looking white and orange striped tie and I had an orange undershirt with a white blouse and cute orange dangly earrings. But, Jay wasn't around when the boys were clean and groomed and thus another family photo opportunity has passed.

The boys didn't get out of their required poses, however.

Seth. Impossible for him to not squint, no matter where the sun is located.

Henry. Make it quick, Mom. I've got things to do.

Sam's my most willing.

Then came the group shots. First and probably best try.

There were many shots between these two, but imagine Henry marching to his own beat in each and every one of them.

Love Seth and Sam in this picture.

I felt it only fair to show Seth's next move as well.

We went out to Vaughn and Patty's for Easter Dinner. Patty made rolls, asparagus and a ham and I brought the cheesy potatoes and a spinach/strawberry salad. After dinner, Derek hid eggs for the boys to find.

Grandpa helping them in their search.

I love Easter. I love the joy and the celebration of new life and the lack of commercialism (because it's much easier for me to dismiss the silly-to-me story of a life size bunny delivering baskets to our house than the tradition and festivity surrounding Christmas). Sure, the boys had candy in a basket, but it was from us, and they were fine with that.

I feel so blessed to understand the meaning of this day. To believe, because the Spirit has witnessed to me that it is true, that Jesus Christ was resurrected and overcame physical death after being crucified on a cross on Golgotha. To believe that he still lives, perfectly, with our Heavenly Father. To believe that because of those things, I too can overcome physical death and live once more with my family and my God.

Happy, happy Easter.

Nine

Nine years ago today, I became your mother. Crazy.

I know the oldest child is always the guinea pig and I hate that you have been the victim of more than your fair share of my learning from experience.

It's 11:00 at night and you just went to bed. I know the day was a bit of a disappointment to you, with the snow and all, but also because you're sensitive and feel the crushing weight of failed expectations more than most. It's what drives you to do your best but also what makes us both the most frustrated with each other. I'm sorry the day wasn't more of what you hoped it would be.

I loved that you wanted your birthday meal to be Chile Verde. What nine year old boy chooses that when given any option? I don't know if it's your actual favorite, but, since your dad is the Chile Verde maker, I fully support your choice. Strong work, buddy.

I loved that you got a bunch of books as gifts. You told me we are a "reading family" and I couldn't be happier that you get lost in a book. Now, I know what everyone else feels like when they try to get my attention when I'm reading. Sure...it's annoying as all get out when I'm the one trying to get your attention, but since it means you're just like me, I'll give you a high five (after I finish my heavy sigh).

I loved that we stayed up late and cuddled on the couch and watched the movie City of Ember. You still fit right up next to me and during the entire movie, I wondered if these moments of physical closeness are fleeting. I love holding your hand, and love that you still let me. Don't grow up. Please?

I believe birthdays are celebrations of people, not markers of age so I want you to know that I honor you. I rejoice in your existence. I am blessed because you are.

Happy Birthday, Son.

Lyric, you, Max, Mooshu, Jack and Corey eating pizza while bowling at your party.

With $2 each for arcade games, everyone chose the racing games.

I out did myself, this time. Yours might just be the ugliest cake I've ever decorated. Tasted good, though.

Blowing out your candles.

5 girlfriend?!? Fess up, Seth!

Book #2. Jen's family left you the book 39 clues, which you did not wait until your birthday to open. Dad got you this one. It's one of his favorite.

You are already half-way through this. I bet you'll be done before church tomorrow (yup! he was!)

Vaughn and Patty's family gave you the Captain Underpants series. Hey, if your stake president approves, then....:)

Nine smackers from Grandpa and Grandma H. You also got a really cool pair of binoculars and more money from Grandpa and Grandma J.

Five For Friday - Birthday Party Edition

1. Tomorrow is Seth's birthday. I was totally inspired by my friend, Andrea's, earth shattering practice of keeping the birthday celebration contained within the actual birth-day. That's right...special breakfast, treats to school, friend party, family party, gifts etc...all on one day. I really wanted to follow in her wise footsteps, because I have a bad habit of stretching the celebration, and my stress, throughout both weeks before and after, but because Seth's birthday is on a Saturday, the treats had to be brought to school today....the birthday eve.

I took in 2 dozen donuts, the kind kids like with colorful sprinkles on it (my apologies to both his teacher and the janitor) with Capri Suns to drink. I was always so jealous of those with school-year birthdays who got so much attention the day their mothers brought in cupcakes or little single ice creams with small wooden spoons. Call it summer birthday syndrome. It felt good to hear all of Seth's peers exclaim, "Seth! Is it your birthday! Awesome!" The power of sugar.

2. Anyways...I really wanted to do his party on his birthday, Saturday (remember) too, but we didn't get Sam's soccer game schedule until yesterday. Sam's game is at 10:00 am and Seth's isn't until 3:00. Knowing I didn't want to come up with anything on that short of notice, or delay the festivities until next week (which is something I totally would have done pre-Andrea's words of wisdom), I decided to call three of his friends yesterday and invite them bowling after scouts. Each of the three moms I spoke to loved the short notice and commented how they weren't the plan-ahead-and-send-out-invitations-a-week-ahead type either, giving me mixed emotions. You see, of course, I was glad that no one seemed put out by the short notice, but I am also usually a plan-ahead-and-send-out-invitations-a-week-ahead type....so.....

3. When I went into Seth's class to drop off the donuts, one of the boys who is coming to the bowling party asked right in front of another boy who I did not invite, "What are we going to do at the bowling alley?" After I gave him the mind-blowing answer of "bowling" I drove home and called that other boy's mother to see if he could also come bowling today after school. I hate leaving people out, especially if they are aware that they are being left out. Guess what? She loved the spontaneity of it all and thought it was great I would pull something like that together with such short notice. Am I in the minority here?

4. I don't think odd numbers work well in party settings. You never know if people are going to pair off, and since Seth just might be the odd man out if they did decide to pair off, I called one more boy whose father was also thrilled with the idea of his boy being entertained all afternoon by another parent. They have pizza at the bowling alley and I think I'll just buy them all a treat from the vending machine instead of making cake. Voila! Party planned!

5. Because my of my even-number-making-no-hurt-feelings actions now make it impossible to fit everyone in the minivan, my angel of a sister-in-law is going to watch Henry for me during the party- her gift to me. Seriously, Henry doesn't seem to understand that every lane and ball is not for his own personal use, or that if he's not bowling then it's perfectly fine for him to wander around the rest of the room at will. I think all the parents who think I'm so cool for saving paper by calling the day before/day of might not think I'm so cool if I leave all their 8/9 year olds alone while I chase my little man.

Wish me luck! Three hours 'till it's a go!

Book Review #48 - A Mercy

This is another book review where I already know I'm not going to be able to adequately express my thoughts. Frustrating.

Florens, a young, black slave who loves to wear shoes, is a young girl, probably around 8 years old, when her mother suggests to their Portuguese owner that he use Florens as a partial payment of a debt to a New York farmer. For the rest of Florens's life, she struggles with feelings of abandonment even as she lives in relative comfort with her new owners, Jacob and Rebekka Vaark. Vaark only accepts the young girl as payment because he knows the kind of man the Portuguese is and feels that taking her away is an act of mercy. Childless himself, after he and his wife's three children have died in the harsh 17th Century early American conditions, he even feels having a child around their home will be a good thing for his grieving wife.

The reality of colonial America takes shape through the voices of Jacob, an ambitious Dutch settler seeking out a better life that becomes actualized when he is able to build a large home complete with an iron fence, his wife, Rebekkah, who escaped her own bleak future as a woman in the filthy, poverty stricken streets of London before being sent to American to marry Jacob at age 16, Lina, a Native American whose entire tribe was wiped out by smallpox and was taken in by some Presbyterians, Sorrow, who was raised at sea and isn't fully sane, Florens, who falls in love with a free black man who works for Jacob as a blacksmith, and eventually Florens's mother, who fully explains her act of mercy at the book's end.

Morrison does not coddle her readers with easy transitions between her narrators throughout the story.Many times, I felt lost and annoyed that such a beautiful book was made what seemed to be more difficult to follow than necessary, and might have given up on it had it not been so blessedly short. Ultimately, however, I enjoyed Morrison's style. A Mercy isn't a happy book, but it's not altogether a sad book either. Rather, I found it to be an honest book. The brutality of slavery is included, but so is the confusion of the era - Europeans, Native Americans, indentured servants, slaves and free men alike - all making their hard way in this new lone and dreary world.

Strong characters, beautiful prose, and thought-provoking truths make A Mercy what it is: a solid commentary about early America and those who built it.

Book Review #47 - Unaccustomed Earth

Many classical composers were masters in the art of variation on a theme in music. Mozart showed off just how many things you could do with the tune "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star." Jhumpa Lahiri has applied the same principle to the short story and produced a brilliant work of art.

I am not a particular fan of the short story, but Lahiri has convinced me once again that I could be. Her genius, I believe, is that she doesn't waste her time recreating the wheel. She has her story and it is an experience of Indian immigrants and the following generation who struggle with their new American identities. It's important to realize that it's not THE Indian immigrant story. Obviously, not all experiences are them same. Surely, they don't all live in the Boston area and go to Harvard. Perhaps some of their mothers weren't as accomplished at making Bengali meals. Perhaps, some of them even had more than one sibling and if they did, they actually liked each other. This, however, is Lahiri's story and changing those things around doesn't seem to be the kind of variety she is interested in.

Her variety can be found as she alters the protagonist's characterization and conflict. She never abandons her theme of loneliness but with a trill here and some counterpoint there, she manages to create a beautiful, independent story each time. It's when they stand side by side as a whole, the same but different, that her art and talent shines.

Book Review #46 - The Hatchet

For the last few months, I have been going into Seth's classroom on Tuesdays and reading with a small group for an hour. This is exactly my kind of volunteering. We each take turns reading aloud and when the hour is up, we mark our place for the next week.

Our group, which contained five boys and myself, read The Hatchet, a book about 13 year-old Brian Robeson, who survives in the Canadian wilderness using the hatchet his mother gave him for months after the airplane he was traveling in to visit his father crashes.

I was very impressed with those 8 and 9 year-old attention spans because, after the initial crash, which is quite exciting, the book moves at a snails pace. There are lots and lots of details about Brian building a shelter and the process in which he finds food (from berries, eggs, fish to finally game meat) and Brian's own inner dialogue about what his fate will be. I particularly enjoyed the fact that the author, Gary Paulsen, uses a technique of repeating emphasis words regularly throughout paragraphs that the boys were able to pick up as a unique style that author used. It was so fun to discuss those kinds of things with these bright boys. Paulsen also included plenty of vomiting, diarrhea, animal attacks and other bits of danger to completely hook his young readers.

I admit to being a tad worried about the theme of divorce and The Secret (which turned out to be that Brian saw his mother kissing another man in a car), but was relieved to discover that it wasn't the emphasis of the book and even my sheltered and innocent Seth seemed able to handle these mature ideas.

I'm not as sure girls of the same age would like it, but The Hatchet was a hit with my 8 year old. Plus, mom liked it too.

Book Review #45 - The Gathering

I remember walking through the Guggenheim Museum and stopping at an exhibit called "White Canvas" or something like that. For all I know, somebody bought a blank canvas, realized they had no talent with painting but a knack for knowing what passes for cool and sold the idea to the powers that be of art. Or, perhaps it is actually art. I have no degree or expertise in that area, but a white canvas doesn't look like art to me.

Likewise, someone, Anne Engright in this case, writes a confusing and murky, "This horrible thing happened. But my memory is fuzzy so maybe it didn't," filled with steam of consciousness writing that is only readable because the author knows how to use a comma.

And what happens? The book wins a prize! And not just from her book club, but the Man Booker Prize, which is awarded annually to an English or Irish author. It's just the kind of thing that tricks readers like me, who assume the powers-that-be of literature know a thing or two about what qualifies as good and what doesn't, to read it.

So, I do. And it's just like staring at a white canvas. No doubt, there are some who pass their superior knowledge to the rest of us, pointing out to the obtuse that it's obviously a statement about society's blabbity-blah-blah, and it's tempting to nod and say, "Yeah. I see that."

But all I see is a naked emperor. A blank canvas. A book that contains nothing but the jumbled thoughts of a depressed and self-absorbed woman who isn't sure what point she wants to make.

Wed-nes-days

Something I didn't appreciate until much, much later in my life was the fact that on Wednesdays, my mother, my brother and I would drive to two trailer parks and for about an hour, deliver a weekly classified newspaper called The Adit to every single trailer.

Those Wednesday mornings, a pile of papers tied with a string would be delivered to our home (I think) and my mother and my sweet, adorable grandmother would roll them up and secure each roll with a rubber band while watching Guiding Light (I know, because when I was home sick, I sat on the floor and rolled too. And even though I haven't watched it in decades, I'm a little sad that Reva and Shane are going off the air!)

We didn't have the kind of bags that ergonomically hang over both shoulders - equally distributing the burden over our entire torsos. Instead, we carried around enormous pouches that had only one narrow strap that I remember digging into my young shoulder.

On Wednesdays, I remember standing and waiting in front of my elementary school, dreading the sound of our enormous diesel station wagon that embarrassed me but also usually getting impatient at my mother who was often just a little late. Of course, my young selfish mind had no grasp of my mother's responsibilities which included five other children (none who could drive at that point in time) and an elderly mother who lived with us. I do now, but then, I only cared that I looked as if I had been abandoned at the school.

Inevitably, the brown Caprice Classic would roar off of the street and stop on the dirt in front of the playground fence. I'd get in and the three of us drove out to Leisure Village and The Beacon (pretty elegant names for not very elegant places). My mom would drop me off near the trailer park entrance. My responsibility included delivering papers to each trailer along the bottom two streets and then I'd knock out one side street until I met my mother, who, if I remember correctly, delivered her route from out of her car window.

I hated Wednesdays. I hated when the bus carrying all the high school students arrived because whether they said anything to me, or not, I felt the shame of my pouch at my side. I hated the scary dogs after being bitten by one once (right in the back of the knee). The single perk was that I had one guy who liked to tip me a dollar every now and then told me to "go and get a shake at McDonald's." He seemed like a nice enough man but he may have been creepy...I don't know. But, I do know that my brother complained about me getting that tip every time and thought it only fair that we share.

I can't remember how long that paper route lasted. My memory says years, but I have realized that compared to some, my long term memory isn't prize worthy. However long it was, it has tainted Wednesdays every since. I don't like the word. Even the spelling, W-E-D-N-E-S-D-A-Y doesn't match its pronunciation (Wendsday).

Perhaps for this reason, I felt the infamy of the day today. From taking the boys to school, followed by another trip into the school to volunteer, picking up Henry at pre-school, spending three-post-school hours literally being a soccer mom to two boys who practice at two different parks across town from each other at two different hours (with an hour in between...just for good measure), I feel weary, and all I did was drive around from place to place and sit in a car.

At least none of those hours included throwing weekly classifieds out of my driver's side window.

800 Miles for Eyes

In the back of my mind, I knew Sam and Henry's eye appointments were coming up. I remember purposely scheduling them around conference thinking it would be a good weekend to travel to Utah as a family and maybe even see a session live.

That was what I was thinking in October, when I had to schedule the appointments. Back before I realized when Spring Break was, or knew that my sister's family would be visiting for the week, or that it would mean pulling Sam out of school for a day right after he'd be out for a week or that there would be a possibility of blizzard conditions while I made the dreary drive, by myself, on a Saturday, missing most of that day's conference.

Thankfully, in spite of me morbidly imagining my own death the entire drive there, we arrived safely. I had a headache by the time we finally pulled out of the cold and snow on the downside of Soldier's Summit toward's Spanish Fork. I don't think I could have picked a worse day to drive than Saturday, April 4th.

My sister's met me for dinner at Cafe Rio, then took Sam and Henry for the evening while I made my way to as many stores as I possibly could in about 3 hours. I needed soccer stuff, and dress clothes for Jay, and swim stuff, and Easter stuff, and kitchen stuff and well...it's a lot easier to navigate the consumer's world in Utah than in my own over-priced-smaller-selection-out-of-stock-but-still-charming town. I found some sweet deals on Sports coats for Jay at Kohl's, got coordinating Easter ensembles at Children's Place, easily found everything I needed for soccer (and more) at The Sport's Chalet and then took my time enjoying the ambiance of Target. I had planned a stop at Old Navy too but I was already out of money!

Sarah and I rented Twilight that night and she was the perfect person for me to watch it with for the first time. I, for one, really liked the book Twilight, but am not a gusher/lover of the series and knew I could fall into the camp of critic if surrounded by I "heart" Edward-ness. It seemed kind of low-budget to me...cheesy special effects and lots of slow motion turning around, but I still liked it. I think they cast it pretty well, although I never got the sense from the book that Jasper was as ridiculously bouffant as they made his hair.

Sunday I watched an AMAZING conference in Sarah's bedroom while Sam and Henry went in and out of the room alternating between complaining about having nothing to do and touching things they shouldn't (Maureen and Sarah have both traveled extensively and have lots of cute, and probably priceless, knickknacks everywhere). I felt marginally guilty because I didn't force them to watch any of conference. There just wasn't room and I didn't have any of those handy conference packets to at least keep Sam going through the talks and mercifully gave them a by this conference. I didn't take notes, which means I basically can't remember specifics anymore, but I know I loved Elder Holland's talk. And President Uchtdorf's. And, really, all of them, but I know I had the burning bosom during both of those. Why anyone would choose to take Conference Sunday's "off" and go all the other weeks is beyond me. Conference Weekends are what get me through all the other weeks! Inspirational and satisfying to my soul.

Sam needed to see Matt, so I called Jay's sister, Kelly, and humbly asked if we could barge in on their Sunday evening for a couple of hours. We brought noise and hyperactivity with us, but seeing his Matt sure made the weekend worth it to Sam.

Because I wanted to make the boys' appointments even more inconvenient than I already had, I scheduled them for 8:15 AM. That meant we needed to leave WJ at 7:15 and, because we weren't returning to my sister's place, be all packed up and ready to go for the day too. Lovely. We got there and, would you know it, the doctor couldn't be in the office until 9:15 so they had moved their appointments back (without giving us any notice). Frustrated, I explained the distance we had traveled, how we were driving back as soon as we were done, and how we just needed to be out of there as soon as possible. It's not like we couldn't have left an hour later, but, my point was, I didn't want to. They took us back right away and did all of the pre-ophthalmologist stuff that we could do. Both boys got the dilatation eye-drops which takes some time to have an effect, so it still worked out and we were out of the office by 9:45.

Their future is so bright....they gotta wear shades.

I'm thrilled with Sam's progress. He is getting closer and closer to not needing bi-focals anymore and we left with a prescription that will challenge his eyes even more. When I get to these appointments, I'm always glad that we've made the effort to see someone who really gets what's going on with their eyes. Sam's doctor's goal is out of bi-focals in a couple of years and possibly out of glasses in 6. It's all guessing, and it doesn't mean his vision won't need correction, but he's hoping his lazy eye will be retrained by then. That means...hopefully...no more eye crossing without his glasses on. Fingers crossed (but not eyes)!

Henry hadn't made as much progress, but he also can't talk very well to tell them what he can see. He's still very far-sighted and is getting a new prescription, and larger frames, as well. Man, I wish we had vision insurance!

We stopped at IKEA on our way back. I have felt embarrassed as we've had company that I only have one real glass and the rest of the table is set with former family reunion cups, which include our names emblazoned on them, Cheers mugs from a trip to Boston and my old Senior All-Night Party Class of 1993 glass. So, I bought glasses. And some plates. And a whisk. And some storage containers. And a basket. And some spoons. And, blast if they didn't have European chocolate right at the check-out!

I wasn't planning on feeding them, but due to our early morning, their breakfasts were pretty harried and unfulfilling. Then, I saw their $.99 small breakfast plates and treated them both to eggs, hashbrowns and 2 slices of bacon! What a great deal.

What I get for asking them to smile with food in their mouths.

One last stop at Cafe-Rio (it was a singular visit. I opted to limit my few free hours to Cafe Rio and family instead of feeling frustrated with too short-of-visits with friends I miss and restaurants I crave) and I was making my way back home - tired of driving before I made it past Provo.

We quickly exhausted their attention spans on the drive-up with our limited movie-selection. Then...I got the bright idea to rent children's movies from RedBox, and return them to one of our two RedBoxes here (compared to the one every street corner in Utah. And there were still lines on Friday night!) It was a great idea until I realized that their pupils were still the size of a dime and watching a bright, flickering screen was actually causing them pain. Thankfully, I had bought myself some new shades at Down East Clothing (another Utah gem) and they both had a pair of dark glasses to wear over their own glasses. All for the low-low cost of my own splitting head by the time we got home from all of my squinting.

Today is beautiful. The sun is shining, Henry happily played by himself most of the day while I enjoyed the quiet of the house. I read, checked the computer, ran a few errands but used this day to take in a deep breath and transition from last week to this week. Sitting here at 5:35 pm...I'm feeling pretty good about it.

Spring Break 2009

I am so tired right now and not in any sort of blogging mood, but I don't think I'll bother posting all of the pictures if I wait as I'm heading out of town for the weekend. The pictures took long enough to upload so, rather than write out the details, I'll merely post captions for the pictures I do have.

I love that Jen chose to come visit during their and our spring break. We didn't have great weather, but we had cousins to entertain our kids and each other to enjoy and chat with.

All the boys started working on a fort in the back yard the very first day. I love how boys' minds work.

Saturday morning took us for a short hike overlooking our hometown. Henry was not going for it and Christopher tried to distract his grumpy mood out of him.

Sunny and fairly warm on Saturday.

Eventually, Henry walked off in a pout and Jay stayed behind to see what he would do when we followed through with our threat to leave him. Henry could have cared less. I had to wait at least five minutes for them to make an appearance behind the rest of us.

The hike was shorter than we wanted it to be (upper part of the trail was closed due to being a wildlife refuge during the winter) so we spent a good hour at a park to wear the excitement out of all the kiddos.

That evening, we went over to my friend, Michelle's, house and had a total blast four-wheeling on their Mule and T-Rex. We BBQ'd hamburgers and hot dogs and let the kids experience a more wild side of being in nature:)

Sunday was a relaxing day. I made a roast and the day ended with everyone watching Night At The Museum downstairs in front of the propane fire.

Monday, we swam at the local rec center. We spent 3 1/2 hours there and had a great time swimming and rock climbing. Here's Seth coming out from the waterslide.

Henry was pretty independent, but he's already on their list of lifeguard saves from an earlier visit, so I kept a close eye on him.

Sam, sweet Sam. His poor eye crosses so much when he doesn't wear his glasses. I hope someday, his eye is trained enough to be straight without having to wear lenses.

Sam's goggles are too big for him.

The big boys did the waterslide at least 20 times.

Since Henry needed me to ride, he only got about 5 rides. But, since I like to go fast, they were good ones.

I was totally surprised how wiry and strong all the boys were on the rock climbing wall. Seth made it to the top quickly.

Sam was the real spiderman, though. To do the middle section of the wall, they needed to climb to the top of both sides. He seriously made it to the top of this wall in about a minute.

Seth, Sam and Ansel on the wall. Sam couldn't get past this inverted part of the wall. Not bad, though, for his first attempt.

Ansel and Seth were thick as thieves all week.

Sadie's nap for the day.

Tuesday, Jay was home for the day and we tried geocaching. It was so windy and cold that we only managed to do one quick and easy one.

The boys signing their names to the log once they found the "treasure."

If you leave something, you can take something. Sam and Owen were super happy with their little baubles.

Henry

After the geocache, we went to Jay's parent's place and saddled a horse for the boys to take rides on. Jay fetched Charlie, or Nick, depending on who you ask.

I love my cowboy

Braving the windy conditions while waiting for a ride.

Sam with the beautiful mountain range behind him.

Neither Jen nor I rode, but we stepped out of the vehicle for a quick Self-portrait to show how windy it was.

Seth took Henry for a quick ride.

"Hey, you have glasses just like me!"

Taking Charlie/Nick back to his friends.

Wednesday was mellow and very cold. We fed everyone lunch and then Christopher told Jen and I to take off. We wandered around town, ate lunch, and bought some chocolate. Then I drove her around all the places I would consider buying a house thus giving her an idea of my complicated options.

Jay was on-call Wednesday night, so Christopher sent Jen and I out again and we had a yummy dinner at a cute restaurant.

Thursday was spent at Mesa Verde National Park. Jay read the maps and gave us the information as we walked around.

Since we were literally on a cliff, I secured Henry on my shoulders so he couldn't sprint off.

Our family

Jen's family with a determined-to-be-in-the-picture-even-after-several-requests-from-me-to-move Jay.

Cliff Palace from an observation point.

Henry....all dirty and snotty. As usual.

Christopher bravely had a pinecone war with all the boys. I know he took several hard hits.

I'm pretty sure this point-blank attack didn't feel good.

So, he dishes it back to boys who absolutely love it.

Jay's famous Chile Verde. It is really, really good.

He decided to take it to the next level by making homemade corn tortillas. As we have no tortilla press, this was Jay's system, standing and shimmying on a heavy skillet pressing on the corn masa dough.

Today was very, very mellow. Jay worked again and it was cold so the boys played the Wii for an obscene amount of time (notice how cute Owen is pretending to drive even though he has no wheel). Jen and I went into town for one last lunch and Jay came home early and we played the board game Puerto Rico before it was time to get them to the airport.

I miss them already and am so grateful for their willingness to spend their precious vacation in our distant, cold, not-even-close-to-feeling-like Spring environment.

Come back sometime!