We Sing And Play All Day

Sunday, the boys had their Christmas recital.  They performed at a local nursing home and even though it's not your typical recital environment, like, for instance, it changes Away in the Manger when a large linen cart is loudly wheeled down the hallway, but I still love having performances there.  It makes it more than a performance.  More than a recital.  It's an act of love.

Seth went first and played Away in the Manger from the Simplified Hymn book.  He opened his number by reading Luke 2:6-7.  Oh, and I forgot my camera, so all images are thanks to my fun friend, Sue, and her humongous camera lens:)









Then Sam followed by reading Luke 2:16 and playing O Come, All Ye Faithful.  I joined him for a duet. 






Sue, who has two boys taking piano as well, agreed to participate and provided a rousing piano trio arrangement of When The Saints Go Marching In.  Not very Christmas-y, but a lot of fun.  And just look at how concentrated I was.  I have the tight jaw and everything.

All the students sang a few sing-a-longs, like Jingle Bells and Rudolph.  I love, love, love watching my boys be musical.  It is seriously a high for me. 



I ended the short recital with a really fun spiritual called, "Jesus, What A Wonderful Child."  It's not really sacrament meeting appropriate, because there's lots of belting, but it sure is fun to sing.  I felt like I should probably add some arm raising, or maybe a little bounce here and there, but my conservative Mormon white-girl habits die hard.  It was arms to the side, with happy eyes, for me. 




One of these days I'll manage to get video of how good these sweet boys have become in one short year.  Music brings me joy.  My boys bring me joy.  The combination is pure bliss. 

Book Review - Classic #5 - Heart of Darkness

I have a long list of things that I  wanted/needed to do today, and included on that list was to write something.  Either a blog post or a much backlogged book review.  I've got laundry sitting in both washer and dryer, peanut brittle to make, exercise to accomplish and a family home evening craft that needs parts gathered, not to mention getting four boys fed in the next thirty minutes.  I hate that all the other stuff seems more pressing.  I am bucking my sense of responsibility and writing instead.

While other as-yet unreviewed classics confounded me first, Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad is the latest completed novel on my list of twenty to help me feel inept as a reader.  At first glance, I actually thought this would be much appreciated lighter fare among some of my heftier choices.  With only ninety-eight pages from start to finish, it's probably more accurately labeled a short story.  Those ninety-eight pages, however, took me three weeks to finish.While it didn't actually take me a long time to read, this, as my evening companion, had me choosing almost anything else over reading.  TV?  Yes.  Shoveling snow?  Has to be done.  Bejewled Blitz on Facebook?  It's only a minute (the problem arises when one turns to sixty).

When I actually managed to read, the narrative was impressive.  Joseph Conrad was Polish and didn't learn English until he was twenty and working on a British merchant ship.  Not only did he learn English, he mastered it.  The vocabulary and description are both beautiful and complex.  There are also layers upon layers of metaphor.  Maybe too many layers.  Everything was darkness.  The water was dark.  The forest was dark.  The people, chains, moonless night, smoke, room etc. etc. were dark.  It felt  like a bit much.  Sure, he had a thesaurus and used words like murky, black, shady but you still knew - he was talking about darkness.   Got it.

Upon finishing, I felt a tad superior mocking all the obvious symbolism, as if all of his dark references were the point.  Then, I read a few reviews from people who clearly have had an English class or ten, and they were mentioning his hidden references to Greek mythology and other indirect allusions to more classics I have not read.  Like I always do when I'm frustrated, I complained to my mother who assured me all those nuances are what make it a classic.   She made me feel better about my classics 101 level of understanding and I'm more than happy to leave Heart of Darkness 403 for people with Greek minors. 

What made me like this book was the sense of accomplishment when the story was finished.  Conrad, with all of his darkness overkill, does not hand this story over on a platter.  The narration is tricky.  Marlow spends the bulk of the novel speaking in first person, but, occasionally, you realize there is another narrator.  It's the guy who is listening to Marlow and there's probably an important reason for that shift of responsibility.  That, however, is covered in Heart of Darkness 201.  I'm going to let it go.

What made me dislike this book was the sense of "what the heck?" when the story was finished.  Jay read this in high school (in high school, people!) and at one point asked me, "So, have you been introduced to Kurtz yet?"  He remembered Kurtz, who, I admit, is often mentioned throughout the book.  When he asked, I hadn't yet, but his and Marlow's awe while mentioning his name added to an overly-hyped sense of anticipation of Kurtz's contribution to Conrad's novel.

Kurtz is hardly in the book.  What he does, how he does it, where he does it all seem central to the book, but the details, those things that make sense of the rest of the plot, are never given.  I know it has something to do with oppression.  And racism.  And evil.  But, my naive little mind doesn't know how far to go.  He dies saying, "The horror!  The horror!"  So, it's probably pretty bad.  But I don't know!  It's just all so....dark.

In any case, I'm ready to move on.  I'm embarrassed that this apparent high school level reading so kicked my tail.  I may need to read some Nicholas Sparks or Stephanie Meyer to get some of my  mojo back.

Where He Goes, Dare I Follow?

After watching and supporting Jay at the Baltimore Marathon, I confess I was inspired.  So, inspired that I thought, "This is something we can do together.  I need to adopt this passion of his."

While I have absolutely no (zero, zilch, nada, nein, rien) marathon aspirations, I do want to be more than a spectator weekend after weekend.  Racing is something Jay enjoys and I've decided there are worse things than spending a few Saturdays here or there at a 5 or 10K.  I think participating sends a good message to our boys, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't also hoping that working at being in 5 or 10K shape had nothing to do with my ultimate master plan of becoming a trophy wife.  Hey, a girl can dream, right?

While I've been slugging through the aptly named Couch To 5K program for the last six weeks, Jay finished reading a book entitled Born To Run by Christopher McDougall.  Suddenly, my already passionate spouse is talking about racing horses and doing things like this:

He still runs with shoes but is "building up a barefoot endurance" and ran a half-mile this way. I'd explain why but that would just be stealing Mr. McDougall's thunder.

According to my training schedule, I'm supposed to now be able to jog for 20 minutes straight.  In three weeks, my cyber coach promises that number will jump to 30 and, if I was able to run 10 minute miles, I would be running three miles.  I figure I'll work on speed later.

But, maybe I'm doing it all wrong?  Jay, my inspiration and example in all things running is talking the crazy talk and walking the crazy walk.  He was definitely born to run, but I might just be born to watch.

'Tis The Season

Tis the season!  Ward party has already come and gone.  It was a pretty subdued affair.  Dinner was a pork roast with lots of side dishes and short program.  I'm totally that mom that now considers any event that features my offspring to be a hit.  Who wouldn't enjoy watching these two boys sing so earnestly (they both get these adorable furrowed brows when they sing).





Today, the snow came.  And came.  And came.  There is over a foot of snow outside and it's still snowing.  Thankfully, we've already gotten the phone call from the schools declaring tomorrow a snow day.  Looks like there will be more of this kind of stuff tomorrow.

Now, I really need to get the Christmas decorations out.  I really don't enjoy it, but the result always rewards me for making the effort.

Hi. My Name Is....

The morning was bright and cold.  Knit hats and puffy jackets accessorized those less faint of heart, moving outside in spite of the freezing temperature.  One brave jogger, perhaps due to her northern upbringing or, more likely, a victim of poor planning, or even more likely because she didn't own any cold weather active wear, was the oddity in black capri yoga pants and a t-shirt.

Previously, this new-to-the-sport restricted all faster-than-walking training to the privacy of her home.    But, a turkey trot the week before convinced the beginner that five minute intervals of steady jogging went a lot quicker looking at trees and buildings than staring at the digital display a foot away from her face on the treadmill.  Five minutes, then five more, and even five after that proved her earlier conclusion was the right one.

While normally quite friendly on the trail (mostly reciprocating to the "aw-shucks" and "how cute" comments that seem to come standard when traveling with a bespectacled three-year old boy), today she found her eyes drawn down to the trail in front of her.  She had forgotten her sunglasses in the car and without that simple veneer of anonymity, her normal reservoir of confidence felt depleted.

After thirty-one minutes, she was halfway through her fourth five minute jog.  Her barely-faster-than-a-walk twelve minute/mile pace must have attracted notice, because as she raised her head to stare at the silly teenage girl wearing a fur-lined anorak, fleece-lined Ugg boots and daisy duke shorts, the silly teenage girl's silly teenage boyfriend looked at her chest and said, "Way to go."  

"Way to go?  For my running?  For my ample bosoms?  What is he talking about?" the surprisingly sweaty jogger silently wondered.   "Maybe he meant my Bolder Boulder t-shirt."  

As she looked down to hope that her last thought was at least a possibility, she saw it and shuddered.

Her nametag.

Stinking smartly to her t-shirt from an earlier meeting.

At Weight Watchers.

With the name, "Lucy" emblazoned in black sharpie.




At least she wasn't in the grocery store like the last time it happened.

Warning: Pictures!!!!!!!

I guess the problem posting pictures is with Firefox because Google Chrome loaded them no problem. Well...as easy as loading 4 MB pictures can be. I'm excited because now you can see my November.

First up - the tile. I've mostly blocked out the emotional havoc this floor caused me in the early part of the month, but this picture will serve as a reminder that I was right to complain. No one should have to live with this floor!

Early in the month, I made a blink-of-an-eye trip to SLC to attend the SYTYCD tour. I'm glad I went, but I won't ever make the mistake of buying floor seats again. Heads - in the way - the entire time. I could never see feet, which, you know, is nice to see when you are watching....DANCING!! Fun though. I got to see a couple of old friends and spend some time with my sisters. And, I finally got to go to a Zumba class. Super fun.

Playing on the russian Folk Dance debacle.

Kupono's shorts. See? I don't even need to use words now.

Favorite routine. Just as good, except I prefered Kayla's look without make-up.

Onto the piano recital. Sam was sick but I didn't want him to miss his big moment. After watching his back spasm from trying to hold back his cough and the germs that were undoubtedly spread with the ones he wasn't able to hold back, I probably made the wrong decision.

I played The Arkansas Traveler duet with Seth.

Sam had passed off the most scales AND tied with the most passed off pieces. He earned a fun CD from his teacher.

The following weekend, we headed to New Mexico for the BYU v. New Mexico football game. It wasn't the weekend I envisioned (hanging out with friends and family, gabbing it up at the hotel) but it was fun. I'm almost always up for a road trip, in case you were wondering.

Sam showed Cosmo who had spirit.

My little BYU fans.

I've honestly never been tailgating. The alumni did a great job creating a fun pre-game event for families. Here's Seth doing the ring toss.

Sam does the dart toss from a not-so-challenging distance.

Face painting! (none for me, thanks).
When I first looked at this photo I thought, "Where are my legs? Am I floating?" Then, I realized that Seth isn't that hippy, or curvy, and had a good chuckle. I guess I just have a wide stance!:)
There weren't very many New Mexico fans there and our seats weren't great, but at least we weren't fighting for elbow space.

Thanksgiving 2009: I love this holiday.

Jay begins the day with a sweet Henry on his chest moment. This is such a rare thing, nowadays.

I don't have eight matching plates. I have five. I don't have china. I don't have eight matching glasses. So, we paper plate/paper cupped it. And I'm so glad! I took a picture of the kid table too, but it was pretty much the same, minus a real table cloth (paper!) and I thought I'd save myself the 2 minutes it takes each picture to upload.

Jay's sister, Kelly, and family came for the weekend. We had a ball. I can't believe this is the only picture I have. We love when family comes with cousins to play with.

Who doesn't love to see a man doing the dishes?

Eager for pie, boys?
My mother in law brought me a bunch of tulips for hosting Thanksgiving dinner. I didn't even know you could get tulips in late November. They were lovely.

On one of the break days, I took the boys to the local rec center. Henry is so independent that I didn't even get in a swimsuit, but was still a little nervous so I had him in a life jacket. What can I say? He makes me nervous.

It's dark, but that there is four cousins having a blast together. (Henry, Matt, Derek, Sam)

Henry after his first day of pre-school. Yes, Henry is in school now. He qualifies for state speech therapy because he is significantly delayed in speech/language. He didn't get into the elementary school pre-school program where Seth and Sam attend, and I didn't enroll him anywhere else. About three weeks ago, I got a call from the head of the BOCES program telling me that there was an opening at another elementary school pre-school program. These programs are Head Start programs that run Monday-Thursday from 8:00 to 3:00 pm. At first, I thought I understood that he didn't have to be there the whole day, and that I could pick him up before lunch, but it was then explained, because the BOCES department would be covering his tuition, because of his special need, that the slot needed to be filled by a full-time student.

Jay and I both did some gasping, but decided that we'd try it. Every single one of his speech therapists, including his new private one, and his pediatrician have recommended pre-school as the best push for him to progress. They throw out terms like "peer modeling" to sound official, but, basically, I think they are trying to tell me that I help him too much. Kids are less forgiving and if they don't understand him, well, then, he's going to have to articulate better. It's been hard for me, my pride, to admit that having him be somewhere else for 32 hours a week might be better for him than at home with me. In fact, I just might cry about it right now if I keep on typing. Oh, I'm not going to lie and say there are no perks. Lunch dates/grocery shopping/errands - heck, almost everything I'm supposed to do during the day will be easier without him by my side. But, he's three. And this is very sudden. And, he's barely potty-trained. And, by barely, I mean not really. So that's stressful. But, we're trying it out. If it's not what he needs, then we can pull him out. More details and pictures later.

There! That picture was taken November 30th so I am officially ready to move on to December. Fa la la la la....la la...la....la.

Warning: Text Only

December 1st. Can you believe it? Actually, I can. Ever since daylight savings time ended, the nights are too long. I feel like crawling into bed at 6:00 pm. Only 21 more days until the shortest day of the year and then...they just keep getting longer. That's something to look forward to.

So, I should post. I like posting. I miss it, in fact. There has just been the never-good-for-a-blogger mixture of too little time and not much happening (which seems like an oxymoron, but I assure you, it is possible). Oh, I know, there is always something worth blogging about. It's the little things that make it so much fun. Like, how fun would it be to discuss Kupono's short shorts when I watched the So You Think You Can Dance tour in Salt Lake? Or, how embarrassed I felt after Sam wet coughed all over the piano keys during his piano recital (I know. It makes you want to get out the Lysol, right?) But, those moments have passed and you'd need pictures to recreate the mood.

Which I can't post!

I don't know why. It boggles my mind how technology can just up and ruin a perfectly good thing all by itself. I have changed nothing. Done nothing. Touched nothing. But, when I try to load a picture it says, "You have chosen to open upload-image.do, which is a: DO file from http://www.blogger.com. What should firefox do with this file?" to which there is only one available answer which then leads to the message that the file can't be opened.

Aggravating.

However, I am determined to keep a better record in December - pictures or not. I want to remember exactly when I recovered from the flu (today) and Henry's first day of pre-school (yesterday). I'd like to have this picture thing figured out by Christmas, but, if not, I'll just be like the pioneers and declare, "All is well!"

Consider yourself warned.

Rhyme Thyme

Somebody called me fat yesterday.

At least, I think somebody called me fat yesterday.

I keep trying to reconstruct the sentence into any other possibility, because...well...I just might have heard wrong.  I'd like to think so, anyways. 

Here's what happened according to my not always reliable memory:

A group of us were at a restaurant after watching New Moon at the theater.  Due to the size of the group, we were split into several tables and one of the women sitting at my table was someone I did not know.  We spent the evening enjoying some comfortable banter, mixing the conversation with jokes and the more serious topic of home decorating.  At one point, one of my friends joked that her secret mission was to have Person X become best friends with Person Y.  She followed her happy declaration by telling the woman I had just met sitting next to me something like, "I'll let you know you your best friend should be too." She replied, I think, "I need a fat friend."  And then she pointed at me.

I think.

But, maybe she said flat friend.

Or....cat friend.

But, then she said it again.  And followed it with, "Someone who will make lots of desserts."  Accompanied with another finger stab in my direction.  Mind you, she said this while eating a dressing-less/crouton-less salad. 

Or maybe not.

It happened fast and definitely wasn't the kind of scene where a pin drop could be heard.  Honestly, no one reacted.  No one looked uncomfortable on my behalf and the woman didn't act like she had said something rude or embarrassing.

So, maybe she didn't say it.

She could have said a black friend.  But I'm not sure what that has to do with desserts.

Craft friend?   Some people craft with food, don't they? 

Vat friend?  Referring, possibly, to someone who has a job at the local chocolate factory?  All legitimate possibilities that aren't explained with the accompanying pointing towards me as I'm neither crafty nor do I have access to chocolate vat.

I suppose I could solve the mystery by inviting her over for cake, but, I don't bake.  My fatness comes from a complex mixture of hormones, bad genes, pregnancy weight, years of bad habits and eating desserts I did not make.

So...she got that wrong.

Or not.

Maybe she said phat friend.

That's probably it.

Family Pictures 2009

A month ago, we met an out-of-town photographer up at the local ski resort for a family photo session. The session was the most fun I have ever had taking pictures. It's a husband and wife team and they were goofy and funny and encouraging and never, ever demanding. I figured because we were having so much fun, that the pictures would turn out perfectly.

Well...I don't think they did. Those things that photographers usually tell you to do, like "straighten your head" or "put your hands down" might have helped me love some certain photos better. In each one, there seems to be someone or something out of place. Like, towards the later part of the session, my bangs look horrible! I wished someone would have said, "Did you want your bangs to be split down the middle like that or were you wanting all of them to go straight down?" Because, my favorite picture is tainted by my split bangs. I want to love it because my kids are cute, and my husband is cute and we look happy and snug. But. Those bangs! I just want to get out a comb!

It's also hard to do all the communicating via email. The package came with a 16X20 which is, by far, the largest pictures I have ever had of us. I thought I had made a good decision - choosing a vertical shot because I thought it would look better in a large frame and choosing one that captured the best of most, and not just the best of me.

Well, what I thought were squinty eyes due to smiling on a proof on the computer turned out to be the start of a blink in a 16X20! I will just have to be content that it was the best shot of everyone else. Man, it's like I'm all consumed by me, or something:)

So, here they are. Expect something similar to be coming your way in the next month or so by way of Christmas cards. Act surprised and delighted.

Enjoy, Mom!



What I wished I would have chosen for our 16X20.

What I chose. Click on it. You'll see my squinty/crazy eyes.

Love this picture. I'd have blown this one up had Henry's face been showing.

I would have liked a more close-up of Seth, but this is so totally him right now that I love this shot.

I can't believe this is the best shot of Henry she got. He's really photogenic. I was expecting more.

She got some great ones of Jay and Henry, which is kind of funny since Henry is a total mama's boy. Still...adorable.

Loved the rock shots. Wish Sam's head wasn't resting on Jay like that.

Probably my favorite picture of the bunch.

The best picture with the worst bangs.

What is actually happening in this photo:

Jay - "I think these kinds of pictures always turn out cheesy."

Me - "Humor me. Look in love."

I guess perfect pictures are appropriate for perfect families. These are exactly us.