When you're young, the last thing you ever think about is that life has an expiration date. No one of us knows when we're really leaving this beautiful Earth. And thank goodness I had a great childhood where I wasn't reminded of death or lived with it. The first time I felt the pangs of loss of life was when Grandma Eva died. I was eight years old, hardly old enough to process truly what I was losing. I remember the pain I felt at her death. I'd never lost anything before. And I cried I think because my Mother was in so much pain that I felt that same pain. Her funeral was beautiful. I remember sitting on the front row. They sang I Know That My Redeemer Lives. To this DAY, I still cry at that song. If I let myself think about the experience of being 8 and facing that death, I tear up and can't sing. I love the song though.
So after Grandma died, Grandpa Que was not long in life before he too passed away. I mourned his loss as well but for some reason Grandma's death seems to stand out more. Along the years, I faced death as dogs lost their lives to cars and illness. It was sad and I hated the grief--it was paralyzing. But even at these ages of losing something precious, I still had no inner reflection as to my own life and its length. It didn't hit me until one cold January day 3 years ago. I was going through boxes in the basement, trying to clear out space and organize. I found a sweet little picture of all the nieces and nephews. And they were holding my baby boy, Evan. Evan is now 12. But at the time of finding the picture, Evan was 9. I remember staring at that picture and my thoughts drifted back to that time. I remember that day when the picture was taken and my thoughts. Evan was a few months old and I thought to myself "Those parents who tell you your children grow up too fast are crazy. I have 18 plus years with this sweet little boy and that is a long time". And then like a brick dropped from an 80 story building, I realized Evan was already half way to 18 and it felt like I had closed my eyes and opened them again and he shot from infant to 9 year old. And then the reality of life and of death hit me. How there would be a time when I would be old (I hope) and that my life had an expiration date. And I cried. I mourned the loss of nothing in particular...just that Evan was growing up too fast and I was growing old too fast. And then I realized all these years why my Dad has practically had one foot in the grave, saying he was old when he was in his late 30s and I understood now why he was doing that.
When you love life, it's hard to think it's gotta end sometime. I could go on living like this for another 100 years. Only, the kids gotta stay small. Please let them stay small. Please let them say words wrong and get food in their hair by mistake and have blobs of chocolate on their chin after licking the beaters of a cookie recipe. Let them hold your hand in innocence forever and squirm in your arms when you try and plant a juicy kiss on their cheek. I could go on if you want. There are plenty of these moments I cherish and want never to go away. Nights of listening to them talk as they sleep in one room together on the weekend, sharing stories and giggling over something completely ridiculous. God knew what he was doing by sending children...they are the greatest beauty in their simplicity. And why do we have to lose that to their adulthood? I guess that's what my parents said as I aged. I was eager to get older and they were eager to keep me little. Life!
So the reason I have such great reflection today is that a good family friend passed away. She and my mom have been the best of friends since they were young girls in the small town of Mt. Pleasant Utah. And they shared everything together, from growing up and dating to getting married and giving birth. And as a child I remember going up to Susan's house. I loved her house. And my life is synonymous with the Litchfield Family. Susan played piano at my reception. And then the evil ugliness of an early end to life stepped in. Susan had pancreatic cancer. She was such a kind spirit and you think those that live good lives and have good spirits should be the ones that never die. But her life ended peacefully on December 8, 2010. And I mourn her. I mourn what was her life, mixed with mine as I think about where I was when I knew her best and where I am now. I am not old. But I still have that heavy heart of having to sometime face that the end of life is inevitable. I don't want it to be. But when a friend or loved one dies, it is the cut into life that says "Yoo hoo, remember me? I'm death. You have to face me sometime Eva". I don't want to. I feel like Scrooge when he's with the Spirit of Christmas Future. He sees his grave and his tombstone and weeps openly, begging for more of his life and the chance to live it right. I want to live long and joyously and I'm sorry Susan's life got cut short. I think positively that she got to live to see her kids grown and living lives of their own. She lived life to the fullest. And that is good. And there is some peace in thinking that. But dangit, don't let me experience death before I'm 90. I have decided to become a marathon walker and weight lifter extraordinaire by the time I turn 50 so I can be a buff grandma (later, much later).
I usually like to post funny commentaries because life has lots of funny to offer. But today, it's all seriousness so that you know I can own it. Love the world! Love your life. And you young parents, know that us older parents ARE right...kids do grow up too fast. It's so great to be a part of it all. God is good. He gave me four beautiful kids to completely adore and parent. And I am thankful for friends and for family (for you reading). I love life. I hope you find a way to love it too, for the sake of those who lose theirs early. It makes you realize that every day should be seized to its fullest. I forget that as I hop in the car and repeat the mundane things of the every day life. But when I reflect, my gosh my heart is full and I see the greatness of the Plan of Salvation. I hope to live my life to the fullest. And if I forget, I now have this post to remind me. Life ROCKS.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Monday, September 13, 2010
Out in the Busch
Our family took a trip to one of our favorite amusement parks. Busch Gardens. It's a 2 hour drive through dense trees, dense traffic, and dense people for that matter. And I don't mean dense to the people in a nice way. Get a license people. Okay, rant over. Is it wrong for me not to want my children to age? I keep thinking that this is as good as it gets. And don't we preserve things that are as good as they get? The football trophies, the blue ribbons, the framed art piece! It's the culmination of showing "This is as good as it gets". Only I can't stop time and frame my children (at least not in the U.S. anyway)and I can't stop these awesome children from growing up. They amaze me every day. They stretch my heart to the ends of the Earth's boundaries and then back again. Not always in good ways mind you. But they are good kids. And I feel so blessed it's immeasurable.
So small diatribe of love out of the way, I'd like to discuss the potential future driving issues I have to look forward to. My kids, of all the rides at Busch Gardens, picked the bumper cars as one of their favorite rides. Laura was too small to ride alone so she was Evan's back seat driver. And boy did they have a great time. Nothing but smiles wracking those faces. But here I have broken it down to the three boys and what I have to look forward to if we equate bumper cars as any indication to what potential driving skills will be. Evan will not ever get insurance. They won't even touch us. That kid deliberately crashed into every vehicle he could get his rubber bumper on. Old men, young fathers with giddy kid like goof grins on their faces were no match for my 12 year old. He rammed them like the Vikings of old, all rolled into one human. And he was happy about it. Yikes. So that said, I'm going to have to enroll him in car insurance prior to his driving record hitting the streets. So I'm nicknaming him "The Viking Crasher". On to second child--Aedyn. Aedyn will never make it out of the driveway. He will just sit there contentedly and rev the car. Perhaps he'll get trapped in a cul-de-sac and never make it out. He was "The Spinner" in the bumper cars. Couldn't quite figure out that whole steering wheel thing and continued to spin like a pretty ballerina for the duration of his rides. Eventually he picked it up but yeah...there's no "eventually" permitted in driving. It's drive or die suckah! And lastly there was Grant. Grant I'm labeling as "Mr. Rogers". He tooled around the track like Mr. Rogers might in his neighborhood of make believe. Grant didn't pay attention to any of the crashers. He just drove around oblivious to the fact that the whole idea behind bumper cars is to bump (or pummel as Evan would do). He stayed clear of the trouble makers. He should have been wearing a sweater vest with a comb over. But I think he's set for driving when he turns 70. He's got that whole 20 miles below the speed limit down pat. He tired of the bumper cars more quickly than The Spinner and The Viking Crasher. But that's alright. This gives me hope that Allstate isn't going to send my rates through the roof. That whatever deeds of destruction Evan sews, Grant will retract. And Aedyn is going to save me gas mileage. See, positive thinking. Please don't forward this post to Allstate if you value our relationship AT ALL.
So small diatribe of love out of the way, I'd like to discuss the potential future driving issues I have to look forward to. My kids, of all the rides at Busch Gardens, picked the bumper cars as one of their favorite rides. Laura was too small to ride alone so she was Evan's back seat driver. And boy did they have a great time. Nothing but smiles wracking those faces. But here I have broken it down to the three boys and what I have to look forward to if we equate bumper cars as any indication to what potential driving skills will be. Evan will not ever get insurance. They won't even touch us. That kid deliberately crashed into every vehicle he could get his rubber bumper on. Old men, young fathers with giddy kid like goof grins on their faces were no match for my 12 year old. He rammed them like the Vikings of old, all rolled into one human. And he was happy about it. Yikes. So that said, I'm going to have to enroll him in car insurance prior to his driving record hitting the streets. So I'm nicknaming him "The Viking Crasher". On to second child--Aedyn. Aedyn will never make it out of the driveway. He will just sit there contentedly and rev the car. Perhaps he'll get trapped in a cul-de-sac and never make it out. He was "The Spinner" in the bumper cars. Couldn't quite figure out that whole steering wheel thing and continued to spin like a pretty ballerina for the duration of his rides. Eventually he picked it up but yeah...there's no "eventually" permitted in driving. It's drive or die suckah! And lastly there was Grant. Grant I'm labeling as "Mr. Rogers". He tooled around the track like Mr. Rogers might in his neighborhood of make believe. Grant didn't pay attention to any of the crashers. He just drove around oblivious to the fact that the whole idea behind bumper cars is to bump (or pummel as Evan would do). He stayed clear of the trouble makers. He should have been wearing a sweater vest with a comb over. But I think he's set for driving when he turns 70. He's got that whole 20 miles below the speed limit down pat. He tired of the bumper cars more quickly than The Spinner and The Viking Crasher. But that's alright. This gives me hope that Allstate isn't going to send my rates through the roof. That whatever deeds of destruction Evan sews, Grant will retract. And Aedyn is going to save me gas mileage. See, positive thinking. Please don't forward this post to Allstate if you value our relationship AT ALL.
Monday, August 9, 2010
New York, NY
Well, I survived. I survived New York City. My niece Mandi has always wanted to go. She's 18. And since she's here for the summer it would be kind of a shame if we didn't take this opportunity to take her there. So the original intent was to bombard her trip with a family of four kids and two parents. But that sounded a little daunting to Rob and I. So we decided that I should just go with Mandi alone.
The intent was to make it as cheap as possible. Which honestly, cheap and NYC shouldn't really be mentioned in the same sentence. We decided to take the Chinatown Bus. Good deal by the way if you ever want to travel from DC to NY or back. 20 bucks gets you a smooth ride on a semi luxury bus up to NYC. Our bus departed at 6 but didn't leave until 7. The trip up was uneventful. I read, Mandi read. I listened to a guy clear his throat enough to make me think he must have a CAT stuck down there. But other than that--survived it.
I found us a luxury and palatial place to stay in Midtown NY in the heart of a family neighborhood. That part was cool. It was a hostel. I haven't EVER stayed in a hostel. But I'd like to personally thank my sister for putting ideas in my head that head lice would be something I could walk away with after my stay there. We got there at around 11:30 and were tired so I wasn't too particular. But we had to walk through all these doors and hallways and I thought there might be a rabbit having a tea party on the other end. We took the 1940's elevator up to our room and really, it was a closet with a double bed. When you're tired, you can't complain. But the room had ONE outlet. ONE. One, did I mention? So trying to charge two cell phones and a camera became a juggling act. We had to share the bathroom. Can I just say that the website for this place touted its newly remodeled facilities. My thought is they partnered with the 6th grade class of Martin Luther King Elementary. They gave them rudimentary tools and told them to go ahead and build a TV cabinet for each room and tile the bathroom. The ONE outlet in the room had an extension cord plugged into it which routed half way around the room, through a hole (likely carved with a spoon) in said 6th grade built cabinetry and the fridge, window A/C, light fixture, television were all plugged into it. So I was scared that if I turned the A/C up to high, the entire building would shut down. But we endeared ourselves to this room. It was our hole, our sanctuary from the chaos of the city. Mandi got to see a half naked foreign man shoot from his room to the bathroom--in underwear. Cool.
Saturday morning we awoke ready to take charge of the day. We can be proud that we made it to all our venues and bus rides and tours and had no issues. We took a bus tour through NYC. We saw where John Lennon got shot and the Strawberry Fields portion of Central Park--dedicated to Mr. Lennon. We caught the World Trade Center site and plenty of places along the way. They gave us a boat cruise around Ellis Island and we got to take plenty of pictures of beautiful Ms. Liberty. It was REALLY awesome.
We hopped on the subway to get to places we wanted to see. Chinatown was something we both wanted to do. Shopping is good and cheap. I'm amazed at the skill of these Asian people in luring you into their shops. Each shop was the same--purses and perfume. If you walked in to look at something, you had but to whisper "I wonder how much this is" and somewhere, a short little Asian woman came out of nowhere to tell you "This good bargain. I give special deal, for you. 20 buck for you today. You buy!". They're like the Asian mafia. You don't know when they're going to show up. You have but to ask. I bargained with one of them for a hello kitty necklace. I talked her down to 6 bucks and she started rattling off in her language to her mafia partner and Mandi told me they were talking badly about me. I said they were probably plotting my death later that day in the East River.
Saturday night we went to a Broadway show. I told Mandi not to expect the Donald Trump of tickets. Mezzanine all the way baby. But my knees were embedded in the seat in front of me and I thank Mandi's pick for a 90 minutes Broadway play because had it been say, Phantom of the Opera, I would have had to be surgically removed from the seat. I was nearly in tears by the end of the show and I didn't want to get up and make people stand to let me out right at the climax performance. But my knees were crying out in pure pain. They were begging me to do something. I was begging the show to do something...standing ovation oh please oh please. And finally it came and the show was good--music was good because I was standing and relieving the pressure. Curse be to my Father for the long legs. But I guess I shouldn't be hating on them.
After the Broadway show, we unleashed our wild selves on to the NYC streets. SO MANY PEOPLE. I have never been in a city quite like NY. The people are all over the place. I couldn't help but think that if an emergency happened again, it would be pure chaos. You hardly have room to walk. You get goosed and bumped and brushed every 5 seconds by someone. I look at New York City like one big circus act. The players aren't paid but they can entertain. And at any one time they will perform for you. I think people think they're the only people in NY and no one can hear them have an argument on the phone with their mother. One guy with no shirt got up onto a scaffolding and started doing flips around the scaffolding bar. There are so many walks of life there. It's an amazing place. But a place that I would only want to visit, never live. I think it takes a strong person to live there.
We didn't stay too long on the NY Strip. We went into Hershey World (eh...it wasn't that impressive) and into M&M world. CRAZY! People buying up M&Ms and waiting in a line as long as unemployment to purchase them. Hello people--go to the CVS pharmacy down the block and buy all ya'anto...for much less money and no waiting time. So that's what we did. We were frequent CVS shoppers. We bought blister bandaids for Mandi's feet. We bought icecream and chocolate for feeding the need. And we bought makeup and other toiletries forgotten. Thanks CVS. They were my rock.
Things I like about NYC:
1. It's amazingly beautiful--all those lights.
2. The plethora of different walks of life.
3. CVS Pharmacy
4. Taxi cab drivers--they can really rocketship into traffic when you need to get somewhere.
5. Gay men who argue with their mothers on the phone--very entertaining
6. Shopping
7. Little Hasidic Jew boys with their sweet faces and wispy hair, and beautifully decorated yarmulkes.
8. Subway all day fun pass (as if sitting in a 110 degree furnace waiting for a train is fun). They should call them all day sweat passes.
Things I did not like about NYC:
1. Overuse of the F word
2. Too many people
3. Subway stations with no air conditioning
4. Sweaty Russian men who hold on to the upper bar of the subway rail car and put their pit into your face and rub their sweaty belly up against your hand as you hold on for dear life.
5. Hostel bathrooms with no outlets.
We went to church on Sunday. The only church option was the Young Single Adult Ward. I thought I would be carded. But Mandi was my ticket in. The church is in the same building as the temple. That was cool.
We packed up and dragged our sore feet down to catch a cab to the bus depot. We BARELY made it. I mean by the skin of our teeth. We got the last two seats on that bus. I sat by a sweet woman who spoke only Spanish and her little 3 year old daughter. Seriously that was the best little girl I've ever seen. She sat with her Mom for over 4 hours and never once fussed, never ran around. She was this beautiful little girl with a happy disposition and I bought her a bag of Teddy Grahams because she was so good. If I could have spoken Spanish, I would have asked her mother how she pulled it off.
Our only hiccup this entire trip was our trusty Asian bus driver. He stopped in Baltimore to drop off passengers and pick up passengers. And some doofus thought it was a get-up-and-stretch-your-legs break. So he got off. Then the bus drove away. And the people in the back of the bus saw this guy trying to run to catch the bus and they all yelled in unison for the bus driver to stop. Apparently this offended his ego. And so he stopped the bus, got out, went over to where we ALL COULD SEE HIM and threw a temper tantrum, throwing rocks and his hat and having a conversation with air. I was ready to send my Spanish Momma out to calm him down. I thought about giving him the Teddy Grahams but thought better of it. One kind fella from our bus got out there and put his arm around tantrum boy and then we all quieted down when he got back on the bus and he drove in silence the rest of the way to DC. I seriously thought he was going to drive us off the closest overpass. We shamed his honor he was taking us all down with him. But THANKFULLY we made it back in to DC.
Thanks Mandi for the good companionship. It was a great getaway.
The intent was to make it as cheap as possible. Which honestly, cheap and NYC shouldn't really be mentioned in the same sentence. We decided to take the Chinatown Bus. Good deal by the way if you ever want to travel from DC to NY or back. 20 bucks gets you a smooth ride on a semi luxury bus up to NYC. Our bus departed at 6 but didn't leave until 7. The trip up was uneventful. I read, Mandi read. I listened to a guy clear his throat enough to make me think he must have a CAT stuck down there. But other than that--survived it.
I found us a luxury and palatial place to stay in Midtown NY in the heart of a family neighborhood. That part was cool. It was a hostel. I haven't EVER stayed in a hostel. But I'd like to personally thank my sister for putting ideas in my head that head lice would be something I could walk away with after my stay there. We got there at around 11:30 and were tired so I wasn't too particular. But we had to walk through all these doors and hallways and I thought there might be a rabbit having a tea party on the other end. We took the 1940's elevator up to our room and really, it was a closet with a double bed. When you're tired, you can't complain. But the room had ONE outlet. ONE. One, did I mention? So trying to charge two cell phones and a camera became a juggling act. We had to share the bathroom. Can I just say that the website for this place touted its newly remodeled facilities. My thought is they partnered with the 6th grade class of Martin Luther King Elementary. They gave them rudimentary tools and told them to go ahead and build a TV cabinet for each room and tile the bathroom. The ONE outlet in the room had an extension cord plugged into it which routed half way around the room, through a hole (likely carved with a spoon) in said 6th grade built cabinetry and the fridge, window A/C, light fixture, television were all plugged into it. So I was scared that if I turned the A/C up to high, the entire building would shut down. But we endeared ourselves to this room. It was our hole, our sanctuary from the chaos of the city. Mandi got to see a half naked foreign man shoot from his room to the bathroom--in underwear. Cool.
Saturday morning we awoke ready to take charge of the day. We can be proud that we made it to all our venues and bus rides and tours and had no issues. We took a bus tour through NYC. We saw where John Lennon got shot and the Strawberry Fields portion of Central Park--dedicated to Mr. Lennon. We caught the World Trade Center site and plenty of places along the way. They gave us a boat cruise around Ellis Island and we got to take plenty of pictures of beautiful Ms. Liberty. It was REALLY awesome.
We hopped on the subway to get to places we wanted to see. Chinatown was something we both wanted to do. Shopping is good and cheap. I'm amazed at the skill of these Asian people in luring you into their shops. Each shop was the same--purses and perfume. If you walked in to look at something, you had but to whisper "I wonder how much this is" and somewhere, a short little Asian woman came out of nowhere to tell you "This good bargain. I give special deal, for you. 20 buck for you today. You buy!". They're like the Asian mafia. You don't know when they're going to show up. You have but to ask. I bargained with one of them for a hello kitty necklace. I talked her down to 6 bucks and she started rattling off in her language to her mafia partner and Mandi told me they were talking badly about me. I said they were probably plotting my death later that day in the East River.
Saturday night we went to a Broadway show. I told Mandi not to expect the Donald Trump of tickets. Mezzanine all the way baby. But my knees were embedded in the seat in front of me and I thank Mandi's pick for a 90 minutes Broadway play because had it been say, Phantom of the Opera, I would have had to be surgically removed from the seat. I was nearly in tears by the end of the show and I didn't want to get up and make people stand to let me out right at the climax performance. But my knees were crying out in pure pain. They were begging me to do something. I was begging the show to do something...standing ovation oh please oh please. And finally it came and the show was good--music was good because I was standing and relieving the pressure. Curse be to my Father for the long legs. But I guess I shouldn't be hating on them.
After the Broadway show, we unleashed our wild selves on to the NYC streets. SO MANY PEOPLE. I have never been in a city quite like NY. The people are all over the place. I couldn't help but think that if an emergency happened again, it would be pure chaos. You hardly have room to walk. You get goosed and bumped and brushed every 5 seconds by someone. I look at New York City like one big circus act. The players aren't paid but they can entertain. And at any one time they will perform for you. I think people think they're the only people in NY and no one can hear them have an argument on the phone with their mother. One guy with no shirt got up onto a scaffolding and started doing flips around the scaffolding bar. There are so many walks of life there. It's an amazing place. But a place that I would only want to visit, never live. I think it takes a strong person to live there.
We didn't stay too long on the NY Strip. We went into Hershey World (eh...it wasn't that impressive) and into M&M world. CRAZY! People buying up M&Ms and waiting in a line as long as unemployment to purchase them. Hello people--go to the CVS pharmacy down the block and buy all ya'anto...for much less money and no waiting time. So that's what we did. We were frequent CVS shoppers. We bought blister bandaids for Mandi's feet. We bought icecream and chocolate for feeding the need. And we bought makeup and other toiletries forgotten. Thanks CVS. They were my rock.
Things I like about NYC:
1. It's amazingly beautiful--all those lights.
2. The plethora of different walks of life.
3. CVS Pharmacy
4. Taxi cab drivers--they can really rocketship into traffic when you need to get somewhere.
5. Gay men who argue with their mothers on the phone--very entertaining
6. Shopping
7. Little Hasidic Jew boys with their sweet faces and wispy hair, and beautifully decorated yarmulkes.
8. Subway all day fun pass (as if sitting in a 110 degree furnace waiting for a train is fun). They should call them all day sweat passes.
Things I did not like about NYC:
1. Overuse of the F word
2. Too many people
3. Subway stations with no air conditioning
4. Sweaty Russian men who hold on to the upper bar of the subway rail car and put their pit into your face and rub their sweaty belly up against your hand as you hold on for dear life.
5. Hostel bathrooms with no outlets.
We went to church on Sunday. The only church option was the Young Single Adult Ward. I thought I would be carded. But Mandi was my ticket in. The church is in the same building as the temple. That was cool.
We packed up and dragged our sore feet down to catch a cab to the bus depot. We BARELY made it. I mean by the skin of our teeth. We got the last two seats on that bus. I sat by a sweet woman who spoke only Spanish and her little 3 year old daughter. Seriously that was the best little girl I've ever seen. She sat with her Mom for over 4 hours and never once fussed, never ran around. She was this beautiful little girl with a happy disposition and I bought her a bag of Teddy Grahams because she was so good. If I could have spoken Spanish, I would have asked her mother how she pulled it off.
Our only hiccup this entire trip was our trusty Asian bus driver. He stopped in Baltimore to drop off passengers and pick up passengers. And some doofus thought it was a get-up-and-stretch-your-legs break. So he got off. Then the bus drove away. And the people in the back of the bus saw this guy trying to run to catch the bus and they all yelled in unison for the bus driver to stop. Apparently this offended his ego. And so he stopped the bus, got out, went over to where we ALL COULD SEE HIM and threw a temper tantrum, throwing rocks and his hat and having a conversation with air. I was ready to send my Spanish Momma out to calm him down. I thought about giving him the Teddy Grahams but thought better of it. One kind fella from our bus got out there and put his arm around tantrum boy and then we all quieted down when he got back on the bus and he drove in silence the rest of the way to DC. I seriously thought he was going to drive us off the closest overpass. We shamed his honor he was taking us all down with him. But THANKFULLY we made it back in to DC.
Thanks Mandi for the good companionship. It was a great getaway.
Monday, August 2, 2010
This And That
So me again. I haven't blogged in ages. It's something I want to do more of. But sometimes I realize I only have an audience of maybe 5 so really I could just cinch this up in an email to each of you. But I'll humor myself and continue with the blog.
We went hiking on Saturday. We went up to Great Falls, Virginia which is a place we try and get to at least once every summer. It's really pretty up there. I think I'm starting to take Virginia for granted. It's just such a beautiful state and I love it and I've been in love with it since I moved here. I always discover something new and I think it's the most awesome state. But now I'm like "meh....trees...so what". I don't want to feel that way. I love Virginia. I know the kids love it. But when you live in a place for so long...you start to take everything for granted. You stop noticing the beauty and the amazing features that God has put here for our enjoyment.
Laura got her first tooth this weekend. Well, it's been there but it hasn't grown in. And so she asked me if I could get something out of her teeth that she couldn't get out and it was driving her bonkers. I asked her to go get a dental floss stick and she did. She showed me where the lodged item was and it's a tooth. Only...her baby tooth isn't loose. It's coming in behind it for some odd reason, which means she freaked out and I told her we were going to have to take her to see the dentist. She said she would be brave. I know she'll try. Cute thing. Her baby bottom front teeth are so tightly packed in already. I know without a doubt she'll need braces and I already told her she would. So I don't know how these adult teeth are going to fare down there in tightsville. But I guess that is something to wait and see on.
And lastly, I'm hoofing it this week. Well okay I just said that to garner sympathy. Our van needed its yearly plastic surgery and adjusting. With that, we have rented a van. It happens to have 2 DVD screens in it. Rob was like a kid at Christmas. He popped in a DVD and away we went on the road. The kids were like total zombies. I half expected drool to run in pools as they all sat transfixed to the screens. I have to admit it's kind of nice. There's not "she's putting her foot one inch into my foot space" or "he's trying to beat me with the ice scraper". Now it's just pure silence and I keep having to check back to make sure they're still thriving. They want to trade our van in. I told them maybe once a year we'll get it out of our system and rent a van with a DVD player in it so Mom can have a break. But you miss a lot when you have a DVD player. No imaginations at work. No funny commentary or crazy fighting over who is breathing who's air space. It's not as much fun but in its own right, a blissful change.
Happy August everyone (all 5 of you).
We went hiking on Saturday. We went up to Great Falls, Virginia which is a place we try and get to at least once every summer. It's really pretty up there. I think I'm starting to take Virginia for granted. It's just such a beautiful state and I love it and I've been in love with it since I moved here. I always discover something new and I think it's the most awesome state. But now I'm like "meh....trees...so what". I don't want to feel that way. I love Virginia. I know the kids love it. But when you live in a place for so long...you start to take everything for granted. You stop noticing the beauty and the amazing features that God has put here for our enjoyment.
Laura got her first tooth this weekend. Well, it's been there but it hasn't grown in. And so she asked me if I could get something out of her teeth that she couldn't get out and it was driving her bonkers. I asked her to go get a dental floss stick and she did. She showed me where the lodged item was and it's a tooth. Only...her baby tooth isn't loose. It's coming in behind it for some odd reason, which means she freaked out and I told her we were going to have to take her to see the dentist. She said she would be brave. I know she'll try. Cute thing. Her baby bottom front teeth are so tightly packed in already. I know without a doubt she'll need braces and I already told her she would. So I don't know how these adult teeth are going to fare down there in tightsville. But I guess that is something to wait and see on.
And lastly, I'm hoofing it this week. Well okay I just said that to garner sympathy. Our van needed its yearly plastic surgery and adjusting. With that, we have rented a van. It happens to have 2 DVD screens in it. Rob was like a kid at Christmas. He popped in a DVD and away we went on the road. The kids were like total zombies. I half expected drool to run in pools as they all sat transfixed to the screens. I have to admit it's kind of nice. There's not "she's putting her foot one inch into my foot space" or "he's trying to beat me with the ice scraper". Now it's just pure silence and I keep having to check back to make sure they're still thriving. They want to trade our van in. I told them maybe once a year we'll get it out of our system and rent a van with a DVD player in it so Mom can have a break. But you miss a lot when you have a DVD player. No imaginations at work. No funny commentary or crazy fighting over who is breathing who's air space. It's not as much fun but in its own right, a blissful change.
Happy August everyone (all 5 of you).
Monday, June 14, 2010
So Shoot Me, It's Been A While
I know, I know, all 5 of you that read this blog have been saying to yourself "Really, she's waiting this long to not blog when her blog posts are so titillating". I thank you for saying so. I could have this imaginary conversation with you all day long. I just figured it was time to say something, speak my mind as I usually do, to my devoted fan base of 5.
I have been sick the last couple of days. Being sick is not fun but it gets compounded by the fact that when you get sick, and have 4 children to contend with, you don't get any "me" time really. You have to take it where you can get it. And what is up with husbands thinking that if you're sick,surely they must be sick. They exhibit no symptoms but they do kiss you so that automatically puts them into the sick club. So Rob all of a sudden had the kind of headache that says "I have to go down to my man cave and rest up while playing video games" kind of headache. And I have that sickness of "You're fine, you can still make breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the kids and clean up the house and crochet an afghan for my cold body in one hour" type sickness. It's not fair. And I'm proclaiming it so on my blog. Love ya Rob.
On to other things. Kids and the bathtub is the next chopping block subject. I have two little ones who enjoy bathing themselves. I get it. Independence and all that. But I'm telling you, I think Bath and Body Works has some kind of secret deal going with Laura, my 5 year old. Never have I seen a child go through so much soap. That girl uses soap like...well like a 5 year old given a glass of milk and a full bottle of Hershey's syrup. The syrup will be gone by the end of the milk drinking. And sure enough, my soap somehow finds it's fine smelling self going down the drain with the water. But the bubbles I suppose were worth the risk. And if I interrupt her said date with the soap, she gives me all the best reasons in the world why she used the soap. "It makes these really cool bubbles Mom". But I think the desire is to just see how many bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and regular soap she can make empty by the end of that particular bath session. And I'm a glutton for it, let me tell you. I keep telling myself "Eva remember what your daughter does in the bathtub so that next time you can remove everything but a hotel size soap for her to use". And then sure enough, bath time comes and everything I wanted to remember has been wiped from the brain. I come in later to find emptied, bubble filled bottles bobbing in the tub. It's like nuclear fall out in the bathroom, soap style.
With that said, kids are fun. I wouldn't trade my experiences. I would however gladly relinquish sick days for me and my husband. You see, when he's sick then the whole world has to stop. Children have to be hushed to church levels. Meals must be brought up on regular intervals. Wet cloths to the forehead and a hiring of Swedish maids or something like that (wink). I am still a little woozy from battling sickness all weekend. But I'm ready to get back to the grind of the work week and hope for the best. I am headed to Utah in 2 weeks time. Kids are counting down school's end in 9 short school days (that doesn't include weekends in case you were wondering).
Happy Summer everyone!
Eva
I have been sick the last couple of days. Being sick is not fun but it gets compounded by the fact that when you get sick, and have 4 children to contend with, you don't get any "me" time really. You have to take it where you can get it. And what is up with husbands thinking that if you're sick,surely they must be sick. They exhibit no symptoms but they do kiss you so that automatically puts them into the sick club. So Rob all of a sudden had the kind of headache that says "I have to go down to my man cave and rest up while playing video games" kind of headache. And I have that sickness of "You're fine, you can still make breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the kids and clean up the house and crochet an afghan for my cold body in one hour" type sickness. It's not fair. And I'm proclaiming it so on my blog. Love ya Rob.
On to other things. Kids and the bathtub is the next chopping block subject. I have two little ones who enjoy bathing themselves. I get it. Independence and all that. But I'm telling you, I think Bath and Body Works has some kind of secret deal going with Laura, my 5 year old. Never have I seen a child go through so much soap. That girl uses soap like...well like a 5 year old given a glass of milk and a full bottle of Hershey's syrup. The syrup will be gone by the end of the milk drinking. And sure enough, my soap somehow finds it's fine smelling self going down the drain with the water. But the bubbles I suppose were worth the risk. And if I interrupt her said date with the soap, she gives me all the best reasons in the world why she used the soap. "It makes these really cool bubbles Mom". But I think the desire is to just see how many bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and regular soap she can make empty by the end of that particular bath session. And I'm a glutton for it, let me tell you. I keep telling myself "Eva remember what your daughter does in the bathtub so that next time you can remove everything but a hotel size soap for her to use". And then sure enough, bath time comes and everything I wanted to remember has been wiped from the brain. I come in later to find emptied, bubble filled bottles bobbing in the tub. It's like nuclear fall out in the bathroom, soap style.
With that said, kids are fun. I wouldn't trade my experiences. I would however gladly relinquish sick days for me and my husband. You see, when he's sick then the whole world has to stop. Children have to be hushed to church levels. Meals must be brought up on regular intervals. Wet cloths to the forehead and a hiring of Swedish maids or something like that (wink). I am still a little woozy from battling sickness all weekend. But I'm ready to get back to the grind of the work week and hope for the best. I am headed to Utah in 2 weeks time. Kids are counting down school's end in 9 short school days (that doesn't include weekends in case you were wondering).
Happy Summer everyone!
Eva
Saturday, March 27, 2010
My Bag Speaks
Okay, so I bought some splurges today at Costco. The kids talked me into them. It was some apple cinnamon straws. We're talking wheat, a little sugar and cinnamon and delish. As I stood there, straws shooting in every direction from my hand, I noticed the bag with a big green circle at the top. I could have sworn a little hand came out and waved at me and I heard Carol Kane yell "yoo hoo". So I looked. And I read. And this is what my bag said "This is Sensible...This is your portion...38 Straws". Wow. I just felt like I had a lecture from my mother or father. I translated it to something like this "This is your portion young lady. 38 straws is nothing to scoff at. You'll eat those 38 straws and not a straw more. That's the sensible thing to do. There are kids in Africa that would be completely happy with 38 straws". So then I wondered..is there a secret little microchip in this bag. So what if I reach in and my count extends past the sensible 38? Does the green circle change to yellow and does Oprah Winfrey appear on the couch in the middle of the circle to ask me for a sit down-- things are going awry at this point? And then what if I doubled that. What if I dared to eat, gasp, a whopping 76 straws? I think at that point, the house starts to shake, the power goes out, the circle on the bag goes red and Tom Cruise pops into it and tells me that I DO need medication (sorry Brook Shields), he jumps on Oprah's couch one more time and then the bag self destructs. I know, kind of crazy right that I would have this whole little dialogue in my head over a bag of apple cinnamon straws. I haven't tested my limits with it yet. If it's telling me 38 is sensible, I'm all for food communism. I'll just stick to my 38 and not a straw more....young lady. Well, for that matter, I'm not really that young anymore either. So that's it. That's my blog posting for today. I just thought you'd like insite into my brain. Run for your lives. I do have one thing to add that I'm kinda proud of. It's a sketch I did. Here's the deal (so you don't think I'm bragging and all that jazz). I LOVE doing homemade gifts. My immediate family can vouch for me. So when an opportunity comes up and someone invites moi to a party, I think homemade. Of course, I saw a Christmas commercial from 2009 and Radio Shack told me people don't like homemade gifts. Oh well, what do they know. Anyhoo, I decided for this baby shower (already had the baby--not me...the lady in my ward) and I knew it was a boy. So I wanted to sketch something. I couldn't decide what. I can do cutsie Mormon style (okay, sorry, Mormons do have that kitsch cutsie copycat thing going on) or I could do a pencil sketch. I decided to do a picture of Jesus with a child. I thought it would be a good thing. So last night I went over to my friend Brooke's house (she is the nicest ever) and I sat at her table and sketched whilst the kids ran around making mayhem. I got about half way done and then finished it up this morning. Last night when my kids saw it, they said they had no idea I could sketch. Grant told me (this is the cutest) "Mom, you even draw better than my art teacher. She's good but she's not THAT good". Grant, love ya! So Evan, factoring in that he's 11, has never seen me sketch. That tells you I haven't done it in forever and a day. I think I'll be doing it more. Weddings, showers, you name it, I'm all for a sketch. It's therapeutic. And considering that I plan laboratories (zzzzzzzz) there's not much time to be creative except in my Holly Hobby home projects. So there you have it. I'm including the picture of the sketch.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Bye Bye Soupcase
Why is it that when you're a mom and life is flying by you like the speed of light, you don't realize what you have right under your nose? I take the little things for granted. I listen to the cute little quirks of toddlers and think that they'll be there forever. But I fail to realize that at some point, my daughter will not be able to get away with saying the word "soupcase" and continue to maintain credible aptitude with her teachers and classmates. But what is cuter than soupcase? That's the way she thought we said it. And like unresponsible parents, we just couldn't bare to tell her the right way to say it. Why. How often does a little 3 or 4 year old need to refer to a suitcase in the proper context. So we let it go. And each time we would get ready for a trip, Laura would emphatically say she had to help me pack her soupcase. Awwww, what a cute little word. "We have to pack our WHAT?" I would ask her and over and over she fell for it. "Soupcase Mom, our S O O O P C A S E". Oh. Okay. Thanks for clearing that up. So now, she's getting to that reading phase where she can sound out words. And she's 5. She growing up. So last night we're reading a reader book and she's sounding out words and I turn the page and there are pictures of, say it with me "soupcases" and she sees them. She sees the word, she makes the connection, and I help her finish sounding it out. "Suitcase" I say, hoping she won't hear that dumb T in there. Who needs it. The p makes it so much more endearing. So she says "Oh, soupcases". Ah, she didn't pick up the T. But....my guilty parental thoughts take over. What if she's 20 something and she's in a social setting and they're talking trips and she says she still hasn't packed her soupcase and then they all stare at her like she's a naked terrorist. And then credibility goes out the window. So I squinted and I thought and I said "Okay Laura, I have been misinforming you these entire 5 years of your educated life. It's not soupcase". Ah man. "It's sui-T-case. With a T". She ponders. She doesn't say anything like thanks or well, glad we got that sorted out. She just repeats it, almost like we're in slow motion. S U I T C A S E. Sniff. There it goes. She's fixed. I have made another word right in her little vocabulary. But I lost the cute little soupcase, sacrificed another childhood faux pas. Sniffle. And just last week Grant told her it's not "Husing" it's using. Like using the bathroom. Or using a pencil. But Husing was so much cuter, really! Sad. But they have to grow up and I am the resonsible person for teaching them how to say things right. So I'm having a small ceremony here on my blog. Goodbye Soupcase. Goodbye Husing. What's next?
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Holy Snow Batman
First, a shout out to Aunt Dorothy...my one and only fan who reads my blog. I'm giving her a huge woo hoo for that. Now, on to the snow. I know, snow is snow--it's not that exciting. But my kids would beg to differ. They love the snow. I remember loving the snow too when I was a kid. So what changes through morphing into adulthood? Why now do I cringe when I open the door quickly to throw something into the recycling bin on the porch, thinking I want to be as far away from the white stuff as possible? I don't know. I think it just comes down to body changes that make me cold. I think kids have so much strength in their little bodies to keep them warm and energetic (very energetic) and as adults, we lose that special energy, whatever it might be. In any event, I can go out in the stuff, I just have to be wrapped up like a fleece mummy in order to endure it. The other day I shoveled the walks for myself and my neighbor. I came in and the boys asked me where I'd been. I told them I'd been out shoveling. "YOU--in the snow?" Evan said. I'm just trying to keep them guessing.
The snow today is of record breaking proportions. It snowed all day yesterday, all day today and even as we trickle into night, small fluffs of snow continue to gently graze the massive piles that have already amassed. Am I in Alaska? I look at the neighbors outside the window. They look like Monopoly pieces on a snowy game board. They're tiny compared to the massive piles. But what's really great about the snow---neighbors talking to other neighbors. My son was out there shoveling our walk today. And he's out telling our neighbor Linda all about the snow in Alaska. He doesn't remember of course. But he hears me tell stories and he relates them to her. Everyone comes together during a crisis. It's great to see. And it's nice to see my son forming a relationship with this lady who just last summer really chapped his hide. He wanted to plant an apple seed in the front yard in an old area where the grass doesn't grow. It's a kid thing. And she watched him like a hawk from the window and the moment his fingers hit dirt, it was like slow motion The Matrix--he looked up as he heard her door open and down those stairs she came and laid into him about digging up the dirt and planting a seed. I know she doesn't mean to be so condescending. But she's older and single and has nothing better to do. So it warmed my heart to see them out there sharing a common task together and being able to relate to each other. Love the snow for that reason. Maybe if it snowed in Iraq and Iran and Pakistan, they could all come out and help each other shovel and tell stories about what the other has experienced and form a bond. I think it's a great idea. Everyone pray for snow in the Middle East.
The snow today is of record breaking proportions. It snowed all day yesterday, all day today and even as we trickle into night, small fluffs of snow continue to gently graze the massive piles that have already amassed. Am I in Alaska? I look at the neighbors outside the window. They look like Monopoly pieces on a snowy game board. They're tiny compared to the massive piles. But what's really great about the snow---neighbors talking to other neighbors. My son was out there shoveling our walk today. And he's out telling our neighbor Linda all about the snow in Alaska. He doesn't remember of course. But he hears me tell stories and he relates them to her. Everyone comes together during a crisis. It's great to see. And it's nice to see my son forming a relationship with this lady who just last summer really chapped his hide. He wanted to plant an apple seed in the front yard in an old area where the grass doesn't grow. It's a kid thing. And she watched him like a hawk from the window and the moment his fingers hit dirt, it was like slow motion The Matrix--he looked up as he heard her door open and down those stairs she came and laid into him about digging up the dirt and planting a seed. I know she doesn't mean to be so condescending. But she's older and single and has nothing better to do. So it warmed my heart to see them out there sharing a common task together and being able to relate to each other. Love the snow for that reason. Maybe if it snowed in Iraq and Iran and Pakistan, they could all come out and help each other shovel and tell stories about what the other has experienced and form a bond. I think it's a great idea. Everyone pray for snow in the Middle East.
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