My Mop

My hair grows fast - it always has.  Since high school, I have let it grow long for a while, then I chop it all off and donate it to a hair charity.  Or I think about selling my hair and let it sit in a box for a while while  I dream of all the money I'll make, and then I send it to a hair charity.

I've always gotten lots of comments and questions about how I can get it to grow so well.  Unfortunately, I don't have any good answers, since it kind of grows all by itself.  I have no hair elixirs or magic tonics - just the thick, fast-growing hair my mom and dad blessed me with.  They each had a pretty good head of hair so I know where it comes from.

Mostly, it grows so long because I am too lazy to get it cut often.  I've tried it short (like every few years when I chop it off), but it grows quickly enough that I'd have to go to the hairdresser every couple or three weeks, or it loses its shape in a big, messy way.  It's not that I don't like the salon - in fact I have a favorite hair center where I go (maybe yearly?) that I love.  Mostly because the hairdresser has known me since I was a wee little girl, because she loved my mother, and that Trent and I met because of that hair place.  Not getting my hair cut often, on the other hand, is cheaper and easier.  That's the win right there!

When we bought our fixer-upper house this spring, I vowed I'd cut my hair off because I knew it would get in the way.  And it did, but I just didn't want to take the time out to 1) figure out what kind of a style I wanted, and 2) actually go to the salon.  So I put up with it.  And put it up a lot.  Yes, I did almost dip the end of my braid in the paint can multiple times.  Yes, I did get stuck a few times when my hair wrapped itself around a raw piece of lumber.  Yes, it did get full of dust and sheetrock mud.  But I bought a couple of Flexi-clips, and they were amazing!  I've never found anything that would hold up my heavy hair consistently and without pulling, but I am totally sold on these clips.  No product affiliation or anything, just an ever-so-happy customer.  And they are so pretty!

Anyway, I still have my long hair, and it's still attached to my head.  It was my Halloween costume this year. - we were Adam and Eve.  Actually, it was a reprise from last year, but hey, if you have a costume this easy, why not?  I did Lady Godiva for part of the time too, and handed out chocolates.

I do love my long hair, but it does tend to get in the way.  Like when I get in a car - I always close some of my hair in the door.  Or buckle it into the seat belt.  How about when you unbuckle your seat belt and the belt gets retracted back into the... wherever it goes... and it sucks some of your hair down there, too?  Love it.

I tuck my hair into my pants.  When I get dressed and pull a shirt over my head, I can't just flip the hair out of my shirt.  It takes three or four pulls to get it all out.  I've started zipping my hair into the fly on my jeans.  If I put on a coat over my hair, I'm frozen like that and can't move my head.  And static!  Oh, it's bad.  I'll zap everyone in the room at the same time if my hair starts getting big and charged.  Which is all winter long.

We won't talk about how really long hair is a liability in the bathroom.  Let's just say that I love my Flexi-clips and they are really, really fast at making and holding up a bun.  Because sometimes you need to be fast.  Showering, on the other hand, takes forever.  I can't roll over in bed because I'm laying on my hair.  Sometimes I can't roll over because Trent is laying on my hair.  Hair gets stuck in your armpits or wraps around your body, especially if it is wet.  The hair, not the armpit.

And the vacuum hates me.  There is always shed hair on the floor and it winds around your toes as you walk across the room.  I've never had hair this long, and it is pretty interesting to see how it is like a toddler and gets into everything.

But I like it.  It's flowy and feminine.  It keeps me warm in the winter - like wearing my very own fur coat.  And it's pretty.  The bottom of the braid is still beautifully brown, which is more than I can say for the hairs sprouting out closer to my head.  My hair is a beautifully fun accessory that I can do differently every day.  It's part of me, part of my identity.  One day I'll cut it, but for today, it's in a really cool 4-strand braid.  And I found a new bun I want to try for tomorrow!

October Tidbits

Georgie was taking a shower (the bathtub isn't working yet), and said he was done.  On being reminded to rinse the bubbles from his armpits, very loud laughing and giggling was heard from the bathroom.

When Freddie heard someone raising their voice, he said, "Hey!  You should be more like me.  Sometimes I am mad, but when I'm not, I always try really hard not to be mad."

Angel insisted that she could do a good job washing her own hair - and then got distracted and didn't wash out all the shampoo.  Or didn't wash her scalp.  Or something, but ended up with an itchy head.  She scratched it so energetically that she made sores in the thin skin of her scar before we could get rid of the itch.  Here's hoping it heals up quickly.

Alec and I were visiting while he was working on his car in Opa's driveway.  He's got a concealed carry permit, and he let me hold his gun - after he took the bullets out.  Can't have a crazy mother shooting up the neighborhood!

Ben ran into an old elementary school friend.  The boy didn't recognize Ben at first, but thought he looked familiar.  Ben remembered the boy and introduced himself.  The old friend's eyes lit up, "Oh yeah!  But I thought you had red hair!"  He does still.

Trent and I spent the weekend at a marriage retreat.  It was pretty incredible.  So many good things... that I wish I had known decades ago.  It's never too late to learn a better way to do things, so I'll start today.  We found it so valuable that we decided to gift the class - plus a 3-night hotel stay - to each of our children as a wedding present.

Side note: the kids at home managed pretty well (with some Grandma help) while we were gone, but were relieved to see us back.  I'm happy to take over Mom duties.

Chris had a girl leave a note on his motorcycle, complimenting his bike and asking for a ride.  Now we know why he got a bike...

David is the high school's production of Les Miserables!  He is loving learning the songs and we love hearing them around the house.  He just had a choir concert that made me laugh and cry.  I so enjoy going to music concerts that that my boys are in!  I'm missing the junior high band concerts right now.

Eddie has finished a few art projects and is really enjoying the class.  I'm kind of bummed he didn't take cooking because I like the homework he would have gotten.  He is doing fabulously in his classes.

Fall is in full swing, and the canyons are gloriously bedecked!  Go out and take a ride this week if you can.  Bonus points for taking a cute girl.

The Zero Problem

I have a zero problem.  No, not zero problems - although that might be nice to try!  It happens when I am thinking about large numbers that have lots of zeros.  I know how much a house is worth, but I'm just as apt to say, "thirty thousand dollars" instead of "three hundred thousand."  That last zero makes a huge difference!  Some people are quite confused when I talk about numbers.  My husband has learned about this little quirk of mine, and doesn't bat an eye when I rattle off a number that is off by a magnitude of ten.  He calmly corrects the number and we laugh about my zero problem.

The other day, Trent was given cash as a payment.  He brought home the large bills and showed them to the kids.  Little Georgie's eyes got big as he looked at the money.  "Hey Mom!" he excitedly piped up, "Can I have 6 of those?"

Um, what?  That's an awful lot of money!  When I asked him to tell me more about why he needed money, he explained, "I need sixty cents right now."  Sixty cents... six hundred dollars... I guess I've passed on my zero problem and then some.  Yikes!

Dirty Dishes

Oh, I have a lot to say about last week's DesignMom feature!  I still can't believe that they really wanted to feature my house - my family.  I'm pinching myself.

I had so much fun with the photo shoot.  A friend came over and helped me scoot chairs and plump pillows and remove clutter and laugh.  Mostly, it's laughing that what is normally an every-day scene can be dolled up into a fancy-pants fashion photo.  It was so satisfying to see the inherent wonderfulness in my life - the beauty that I'm usually too busy to acknowledge.

A night or two later, I was headed to bed, trying my best to ignore the whisperings of the dirty dishes on the counter.  I really shouldn't leave them until morning, I know.  Not just because of flies and the health department, but mostly because my sweet husband does breakfast and a messy kitchen makes him crazy.  I appreciate that he takes the morning shift and I don't want him to have angst that early!

I was so tired, though!  I walked back to the bedroom with the image of the stack of soup bowls and piles of dirty spoons still flitting around in my head.  I'm grateful for those dishes.  It's a testimony that my family was well-fed tonight.  Before I could climb into bed, I just had to grab my camera and head back to the kitchen.  It only took a moment or two to grab the shot (and then I went to bed anyway).

The next day, I was looking through the raw files, getting ready to crop and edit the pictures to the format DesignMom wanted.  There, with all the pretty pictures was the shot of the dirty dishes, awkwardly hanging around the cheerleaders like a seventh grader with braces.  Oh yeah, that was me.

I don't know why I included that late-night picture.  I was sure they wouldn't use it in the article.  It wasn't prepped, it wasn't pretty, no natural light...who wants to see my dirty dinner dishes?

It's part of our life, and they included the picture in the home feature.  I gasped when I saw it, then bubbled up with giggles.  Really??

I guess we don't need to look that hard to find beauty in our lives.  Dirty dishes and all.

Today I...

Today has been a busy day.  I gave Chris some pointer on the biscuits he was making for breakfast.  I won't say I helped him, because he did a great job solo!  I led a great family discussion about how to handle kitchen cleanup when Ben and Chris move back home for the summer.  And then I helped clean up the kitchen.  I don't mind cleaning up when I didn't have to make the food - Trent and Chris made a fabulous team for biscuits and gravy this morning.

I helped Angel sort through the dresses in her closet.  She has a dozen of them, but only wears two.  We pared down a few, and she remembered some that she just loves - maybe they will see more wear time.  Or we can pare down a few more.

I assembled a shelf, with the help of four additional hands, and figured out where to hang it.  Trent is better at the power tools, so I let him hang it on the wall.  I also located a spider in the bathroom sink and allowed him to kill it for me.  See how nice I am?

I supported a neighbor's moving sale and toured their house.  I'm now fighting a touch of envy because it is bigger and five million times better laid out than the one I live in.  I wish I could buy it.

I sent birthday wishes to a brother-in-law.  I texted a list of shopping items my dad has requested to my sister-in-law.

I held a six-year-old on my lap and consoled him when everyone else got to play with a toy but he didn't.  I later convinced the other one that he would not die if he ate the gravy.  A bribe of chocolate milk didn't hurt there.

I taught David about pedal markings in piano music and how to properly use the sustain pedal.  He is teaching himself to play "Chariots of Fire."  I admire his dogged determination to do things he sets his mind to.

I had a discussion with Eddie about "fair," and complemented him for getting right on his chores.  He is the best one we have to get started without being asked.

I can't take a nap yet, because I still need to have an executive council meeting with my fabulous husband and send an email to my brothers.  And lunch - it's about that time.

I wonder what the afternoon will bring?

Hashimotos in the Park

Sounds like we're having an Oriental picnic, no?  The kids were begging to play at the park, but the weather, indecisive about whether to be winter or spring, has been leaning towards winter.  Finally, we had a clear day and I figured I could sit as well at the park as at home.  Away we went.

I make this out to seem like a big deal, but it's really not.  The park is nice and safe and just up the street from our house so it's quite easy to get to.  I've just been... so... tired... lately.  Any exertion is a big deal to me.  But what mother won't ever let her kids go to the park?  I'm sure I'm not THAT mom.  Even though I want to be.

So up the street we traipsed.  Twins, girl, cute husband, maybe an older boy or two, balls and plastic bats, sturdy shoes and warm jackets.  And me with a giant quilt coming slowly behind.  I thought I'd spread the blanket out in the grass and sit on it to watch the kids play.  The wind turned out to be windier at the park than at our house, so I sat at a picnic table, wrapped up in the blanket, trying to keep all the body parts tucked in.  I felt like an old lady burrito.

It was nice to watch them play - mostly.  And it was nice to be outside - mostly.  They laughed and played on the swings.  They organized some kind of hot lava monster game on the playground.  They played wiffleball with the fat plastic bat.  Georgie spun and spun in circles until he fell to the ground, laughing and dizzy.  As he waited for the world to stop spinning, he noticed how fast the clouds were racing across the sky.  He wanted me to see, so I lumped over and rolled on the grass beside him.  The clouds really were magnificent.  Big and fluffy, with sparkling light tops and dark bottoms heavy with rain.  The wind blew them into piles and wisps all across the sky.  I was done moving, so I laid there and watched.  

It's not how I had envisioned going to the park.  It's not how I envisioned playing with my kids.  But for right now, while my body deals with this latest Hashimoto's flare, it's just right for me.

Family Funnies

Even though I haven't been blogging, I have been collecting little snippets of our family life.  Some are funny, some are sweet, and some are just happy family moments that I'd like to snuggle up in and enjoy for a long time.  As much as I'd like to remember them forever, I know myself better than that.  If I don't write it down, it is lost and gone.  End of story.

We went to a family reunion recently, and they talked about having a family talent show.  At dinner, we discussed what talents are, and what we could do for the show.  Angel was more than excited with all sorts of ideas.  "Ooh!" she squealed, "I'm going to draw some pictures!"  Freddie pondered for a few minutes before somberly announcing, "My talent is reading."   Georgie didn't have to think long before he let us know what he planned, "I'm going to hoop a hula.  I like hooping."

Angel loves watching all kinds of animals and birds.  She told us she wanted a bird to make a nest in her lower lip and lay and egg there.  "When it hatches, I can raise it for my very own.  It would be glorious!"

Trent took Freddie on an errand in the car.  After a few minutes, Freddie innocently asked, "Dad, why didn't you use the [tongue clicking]?"  Thinking.  You mean the blinkers?  Yes, that.  Busted by the six-year-old back seat driver!

Georgie had been in the car too long.  In desperation, he demanded, "I want to walk home for the last block!"  When the answer was in the negative, he insisted, "Then I will cry all the way home!"  Freddie muttered under his breath, "Oh, just let him walk!"

Freddie let us know an important upcoming event.  "I'm gonna change my name when I grow up.  I'm gonna change my name to... (thinking)... Hot Sauce."  Not to be outdone, Georgie will also change his name.  When asked what his new name will be, he replied matter-of-factly, "I'm Batman!"

Save the Day!

Or maybe save all the food today.  It's harvest season, which means that we are in the kitchen most of the time.  This year I'm actually canning, whereas last year I only did a little because I had been so sick.  And the year before I did nearly none, since we were moving in.  That's an interesting transition, and it tells me that this year is better than the past two have been.  Sometimes it's hard to see gradual improvement.  

I did a few dozen quarts of applesauce, and wrecked my right pointer finger doing all the cutting.  The apples were on the green side, so they were a bit tougher to cut through.  The applesauce is still good though, even if it is more tart.

I can't tell you how excited I was when I sent the twins outside with their big white bowls to get more apples - and they came back empty.  No more apples!  These boxes were full to overflowing - and we haven't even started on the apples from our own trees!  They won't be ripe for a few more weeks.

I'm always amazed at the wonders of our beautiful world when I'm canning.  Aren't these peaches gorgeous?  The colors are vibrant and living, sustaining and improving our lives.  Thanks, Lord, for this amazing planet!  I love, love, love bottled peaches.  And I hate peeling peaches.  Fortunately for me, my sweet husband doesn't mind, so he peeled and I made jam - rows and rows of bottles full of it.

I was poking about in the storage room for a good shelf to load all the bottles onto.  We haven't really cleaned out the storage room since we moved in, and it isn't really set up efficiently.  I moved a couple of cans, and the whole shelf fell out!  I'm glad I didn't have it full of glass jars.  So we need to fix and shore up the shelves in the storage room, but the produce won't quit coming!  I moved things around as best I could, and made room for the peach jam with the apricot jam we did earlier this summer.  

Before Trent could start shelf-fixing, the grapes ripened, and we've spent the past week doing what must be a million batches of grape juice.  I'm generous to myself here, because Trent has done all the work on this one.  The kids love the juice, and I try to not imagine it spilled on... on anything.

Our excitement of next week: tomatoes!  The pears are on right now as well, and then our apples will be last.  At least, I think they will be last. 

I opened a new bottle full of apple butter from a couple of years ago, and spread some of its dark sweetness onto a hot piece of whole wheat toast.  Yum.  Having food in my pantries makes all the hard work worth it.  And now I want another slice of toast!

Labor Day Chill

I guess it is the end of summer.  Sigh.  I love having my kids at home.  I love not having to get up at any particular time.  I especially love not having to get up early.  Like before 9 or 10.  I know, I grumble too much.  But I am excited for this new year.  I am so glad that my children have the opportunity to go to school and learn.  I am looking forward to having a quiet house.  I like having these changing seasons in life - it's never boring!

basking in the sun, and pretending I'm warm

To celebrate Labor Day (and to make up for not using our season passes, not once!), we went to the waterpark.  It was to be a day filled with water slides and lazy rivers and wave pools and laying in the sun and trying to avoid sunburn.  Unfortunately, the day was cloudy and unseasonably cool, which meant that only the most daring of the boys even wanted to get in the water.  The wave pool was somewhat warm, but the breeze was uncomfortably cold.  It didn't take long for the littlest ones to get chilled through, and want nothing more than to be swaddled in a big, dry towel.

We even managed to visit with Ben, who has spent his summer with crazy-busy hours as a manager of the food areas.  He looks good in his no-nonsense black non-slip shoes!  I'm glad he got a good job for the summer and has been able to save up money for college.

Yeah, we didn't last very long.  Hooray for not getting sunburned, though!  And now the kids can't say I never took them to the waterpark.  It was just too much of a challenge to gather up the strength, all of them, and Opa.  He didn't want to come today, so that made it possible for us to come.

I was able to snap a picture of everyone but Ben, who was busy working, and David, who had a splendid time on the water slides in spite of the cold.  He is our most adventurous one, after all.  Sometimes I wonder if the effort to have a family outing is worth it, but I love to see the happy in their faces.  We're making memories, at least!

Happy Mother's Day!

This was the best part of my Mother's Day,  by far - being together with my kids.  I really don't need roses or special dinners (although I like them very much - don't get me wrong!  Keep those coming!).  But what I long for most is to have my family together and just basking in the air they breathe.  Makes me happy.

The missionary call didn't happen until late in the evening (which was early in the morning in Madagascar!), so the little ones were only able to visit for a few minutes before they needed to head off to bed. Trent was coming down with a fever, so he turned in earlier as well. 

It was fun to just sit around and visit with all these boys. I love sitting back and listening to them tell stories and joke with each other. One at a time they all got tired and left, so I got a few minutes of one-on-one with my boy.

He'll be home soon, and we're looking forward to it. He has been missed around here!

Happy at Home

Every day, I see so many little scenes that make my mother-heart happy.  I walk past a room and see a happy moment or hear joy shooting about and I think THIS is it.  This is the good life that I've been working for all these mothering hours.  I just want to soak in all the happiness and memorize the faces and never, ever forget.  And then something else happens and I do forget.

Some things that happen often enough that I remember:  Freddy loves to listen to Josh Groban's "Don't Give Up."  I think it is one of Eddie's favorite songs too.  Freddy puts the CD in the digital piano and sings his little heart out.  Georgie joins in, but Freddy really belts it out.  Often.  And during the worst possible moments: we have company, Trent and I are trying to have a difficult parent discussion, I'm on the phone...  Many times, Eddie will sing along, too.  His voice is just starting to change, but he wants to be a deep bass so he tries to sing lower than he actually can.  That song has a wide range, and it's cute to listen to Eddie struggle to hit the notes, or switch to a lower register and still struggle.  Anything to avoid showing that a teenaged boy can hit high notes, right?  Hearing them sing just makes me happy.

Legos happen here all,  the.  time.  The older boys have always bought new Lego sets with the birthday and Christmas money they get from Grandma Jeanne.  Hooray for generous grandparents!  So they each have quite a stash of Legos, in various stages of assemblement.  We also have a big bin full of more plain bricks that Gram found at a thrift store and gave to us for Christmas.  We have such wonderful grandparents!  AND we have two bins full of Legos that live here at the house that were Grandma Susie's.  I think I see a theme running here with grandmothers and Legos.  On Sunday afternoons, the back room becomes Lego Central and they all get out their bricks and start building.  Older, younger - age and gender don't matter as they invent and create and play...together.  That's the best part.  Together.

Another music thing I like is hearing the kids play the piano.  We have two pianos: a digital one and an acoustic piano, sitting side-by-side in the front room.  The rule is that whoever started making music first gets dibs on the airspace, but the digital piano has earphones, so two work mostly well.  David plays by ear, and will sit down and pick out a song.  He teaches the twins how to one-finger some songs, and I enjoy listening to them all play different parts of "Ode to Joy" or other little songs.  Love the music in our home.

I love walking into a room and seeing two boys engrossed in conversation.  Or one boy leaning over another on the computer, helping him figure out his technical difficulties.  Or hearing someone announce he is going on a bike ride, inviting others to go with him, and leaving the house with a group.  Or hearing giggles under a blanket fort that the big boys built for the little ones.  Or seeing the kids take turns pushing each other on the swings.

These are a mother's payday.  This is when the hard work, the late hours, the heartache and tears are all worth it.  And I want to cherish each of these moments and remember them forever, but I can't.  Fortunately, new joys are always coming up to replace the old, faded ones and life is still good.

I hope that one day when I'm old and my brain isn't working quite like it does now, those happy bits will come back to me at random times.  My rocking chair will slow down, I'll set down my knitting needles and laugh - a little gravely old lady chuckle - and be happy all over again.

Slowing Way Down

So the other day (which means a vague sometime in the past but not necessarily recently.  We're liberal with our definitions here) I wrote about getting an inspiration in the temple that I needed to slow m life down.  I tried!  I thought seriously about it and everything.

But the reality of life for me is that I am the Mama of a large family.  Six kids at home rely on me for food, clothing, love, and attention.  I am the homemaker in charge of a house and land.  It's not huge, but there are always things that need cleaning up, fixing up, taking out, and tuning up.  I am the primary caregiver to a wonderful man and his Parkinson's Disease and he's not improving.  This disease is slowly stealing him and his abilities away from us.  And not lastly (but bestly!) I am the wife of a good man.  I'm so lucky to be the one to love him.

None of this will let up.  In  spite of the fact that we cleaned the front room yesterday, it needs to be cleaned again.  The laundry does not stay folded and put away.  Kids need to go to school again.  Track practice got out late and the boys need a ride home.  He needs a new pair of shoes.  She needs her hair brushed.  They need dinner (seriously guys?  We just ate yesterday!  Can't we call that good?).

And in the middle of all this thinking about slowing down and realizing that life was just not going to make this easy for me, I got a phone call from the doctor's office.  "So sorry, sweetie (she always calls me that and I love her for it).  The blood test results came back and you have Epstein Barr.  You need to get your back on the couch and stay there until this flare settles down."  Wait, what?  What is it, exactly?  Didn't I have mono already when I was twelve?  It comes back?  How bad is that?  How long will it take?  "Probably a month until you start feeling a bit better, but the fatigue can hang on for a while."

The fatigue.  Oh, I remember that part.  I was too sick to go to sixth grade for weeks.  My mom would take me to the doctor's office for more tests and I'd still be panting when we got there from the exertion of walking out my front door to the car.  Sometimes I had to crawl down the hallway to the bathroom because I was too exhausted to walk.  I lived on the old hide-a-bed couch in the living room where Mom could keep an eye on me.  Then they got new blue couches and they moved me and my old brown plaid one under the peninsula counter in the kitchen.  I was always so tired and never even wanted to move.

And I get to do that again?  Oh goody.

So now I live on the couch again.  Sometimes in the front room, and sometimes on the squishy green couches in the back room.  And sometimes I hide in my bedroom while Trent makes dinner and David hosts his own birthday party with his friends.  Lots of times I get up and do things, which I thnk is ok - in tiny amounts.  Because if I do any more than a microscopic amount, I pay for it afterwards.

It's hard to slow down.  I appreciate my family more than ever.  Trent is a dear to take care of half of everything I can't do.  David and Eddie have each made dinner this week (er, helped, but they are getting better).  Angel unloads the dishwasher.  The twins cleaned the bathroom, and it is actually cleaner now than when they started!  Even Chris was kind and was willing to help out (when he's not at school or work or track - which is not very much).  I'm blessed with wonderful people around me.

So we'll see what lessons I get to learn from this adventure!  Patience, I'm sure.  And gratitude.  And being able to see the things in slo-mo that I miss on fast-forward.  Stay tuned... I'm not going anywhere!

And thanks, Lord, for giving me a heads-up there at the organ.  I appreciate that.

Working Together

As I slow down, I am realizing that I am not a one-man-band.  The universe does not revolve around my efforts. I am not indispensable.  And contrary to how I often feel,  I do not carry the entire weight of the world in my poor arms.

Instead, I do my little part and those around me do their parts and we all manage together. None of us are perfect, but we manage to make things work in spite of our mistakes.

Nowhere is this more true than at the junior high band concert I attended tonight.  Eddie plays the trombone in the beginning band and I went to cheer him on.

I'd really rather have stayed home on the couch, but if I stayed, I would have been on for dinner patrol.  I gladly let Trent manage the last part off dinner prep, getting everyone to the table, the happy chaos of eating, and the cleaning up. For my part of parenting duties,  I'm sitting comfortably in a padded chair,  listening to the different junior high bands. 

They aren't as painful as I remember from when I was in junior high and for that I am grateful.  As the beginning band stayed up, a single clarinet came in a count to early.  An oboe squawked and the low brass played heavily over the top of the woodwinds.  A tiny girl crashed cymbals that were nearly as big as her arms were long,  and she struggled to stay on beat with the heavy metal cymbals.  The snare drummer executed a lopsided drumroll, and a single note from the bells sounded out clearly during what should have been a quiet part. At the end of a song, a single flutist hung onto her note too long.   But we all clapped enthusiastically anyway.

We cheer them on because we see ourselves in these fresh-faced kids who are trying so hard to do a hard thing well.  Most of them just started playing their instruments a few scant months ago.  They might not have known how to read music,  or have had the strength to hold up their instrument more than a few minutes.  But they keep practicing. Every honest try earns a modicum of improvement., a smidgen of skill.  And together, they get sounding pretty good.

The second band plays,  then the third.  Each band is more practiced,  more sure of themselves,  more skilled.  They transform the tunes into heart-moving music.  They grow into musicians.  And they touch our hearts.

We applaud them and hope that somewhere there are cheerleaders for us as we keep trying to do things that are hard for us - things that we aren't yet as good at as we'd like to be.  I do my little part and you do yours,  and together we make something worth listening to.

Desire and the Dangerous Doughnuts

I ate a doughnut last week.  No, that isn't telling the whole truth.  I think I ate four or five of them.  Trent brought home a whole tray full of day-old doughnuts as a treat for the family.  There were so many that we  - I mean the kids - oh, and my dad - and Trent too - couldn't eat them all up in a day.  So he put the leftovers in the garage, where it was cooler than the kitchen and there were more places to put a big old tray full of doughnuts.  I am grateful that he didn't leave them on the kitchen counter, but in the garage wasn't much better.

You see, they were calling to me.  They know my name.  And they whisper and cajole and tempt and sing siren songs of sticky sweetness to me.  It is so hard to resist!

I am on a special diet because my body isn't functioning properly right now.  I CAN eat fruits and vegetables and whole grains and a little meat every now and then.  I can even eat a tiny bit of fat occasionally!  That's new and I'm happy about it because it means I'm ok for some nuts or avocado or coconut.  I'm nuts about nuts, I admit.  When I eat the things I know my body tolerates, I feel better.  I have energy.  I don't have mood swings.  Life is happier.

But there are some things I still need to stay far, far away from.  Like sugar, of any kind.  And yeast, white flour, and anything processed.  More than just a smidge of plant-fat will do me in.  And no dairy.  A list like this means I need to make all my food from scratch, all the time.  And I need to be really, really careful to keep my guard up.

The doughnuts did me in.  I can only resist goodies for so long, and they were so alluring!  It was bad.  I ate one, and then another.  There may have been a third.  One was a powdered sugar mound of crispiness embracing a raspberry filling.  Another was actually a moist lemon cake disguised as a muffin-top, laced with delightfully tart frosting and peppered with bits of tangy lemon peel.  I savored every morsel, then sucked on my fingers so as not to miss a single atom.

As expected, I got a bad stomachache.  But the next morning there were still doughnuts!  Calling me, taunting me...  I picked up the three holdouts, tied them tightly into a bag and buried them in the garbage.  I didn't care who thought it was wasteful.  Out you go!

But throughout the day, somehow that bag worked its way back up to the top of the garbage and fell open.  And one at a time, those delicious doughnuts fairly jumped into my mouth.  I'm not sure how it happened, but every delicate nibble was delectable.

Payment was extracted over the next few days.  My stomach hurt - for days.  My guts endured all kinds of gastric distress that I'm sure you'd rather me not detail.  I got grumpy.  Normally I'm pretty easy-going, but with sugar I'm downright mean.  I caught the cold that the kids were passing around even though I rarely get sick.  I was discouraged and devoid of energy.  As long as I'm already feeling lousy, I might as well eat one of the cinnamon rolls Trent brought home, right?

That one gave me a bladder infection.  I was so miserable that I ate white bread, which induced a yeast infection.  And I'm still grouchy.

Last night, I even dumped a lengthy laundry list of complaints on my sweet husband.  Poor man.  He's been trying to cope with the kids and an irrational wife, all while adjusting to the learning curve of a new job.  I'm grateful he's so patient with me.

It takes about two weeks to get the sugar out of my system, to replace the cravings with vitality.  Until then, I'm grumpy that I don't get to eat any treats.  I'm trying not to see all the goodies the kids brought home from their Valentin's parties, and failing miserably.  I will continue to attempt to convince myself that the pizza Trent is bringing home for dinner is poison to me.

And I'm begging him to never bring doughnuts into the house again.

Living With Parkinson's Disease

It's been eighteen months since we moved in with my dad to help him out.  He's got Parkinson's Disease, and his neurologist said he couldn't live alone.  My mom was here, but she passed away three and a half years ago.  My brother and his family lived here, and now it's our turn.  

I've learned so much about this disease, and about my dad, and about myself, and about my sweet husband.  I haven't written much about our experience here, because I wanted to respect my dad and not have him feel bad about something I wrote.  I don't think I have much to worry about now - he doesn't get online anymore.  I do want to be careful and respectful of our challenges here.  I do feel a bit compelled to include our Parkinson's adventures on this blog, because maybe it would help someone else who has similar experiences and feelings.  Sometimes I feel so alone and misunderstood and I wish there were others who know what it is like to be a Parkinson's caregiver.  I'm sure I'm less alone than I think I am.  

Yup.  It's just me and Michael J. Fox and Muhammad Ali and 10 million people worldwide.  60,000 people every year are diagnosed with Parkinson's.  If I want to read different points of view, I can look at this list of 49 Parkinson's blogs, or this list of 14 blogs.  I have more information than I can shake a stick at.  Even if it is a very big stick.

What I don't have is a little afternoon chat with someone else who is living with a Parkinson's patient while trying to parent their own children.  It has been wonderful and very trying to live with my dad.  I'm sure there are others who understand.  Who knows?  Maybe I'll find some.

Save tomorrow afternoon for me.  I'd love to chat.

Look for the Good

I love my family.  I am appreciative that we have a roof over our heads and sturdy walls to keep out the cold.  I have so many blessings!  That said, our living arrangements have been challenging.  Living with my dad has been two or three castes below renting, and I'm so fiercely independent that it is pathetically hard for me to have such boundaries.  I get it - this is my dad's house, and I can't make changes and improvements to it.  And he still lives here, so there is a lot of even the decor that I don't feel like I can change.  It made him crazy that I moved the silverware to a different drawer.

So I can keep sniveling about the things I can't change, or I can look somewhere else.  I get a kick out of the design blogs that show us a gorgeous homescape, and then turn around and photograph the other side of the room - where they have kicked the old papers and the dirty socks and last night's dessert dishes and the two blankets that don't match.  Thanks for keeping it real.

We can do that in real life, too.  I get to choose where I want to look.  I can look at the shelves overflowing with my mother's movie collection, or I can look at the somewhat-calmer fireplace.  "Organize yourselves" was our theme for January, so I thought I ought to tidy up the space around it.  Looking here makes me happy.  I just have to be careful to look down every now and then because this room also houses our spreading Lego collection.  Don't step on Legos.

I got myself a bag of cinnamon pine cones this year, after admiring them at the stores - but not buying them - every dang year.  I love cinnamon, and they still smell lovely.  This is what I want to be smelling, not burnt toast or eau de teenaged garcon.  Look for the good.

The best part of having a family is that I get to be Mama.  Love these kids!  Even when they rip my heart out and have growing pains and act unlovable.  Maybe I love them even more then, because I have to search and find the wonderful parts of them.  It takes practice.  But the more I work on loving someone who is difficult to love, the better I get at it.  My angel mother and my sweet husband have taught me this.

My mom loved me when I was prickly and not very loving.  I still want to curl up in her arms and have her just hold me.  And my man loves me now when I am having a less than lovely day.  Thanks for holding me together, Trent.

Thanks, Mom, for loving me, and for showing me how to be a mom.  Hope you don't mind that I moved the silverware.  If you do mind, just look somewhere else, ok?

The Storybook House

I was bored the other day.  Yes, I had things I should have been doing,  but nothing on the A list, or even the B list.   Trent took the kids to play laser tag,  and I stayed home to watch over my dad,  who has been wobbly and falling a few times lately.  I cleaned the bathroom (because I got some cleaning supplies that don't make me sick from the chemicals!), and then sat.  And got bored.

I opened up my laptop and,  on a whim,  stayed looking to see if there were any good houses for sale in our area.  And then I saw it.   My dream house.

I had to put the sparkles on the picture because I always get stars in my eyes when I think of this house.  It looks like something from a storybook, doesn't it?  I always expect to see some princess coming out the front door, or find something magical in the gardens.  Actually, the first time I walked through the back yard, I did stumble across a tiny, bubbling stream.  I'm sure it was enchanted water.

We found the house several years ago when we were looking for a bigger house.  Adding the girl to my five boys meant that our house was a bit too full.  We needed something bigger.  And we found the Storybook House.

It was gorgeous.  And it had a kitchen spacious enough that we could all cook together.  I fell in love with the wooden door peephole in the front door, the tiny alcove that looked out on the front porch, and the Romeo and Juliette balcony over the great room.  The spiral staircase, the giant storage room, a dining area that would accommodate a table for ten, an office for Trent - it had everything.  Of course, with 7000 feet, it had room for everything!

Can't you hear the angels singing?  I do.  I love everything about that house.  Yes, it is really too big.  But it was going into foreclosure and was in our price range.  We didn't end up there, obviously.  And it's for sale again - for double the cost!  Sigh.  I'll keep dreaming about it.

And maybe if I take a stroll through our backyard,  I'll find something magical there, too.

Big Family Christmas Parties

We had a big Christmas party with my brothers and their families over the Christmas break.  Actually, we had three family parties: an adult one with Trent's siblings and parents that we look forward to all year, the big party with all of Trent's family, and the big but not-as-big party with my family.  Trent's parents have seven children, and there are nearly 40 grandchildren, plus a handful of great-grandchildren, so we are getting to be a pretty large group.  I only have four brothers, and no married grandchildren (Alec is the oldest of that generation), but we are getting substantial as well.  All the parties were enjoyable, but I'm only going to write about the one with my family because I was in charge of it.  And I didn't take any pictures of the others.

We met in my brother's church building because we needed the space for the activities we would be doing.  I wanted to just play lots of games.  We marked off a space for the little kids and build table-and-blanket forts for them.  My small fry were very happy all day there with paper to color on and games to play and lots of blocks to build with and a huge pile of stuffed animals.  And they ran around the halls some, too.

The first thing we did was take a group picture, before we got too wild and ragged.  I'll see if I can find that.  I think we ended up having more than 30 people there.

We went through our game closet and brought all the games we were tired of, and my mom's old games for a game swap.  We just piled all those games on a long table and the middle kids played some during the day.

We had a family tree race, and tried to be the first team to assemble our ancestors in the right order.  We learned that we know more about our pioneer forefathers and mothers than we do about our German ancestors.  We also learned which brother we should have on our team!  (hint - he's the deep-thinking one)

We played a game of Family Feud, where we learned that slamming your hand down hard on a bell really, really hurts, but it's worth it (maybe?) if you get the question for your team.  Also, trying to kiss your wife as a means of distraction so she doesn't hit the bell before you may not work as well as you want it to.

Trent arranged for a pizza truck to bring us our dinner, which was delicious and fun.  I'll never know how someone figured out to put raspberries on pizza, or mangos, or peanut Thai sauce, but they made some really amazing combinations.  And the dessert pizza!  Yum.  What a man I have.

After dinner, we cleared out all the tables and chairs and got ready for the big snowball fight.  We all brought our Christmas boxes and leftover wrapping paper and piled it up in the middle of the gym floor.  We split the boxes, the paper, and the people into two more-or-less equal teams, handed each team two rolls of packing tape, and blew the start whistle.  

The rules were simple.  The forts had to be behind the free-throw line.  If you got hit with a "snow" ball, you had to lay down before you could run away.

I loved watching Chris's vision and creativity with building the fort and outfitting his little brothers.  He was so patient!

The forts were pretty impressive, and surprisingly sturdy.  All the kids (especially the big ones) had a good time building.  It doesn't hurt to have men with lots of building experience, die-hard Lego creators and even a general contractor in the mix.

Freddie in his peppermint armor.  He refused to take his helmet off, even though it significantly impeded his sight.

I didn't bother further explaining or enlarging upon the rules, so they developed naturally.  Scrunched wrapping paper doesn't fly very well, and was helped out with a bit of tape.  "Getting hit" was defined as "on your skin or clothing," so elaborate armor was invented.

Georgie ran laps around the gym so his wrapping paper cape would fly out behind him.  He also had a box-helmet with a tall red flag on it, but it was too easy for the enemy to spot and thus was abandoned.

I think they spent more time in building forts, making ammo, and crafting costumes than actually lobbing hits against the other team.  It was fun to watch the creativity and comraderie.  After a while, but before they could possibly be ready! I blew my anemic whistle for the snowball fighting to commence.  And then I moved out of the way. 

We had some couches set up on the sidelines for Opa and mothers with small babies and anyone else who would rather watch.  I retreated to safety there, although we were not immune to the occasional badly-lobbed ball or retreating warrior running recklessly back to his fort.

We even had Goliath, taunting the other team to send out their best warriors to best him.  The little girl in front of him came our and did just that.

The snowball fight ended as the forts were falling apart, and when one team's fort was propelled over the center line.  It was a wonderful, fun mess!  We played all day, and had a great time.  At least I did.  I love being with these good people!  See what happens when you have a good family?  Families are pretty awesome, and I'm grateful for mine.

Happy New Year!

We rang in the new year with a sore throat or two.  Needless to say, we were not terribly festive.  We managed to stay awake all evening, which was a challenge.  I don't know why we can't end the old year a few hours early!  We even missed the countdown because of a confusion over the correct channel.  Oh well.  The new year came in whether we watched it do so or not.

Trent got a new game, based on a show he loves, so he played that with the kids.  Of course, we had to have a round of Disney Monopoly as well.  The twins are old enough now, mostly, that they don't throw the pieces around like a Tasmanian devil explosion anymore, so that's good.

For the first time in years - a couple decades, actually - I don't feel panic at the beginning of a new year.  People look back at the past year and hope the next one will be better, but I always had an anxiety attack, worrying like crazy that the new year would actually be harder than the old one was.  Those fears of mine were not wholly unfounded, because we've had some pretty hard times.  But this year feels different.  Now, I feel different.  There's a new optimism in me that I haven't seen for a long, long time.  I really do feel that this year will bring good things.  Hooray!

Happy New Year!  I think this will be a good one for us.

Crummy!

Trent got home from work late, and walked in while the twins were finishing up a bowl of tortilla chips.  Amidst cries of "Daddy's home!", he got clobbered by four little arms and two little boys who love their daddy fiercely and hug him tightly.  When he let them go, they returned to their chips.  Guiltily, they looked at the nearly- empty bowl and back at Trent.

After only a slight hesitation, they grabbed the last big chips in unison and offered the bowl of crumbs to their beloved father.  From their loving expressions, it was clear that the salty crumbs were the most delicious, but Freddie and Georgie were willing to part with them.

It was a tender moment with a side order of funny.  That's how we live in this family.