What's Up

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*By the way, if anyone left a comment on this post previously, it was deleted in the big Blogger fiasco on Wednesday/Thursday. I would never delete your comments! They are what make my posts even more awesome.

If you don't hear much from me over the next little while, I apologize.

You see, May is totally kicking my rear and June decided to get in on the party.

I get to attend a seminary graduation, a kindergarten graduation, a 6th grade graduation and a high school graduation all within 2 weeks time. (Any other graduations someone forgot to tell me about?)

There are 5 performances on schedule, at least 3 class parties, two banquets and a plethora of end-of-the-school-year activities.

We are going to have out-of-town visitors twice. We get to pack and get ready for a family road trip and then a family reunion.

I get to attend a 3-day interpreter conference (not gonna lie - I am SO excited for this one!).

Four of my family are running in the local 188-mile Ragnar Relay. There will be cross-country practice every morning and basketball camp for a month.

My oldest starts college AND turns 18 (in that order).

Then, of course, we get to live our everyday lives amidst all of this glorious chaos - piano lessons, grocery shopping, chores, breakfast, lunch and dinner... you get the idea.

Don't get me wrong - I totally asked for this life and I thrive on it. (Kind of. Sometimes.)

But life's getting crazy over the next little while and I just wanted to say that even if I'm not posting all the time, I still love you. (Or I at least kind of like you.)

HAGS,
Gerb

(p.s. HAGS is the new LYLAS or KIT of yearbook signing. In case you were wondering.)

Fine And Dandy

Pin It I was wondering recently if there is a place on our planet where people are frustrated by all of the grass that is crowding out their dandelions. Do they apply grass-killer, hoping that the bright yellow flowers will be spared?

I've never really been a fan of dandelions before, but they somehow transformed into a thing of beauty when they were presented to me in small bouquets grasped in the two little fists of my proud 4-year-old girl and her cute little brother.


How could I turn away such a treasure, gathered in love with me in mind?

I think we need to look at things through a child's eyes more often. I think this world has all sorts of beauty that we have learned not to see.

Call me crazy, but I think dandelions get a bad rap. And I've got two little people here at my house who would be happy to back me up on that.

Go Ahead - Make My Day

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As I drove up to my house early this evening I saw a cluster of smallish people outside my front door.

When they turned and saw me they ran towards my car - and they weren't even my offspring. They were some of my favorite kids from our neighborhood.

"Hey, Sisto Bwack!" Super C yelled as he ran to me. "These are for you! For your birfday!" He and his brother, along with N~, handed me a bag filled with treats. "Thanks, guys!" I said. "This totally makes my day!"

"Guess what else?!" Super C asked with all the excitement that could possibly be contained in a 6-year-old body. "N~, do the bark!"

N~ looked at me with a sly grin and let out a few barking noises. "Can you be-weave it?!" Super C asked. "It sounds like a REAL dog!" N~ then turned to Super C and said, "Do the burps!"

Super C produced a series of quick burps-on-demand. "Isn't that awesome?!" N~ proclaimed excitedly. "It sounds like REAL burps!"

The treats were fantastic, but nothing compares to the method of delivery.

Kids. Are. Awesome.

Unexpected Gifts

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Music has always been a part of me and a part of my life in a large way. Somehow, the people who I become good friends with always seem to be people who share this passion for music. It is as if we are drawn to each other somehow. I like to imagine that perhaps there are two dimensions which co-exist in this world - the dimension where we all live and interact with each other as well as a higher dimension where people are uplifted, inspired, moved and influenced by music.

When I was a junior in high school I was a member of a choir called Aristocracy. The teacher, Mrs. Jensen, decided that for the last half of the year we would have 'secret pals' in this choir. The plan was for each of us to secretly leave small notes and gifts in a large box labeled "Secret Pals" for the person whose name we drew.

I was excited about this plan. I hoped and maybe even silently prayed that I would draw the name of my friend Debi because I knew everything about her and could imagine all sorts of perfect little surprises that I could gift her. But really, everyone in this choir got along well - perhaps because we co-existed on that higher, music-infused dimension, so I wasn't too worried about whose name I would choose.

I pulled a slip of folded paper from the bowl on top of the piano and went to a corner of the room where I could peek at the name of my secret pal. It was Richard Yu.

Richard was probably the most quiet and shy of all the members of Aristocracy - pretty much my loud, attention-seeking opposite. He mostly kept to himself so I didn't know much about him. Initially I will admit that I was a little disappointed to have chosen his name, but that quickly changed.

At first I did not know much about Richard aside from the fact that he liked to sing, so I would leave him things like candy bars and gum - you know, the sort of things that it was safe to assume most teenagers could appreciate. Eventually, as I watched him and got to know him better, my gifts became more personalized. He became someone I considered to be a close friend even though he did not really know much about me or who I was. I saw that there was more to him than was perceived in a glance.

One thing I loved to do for my friends was to share music. I would sit next to my pale pink radio with a blank tape in the cassette deck and press the record button when one of my favorite songs would play. Once the tape was filled with good music I would make a copy for myself in our dual-cassette deck stereo and gift the original to a friend. After one especially good weeks' worth of recording I decided to gift my tape to Richard.

I was so excited. This tape was definitely one of my best - it contained songs from Depeche Mode, REM, The Smiths, The Cure, U2, Pet Shop Boys and UB40. I wrote a note to him, explaining that these were some of my favorite songs, along with a 3x5 card which listed each song and artist. I watched the next day as Richard checked the secret pal box and picked up the gift I had left him. I wondered what he was going to think.

A week later I found something unusual in the choir room - a gift labeled "For Richard Yu's secret pal". I waited until everyone had left the choir room at the end of class and then retrieved my gift and quietly slipped it into my backpack. During lunch I opened the note taped to the top of the cassette-shaped package. It read,

Thank you for sharing your music with me. I want to share my music with you also. -Richard

The tape had a label which read: Beethoven. I wasn't sure what to think. This was definitely not my typical genre of music. In fact, I could not remember ever listening to any classical music before. I placed the cassette and note back into my bag and forgot about them until a few days later when another note waited for me:

Did you like the music I left for you? I would like to hear more of your music. Thank you, Richard

When I got home that day I listened to the music of Beethoven for the first time. And I cried. There was something so beautiful in the way that the music flowed and swelled. There was such passion and emotion in this music that I had never taken the time to listen to! It helped me to understand Richard on a different level, somehow. I made a copy of another one of my tapes, this one with more of a variety of music from artists like Cowboy Junkies, Michael Jackson, Violent Femmes, They Might Be Giants, Journey, The Church and Def Leppard. I wrote a note thanking him for sharing the classical music of Beethoven with me and told him that it brought tears to my eyes.

This became our method of communication over the remainder of the school year. He shared his music with me - pieces by Bach, Vivaldi, Mozart, Pachelbel and Handel - and I shared my music with him, everything from Anything Box to Morrissey to Oingo Boingo.

It was difficult to see him in the halls and not talk about the music he gave me. I wanted to yell out, "Richard! Vivaldi's Four Seasons is my new favorite! Thank you!" But I couldn't reveal who I was until the end of the year. I often wonder if he knew anyway because of the way I tried to include him more in what was going on with the choir.

When our choir sang at Disneyland that spring and were free to explore the park for the rest of the day following our performance we split into smaller groups. I noticed Richard was standing alone at the outskirts of the groups and pointed him out to my friend Debi. "Let's have him join our group," I said. "Hey Richard!" Debi called to him. "Come with us!" He smiled shyly and joined us as we walked toward our first destination, Space Mountain. We each took turns choosing which ride was next and when it was Richard's turn he said, "I don't know. I have never been here before." We were all incredulous. Growing up in southern California, Disneyland was a regular destination for most teenagers. We all pitched in and got him some mouse ears with his name embroidered on the back and had the best time enjoying Disneyland through the eyes of a first-timer.

On the bus ride home from our day at Disneyland I asked Richard what his favorite thing was. "The music!" he told me. "There was music everywhere!" I had never really noticed that before, but when I thought about it, he was right.

When the year came to a close and it was time to reveal our secret pals, I gave Richard a tape I had purchased called 'The Best of Disney'. We thanked each other for the music which had been shared. But really, how could I thank Richard for all that he had given me? The true gift was my new ability to see beyond stereotypes - in music and in people.

Richard and I have not stayed in contact over the years, but I think of him anytime I hear a now-familiar classical piece of music or discover a new artist that stirs my soul or when I befriend someone who I might have otherwise shied away from.

Richard, wherever you are, thank you.

P.S. (Added on July 1, 2011)
Look what I found on my friend Kendra's Facebook page! This was the day. Awesome.

On Being Cheerleaders

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photo from here

I love my neighborhood.

One of it's finest features, as in all great neighborhoods, is the people.

I have one across-the-street neighbor in particular who I have loved interacting with over the years. Initially it was just watching her as a smallish person, hearing the well-worn basketball as it would beat against the concrete while she practiced dribbling and shooting in her driveway. Ashley was an awesome little kid who was much more comfortable in tennis shoes, knee-length shorts and a Scooby Doo t-shirt than the other girls her age who wore cute bejeweled sandals and pink everything.

As Ashley grew older her basketball practice paid off - she played in some city leagues and eventually made it on to her high school's varsity basketball team. I don't think it's much of an exaggeration to say that she was the star... and we were all proud of our Ashley.

Well, Ashley grew up. She graduated from high school last year and signed on to continue playing basketball for a college in Colorado. Everyone missed Ashley - but we were in luck. Her team was coming here, to Utah, to play against two of the local universities! The excitement in our neighborhood was palpable. Ashley was coming home!

As my oldest kids and I walked into the game, we were thrilled. There, filling the stands for the away team, was Ashley's own personal cheering squad! There were signs! There were custom-made t-shirts!
Girls who had played basketball with her in high school, neighbors, family and friends all yelled and cheered our hearts out for #4. We talked to each other in excited tones over how amazing Ashley was and what a thrill it was to watch her play college ball. Any time she had the ball in her hands, her cheering section went wild. We jumped to our feet when she threw a pass. We pumped our fists and shouted for joy until our throats were sore when she made a shot. Any time she was on the bench we all screamed to put her back in. The crowd had a fever, and the only cure was MORE ASHLEY!!
The local university's team had never seen anything like it. There were more fans for the away team than there were for the home team. Why? Come what may, we were there for Ashley! She could do no wrong and we loved cheering her on through it all. TEAM ASHLEY!

Wouldn't it be awesome if each one of us had such a cheering squad? Can you imagine what it would be like if no matter where you went there was someone there to encourage you, pumping their fists in excitement and letting you know that they believed in you and knew you were capable of anything you wanted to achieve? I wonder what it would feel like to have such incredible support in everything you chose to do.

Hey! Why wonder? Why imagine? Let's do it!

If we could all offer this kind of acceptance, encouragement and unconditional love to our family, friends and even strangers that we encounter, the possibilities of what each of us could achieve are endless.

I'm the head cheerleader for team YOU.

GO YOU!!

Full Circle

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Today we found out that my oldest son was accepted to the university that he has dreamed of attending for as long as we can remember. He called us from school to tell us the good news right after opening his acceptance email. (Email? What happened to acceptance letters? Man, am I old.)

I am so excited and proud and absolutely thrilled for him! In Allen's family there is a history of college graduates. In my family, however, there is not. College was something that my smart friends did. I didn't even consider applying to any big colleges or universities when graduation approached. I wouldn't have even known where to begin at the time.

I have learned since what a difference it makes to have a degree and I knew from the time that my kids were very young that I wanted them to continue their educations beyond high school graduation. Allen has jokingly reminded me of the time when our oldest boy was still in diapers and I broke down in tears when we were working on our budget. "What's wrong?" he asked. "We will never be able to afford to send our kids to college!" I cried in despair. It's a funny story, but that is how long I have been determined to provide this opportunity for each of our children.

And now - well, we did it. We really did it.

Boys Vs. Girls

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Over at my blog, Life As I Know It, it's Q&A week. Readers ask questions and I give answers. To every question. Guaranteed.

This post is in response to my friend Rebecca's question:
If you had all 10 boys or all 10 girls, instead of some of both gender, which would you choose?

Why didn't you just ask which were my favorite, my boys or my girls? I guess you pretty much did. Well, let me put it this way...

My girls share most of my interests, such as thrift store & bargain shopping, baking, sewing, singing and collecting shoes. So I choose girls.

Boys are much easier to shop for because they'll wear their jeans and tennis shoes until they're falling off or won't fasten anymore - plus they'll wear whatever I buy for them without complaint to avoid a shopping trip. So I choose boys.

I can not attend scout camp with my boys who love to get dirty and wear the same clothing (including underwear) all week but I can attend an awesome week of fun mingled with spiritual growth at young women's camp with my girls. So I choose girls.

Boys have short, almost maintenance-free hair. If they give themselves a haircut, no problem. A quick all-over buzz with the clippers and we're back in business. So I choose boys.

Two words: potty training. I choose girls.

Two words: potty humor. (I'm easily entertained in this regard.) I choose boys.

How would you answer Rebecca's loaded question?

Different Is Good

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pic from cute_wallpaper.com

I recently did a post on my own blog where I listed a few of the books I've read over the past month and then asked for some good recommendations. One book was named repeatedly and given glowing reviews - and I could not wait to get my hands on it!

I got on the waiting list for this particular novel at the library and within a week or so it became available. I started to read it almost as soon as it was placed into my hands, excited for the adventure that awaited me within its pages.

Well. About 30 pages into the book I was thinking, "It must be starting slow. It's going to get good, I know it!" So I kept reading. And I kept thinking it was going to, at some point, become the amazing story I had envisioned. When I made it to Part 2 I realized that this book was not going to even come close to meeting my expectations and I put it down - for good.

Does this mean there was something wrong with those who loved the book and suggested it to me? No. It also doesn't mean there is anything wrong with my own taste in literature. It simply means that we have different opinions. And you know what? Different is good.

Different is what keeps life interesting.

The Sweetest Thing

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There is something about having a new baby in the house that I can only describe as magical.

I'm not sure if the love that everyone has for this newest tiny human being in our family just spills over onto everything else, causing a general feeling of happy contentment. Maybe it's just a peaceful feeling that comes about from seeing a smallish someone who is just starting out in this life, perfect and new. Whatever it is, these feelings seem to have permeated our home over the past few weeks and it has been bliss.

I love this poem which we found in the life history of Allen's maternal grandmother. I think she captures perfectly what I'm trying to say.

You're Welcome

You're welcome little stranger babe,
As welcome as the spring
That drives the winter gloom away
And brings the birds to sing.
The boon of love you brought to me
Was like a gift divine
To build and hold us heart to heart
Forever, baby mine.

I love being a mother. Again.

People of Walmart

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Teachinfourth's Walmart narrative yesterday brought to mind my own It-Could-Only-Happen-At-Walmart experience from the holidays.

It was just a few days before Christmas as I ventured into our local Walmart for some last-minute gift purchases. Being almost a full 9 months pregnant I thought it sensible to make a detour into the restroom before starting my shopping and was surprised to see a woman at the sink washing a small tub of dishes.

As I approached the sink to wash my hands the woman apologized for taking up a sink for her dish washing. I told her it was no bother to me but definitely wondered why in the world she found it necessary to clean her dishes in the bathroom of a Walmart. She answered my silent question with her next remark, "When we be out travelin' life's lonely highway tryin' to find that place we call home for the holidays, we gots to do what we gots to do to make things work."

A voice from behind me answered her, "Lawd, girl. You said it." I turned and saw that the dishwashing lady had a friend at the corner sink who I hadn't noticed before. Believe it or not, she was using the sink to wash her... unmentionables. Seriously. I can't make this stuff up.

At this point I was looking around for a hidden camera somewhere. I was not sure what to think.

"So, honey, when's that baby comin'?" the first lady asked me.

"I've got another few weeks," was my reply.

"This your first?" she inquired.

"No. My tenth, actually."

"You say your tenth?" she asked, incredulous. "Like, you had nine babies and this be your number TEN baby?"

"That's right," I answered, drying my hands.

"How many daddies for all them kids?"

"Just one." I answered, already growing weary of the way this conversation was headed.

"Girl, you got eight up on me. I had my oldest girl and 18 months later I had my second. And that's just 'cuz I forgot."

"You say you forgot?" the second woman remarked in a fit of laughter. "Lawd, you funny."

"So," the dishwasher asked, "you got your own T.V. show yet?"

"You say T.V. show?" the laundress laughed. "Girl, you bustin' my gut!"

"Really, now, your man got a good job to help with all those babies?" the first lady asked me.

At this point I was beyond ready to make my exit. I don't generally enjoy being the topic of an impromptu comedy show put on by two travelers in the WalMart bathroom. But I answered her question.

"Yes, he does." And then, as I started to leave I wished them well in their travels and said, "You have a Merry Christmas."

"Yeah, you too, Miss TEN BABIES. Ten! Lawd almighty. Bless you, honey. That's all I gots to say. BLESS. YOU."

And as I walked out into the store I heard the second woman comment, "When we all see that girl on T.V. we can say we met her at Utah's Walmart!"

Yeah. In the bathroom. As you washed your underwear.

Only at Walmart.

Real Face Time

Pin It Well, as luck would have it, yesterday I wrote an entire post before I realized that my internet connection was on the blink and none of it but the first paragraph was saved. Have you ever done that? Written something out and then lost it but just didn't have the heart to write it again after all of the time you put into it?

About a half an hour ago our connection was restored and so here I sit, wanting to write but not in so much detail. So that's what I'm going to do.

picture found at f2f.org

I disabled my Facebook account a few weeks ago. There were many reasons behind the decision, but mostly it was in an attempt to simplify my time on the computer. One day I just decided to do it and see if I would miss it. I didn't miss it at all. I have realized many more benefits since then and have not regretted my decision even once.

One of the benefits is that I was allowing myself to become too wrapped up in people's lives. When a friend writes in her status about how her husband lost his job, I want to help. When someone talks about how unhappy they are in their life or their marriage, I worry about them. When people express opinions that I 100% disagree with, I wish I hadn't seen that side of them. When someone invites me to 'like' a page they have created I am worried they will be offended if I don't. None of that matters anymore because I don't know about it. If something were important enough for me to know about, I would find out about it in other ways.

I think the best part, though, is that the people who really are truly my friends I am still in contact with. When it comes to those whose lives I want to remain a part of, nothing changed when I left the Facebook community. I have only had one old friend from high school email my brother and ask him for my contact information so that we could stay in touch. I don't have anyone poking me or sending me 'gifts' or inviting me to join their Facebook game community. I'm just living my real, live life and it's awesome.

The one thing that social networking (among other things - like texting, which I will never understand) takes away from life is actual human interaction. If you really want to know how your friends and family are doing, how about picking up the phone and giving them a call? If they live locally, walk/drive over to their house and say hello! Or, hey - how about writing a letter? (Letters are those things that people send in envelopes in the mail... you know, you write what you want to say on a piece of paper and send it off to the person you wanted to say it to? The benefit of a letter is that it can be read over and over again.)

My main point is that the only thing missing from my life since I left Facebook is the time I spent on my computer reading people's endlessly changing status updates and (quite often) life details that I was better off not knowing about in the first place.

Do you think you could do it? Disconnect from Facebook and go back to the way things were before you had ever heard of it? I bet you could.

Traditions

Pin It One of the greatest things about melding two families together in marriage is that each side brings different customs and traditions to the table. This is especially true for us when it comes to Christmas.

What is even more awesome is being able to weed out the traditions that you didn't much care for growing up - like each person taking their turn opening one gift at a time while everyone sits around watching. That one's from my family and it only lasted one year as a passed-along tradition with our kids. Now we open gifts wild banshee style and it's much more exciting and messy - the way Christmas morning should be.

Christmas traditions in Allen's family included delivering homemade treats to neighbors and friends while Christmas caroling. In my family Christmas cookies have always been a big deal (snickerdoodles made with green and red colored sprinkles and chocolate crinkles were the two you could always count on) but there was never any singing involved. We have carried on a blend of these two traditions throughout our marriage - but this year it's going to change just a bit.

And here's why:

I was amazed by the number of people who were making disparaging comments on Facebook a few weeks ago regarding the delivery of homemade treats at Christmas time. One person even said something to the extent of: If you bring my family a plate of Christmas treats they come in my front door and straight out the back door and into the garbage can. Ouch! Others mentioned that it's the sugar overload all at one time that's hard to handle. So this year we've decided to save ourselves the time and effort of making homemade treats and go with store bought for our neighbors and friends instead - something they can enjoy right away or put in the pantry for a month or two down the road.

I've actually been keeping a list over the years of fun (and almost always cheesily-clever) little sayings to pair with store-bought Christmas goodies. Lest you think I am the Chuck Norris of puns and cheesy sayings, I must confess that these were all either given to us at some point or something I've seen somewhere.

In case you're interested, here are a few ideas:


Wishing you a souper holiday season! (with a bag of soup mix)

Hope this adds a little spice to your holidays. (tied to a jar of salsa & bag of chips)

Just popping by with a holiday 'hi'! (microwave popcorn)

Have a FANTAstic holiday. (attached to a bottle of Fanta soda)

We wish you a Merry SwissMiss! (box or can of Swiss Miss brand hot chocolate)


My personal favorites, which I would probably not have the guts to actually give to anyone because it would reveal too much of my sick sense of humor and possibly reflect negatively on the rest of my family are:

You've been bad, so here's the scoop; all you get is snowman poop. (A cellophane bag filled with yogurt covered peanuts or anything round dipped in white chocolate)

Or, the same poem but with 'reindeer poop'. (Small box of Whoppers candy or any chocolate covered morsels in a cellophane bag would work)

So for this year, these are the gifts we've decided to give as we share a Christmas song or two:


We WHISK you a merry KISSmas and a happy ROOT BEER! (Wire whisk filled with chocolate kisses attached to a bottle of A&W)

or

You're gettin' MUFFIN for Christmas! (muffin mix tied to a muffin pan)

If you're one of my neighbors, please pretend to be surprised when we bring you these clever gifts of the season.

If you have the time, I would love to hear what your favorite neighbor gifts have been over the years. Do you like getting a plate filled with homemade goodness or do your prefer the store bought variety? Maybe you prefer non-food items (my favorite in this category is a kitchen towel and washcloth with a tag that declares: A new washer and dryer!) or nothing at all.

Talk to me.

(I'm hoping someone will have a fabulous idea for me to use next year.)

By the way, if the title of this post make you start singing a song from Fiddler on the Roof at the top of your lungs, you're my kind of person.

The Blue Sweater

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As I have been reading various blog posts this week the spirit of Christmas has begun to slowly seep into my heart. When I think of what Christmas is really about my first thoughts are always of the Christmas memories that helped shape who I am and how I choose to celebrate. To me, Christmas is the most meaningful when it is a season of sharing and giving. This story is one reason why these things are especially meaningful for me at this time of year.


Christmas! The season is here. I have so many reasons to love this holiday, but the most prominent are the memories of the years that we had the least - monetarily, anyway.

Our first few years in California were tough. After my Dad lost his job in Iowa we moved to California to live with my Aunt Bonnie and Uncle Dick. They were generous enough to not only offer my father employment but to also welcome us into their home. We lived with them for quite a while until Mom and Dad felt like we could try to make a go of things on our own and we moved into a nearby apartment. Mom and Dad told us that there would not be much for Christmas that year, but we would all be receiving a little something.

I remember well a trip to the mall a few days before Christmas to see the holiday displays and do some window shopping, something we did often. As I passed one particular window I caught sight of a beautiful blue sweater. Oh, how I wanted that sweater! I was at one of the most awkward social stages of my life. I had difficulty making friends and I was sure this sweater could help me in that department. With this sweater? Instant popularity! Friends galore! I slipped into the store, waving my family ahead.

I found my size and held it in front of me. It was so soft and warm. I looked into a mirror and could see how its blue color brought out the color of my eyes. I didn't dare try it on for fear that it would be a perfect fit, cementing the thought in my mind that we were made for each other, this sweater and I. I looked at the price tag... there was no way. I couldn't even ask.

I folded the sweater up and placed it back with the others in shades of red, purple and green. After one last, longing look, I hurried to catch up with my family.

Over the next couple of days we enjoyed some simple holiday traditions together - making cookies and decorating the tree. On Christmas Eve we delivered cookies to a few of our neighbors and friends then came back home to enjoy some Christmas treats. As we watched some holiday programs on the T.V. a loud knock sounded at our door. We ran to find who was coming to visit on Christmas Eve, throwing the door open eagerly. There was no one there. We were excited when we looked down and noticed a large box, filled with canned food, a ham and a gift for each of us! Christmas morning could not come quickly enough.

After a long, restless night, Christmas morning dawned. We gathered around the tree, eagerly anticipating the opening of gifts. There were a few things for each of us and we (im)patiently sat as each person took turns opening their presents one at a time, the way Mom liked to have us do it. Why we weren't allowed to just tear into the paper like wild banshees and get to what was inside was beyond me, but Mom made the rules.

I don't recall what my other gifts were but when it finally came my turn to open the mysterious gift left anonymously, I said a little prayer in my mind... "Please, Heavenly Father, let it be the blue sweater..." then I stopped. I felt a bit embarrassed. Who was I to ask God for a silly sweater? And why get my hopes up? The chances were slim to none. I slowly opened the gift and could not believe my eyes.

There it was. My sweater. The right size, the right color. We were made for each other.

Some may chalk it up to coincidence, but I choose to believe that God knows us personally and He knows what our needs are. And I think He works through others to bless us in simple ways when He knows we need it most.

This may sound over dramatic to you, but to a young pre-teen girl in need of a boost in the self-esteem department?

It was my own Christmas miracle.

A Day Of Gratitude

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photo found at wordpress.com

Despite the fact that the retail market and radio stations have once again forgotten one of my favorite holidays, I am really looking forward to Thanksgiving. I love wearing sweaters, the crispness in the air, the leaves blanketing the ground and the plentiful supply of pumpkin-infused treats that become available in the autumn. Most of all, though, I love the time spent with family and friends over this holiday as well as the personal reflection on things that I am thankful for.

This time of personal reflection has brought about a bit of a problem, however - every thought seems to be laced with emotion. And I'm not talking pregnancy hormones. I have just been overwhelmed with thankfulness for how amazing my life is. What's the problem with that? you may be wondering. The only way I can think to describe it is to say that these thoughts and feelings are something for me alone - they are personal and even sacred to me and they are all I can think about. This makes for scarce blogging - because I don't really want to share how awesome my husband and kids are. I'm afraid it will come across the wrong way and those who read will roll their eyes and think I'm seeing through rose-colored glasses. (I'm not.)

It makes me feel braggy but I have a grateful heart nonetheless. Let me give you the gist of it...

Every time I look at my husband or any of my children lately I am overcome with a mixture of pride, happiness and emotion. I am constantly amazed and humbled by the gift I have been given in being able to bring another little one into our family. We are immensely blessed to have Allen love his steady job at an incredible company that is supportive of families. We live in a wonderful neighborhood - not only for the location but especially for the good people that we are lucky enough to call our friends. My family is in good health. Honestly, I could go on. And on. This is not bragging. The simple fact is that my life is awesome.

I have noticed that quite a few other bloggers use this month to write every day about something they are thankful for. I think that is a great idea and something I may even try one of these years. However, for now, instead of writing more about me and my blessings I would love to hear from you. Let's take time to recognize and focus on the great things that are happening in our lives. If you have to, go ahead and put on those rose-colored glasses. It's time to remember what we have to be thankful for...

Even if it's Christmas music playing 24/7 on the airwaves.

What are you most thankful for?

Generation Gap

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Coolister (the tall guy) and some of his awesome (and also smart) friends.

When I was in high school my friends were all much more intelligent than I. It's not that I wasn't smart - I just didn't have any expectations to meet so I suppose you could say I didn't care about what grades I would get as long as I was going to graduate. High school graduation was as far as my parents got and it was as far as they expected me to go.

Fast forward to my senior year...

All of my friends were getting acceptance letters to colleges and universities before I even knew what the ACT Test was. I found out that my long-distance friend in Washington was accepted to a junior college in Idaho called Ricks with a whopping ACT score of 17. I didn't even know what the ACT was, but I signed up to take it so I could apply to Ricks and be roommates with her.

A score of something close to 17 became my goal.

Actually, the term goal is used loosely in that last sentence since I showed up the morning of the ACT armed with a pencil and my driver's license. I didn't even think about studying because I didn't know exactly what the ACT was or what I would be tested on. A few weeks later I got my score: 25! I was ecstatic.

Now fast forward to the present...

Not only do I want my kids to receive a college education - they desire this for themselves. It started with reading books and learning colors and letters with them as wee ones and continued throughout elementary, middle and high school. Education has always been a priority and they know it. Learning happened as much at home as it did at school and there have always been expectations.

My eldest child is a senior in high school. Not only did he study for the ACT well in advance, he took it his junior year. He got a score of 32 and was disappointed. He took it again last month and found out that he increased his score by one point. He was pleased, but still wished for at least a 34. For those of you who may not know, a 36 is the highest score you can get. I love that he sets such high expectations of himself.

I try not to brag too often in the blog world about how awesome my kids are, although I am tempted to do it all the time because they make me so dang proud. In fact, about 10 things just ran through my mind that I could gush on and on about, but I will refrain. The point of this post is this:

I love how a major, positive change in a family pattern can happen in just one generation.

Now My Thumbs Hurt

Pin It Just so you know, I am totally writing this delinquent post from my cell phone as I sit in the outpatient lab of my local hospital. I have been fasting since last night so that I could come here and drink 10 ounces of syrupy-sweet orange nastiness in order to be tested for gestational diabetes.

This is the definition of misery for me...

Today is Allen's birthday. As is tradition for our family, the kids and I woke up early to make a hearty breakfast-in-bed for him. Wheat and honey pancakes with fresh-whipped cream and raspberries, eggs, sausage and a tall glass of cold orange juice. Just writing all of that out was painful. Did I mention that I am fasting?

This is the definition of torture for me...

However. As my sleepy-eyed crew and I delivered our breakfast creation to our much loved and appreciated husband/father while singing "Happy birthday to you!" I had an overwhelming feeling of indescribable joy and appreciation for this family that I am blessed to call mine. The fact that we are able to add to this happiness by adding to our brood makes the misery and torture bearable.

So, despite my queasy stomach this morning, I would have to say that today has really been my definition of bliss.

Crazy: Up Close And Personal

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I wish I had time to write a blog post today, but life is crazy at the moment.

If I had time to write I would tell you all about how much I love Halloween, but I have roughly 45 pumpkins to gut and carve.

I could go on and on about how this is my favorite holiday, how I am that crazy neighbor that you don't understand because our family gets so into our Halloween decor, but I have a clown costume to fix and one more clown mask to find.


I'd tell you about how we transform our house and yard into the Cemetery Hotel and how this year is the off year when we throw in a spook alley, but I need to get to making the food for the disgusting dining room.

I'd love to tell you about how huge it's become this year with a cast of almost 30 teenage spooks and creepers from the neighborhood, but we're getting our haunted corn maze put back together after the continuous rain and wind that all but destroyed it a couple of nights ago.



I wanted to write about how fun it has been decorating the interior of the top floor of my house in preparation for having hundreds of strangers wander through it this weekend, but I still have to measure, cut and lay carpet remnants in the walking areas.


I wish I had time to tell you about the additions this year - the haunted lobby and creepy laundry room, the catacombs and south cemetery where the zombies come out at night, the forested tunnel and honeymoon suite... but the spider's lair is not yet complete and, well, someone's got to do it.

What I will tell you is that if you live anywhere near me and would like to come, we had tickets printed for both Friday and Saturday nights and we'd love to have you see what we've been putting together for the past few weeks in anticipation of this weekend.

For us, the real treat is having our friends and neighbors come through and enjoy a bit of a scare on Halloween weekend.

If you'd like a ticket, just let me know in the comments or send me an email at gerbdonna at gmail dot com. If I can't get one to you before this weekend then we can put one on hold for you with the lady who'll be passing out candy in front of the Cemetery Hotel.

I hope you can make it... we're dyyyyyyying to see you. (insert evil laugh)

Switching Perspective

Pin It Yesterday was one of those days.

For me, that means I've been coughing for 2 weeks straight and was able to sleep maybe a total of 2 hours at night because I woke repeatedly in various panicked half dream/half awake states and my body refused to cooperate when I attempted to get out of bed in the morning.

I lamely told my kids to pull out the cereal for breakfast and that I'd give them all money for school lunches then went back to sleep.

About 5 minutes before the elementary kids left my 11-year-old came in to report that they had all eaten cereal AND toast, brushed their teeth AND hair and that I could continue to sleep knowing all was taken care of for the day. I thanked him and drifted back to sleep.

I didn't give it a second thought until I went to pick my kids up after school.

My 6th and 4th graders turned out just fine, but when I saw my sweet little 2nd grader approaching the car, I about died.

She had very obviously done her own hair that morning...


Initially I was mortified. Because I have a large family I am self conscious about what others think of my kids appearances and do my best to be sure that none of my kids look neglected or orphaned. I guess I'm trying to avoid the whole stigma of oh, his pants are too short because he only wears hand-me-downs or her hair is always a mess because her mom has no time to get to it with all of the other kids to tend to.

When we got home I decided to talk to her about it. I asked, "Princess, did you do your own hair this morning?" "YES!" she answered, excited. "I did the ponytail all by myself so you could sleep! Isn't that awesome?"

Her response caught me off guard. She was so pleased with herself and what a big girl she was to have taken care of her own hair. She saw this as a gift to me, allowing me more time to rest that morning. What could I do? Besides, I am always trying to foster independence in my children. So I decided to change MY attitude. Was this any worse than allowing my 5-year-old to wear his long-sleeved skeleton pajama top all summer because it made him happy? Not really. And it certainly didn't hurt anyone - unless you count my silly pride.

"That IS awesome," I told her. "And it was so nice to sleep in this morning. Thank you, sweetheart."

"You're welcome!" she answered, beaming, as she skipped down the hall. Then she turned and added, "I love you, Mom!"

Indeed.

Getting On My Soap Box

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photo from vergemagazine.com

I'm going to write today about a topic that can be a bit controversial because it's all I can think about right now. It's all my kids can think about (and talk to me about) right now because they just had an assembly all about it where big promises were made. I'm talking about school fundraisers.

I hate school fundraisers. With a passion. And my kids hate that I hate fundraisers because then they can't win the prizes and parties that motivate the students to participate in the fundraisers.

How many people honestly want to buy wrapping paper, cookie dough, magazines, jewelry and whatnot at a ridiculously inflated cost? I'll tell you this: I sure don't. But yes, I do. If a kid that I actually know comes to my door selling something then I almost always will because I'm a sucker for kids. My kids hate this, too. If I won't let them sell these things then why do I buy crap from their friends?

I guess I'm sort of a hypocrite in that regard but I don't care. I'm the mom and I can do what I want - plus I don't think it's fair to lecture the neighborhood kids about what I think when their parents are obviously fine with it. That's not my place.

Well, push the wrapping paper and cookie dough sales aside because the latest trend in fundraisers seems to be more along the lines of Can you just give me some money for (insert school name here), please? In exchange for your donation, the kids will run a certain number of laps or shoot a basketball into the hoop a specified number of times in succession. I don't allow my kids to do these fundraisers either. Why? If the kid never ran one lap or if they missed a few baskets then the money is still collected. And even if they did run or make baskets, why should anyone be paying them to do this? Isn't that what kids do? Play?

I guess that what it comes down to is that I don't like the idea of teaching my kids to ask for something while giving back nothing in return.

I am not opposed to the idea of finding a way to generate money to donate to their schools, however. I have allowed my kids to do bake sales in our driveway, offer their babysitting or yard work services in exchange for payment, collect aluminum cans or even sell the clothing they have outgrown to a children's resale clothing store. I let them come up with their own ideas for fundraising, too - and sometimes these are awesome and sometimes they fail. But the point is that they are learning something. I will even take them to the dollar store and let them choose prizes if they earn the donation amount they were trying for. As long as they are learning to work for what they get.

It seems to me that many of the kids of today suffer from an entitlement syndrome. They feel that they are entitled to whatever they want and if they don't get it then all aytch-ee-double-hockey-sticks breaks loose. Fits are thrown. Tears are shed. This makes the new fundraising approach ideal for most kids. Collect money from friends and family, turn it over to the school and claim your prize. Easy.

My 5-year-old told me this week that if he did not bring any donations to the school for the current fundraiser then he would be the reason that the school did not get to have an ice cream party and he would not have any friends at recess. I am not cool with this type of motivation. It only makes me firmer in my position.

I hold on to some small glimmer of hope that my kids are learning something from all of this lesson I am trying to teach. I want them to learn the value in hard work. I suppose that only time will tell whether or not my methods are effective.

What do you think about school fundraisers? I'd love to hear what YOUR perspective is. Please leave a comment and we'll continue the conversation there.

In The Clouds

Pin It I have had a lifelong love of gazing at clouds, watching as they drift lazily past then gather in beautiful formations or discovering shapes and stories in their changing forms.

This began as a young child in Clinton, Iowa where I learned to watch for the fast-moving, greenish-gray clouds which usually foreshadowed a city-wide tornado warning. This fascination continued as my family moved to southern California and my younger brother and I would climb onto the roof of our apartment building to watch the bright golden-red sunsets behind the cotton ball clouds which hovered over the ocean. After moving to Utah and falling in love with the mountains I have observed the clouds that tend to linger at the tops of the majestic peaks.

Simply put, I love clouds.

I have realized over years worth of observation and fascination that the clouds could be considered something of a metaphor for my life.

Sometimes I feel as though I am stretched much too thin, like cotton batting clouds, pulled so tightly in so many directions that holes begin to show through.

Other days, like the clouds I see so often clinging to the tops of mountains, I just need something to hold on to, whether it be my family, my faith, my memories or any other thing that can sustain me until I am ready to stand on my own again.

Some of my best days are the ones where I am like the clouds which are filled with light. I feel ready to conquer the world - or at least the various tasks associated with being a wife and mother and human being - with a bright and happy countenance, filled with hope and possibility.

There are also times when I feel like a storm cloud, dark and angry and ready to burst. I reach a point where I am filled to capacity... and then, when I can no longer carry the burden or hold another drop of emotion, the tears fall like rain until I am empty.

It seems that as I have passed through each learning phase of my life, I have been like a cloud formation - changing slowly, almost imperceptibly, into different shapes and forms depending on which way the wind was blowing. It often happens so slowly that before you know it I have become a person who is completely different than I was to begin with.

However, no matter the state I'm in, there is usually a silver lining if I'm just willing to find it.

And just as I am mesmerized by watching the clouds and the way they change and morph depending on the atmosphere around them, I enjoy watching people as they do the same. No two are alike - each is unique in its color and form and structure, and that is what makes each one fascinating.