Really?

Note from Sue: Ellie wrote this a year or more ago but it wasn't published for some reason.

Your life changes in a million ways from the very moment you find out you're going to have a baby. One of those changes is that somehow you magically appear on the mailing list of a butt-load of companies that want to sell you things "for your baby." I've had a free issue to Parenting Magazine ever since I was pregnant with Sam and made a trip to the Motherhood Maternity store. I've moved THREE times and this magazine has followed me everywhere! Sometimes I immediately throw it in the bag to go to the thrift store, but sometimes I crack it open thinking there might be something interesting in it. What usually follows is that I start either laughing or yelling at the authors in my brain. Then when James gets home we make fun of them together. (Which keeps me from being the crazy mom that sends them a scathing email after every issue comes out.)

Today the cover had a cute little girl in a bat costume on it and the headline promised "30 fab costumes your kids and your budget will love." Yes, well, that was untrue, but I started flipping through the pages and getting sucked into all the cute little edible halloween decorations that looked really fun to make until I realized I had no clean dishes to make them in. :D Then I read this:

Your Main Squeeze

Boost your child's confidence with our hug how-to

(Wait ... seriously? A hug how-to?)

Trying to catch your little one in an embrace may seema daunting task. (A daunting task? Really? Because they're covered in poisonous spines or because you let them play with machetes?) But hugging has more benefits than an expression of love - it boosts your kiddo's self-confidence, too. "Hugs show children that they are loved and appreciated, not becausee of something they did but because of who they are," says Edward R. Christopherson, Ph.D., clinical psychologist at Mercy Hospitals and Clinics in Kansas City, MO. (That's what that guy has to show for his Ph.D.? Kids who have parents that hug them feel better about themselves than kids who were raised by wolves?) The perfect formula? Get down to your little one's level and wrap him in both arms with chests touching - that symbolizes a "heart to heart," (Symbolizes a "heart to heart?" Like just in case you forget the proper "hug positioning," just remember that your aorta and the child's aorta should be touching?) says Andrea Weiner, Ed.D., author of More Than Saying I Love You: 4 Powerful Steps That Help Children Love Themselves. (Wow. I gotta know what those other 3 steps are. This is ground breaking stuff here.) And try to hold the hug for about 3 seconds. Any more, and your bambino will be wriggling away before you can say, "xoxo."

-Guramrit Khalsa

Seriously, I would have SO much more respect for this article is it was presented as a help for parents with Autism or Asperger's Syndrome. ... Or parents who are aliens. ... Or robots. Oh! I totally forgot to say that at the bottom of the article there's a cute little photo of the quintessential 60's dad just home from work, hugging his kids. There's a caption with an arrow pointing to the picture that says:

Hugs enhance parents' well-being, too!

So just in case you weren't convinced by all those doctors on the benefits of hugging your children (or maybe it still just seemed a little to daunting what with their ninja stars and all) you should try it because it will enhance YOUR well being - ya know, like a superfood but without the calories!

Honestly, I'm 99% sure that I have nothing to worry about here. I'm sure in a few days there will be a ton of people making fun of poor Guramrit for his helpful little tutorial on how to hug those scary little kids living in your house. BUT, as I'm being bombarded with advertisements for all this STUFF that corporations are telling us we NEED for our children to make our lives bareable, it kinda makes me wonder. While I was looking for a baby monitor online, I read an advertisement that, seriously, made me want to cry. (Ok, I was pregnant. Don't judge. Those hormones are no joke.) Anyway it was one of those monitors that has a million different settings so that, not only can you listen for when your baby wakes up, but you can also play 5 different lullabyes, or pre-record your own voice, or even use it like a sort of walkee-talkee to talk to your baby. But here's what bothered me - the caption over the picture in big cheerful letters:

"Soothe your baby without ever entering the nursery!"

(Insert picture of me here with jaw on floor.) :O

This is crazy to me! Why did you have kids, for goodness sakes? Dude, Wall-E was SO right! I can feel my bones getting squishier!

The same day I found the monitor that promises that you'll never have to go in your kid's room, I found another little monitor-looking thing. But this is no ordinary baby monitor. No. It's called "tTe Itzbeen." "The Itzbeen Pocket Nanny," to be precise. (Those Swedes know what they're doin', ya know. With furniture makin' AND baby nannyin'.) So what the Itzbeen does is ... ok, nevermind, I'll let them tell us:

"The Itzbeen Baby Care Timer from Coast Innovations is a great aid to every new parent. It is a multi-purpose digital timer tool designed to help you remember the basic details of baby care. Itzbeen baby care digital timer has four timers that count up with the touch of a button. These four buttons include: baby changing, baby feeding, napping, waking, and one extra that you can customize. (Maybe we should set this one for "hugging.") Also, the Itzbeen baby care timer includes a back clip so it's portable, a soft-glow nightlight, nursing reminder for the mother to remember which side the baby nursed from last, and a display backlight lets you read times in the dark. Itzbeen baby care timer is a must have for every new parent to make those first few months more enjoyable!"


Am I crazy, or is this ridiculous? At first, I think, "Who buys this stuff???" But then I remember that time I was pregnant with Sam and ventured into Babies R Us and ended up leaving in tears. It was SO overwhelming. We had NO money. I thought maybe I could scrape together about $100 to spend on getting some baby necessities before he was born. But it seemed like that was the bare minimum price tag on just about everything there! I remember calling James from the store and asking him if he thought he could make the baby a safe cradle out of wood. The more I walked around the more overwhelmed I got. I had no idea babies needed so much stuff! How could I have been so irresponsible to think we were ready to bring a baby into this world before we finished school and had a six figure income?!? Then Sambo surprised us by coming WAY before we were prepared for him and I soon found out babies don't need any of that crap. Who knew? They like boobies and they like warm bodies, and as far as safety goes, if you're with them - they're safe.

Now, I know the Mommy of the engineer that made the Itzbeen Pocket Nanny is super proud of her little Sven. And I'm sure there are lots of people who work with special-needs parents who can vouch that having a timer for certain baby care duties can be a great help for some parents. BUT ... I HATE that in our culture we completely discount any of the intuition or instinct or MAGIC that happens when you become a parent. New parents question themselves SO much, and these advertisers are right there ready to pounce ... er ... I mean, "offer help."

Besides the ridiculous advertisements, the other reason I hate these main-stream parenting magazines is this subtle tone they carry of trying to help parents "cope" with this life-changing time.

Instead of saying,
"Yeah, we get it. This whole parenting thing is CRAZY. And stressful. But it's also awesome, and in the big scheme of things, since you've decided to become a parent, raising this little person is the MOST important thing you will ever do. If you trust your instincts you'll have every tool you need."

Their tone is much more like, "Yep, this is CRAZY. And YOU need to keep it together. But there's no way you're gonna be able to do this unless you take care of you. So make sure you take a break. Get a sitter. Have Me-Time. Think about going back to work part-time. Oooh, look at this mom - she started her own business! Look what this mom made! You don't want to be one of those boring stay-at-home frumpy do-nothing moms. You can't let your kids be the center of your life because you will be stressed-out and uninteresting. So you need to go get a pedicure. And a glass of wine. Now." (I'm dead serious. I'm pretty sure every issue has said something about relaxing with a glass of wine.)





Thoughts on grace and a detour to glory

I decided 'grace' would be my scripture study topic, but in true form, as soon as I left the Bible dictionary for my first scripture, something else caught my eye. In John 15 Jesus gives the parable of the true vine. In verse 8,"Herein is my Father glorified, that ye bear much fruit;"
It has never squared with my understanding and my personal experiences that God, our Father, was a being who wanted glory. He is not an egotist!  But at that same moment, the following occurred to me: He is not seeking glory. He is seeking for His children's welfare. He wants us to know and understand and act upon who we are as children of divine, eternal, infinite Celestial parents. And with each new step we take, even the smallest of baby steps, with their lurching, awkward, unsteady gait, He beams! He is honored by our goodness. As we, His children, blossom and learn to act on our Godly, noble true being, bearing much fruit, it reflects on Him, for we are like Him.
 As a parent of adult children, I understand! As Daniel, Victoria, Richard, Carisa, James, and Ellie show compassion in their dealings with people, I am glorified. As they seek and follow the guidance of the Spirit, my soul is enlarged. When others see them, my part in their lives is revealed a bit, and yet, it's not about ME. It is about my children's ability to enact positive things which will lead them to knowing their true, infinite worth, and will in turn inspire those around them to discover THEIR true nature and act upon it.  Being glorified, then, isn't being an egotist; it's rejoicing in the success of your children and feeling humbled and honored.

Steve & I just spent a glorious Labor Day weekend at portions of the Timpanogos Storytelling Festival, and I was inspired! We should be telling our stories. Unfortunately, my best thoughts come while driving and listening to NPR. By the time I get to where I can actually record them, I resemble a Jack Webb character from 1960's TV: "Just the facts, Ma'am". I came to the conclusion at the Festival that my stories would be greatly enhanced if I were from Cuba, Ireland, or Appalachia, or just about anywhere in the South, because everything sounds better with an accent. But then, I also realized that my students hardly understand me, so maybe a good vocabulary could substitute for a cool accent. Ya think?
    With the 50th anniversary of the March on Washington just this past week, I thought maybe my first story should be how that intersected with my life. I'm 56, a white, middle-class, California-born female and so it would seem that I'd be worlds apart from the Civil Rights movement that the March on Washington symbolizes. And when I was 6, that was probably true. I was busy skipping 1st grade to 2nd and being confident when a classmate asked me what 'H-U-G-E' spelled that I was right. I said 'hug'. But almost immediately I realized that I had forgotten about that silent e making the u say its own name. But- I -didn't- admit- i- had- been- wrong. I don't know how long that classmate walked around with that error!
    BUT in terms of civil rights (small letters), I knew that people ought to be treated kindly and what was good for the goose was good for the gander (a saying my parents and grandparents said). I understood that to mean that all people were created equal. Well, really, I suppose at six I understood that if I got to sit down on a bus seat that anyone else who got on that bus ought to be able to sit down as long as there were seats. We rode the jitney (the little bus) from Hillside Blvd. to the Top of the Hill in Daly City, CA.
   I actually wasn't aware of the March on Washington when I was 6, when it was happening, but I became very aware of our country's inequalities just 2 years later, in 1965. That was the year we were moving to La Habra in Southern CA AND the year of the Watts riots. I saw them on the news on our brand new color TV. It was even more horrifying than the footage of the VietNam war. This was in my country AND in the place where I was going to be moving very soon. Why were people so angry? I really don't recall getting an explanation. I was frightened. I think I understood from the news that it was a community problem, but of course later I could see that it was an eruption in response to oppression. At 8, I became aware for the first time that people with different skin color lived in different communities, and I began to wonder. From that time forward, I began to pay attention to Martin Luther King, Jr., and the injustices and oppressions that I could never have thought about from my seemingly ordinary position.

Why Sam Needs A Truck

Just wanted to write down the conversation I had with Sam in the car yesterday. Just for a little background: Sam really likes old trucks. The 40's to early 50's models seem to be his favorite, but just about any old truck will turn his head. Part of his 10-Year-Plan is to buy an old truck to restore with Daddy when he's big enough to drive. So in the car yesterday we passed by an old truck that I knew he would notice and sure enough I heard,

"Mommy! Did you see that cool truck?"

"Yeah, I did, it was pretty nice."

"Yeah, I wish I had a truck like that. Except I don't think there would be enough room for me and you and Jonas and Daddy and the new baby, so that wouldn't be very good."

"Yeah, but when you're big enough to drive you could just take Jonas and the new baby with you and that would be fun."

"Yeah, and if I needed to carry anything I could just put it in the back ... like a really big basket ... or dead animals ..."

"Dead animals???"

"Yeah, like if I found a dead kangaroo I could just put it in the back of my truck."

"Why would you want to put a dead kangaroo in the back of your truck???"

"Or like if it wasn't dead but it was just like kinda hurt then I could take to ... you know that place ... where they fix 'em up."

"The veterinarian?"

"Yeah, I could take it to the veterinarian and then I would have a pet kangaroo."

"Oh, ok."

"Or if it was just a little tiny baby kangaroo then I could put it in a little basket like a carseat and then it could be in the front part with me and be toasty warm."

"Yeah, that would be good."

"So that's why I wish I had a truck like that."

"That makes perfect sense."

He knows!

What do my 16 year old self and my nearly 54 year old self have in common? Give up? It is not my girlish (um..really?) figure, my (now) auburn hair, or the knowledge I have. We were and are both loved by God, a Heavenly Father, a real being who existed then and exists now. I recently experienced a distinctive manifestation of that love that I want to share with the people I love the most.
Our family has many levels of belief and understandings of God. In order to communicate this experience best, I'd like to put my belief and understanding out here so as you read, you can use it as the context. I believe in God who directed the creation of a beautiful earth to give his beloved children a place to live and grow, and who set in motion natural laws that govern the earth's processes (geologic, meteorologic, etc.) Each part was created spiritually before it was created physically, including me. God knew me then, as he knew each spirit creation. He gave me a particular, unique package of personality, intellect, and propensities, and just like the natural processes, He set governing laws for my existence. His hopes for me as I became a mortal being through birth in a human family were such that the interplay of my "package" with the circumstances that I encountered and choices I would learn to make would propel me to become like He is, a perfect being. He wants me to come back to live with Him.
Because He loves us, He has distributed His power, the Priesthood, among mere men. These are pretty ordinary men who have promised to follow His Son (and thus Him) and keep the commandments. In fact, all of my sons have had the priesthood conferred upon them. It is only useable if they keep their covenants. One of the offices of the priesthood is a Patriarch, which is a formal calling to use the priesthood in a particular way: they receive revelation from God in order to give a once in a lifetime blessing to those who seek this information. Each blessing is unique to the person receiving it, and gives guidance about gifts and weaknesses that helps an individual throughout one's life.
When I was 16, I received a Patriarchal Blessing. I have often read it, worked to develop gifts mentioned, and recognized (sometimes in hindsight) what God knows about my potential. It is NOT in any way connected to predestination. God does not limit his children. There ARE hints or direct statements about what that potential is, and what one's purpose in life may be.
I have developed through the years a vibrant knowledge that God is real, that he knows ME as an individual, and cares about what I do. He loves me. I really can't explain the depth of His love, but because I have experienced it, I know it. The closest I can come to understanding or explaining it is through my experience as a mother.
My life recently has been pretty intense in preparing for a new professional chapter in my life. I have felt guided and have gained more confidence in the moving forward to unknown paths, because of God's love for me. I have had an underlying feeling that somehow this fits into the potential God would like me to reach.
Now to the recent experience: Wednesday (March 30) was the day I was to begin my interview experience at Weber State University. When I left home that morning, I would do 5 classroom observations, spending over 6 hours at a school before going the additional hour to Ogden and the dinner with the search committee. I had gotten a priesthood blessing from Steve Tuesday night, in which I was calmed and encouraged. My prayers Wednesday morning were pretty selfish prayers focused on what I was going to be doing, with a little praying for others. As I rose from my knees to continue my morning routine, to my mind came a phrase from my patriarchal blessing given almost 40 years ago. I have come to recognize these kinds of thoughts as messages from God, whispered by His Spirit. "You will achieve and gain knowledge and great skill as you continue in the realms of higher education and learning. Through your humbleness and prayerfulness and by listening to the promptings of the Holy Spirit, you will know all that you should do." For me, this was a direct message, revelation, that God was encouraging me. I HAD achieved a measure of knowledge & skill, and He would help me as I went through the interview experiences. I felt His confidence in me during my teaching, during all the various interviews with the Dean and numerous faculty, and during my research presentation. How could I NOT have confidence in myself? I realized more strongly than ever that He knows me.
Because of my great love for MY children, I want to share this experience in hopes that you will also come to know or come to know more deeply and firmly of His love for you. Amidst all of the demands of this life, the more one tries to find how to align one's life with God's, the more an individual comes to know and feel His love. It's always there.

Leprechauns!

Today while Sam was at preschool I thought it might be fun if he got a visit from the leprechauns. I have some teensy tiny baskets in my craft stuff, so I put a chocolate covered miniature marshmallow in each one and hung them on the branches of a bush outside. While Sam and I were working in the garden I casually mentioned that I saw something moving around in the bushes, but Jonas needed something so I didn't have time to go check it out. I told him he should go look and see if maybe there was a squirrel's nest or a bird nest or something in there. He went over about 5 feet from the bush and sort of glanced in its direction and said there was nothing.

"Oh, ok," I said. "It's just that it's getting close to St. Patrick's Day and I wasn't sure if Leprechauns come around here or not. We should probably keep a look out for them."


That changed things. He definitely thought we needed to take a closer look. Key word: WE. He was definitely not going near that bush by himself. So while I kept weeding we talked casually about it. There was definitely nothing to be scared of. Even if it WAS a Leprechaun, you'd NEVER see one. They sleep during the day and they definitely don't want any little boys to catch them. It was probably just a bird or a squirrel or something anyway.


When he couldn't stand it anymore, I finally got up to take a look at the bush. We went to the opposite side of where the treasures were, and pretty soon I heard,


"Mommy! I see something!"


It was a ball. Not our ball. Some random dirty old ball was under that bush. The leprechauns must have taken it from some other kid's house and hid it there. Awesome.


We kept looking for quite a while. The baskets were inches from his face and he looked right past them. Finally he saw one. You can imagine the look on his face.


"Mommy!" he gasped.


"Wow, what's that inside?"


"Chocolate!"

"Is it?"


"Yeah! ... or maybe poop or something."


I laughed pretty hard. "You think a leprechaun pooped in that basket?"


"Maybe, because they play tricks."


Then he noticed the 5 other baskets still hanging up. "Mommy! A LOT of poop!" ... "This is magic!"


We gathered up all the baskets and there was quite a bit of deliberating on whether it was poop or chocolate. He wanted me to try it first. I wanted to try it together. I kept counting to 3, but he seemed to have no intention of putting it in his mouth. Then all of a sudden he popped one in and pronounced it to be chocolate. Brave boy.


After some more treasure hunting we heard someone's voice and both looked up at the same time. In our driveway, about 20 feet away there was a surveyer wearing a bright orange work vest digging a hole.


"There he is!"

"Ya think? You wanna go see?"


He nodded and ran right over to him. I should explain here how funny an orange vest can make someone look when you have leprechauns on the brain. He was a round, jolly looking fellow, but a big guy, not leprechaun size. He would make a great Santa, though, if you slapped a white beard on him. He had a big booming voice, and when he saw Sam running over so excited he called out, "Hey, Buddy! I'm looking for treasure. You wanna help me?"


Sam turned back to look at me. His jaw was on the ground and his eyes were huge. He turned back to the orange-vested leprechaun and nodded up and down as big as he could.


He showed Sam his magic stick that made funny noises. He waved it over the ground and said, "When we find treasure it'll sound like this," (and he waved it over the hammer in his tool belt.) I was trying SO hard not to bust up laughing. You could just see exactly what Sam was thinking: I AM LOOKING FOR TREASURE WITH A REAL LIFE GIANT LEPRECHAUN!!!


After that it was pretty much just boring surveying stuff. (Sam was really hoping to dig a hole, I think.) They were looking for the property line and were radio-ing back and forth but couldn't seem to find it. "Nope, no treasure today. Sorry, Buddy."

I didn't want Sam to think road workers and surveyors and anyone wearing an orange vest are all magical people that play tricks and leave treats for little boys, so I told him that he should tell the man about what he found. So Sam showed him the baskets and said, "We found these in our bush."


For a second there the man's eyes got really big and he looked at me like, what the heck??? Maybe for a half a second he thought we found some indian baskets or something? I don't know, but he was definitely surprised for a moment.


I told him that we were pretty sure the leprechauns left them and that when we saw him in our driveway Sam thought maybe HE was the leprechaun. He got a good laugh out of that and assured Sam he was a little too big to be a leprechaun.

Sam had some candies in gold wrappers left over from his pinata, so he put those in the baskets and hung them in the bush for the leprechauns to find. I have a feeling we may be spending a lot more time in the bushes the next couple weeks.

anyone?....anyone?

I'm channeling Ben Stein as the boring teacher. "The war of 1812 was fought in the year...? Anyone? ...Anyone?
I was reading the past blog posts and while I enjoyed writing them, only Ellie ever commented or tried to play with me!
Maybe because I'm the mom, but mostly because I have a tender heart, it is important to me for our family to grow closer. To me that means trying to know each other for who we are now, and not relying on old conceptions. I realize that part of being family is sharing a history. I think that is incredibly valuable. It at least gives some context for why we have become who we have become, as well as giving grounds for a kind of family shorthand. When a particular event or era is referred to, the whole story doesn't necessarily need to be told. A phrase or a single word communicates the shared idea of the experience.
I realize that it is MY need to grow closer that I am putting out here. How would all of you propose to accomplish that need? As a corollary, is there a need others feel, or is everyone else fine the way it is?
I've considered why I feel we are distant, and offer the following explanation as it applies to me. As we've transitioned into all adults, I find that I enjoy watching the changes, but that our ways of relating to each other haven't kept up. Maybe as a parent, you 'children' expect me to still consider you as I did when you were children. That would certainly affect our relationship. If one is expecting to be treated as the person they were in an earlier time, then the relationship could get stuck in the past, using past communication types. That is not satisfying for me, because I am continuing to change, and I hope as I grow, my ability to be genuine, to be warm, and to consider others' growth will also deepen.
Gotta go to choir now, but I want to post in hopes that more of you will respond.

May Day! May Day!

Ok, so there is really no need for an SOS or help of any kind. It was just a fun title. May is the month of May Day, Cinco de Mayo, Proms and Mother's Day, all flowery kinds of things. Here in Utah, it is also a month of graduations, and the beginning of BYU Spring term. The beginning of May is also the beginning of a new year for me, with my birthday falling in the last week of April. I'm still startled to find myself over 50, with no sign of letting up. I took inventory last week, and counted my blessings. I am amazed at the things that have occurred for me. Having been born of goodly parents, I learned to keep on keeping on. From my point of view, at least, part of the legacy from both the Oakley and Elliott people is that quitting is never an option. It's a two-edged sword. It has, at times, been hard to know when to cut my losses. But it has also kept me persevering when things were simply hard. I think about my Grandma Oakley and Grandma Elliott. Both born in the late 1890s, they got through a number of hard things, including disappointments, deaths of loved ones too soon, not to mention 2 world wars, a flu pandemic, and the Depression. I realized this week that the Lord has put people in my life who have shaped me, and continue to shape me. He's trying to make me in to something useable for Him!
I've been teaching Sunday School for adults, and we've been studying the Old Testament. Most recently we studied about Moses and the Israelites. Their "wandering" in the wilderness for 40 years was both necessary and un-necessary. Un-necessary if they would have been quicker to develop the skills to be faithful that the Lord expected and needed his people to be. Necessary in that in order to be prepared for the experiences in Canaan, they needed certain capacities built, and the Lord tutored them with loving kindness during the 40 years. He was trying to prepare a people useable for Him --a people filled with faith, and an understanding of the Plan of Happiness, willing to serve each other, and love one another. In some respects, my last 35 years or so have been like that. My combination of stick-to-it-iveness and the flip side of bull-headedness, my family legacy, have been given to me to refine. It has been quite a process of coming to trust that God knows what will bring me the greatest joy, and to seek His direction instead of having my own head. I have had much more success as I continue to fine tune the seeking, listening, and hearing. And part of learning has been being associated with outstanding people, including my family, my co-workers, my cohort, my professors, my neighbors, and my Ward members.

Happy Birthday Gramma Sue

Every morning Sam wakes up and, while still rubbing his eyes, says,

"Mommeee? I thought maybe it was Easter today."

He's not much of a morning kind of guy so getting bad news every morning since Easter is kinda rough. After this conversation the other morning, we decided to talk about all the holidays coming up, the first of which is ... Gramma Sue's Birthday! Sam immediately perked up and said,

"I would like to make her a cake."

Excellent. However getting the cake to Gramma Sue ... not gonna happen. So we decided to make you birthday cupcakes and enjoy them for you. Less calories that way, right?

Why are they green you ask? Well, because that's the color of cupcakes puppies like, of course. (James decided that makes them "pupcakes.") Unfortunately, by the time the pupcakes were done, Sam was also done being a puppy and decided,

"I don't think I like that green part."

But the Chocolate Horchata Frosting with baby m&m's was a hit, and Sam was very happy to celebrate your birthday, even if it wasn't quite Easter yet.

New Year, Old Blog

After trying a few things to try to bring our family together and get to know each other, I'm coming back to the blog. Facebook is fun, and is convenient to post pics and snag pics from each other. However, it is too public and too brief. The round-robin newsletter that I know others have had success with is too slow, and too easy to forget about, and never made even a first round! I have heard that there may have been some apprehension about posting and commenting on posts, that it might cause some kind of trouble. I'm not so complex. In fact, I'm very WSIWYG. We have an adult family with many different views, and it would be very interesting to air them intelligently. Some of my favorite moments have been dialoging about world-views. My only wish is that comments be thoughtful, and questions be written respectfully. It would be great to hear what is going on in people's minds, since we don't have the opportunity to be together much. I'm not a great telephoner, and neither are any of our sons, as it turns out. Any ideas for a topic? It would be great actually, if everyone on the list started a post on whatever they're thinking currently.

Thought for our Sons

I was reading this morning, and came across this section. I thought of our sons, (all 3 of them), and their efforts to provide a good environment for their families. As a mom, this description is what I would have wished for our sons as small children and throughout their growing up years. Steve provided a lot for Daniel, when he was small and later as he was allowed, and to Richard & James as he came into our lives. As a grandmother, I hope our sons will find ways to stand on Steve's shoulders, and those of other good men they have observed, and provide the new and improved 21st Century version, and apply what President Hinckley says in this quote.

From Standing for Something by Gordon B. Hinckley:
Fathers have the inescapable responsibility to stand as head of the family. That does not carry with it any implication of dictatorship or unrighteous dominion. It confers the mandate to provide for the needs of their families. Those needs are more than food, clothing, and shelter. Those needs include righteous direction and the teaching, by example as well as precept, of basic principles of honesty, integrity, service, respect for the rights of others, and an understanding that we are accountable, not only to one another but also to God, for that which we do in this life. One writer observed, "it is not impossible that the true revolutionaries of the 21st Century will be the fathers of decent and civilized children."

4 Years

Well, besides being Steve's birthday today, it's also James' and my anniversary. Hard to believe it's been 4 years already. (We're getting old!) Today I found an old email I had forgotten I'd written to one of my missionary companions right after Sam was born. Maybe it's because I'm all pregnant and hormonal, but I couldn't read it without crying and I thought it was a fitting thing to accidentally find on our anniversary. We still feel like we're sort of "in the thick of it" with James being crazy busy and working so hard, but reading this today reminded me of how far we've come already and how thankful I am for all his hard work for us. Here's the letter ...

Hi Punim,

Sorry it's taken me so long to get back to you. Thank you for the baby clothes, that was so thoughtful of you. Your timing was incredible. We were expecting the baby in March, but instead he surprised us on January 21st!!! Now I know you’re dying to hear a long-winded labor story, right?

Here it goes:

The 21st was a Sunday morning. I woke up at 7:50am feeling a little crampy, but the baby had just turned head down earlier that week so I thought it was just that the Braxton Hicks contractions were feeling stronger in his new position. I told James I felt yucky and was gonna soak in the tub for awhile before church. He came in later and decided he wanted to time my "Braxton Hicks contractions." I laughed at him and thought he was being over zealous from our child birth prep classes we had just started. He told me they were lasting a minute and were a minute apart (you're supposed to go to the hospital when they're 5 minutes apart - woops.) Anyway the contractions were getting stronger and I decided if they were hurting me then they were probably bugging the baby too, so I reluctantly decided to go sit at the hospital and make sure everything was ok. (Of course I had to put on make up and do my hair first.) My mom asked if she should go with us. I told her no - that they were just gonna tell me "that's normal" like every other shocking thing that happens to your body during pregnancy and send me home. (I found out later James was behind me mouthing, “YES, you need to come with us!”)

I was irritated because I was tired and hurting and didn't want to spend my Sunday at the hospital. I was also worried they would tell me to take it easy or suggest bed rest which is hard to think about when you're the only one bringing home a paycheck till the end of the semester. By the time we got in the car it was hurting more and more. I was starting to get worried about the baby in there. I thought maybe they’d have to give me a shot or something to stop it. The hospital is about 30 minutes away. When we pulled into the parking lot I puked like I have never puked before – I sounded like I was possessed!!! There were no wheel chairs at the door so we walked across the first floor to the elevators. I guess the people inside were in a hurry because right before we got there the doors closed – jerks! When we finally got to labor and delivery on the third floor I went to the front desk and told them I was having contractions (it was probably about 9:30am by that time.) The nurse kinda scared me because before I even finished my sentence she was calling a triage nurse. She picked up the phone and said in a forced-calm voice, “I have a mom here having contractions AND SHE’S SHAKING REALLY BAD.” James told me later I was completely white.

They hooked me up to monitors – the baby’s heartbeat was good, yay! She was looking at my contractions on the screen. I was getting pretty inpatient and said, “Can’t you give me something to stop this?” She said, “Well, that depends on how far you’ve progressed.” That was the first time I realized those were real labor pains – I wasn’t just being a whimp. I decided right then that if this is what early labor pains were like then I was definitely gonna get an epidural when I really did go into labor (in March of course.) The nurse checked my cervix and said pitifully, “Oh, Honey, you’re 9 centimeters … you’re gonna have a baby today.” I, of course, began to cry and completely freak out. I was only 33 weeks pregnant. I had just finally started “showing.” (I weighed more on my mission than the day I gave birth!) They wheeled me into a delivery room (a wheelchair – fancy that) and made me lay down which hurt a lot worse than standing up and leaning on James. Then they spent what felt like an eternity asking me the Stupidest questions like my address and phone # and all that crap – supposedly I was already registered at that hospital, but I think they just wanted to torture me.

I was so scared and hopeless – I had no idea what babies were like born 7 weeks early. I didn’t know if he would live or if there would be lots of things wrong with him. I finally asked if I could have anything for the pain. They told me it was too late and that it wouldn’t be safe for the baby. So I asked how long before I could start pushing. That finally made her stop asking me silly questions. She said, “You feel like you want to push???” … Duh! I still wonder how long they would’ve let me lay there squirming around before they let me push, I was 9 centimeters dilated when I got there for heaven’s sake. She checked my cervix and said, “OH, you’re ready! But don’t push, wait for the doctor.”

Yes, Camilla, it really does hurt … bad. But looking back, I think if it was a normal birth and I wasn’t so scared for my poor little baby it would’ve hurt less. It really is doable. Luckily my sweet boy was faster than a speeding bullet and I only had to push for 15 minutes. (The draw back to having him come out so quick was that I had an episiotomy, and STILL “tore” in the front … didn’t you want to know that?) My awesome little kid was born at 10:51am. I had no idea what to expect, but he really looked perfect – and it wasn’t just blurry hormonal mommy vision, everybody was surprised at how great he looked. He was bright pink with chubby cheeks and a thick head of dark hair. He didn’t even look like a scrawny preemie. He looked like a normal, plump baby – just in miniature. He was 17.5 inches long and 4 pounds 11.5 ounces (about a pound more than the average at that age!) He let out a good cry and then started sucking on his arm. The doctor handed him to a neonatal nurse who (BLESS HER HEART) set him on my chest for about 2 seconds so I could kiss him and see him open his eyes for the first time. Then, of course they had to whisk him off, which I totally expected. He looked so great I was sure they would be back with him in a few minutes and I would get to take him home. (Yeah, obviously I didn’t read much about preemies when I was pregnant. I just was having a totally normal pregnancy, this was the last thing I ever thought would happen!) James got to follow them with the baby, and as soon as they said it was ok for my mom to go I told her to go too. When they got back James was smiling and nodding his head at me. He said, “He’s good, he’s gonna be alright.” But he looked too happy, like he was trying too hard to convince me. The baby looked so good when I saw him I thought I didn’t have to worry anymore. Then I saw my mom and it looked like she had been crying. The neonatologist came in right behind them. He told me there was nothing wrong with the baby, but because he was so early he was having too much trouble breathing on his own. They call it respiratory distress syndrome. The poor little babies spend so much energy breathing they burn too many calories and go downhill fast. The doctor told me he was hooked up to a machine to help him breathe and they would have to transfer him to a level 3 hospital in Sacramento.

I got to go down right away to see him. They wheeled me right up to him and the nurse that had handed him to me explained all his new “equipment.” When I look back at the pictures from those first few days, they break my heart. His tiny little body had so much “machinery” on it. But I guess because I had spent the last two years working at the clinic and assisting with surgeries, I expected a lot worse. When they told me he was on oxygen I thought he would be on a ventilator, but instead he had a CPAP. Because he was breathing on his own he didn’t need a ventilator to breathe FOR him, but because his tiny lungs were not supposed to be breathing air yet, they would collapse when he would exhale, so it made it that much harder each time he had to take another breath. The CPAP goes over their head and smashes their little piggy nose up and blows continuous positive air pressure to keep their lungs from deflating. He had an iv that took up his whole little arm, a central line from his umbilical cord, 3 monitors on his torso, one on his heel, and the other heel was bandaged from all the blood draws. He had a heater above him to keep him warm. He was so tough, every time someone would bother him he let out a little grunt or squeak and a wiggle to protest. James and I were still deciding between two names, but when I saw him there I decided his name was Sam. (Samuel Joseph Holden.) I couldn’t hold him, so I just leaned forward in my wheelchair and wrapped my arms around him like a hug as best as I could. I stayed like that with my face next to him and talking to him until the transport team came to take him away.

It’s really amazing the things they can do for these babies. They sent a neonatologist, a neonatal nurse, and a respiratory therapist to be there with him the whole ambulance ride. I got to stay there with him while the doctors and nurses gave their reports on his condition to the transport team and they hooked him up in his little space capsule. It wasn’t until the elevator doors closed and he was out of my sight that I lost it. All my mommy hormones kicked in full force and I HAD to be with my baby … NOW. They brought me to my recovery room and I told them I either needed to be released as soon as possible or I needed to be transferred to the hospital where my baby went. They told me it would be better to just rest and if everything went well I could be released tomorrow. They said that usually the paperwork to approve a transfer takes longer than getting well enough to be released. I asked them to start it just in case. Miracle of miracles, the same ambulance that took Sam to Sacramento turned right around and got me. The nurses said they’d NEVER seen it happen that fast.

Since he had an iv he wasn’t ready to eat for awhile so I started pumping breastmilk drop by drop every 2 hours 24 hours a day to try and get a decent milk supply. My sister in law flew out from Springville and got us a motel room close to the hospital (it was 60 to 90 minutes away from our house depending on traffic.) I couldn’t be with Sam all the time because it was such a high level of intensive care at that hospital. But I could go every 3 hours for his feedings. At first it was just my colostrum through a tube down his throat, then it was feeding tiny amounts of breastmilk from a bottle. I didn’t sleep for two days, and after that I didn’t sleep much. (Adrenaline is an amazing thing.) Leaving him over and over was the most agonizing thing I’ve ever done in my life. James still had school, so he came as much as he could, but we were separated a lot. Nighttime was the worst. I couldn’t relax enough to fall asleep, then when exhaustion finally took over I had to get up every couple hours to hook myself up to a cow machine when all I wanted to do was hold my baby. After a day or so he didn’t need the CPAP anymore. He got to have a little nasal canula instead and they slowly decreased the amount of oxygen he got from it each day until it was eventually just room air. By Thursday he didn’t need any help breathing, and we got the ok to transfer him back to the hospital he was born at.

That made things much easier. James would drop me off at the hospital in the morning on his way to school and pick me up after school. We would have lunch together, then he would do homework and I would go back to the hospital until late at night. At this hospital they didn’t have to kick me out every 3 hours, so I stayed with him all the time. Other than a few bouts of jaundice he was just working on getting bigger and stronger. Sam had a hard time figuring out how to suck, swallow, and breathe all at the same time. It was tough to see him trying so hard when he was so tired, and more and more was expected of him each day. On February 10th after the LONGEST 3 weeks of my life we finally got to take our baby home. He was 5 pounds 4 ounces.

Now he’s 3 and a half months old and must be pushing 12 pounds, I can’t believe how fast he grows. Every morning I wake up and he’s bigger. I know becoming a mother is always an amazing experience, but I always feel especially amazed because of how far we’ve come. What an interesting blessing to see what your baby would have been doing in your belly the last two months of your pregnancy. I’m still amazed at what unmistakable personalities they have right from the beginning even when they’re not done cooking yet. I think going through the anguish of being without my baby has made me so much more thankful. When I was pregnant I was worried about having to get up all night with a baby, and having it need you 24 hours a day. After he was born I realized I would have given anything to be woken up in the middle of the night by my baby instead of an alarm telling me to pump milk, and I found out that I needed him 24 hours a day at least as much as he needed me. Sam has completely taken over our lives like the good Lord intended him to. He’s doing lots of smiling and laughing now, and I’ve discovered it’s physiologically impossible for any human being not to laugh or at least smile at that. James and I always planned on me being a stay at home mom, but then real life happened. We had a baby on the way, and if we wanted to have a future we needed James to get through school as quickly as possible. We hoped we could figure out a way for me to not have to work, but I wondered if we really had a choice. Now we realize we don’t have a choice. That me leaving Sam to go to work is not worth any amount of money. James is still going to school full time and has a paid internship as an engineering assistant. I have no idea how he’s able to do it all, and neither does he. It’s like on your mission when you do your tiny little part and Heavenly Father makes up the difference by blessing you with extra … whatever. Life is crazy. I’m still clueless, but I can’t believe how much I’ve learned already. So don’t forget to let me know when you and Victor are expecting, I have lots of advice!!! ;)

Thanks again for the gift and just for keeping in touch. I really do miss you. You don’t meet friends like you very often, and it sucks we’re spread out all over the country. We were supposed to live next door to eachother, remember? I love you, Punim.

-Sista Bebo :)

Good Stuff

This probably won't mean much to anyone else, except maybe James will appreciate it some. I just got home from class, my capstone research class. We've been going through the process (since Fall) of doing research from framing a question to data analysis & reporting. We just got into a data set from a national longitudinal study a few weeks ago, and tonight we were to come to class ready to talk about what we would do with the data, what variables we would consider, how we would represent them, and what sort of analysis would answer our question of interest. Our question is What is the effect of Latino teachers on Latino students' achievement? We got to consider what our regression model would look like, and what the interactions would be between variables, and why. Although my initial model wasn't complete (I knew it wasn't, because I ran out of time), I was thinking correctly, and given time I think it would have been almost there. One of the things I hadn't yet considered were the interactions. It was very exciting to collaborate on writing the model (James, yes, it is a mathematical model and we were writing it on the whiteboard). My confidence in being able to think and represent it really grew tonight. If you want to see my eyes light up, watch me while we're doing something like this. I could have stayed for another few hours.

Why I want pie crust ...

I figured I'd better post this before everyone killed me when we had a baby and forgot to say anything. We found out I was pregnant at Christmas so it was a little soon to say anything, and then ... time just kinda flies, I guess! So here's the little biscuit at 11 weeks. I'm now 12 weeks and should have some new ultrasound pictures next week. I went to the doctor last week for something totally unrelated to the pregnancy, and with Kaiser no matter what you need to be seen for, if you're pregnant, they send you to an o.b. So since I hadn't had an ultrasound yet the gal decided to go ahead and check on the baby while I was there. It wasn't my regularly scheduled appointment so I had Sam with me, which actually turned out to be really neat. He's been a super good boy about going to the doctor with me, and really patient about waiting as long as there's some books or toys or a table and chairs he can play with. (Regardless of what I bring from home for him to play with, it's just not good enough at the doctor!) Anyway, they have to turn off the lights to do the ultrasound so they were worried Sam would be scared. I just pulled him up on the table with me and he watched the baby on the "t.v." It was really neat to see him so excited; "A baby! A baby!" I had to keep looking around his big head to see it! Now he loves looking at the pictures of the "baby" and telling the story of how we saw it on "t.v." at the "doctor." Hopefully we'll know in April if it's a boy or a girl, and we should get to meet her/him in August. :)

Good things come in small blessings

Well Friday morning came and I went to my appointment with the surgeon and the rep from Precision . The Surgeon took out the stitches and then the tech went to work. As he brought the stimulator power on and started to program it, I felt for the first time in 6 years a glimmer of hope. I have been waiting for 2 years to get this technology installed into my body just so I can try it out to see if it would work, and now is the awakening of the technology and it is blocking the pain signals that for 6 years have been tormenting me. The bliss that I have felt and the training time since, trying to get the level dialed in to block the pain but not feel the pulses, have been fun. Isn't it a wonder that God knows just what you need but allows you the trials to prepare yourself for the receipt of the wonders of his love and blessings. Even though Man "made the advancements" God has had his hand in everything being developed. He has placed the right people in the right places to be able to intelligently research and develop the wondrous machines and medicines necessary to enhance the lives of his children.

I Love the Lord so much and am so thankful for his involvement in this whole process. I have been so blessed lately that I can scarcely hold in the happiness I feel. Since leaving the military I have tried to make my life conform to the way the Lord and the Savior would like me to be. He blessed me with Sue and thusly with two wonderful new sons. With the two blessings I had already, that made my life so full and robustly happy. Now as the years that have passed, I have been blessed with more loved ones in the form of three wonderful daughters-in-Law that I see in my eyes as new Daughters. My Life I know will still contain more trials and struggles, but I rellish the struggles to overcome them because I know that they will ultimatly make me stronger in life and stronger spiritually.

Thank You Father for your Love in my life.

Playing 'Up'

As you can see, I've been in some intense thinking modes. I just applied for a Doctoral Fellowship, a cash award to assist doctoral students with their research. It is a competitive process, where you submit your application, and wait until Spring to hear if you've been chosen from among the candidates. Whenever I'm involved in intense writing/thinking academically, I learn new things about myself. Here's my latest thought (besides 3rd time's the charm):
When I was a kid, I dreamed of being heroic. I read biographies--every one with the blue denim cover in the school library--of famous people who made a difference. That's the kind of hero I wanted to be.
While that's who I wanted to be, I had a lot of fears that held me back. What if people found I wasn't really smart? What if I couldn't perform? If I couldn't do it perfectly, I didn't want to try, at least not in public. I missed a lot.
Having a marriage fail amid a relationship dynamic that was toxic to self-worth changes a lot. Failing at a very important life and eternal task led me to rethink and rebuild who I was. As the marriage ended, I had developed a new strength that began with understanding my worth to God. I determined that I could try new things. If you don't try, you'll never know what you can do.
This carried over into my teaching career, to a point.
Let me stray for a moment into a sports metaphor to help illustrate the core of my recent thinking. In High School, Freshmen generally are restricted to Freshmen teams and aren't allowed on Junior Varsity or Varsity teams, at least in my era. A few kids who are really good, are invited to 'play up'. When you are invited to play up, there is the very real chance that you won't see much action. The choice, then, is to stay with your lower level team, but be a star, or play up, but risk being overshadowed and even outplayed by the older players while you're learning. Guess who has the opportunity to learn more? Yep, the one playin 'up'. They get to test themselves against better players. More resistance over time builds muscle.
I realized recently that my style has been to stick with what I know, to stay with the Freshmen. The old adolescent fears kept me from becoming the person making a difference. Ever since coming to Utah, I've been coming closer to leaving the fear of failure behind for good. In my doctoral program, I'm finally 'playing up'.

3rd time's the charm

'Third time's the charm' as the saying goes. But what makes the 3rd time lucky? I was thinking about my 'lucky' 3's. It took me 3 times of starting my Bachelor's degree to finally finish it. I started at BYU as a 17 year old, a little later at CSU Sacramento until I got pregnant with James, and then finally finished after the divorce--graduating in 1986. Same for my Master's. One start for School Psychology/MFCC, a second for Educational Administration, and finally, the completed degree in Educational Technology. Significantly, Steve is my third try at marriage. So is it all 'luck', a 'charm'?
Luck connotes something whimsical or out of control of anyone. I am certain that in all of the cases of being successful on the 3rd try, volition was involved, and therefore luck was, well, out of luck. What was operational in all of the examples given was choice, hope, and perseverance.
With my Bachelor's degree, I chose to begin, and chose an environment that was nurturing to my awakening spirituality. I also chose to take a moratorium, afraid to make a mistake in my choice of career. But I also had hope that I would eventually figure out my path, and I would return to continue my education. Before I knew James was going to be born, I felt it was time to forge that path. I still did not know which direction to go, but the hope for a future of fulfillment was guiding me to that choice. When I found out I was expecting, I continued my plan to return to school, knowing it would only be for a semester, again with hope that my opportunity would come in the future. At that season, I chose to mother my children.
The connection between choice, hope, and perseverence for me is this: whether our choices lead us in the direction we had thought, or in some other way, a vision or goal will keep us focused with hope. By keeping that positive vision and joining that vision with perseverance, we make that 'charm' occur.
So third time's the charm? No. The third time is simply often the culmination of choosing not to give up, having hope for the important goal to be fulfilled.

Steve Here

Well the Stimulator is in and if it works as well as it did on the table I am going to be so happy next Friday when they turn it on permanently.
First they gave me a Spinal Block, which numbs you from the injection site down, so I could be awake for the whole thing. then they gave me some sedation so I wouldn't be anxious. That just made me loopy. I sang and hummed the whole time. I bet they thought me quite mad. After the y opened me up the Surgeon nipped off pieces of the Lamina so that he could have better access to place the wire. The wire is like the one Josh showed me in the beginning except that it had a paddle at the end of it that had 16 contacts on it. when the surgeon placed the wire then the Precision tech fired up the unit to see how well and how close she could get to the final program. She and the surgeon workes together until I was tingling from Paddle placement point to my big toes. She then turned it off and the surgeon placed the unit inside my right side. The tech then turned it back on and made sure everything was still working and then turned it off.
That was the neatest operation that I have ever been able to observe. I stayed overnight in the, get this, Maternity postpartum ward. How neat is that. Not everyone gets that privilege. Except maybe evey woman who has ever given birth.
Today I don't feel too bad. I feel better after every "nap",4 hours or more. I am going to try and cut down on the pain meds so that I can be able to drive myself where I want to go. The only thing that I feel is the fact that my whole body seems to be bloted or swolen a bit.

Well I will let all know how things are going so that you know how I am doing. Thanks for all your prayers, they have worked very well. Thanks to Richard and family for visiting me in the Hospital. Expecially thanks to Ben for the cute card he made me. It will be going into my keepsake file.

Our Christmas Tree Adventure

Saturday we went up to Apple Hill to get our Christmas Tree. James, of course, had lots of homework, so we got a pretty late start and knew we would have to pick out a tree fast before it got dark. We were looking for the hunt n cut farm we usually go to when our car started overheating. FAST. We turned on the heater, but before long the heater was blowing out cold air. (That can’t be good.) We pulled over in a drive way. I was ready to call Triple A and go home, but James was adamant that we would NOT be leaving without a tree. So while James let the car cool off, Sam and I walked up the hill to begin Christmas Tree browsing. It was almost dark. We were the only ones there. The farmer was very old and seemed a little worried that we wanted a Christmas Tree so late. James talked to a young guy that was visiting the farmer’s family and wrangled some water to fill up the radiator. Soon he found Sam and I, and together we found the most beautiful Christmas Tree EVER. While James strapped the tree to the roof of our little Honda Civic, the farmer called Autozone to see if they were still open (it was almost 5:00 for goodness sake!) and his wife gave Sam and I a little bag of apples. We stood around the car for a few minutes discussing how to get to Autozone and putting giant pickle jars of water in the trunk, while Sam showed me over and over, “A doggie! A doggie! A doggie!” The farmer noticed and called “Shirley,” his aging Britney Spaniel, over to entertain Sam. Sam was thrilled (like he never sees dogs or something) and was happy petting Shirley while the grown-ups did whatever it is that grown-ups do. I was keeping an eye on Sam and Shirley while I put our apples in the car. Shirley was old so I wasn’t sure how much she would appreciate an almost 2 year old touching her, but since the farmer called her over to visit I figured she must be used to grandkids. I reminded Sam to be gentle even though he was doing a good job of being gentle, and he thought it was hilarious that Shirley kept putting her itchy bum in his face for him to scratch. Sam turned to look at me, thrilled that he was petting a dog, just as Shirley thrust her bum into the side of Sam’s head. Sam started to fall and reached out to grab Shirley’s bum. Shirley didn’t like that. She moved quick for such an old gal. Not a little warning snap either. She told Sam what was up … a few times. At that point the farmer was standing at just the right angle to block my view of where Sam and Shirley met. I thought she just snapped up his hands good. But after a minute or two I could slowly see she got Sam’s face. He got a good bruise and a little blood right under his eye, and another bite mark over his nose. It was pretty heartbreaking to see him so sad, especially because the poor little guy didn’t even do anything. He was being gentle, darn it. Well, that got us on the road quick. We kinda felt like we got took. We paid $53.00 for the Christmas Tree! But we didn’t really have much choice, and like I said, it is the most beautiful Christmas Tree EVER. It was nice that they gave us water and a few apples, but then their dog tried to eat my kid, so … I’m not sure who came out on top. Oh, I forgot the funniest part. There was also this raggedy looking orange barn cat there. Sam kept showing it to me, “A cat! A cat!” When Sam was crying from his brush with death at the jaws of Shirley the old farmer went and got that nasty cat and tried to bring him over for Sam to pet! That thing was hissing and growling and scratching that poor old man! Too bad I didn’t see him do that BEFORE he called Shirley over, then I would have known not to trust his judgment in his animals’ temperaments!
Well, if you’re feeling bad for Sam I’ll give you the whole story so he can REALLY get some sympathy. That same morning when we were taking Daddy to work, Sam fell down the cement stairs out front and got a good bump and road rash on his forehead. Then the tussle with Shirley happened. Then, back at home, he fell off the kitchen chair he wasn’t supposed to be standing on and got a bump on the other side of his forehead. The next day he decided to give himself a haircut … in the tub … with the razor. Then today (please don’t call CPS) I accidentally shut the tip of his thumb in the car door. Yep. Poor guy.
So … our Christmas Tree Adventure didn’t really go as planned … (I didn’t even get any pie, darn it!) But it made me really thankful to be a girl. When the car broke down, other than offering my Triple A card, my work was done. James had to figure out how to keep us safe and not lose all our savings towing and fixing our only car. My job was to have a good time with Sam while Daddy made everything better. It was a little disappointing not to have the family outing we thought it would be, but we did have a good time. When I was a kid, having a disaster like that would have definitely ruined the whole day and everyone would have hated each other. Sam’s probably not old enough to even remember this trip (which may be good to prevent a future dog phobia) but even if he was old enough to remember, I’m sure he would remember it as a fun trip. He had no idea we got ourselves in a mess. He just thought we were taking an extra long walk to get to the trees. And he really was excited to pick one out - that was neat - to see him “discussing the merits” of each tree in different tones of nonsense adjectives. Sam is very proud of his special tree. He gets excited every morning when he sees it. He likes to turn the light switch on to light it up, and we catch him smelling it and (for some reason) blowing on it – not sure what that’s about, but it sure is cute.

Indiana Jones, starring Ben Cleverly

Here is Ben in his Indiana Jones costume. I cropped his cousin, Parker, out because he was Scooby Doo and I didn't want any confusion since Ricky was also Scooby Doo