Christmas Traditions

1. Sparkles gets a couple new toys from Santa to rip to shreds. This year: a pink-eared pig thing and a squeaky chicken leg.

2. I get sick. Luckily it's only a cold this year but I felt like cr*p last night and Brian's got it, too. Sucks. And actually I thought I was going to make it through Christmas healthy for once.

3. Santa screws up. This year, he ordered the Wii, he ordered the steering wheels to play Mario Kart on the Wii, but he misplaced or never received the actual Mario Kart game for the Wii.

And yes, those are pocket knives. And no, I don't know what Santa was thinking. And no, the boys did not threaten Santa with their pocket knives for losing their video game. Apparently, Santa left Dad some money to go buy the game tomorrow when the stores open (and the blizzard stops).

4. Mom has to make something. It was flower clips this year, not crocheted hats--those were store-bought. I'm not that determined to ruin my health with too many projects in too little time.

5. I wrack my brains for something unique, personal and abysmally cheap to give Brian (because he always buys whatever he wants for himself, usually right before the holiday I was going to give it to him and so I have to get really creative). I ordered new photo prints of the kids for his office this year--they haven't been updated since Nathan was three years old. Last year, I mended the pairs of pants that had been sitting in my sewing stuff for years and put them under the tree. He loved it.

Last Minute Wish Lists

Matthew has suddenly come up with a long list of items that he wants for Christmas. And he's upset because he never got to tell it to Santa and now he thinks he won't get any of it. And he's right.

I tried to remind him that Christmas is about baby Jesus and giving, and he can be grateful and happy for the presents he does receive because other people find a lot of joy in getting them for him. But it didn't seem to do much good. He just couldn't get over how tragic it was that Santa doesn't know how much he wants that remote control helicopter he saw in a commercial. (Thanks a lot, TV.) Should I tell him that Santa knows how much he wants that helicopter and that it won't be in his Christmas stocking because a) he asked way too late for a mail-order toy for Christmas and b) it's a silly toy that costs way too much and will not be as cool as it looks in the commercial and will probably break in the first week he has it just like his remote control airplane? Or how about c) you don't always get everything you want, so d) stop being so materialistic and greedy and be grateful for what you get.

It could only have been divine intervention

I avoided a car accident today by a miracle, nothing more.

We were headed to Matthew's basketball game this morning, and running late like always, I was admittedly going a little faster than I should have been on snowy, slushy roads. As I changed lanes and started to slow down to turn right at the stop light, my brakes locked as my tires hit a sheet of ice and my car started to slide...fast. I veered onto the shoulder and, taking out the "singles!" signs posted along the side of the road, passed a line of cars parked on my left waiting to turn at the light and somehow managed to avoid sliding into the steep ditch on my right. As I was shooting forward, I realized that ahead of me there was a light pole and a large utility box slightly to the right, a car waiting to turn directly in front of me, but just to the left there was a gap in the cars. I headed for that.

As someone later told me who watched the whole thing, that car moved forward a just little, and my car shot through the gap into the middle of the intersection...completely unharmed. The light turned green, the traffic started to move, and after sitting for a minute to stop yelling and start breathing, I merged with the oncoming cars and drove off down the road, shaken but whole.

I drove down to the next stoplight, made a U-turn, and came back to the intersection to turn up the street I needed to take to Matthew's game. There at the same patch of ice was a car down in the ditch. That could have been me. That should have been me, if it weren't for the miracle that pushed my car in the only path it could have taken freely.

I thought of my car full of children strapped in their car seats and thanked God for our safety. And I'm so glad we avoided all those insurance and car repair bills, too.

Becca the Wiggly Worm

At 8 1/2 months old, Becca's trying to figure out how to get where she wants to go. Instead of complacently sitting in one spot on the floor like she would only a few days ago, she gets down on her hands and tummy and scoots herself all over the place. Unfortunately, the only direction she can go is backward and so she usually ends up with her legs stuck underneath the furniture--not where she wants.

So I pull her out, set her back on the floor on her bum , and down she gets and squirms off again. Judging by her determination, she'll be crawling like a little spider in no time. And then we're in for it.

(Funny, you know how you can never get your kid to smile for the camera? I was trying to capture Becca fussing but everytime I pulled out the camera, she quit fussing and grinned at me.)

Talon Larson

Life is hard. But sometimes it just seems cruel. Some close friends of ours suffered a tragedy yesterday that no parent should ever go through.

Clint Larson was one of Brian's best friends in high school. We went on double dates with Clint and his girlfriend, Heather, and they married only a couple of months after we did. Their oldest son, Kade, was born between Nathan and Matthew and through the years we've gotten together off and on to catch up. Now that we live just down the road from each other, we've started up the double dates, laughing over the same old jokes and sharing the same old camaraderie. Our boys have sleepovers together. And Brian and Clint--who is an amazingly talented cabinetmaker--are refurbishing an old house together, hoping to flip it for a little extra money.

After Kade was born, Clint and Heather had difficulties conceiving another child. They tried every fertility treatment and procedure in modern medical science. But after months and years with no results, they turned to adoption agencies for that missing baby they wanted so desperately. I was one of several who wrote letters of recommendation to birth mothers looking for prospective parents. Heather lived and dreamed and breathed babies--I have never seen anyone so single-minded.

Finally, they were chosen through a local adoption agency by a woman in Minnesota who was raising only one of her several children--all the rest were in foster homes or adopted out. Clint and Heather were so excited to bring this little baby into their family. They did everything for the birth mother, brought her to Utah to have the child, and they were there when he was born (well, Heather was stuck at a car accident...but that's a different story). Even though the birth mother had told them she was clean, the baby was born with drugs in his system and they went through several days of anguish as they nursed the suffering infant back to health.

Clint and Heather brought him home to join their family, to be a little brother to their son Kade, and to love him. Talon grew to be a happy, healthy baby with no lasting complications from his addict mother. There was no baby more loved and cherished and wanted.

But they were fighting to keep him. I'm not sure of all the details, but essentially the child is part Native American--not even one quarter, though--and the tribe has a right to him over the mother's right to give him up for adoption. The adoption agency never cleared the adoption with the tribe and even though they deemed the mother and father unfit parents, they claimed the baby for their own.

Emotions aside, the case brings up puzzling social questions that beg to be discussed and answered. What is in the best interest of the child? To grow up among his people and culture...or in suburban Utah? To live with his biological brothers and sisters (albeit in a foster home)...or in a family, with a mom and a dad and a whole lot of love?

Last week, a Utah judge finally gave custody to the tribe and Clint and Heather had to hand over their 6-month-old baby last night. Little Talon goes from a stable, loving home to join his siblings in tribal foster care. Luckily, he is young enough that after only a few weeks--hopefully, mercifully only a few hard days--he will not remember the family who had to let him go. But Clint and Heather and Kade will have a hole in their hearts forever.

The Larsons are lucky to have an amazing network of extended family who live close by, mostly in the same neighborhood. They were all there last night, and other friends and neighbors, to support Clint and Heather as they held and kissed Talon one last time, strapped him in his car seat, and buckled him into the minivan driven by a tribal representative and escorted by several police cars. As Clint carried the car seat down the front walk, Heather sobbed, "I can't do this", and everyone else cried, too.

So today we hold our kids a little closer, hug them a little tighter, and love them a little harder and think of our dear friends who weep for their baby whom they may never see again.

To Clint, Heather, and Kade: God be with you. May you find a measure of peace, somehow. We love you.


For local news coverage click here and here and here and here.
Also, they will be on "Good Morning America" tomorrow.

Turkey Bowl

I never posted anything about Thanksgiving because all the photos are on other people's cameras (I was too busy cooking to take any myself). But while I was surfing blogs today, I came across these photos of the flag football game Brian and the boys played with a few neighborhood friends, their dads, and everyone's extended family Thanksgiving guests.

The players

Grandpa Camper hiking the ball.

Brian in action

Brian, Matthew, and Nathan resting

Maggie and her friend (or nemesis--it depends on the day), Kambria

For more photos of the game, click here.

Maggie's "Mean"

When I was helping Maggie look for her "mean" (special blanket) today--which she loses track of 50 times a day--she plaintively piped, "It's white and pink..."

As if I didn't know what it looked like and don't see it every day being dragged around by its tag ("flag" to Maggie). Somehow knowing the blanket's color would help us figure out where Maggie last dropped it.

And then there are those precious moments...

Our stake invited all the Primary children to contribute some money toward a couple of granite benches built for viewing our new temple. They were encouraged to earn the money themselves. Today, the stake held an unveiling of the temple benches. Nathan was asked to give a short talk about how he earned the money he contributed and bear his testimony. He did a fantastic job talking in front of all those people, holding the microphone and everything. This is the talk he thought up, wrote, and gave all by himself:
Transcription:
"I earned my money by helping my grd. My grandma wanted a big rock bed. She did not want to buy all the rocks. I helped her collect rocks from daybreak on dirt. We carried loads and loads of rocks to her house. It took 10 to 15 minutes to drive there. She said I saved her $500 for her. She bought new furniture with the money. Now we have two things of her furniture at home.
"I'd like to bare my testimony. I know the church is true. I love my family. I'm thankful for good friends. I know Heavenly Father loves me. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen. / audience (amen)"

I think he was a little disconcerted that everyone was laughing at his talk. But I had several parents come tell me afterward that he was the best part of the event. And, in my partial opinion, he was.

Medical Science 101

When Nathan was running a fever yesterday, he said, "You know what's funny? It's like my heart and my brain have switched places. My brain is beating."

I explained about throbbing headaches. Poor kid.

A Day in My Life: Wednesday, December 5, 2008

My Auntie Shawn tagged me to record a day in my life. I'm warning you now, the following post alternates between excruciatingly boring and slightly embarrassing.

Chapter One--Morning

I wake up to the sound of Becca screaming from her crib. The clock says 6:56 AM, but my alarm was supposed to go off at 6:40 and either it never went off or I turned it off in my sleep. Considering that having gone to bed at midnight, I woke up last night at 1:00 AM (fed Becca), 2:00 AM (plugged a crying Becca with her binky), 3:00 AM (changed Maggie's diarrhea diaper), and 4:00 AM (fed Becca), I can't be sure exactly what happened thanks to my state of semi-deliriousness.

Puzzling over why my alarm didn't go off and grumbling over how tired I am and how late I'm already running, I lift the wailing Becca out of her crib (funny, she's always a pleasant child until she wakes up hungry in the middle of the night) and give her what little milk I have left these days while I doze off in the rocking chair. Thankfully, she falls back asleep and I put her back in her crib and head to the shower.

After my wake-up shower, I throw on some clothes and brush my wet hair and go wake up the boys at 7:35 AM--about 20 minutes late. "Mom, it's your fault we're always late..." complains Nathan. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. Use your own alarm clock.

Luckily, there's leftover french toast in the fridge so breakfast is quick and while the kids eat I make Nathan's lunch. Maggie even managed to wake up without her usual "Mom! MOM! MOOOOOOOM!" this morning--a small miracle that kept Becca sleeping long enough for me to get my hair dry and teeth brushed.

I find Maggie sharing her "mean" (special blanket) with a now-awake Becca and after quickly changing their diapers, we head downstairs to get the boys to school.

Lo and behold, the boys are not in the house. So Maggie and Becca and I do the usual morning rush alone this time: car seat, binky, blanket, hats, gloves, coats, Sparkles, leash, poop baggie, keys, socks, shoes, stroller, bike... And we're off by 8:15 to make sure the boys made it to school.

After a stern lecture on walking to school together ("But WHY, Mom?" "Because you need to be SAFE, Matthew"), the girls and Sparkles and I head home. On the way, I realize that everyone in the neighborhood has their Christmas decorations out so I figure I better take the autumn decorations off my front porch. And then as I'm walking through my yard to the trash with a pumpkin in my arms, I realize there is way too much dog poop on my tiny lawn. By the time I get that cleaned up, Maggie is bored and Becca has pulled off her mittens and they're cold and cranky so I give up on yard work and take the girls inside.

As I walk in the house at 9:15 AM, I realize that Matthew left his school folder and Nathan left his lunch on the kitchen counter. Well, that's what they get for running out the door this morning without waiting for me--I am definitely not going to walk back to school with their stuff. I'm the hatest mom ever, remember? After an argument with Maggie over whether or not she can eat Nathan's lunch, and when she can eat it, and if she leaves it on the floor then Sparkles will eat it before she can, we head upstairs to get the girls dressed.

Then it's Nick Jr. cartoons for Maggie and saucer time for Becca while I finally eat some breakfast and try to focus on a few scripture passages. After a little time with Daddy (who's been snoring on the couch through most of the morning--I don't know how he sleeps through all that noise) and a diaper change, Becca gets her second breakfast. And knocks it on the floor. Lovely. So I clean it up and give her a bottle and put her in her crib for a morning nap. Then, I finally put in my contacts, get my make-up on and tidy up my room.

By now it's 10:30 AM and I'm faced with my daily dilemma: dishes or laundry first?

Being a champion procrastinator--and since Brian has left for work and isn't around to encourage me to be productive--I opt for neither and reward myself (for getting dressed?) with a little computer time.

Chapter Two--Afternoon

Two hours later, at 12:30 PM, I've dragged myself from the computer, started some laundry, made a small dent in the kitchen mess, Becca is awake and I've turned off Maggie's cartoons. The rest of the afternoon is a haze of lunches, poopy diapers, needy three-year-olds begging to play boardgames, messes that won't clean themselves up no matter how hard I will them to, and ever-increasing sleepiness.

When Becca and Maggie go down for naps at 2:30 PM I'm exhausted and the house looks like a tornado swept through. Even though my bed is calling my name as I tickle Maggie's back, tummy, legs and arms while she snuggles in, I manage to evade the temptation and take a quick pick-me-up break with a mug of peppermint hot chocolate (yum!). I know I'll never stay on task long enough to get anything done this afternoon, so I turn on an audio book (The Tiger Rising by Kate Dicamillo, today) to keep me focused and dig into the mess.

I get the kitchen cleaned up just in time for Nathan and Matthew to walk in the door at about 3:45 PM with their backpacks and shoes and jackets and snacks and after-school projects all over the place. Nathan soon heads off to cub scouts (thank goodness we live across the street from the church and he can just run over there by himself) and Matthew runs around the neighborhood collecting kids for a "club meeting" he's hosting today. And I am determined to finish cleaning the living room if I fall asleep at the vacuum.

Maggie wakes up (MOOOOOOOM!) and thankfully joins the club meeting just as they're all being rewarded from Matthew's gumball machine for bravery in the face of ghosts. (Yeah, I don't know.) Then Becca wakes up (WAAAAAAAAA!) and after our one and only nursing session of the day (the sessions in the middle of the night don't count because we're both half asleep) we sneak some peek-a-boo and patty-cake playtime.

At 5:30 PM I shoo all the neighborhood kids home and give the boys a small list of things to do before we leave for Grandma's house (it's Enrichment night and Brian's working late and there won't be any childcare at the church so the kids are headed to their favorite emergency babysitter: Grandma Swings). I thought 15 minutes would be plenty of time to clean their stuff off the kitchen table and grab some pajamas. Of course, I forgot to factor in the 50 times it takes to tell the boys to do something until you have to threaten them with their lives before they even pay attention to you, and then there's the extra time for procrastinating and general goofing off. Half an hour later, after much yelling and losing of privileges, we manage to pile in the car and head down the road.

And then there's the 10-minute trip to Grandma's house that seems like an eternity: "LA LA LA LA LA!" "I just want some piece and quiet!" "ABCDEFG Barney is my enemy...!" "IF YOU DON'T BE QUIET YOU WON'T EVEN KNOW HOW MUCH TROUBLE YOU'LL BE IN!" (This is all from the kids. I just shut my ears and focused on driving.)

Chapter Three--Evening

Relief Society is definitely divine inspiration. There's nothing more restorative to frazzled nerves and general exhaustion than a quiet evening sharing Christmas memories with good friends and good food. Except for maybe a good night's sleep but those are elusive and, I'm beginning to believe, fictional.

Feeling re-energized and rejuvenated, I pick up the kids from Grandma's house and bring them home for bed. Luckily, there's no homework to worry about and they've already put on their pjs and eaten their snacks (Hooray for grandmas!), so with a prayer for all and a back scratch for each--and a bottle with rice cereal in the formula for Becca (please sleep all night, please sleep all night...)--I tuck them all into their beds and say goodnight.

It's Mommy and Daddy time! This daily ritual consists of snuggling on the couch, watching some TV, and giving Brian "chention"--which means, well, attention. Tonight, there aren't any new episodes of House or The Office on the DVR so Brian puts in a movie and we snuggle in for a yummy night. Who cares if the movie runs late, this could be the night Becca finally sleeps through the night...!

No, it is not the night that Becca sleeps through the night. Judging by the sound of her cries, she's starving to death at midnight. And since we haven't even finished our rather lame movie yet, it's going to be another long night and another sleepy day tomorrow. Oh well, so goes life...my life, anyway.

Maggie's Lists

A little while ago, Maggie asked if she could invite a friend over to play. "Sure," I said, "Who would you like to have over?"

"Owen."

"Your cousin Owen lives in Florida. That's a long, long way away. He lives too far away to come play today. Who else would you like to invite over?"

So, Maggie got out a piece of paper and made a list of all her friends:

And then she announced, "Mom, this list says 'Owen' on it. So that means I can have Owen over to play."

In fact, she refused to accept that baby Owen (he's only a year old) couldn't come over to play until I called my sister Tori, who happens to be Owen's mom, put Maggie on the phone and Tori explained to her that they live too far away but that they'd see us after Christmas. And then we had to go down Maggie's list of friends to find someone else to play with that day.

Maggie also loves to write grocery lists. She very carefully writes down everything we need to buy. "Okay," she says as she writes, "What else, Mom?" Then we have to take her list to the store. Unfortunately, it's kind of hard to figure out what she's written in scribble, so usually I have to bring my own list, too.