Donny and Marie--The Rest of the Story

The truth:  Tim is a fan.  I know who they are.  I appreciate their talent and professionalism, and I think they have an incredible story.  I think Marie is an amazing, strong, accomplished, talented and resilient woman--love that she is real and what she stands for.

However, back when Donny and Marie were huge pop culture icons, I was growing up in rural Idaho, in a home without a TV because antenna signals weren't strong enough back then to reach us.  My first intro to Donny and Marie (after we got a TV) was my mom being excited for us to watch their Christmas special on TV.  My mom had also been excited for us to watch Lawrence Welk.  For all I knew, Donny and Marie were in the same category as Lawrence Welk.  If my mom liked it, I was sure it was my duty as a budding teen to not like them.

When I realized who they were, I thought their story was cool, but I missed out on the mania that creates lifelong fans...

Which is what Tim is.

When our children were younger, he bought a Donny and Marie CD and put it in the car CD player.  One day my kids were singing Donny and Marie songs.  It was then I heard that when I wasn't in the car, they would drive around with Tim with the windows down singing along to the Donny and Marie CD at the top of their longs.  (So glad I wasn't with them.)  I can appreciate the talent of the Osmonds without singing their songs at the top of my lungs, right?

But when their show was coming to Salt Lake City so close to Christmas, I couldn't resist getting tickets for Tim...

And what an amazing show.  They really are talented performers...  50 years in the business and still going strong in a business that chews people up and spits them out...selling out shows 5 times a week in Las Vegas, winning awards in Vegas, where shows are known for pushing limits... That's impressive.

So, yup.  There you have it.  The rest of the story.

Day In Review...If You Give A Mouse A Cookie

You know those days when the day leads you?  When best laid plans get ignored? (a.k.a give-a-mouse-a-cookie kind of days.)

But before the day in review, I need to say Tim and I had huge plans to attend Donny and Marie concert in Salt Lake City later in the evening...Tim's Christmas present from me, and I did surprise him, unlike most other years.  Yes, I bought the tickets in November and Tim still didn't find out.

Day in review:

• Plan to do some winter cleaning...
• Drove Megan to basketball practice
• Start winter cleaning, which included a nice sized donation pile.
• Tim was doing his some winter organizing of his own in his office...new set of shelves he built.
• Couldn't get down the hall while he was moving the shelves in so I got put on guinea pig babysitting duty while Gabby cleaned her guinea pig cage (guinea pigs are a gift from Santa).
• Jeran found Kohl's cash while helping Tim move shelves that had to be used by the 1st.  (Note:  Change of plans...add trip to Kohl's into my day, when I go to drop off huge donation pile, and pick up the tickets from my office where I hid them.)
• Somehow the dog and the guinea pigs got into the same room...no harm.  Dog was curious, but not interested in making Gabby's new pets into a meal.
• Relieved of pet sitting duty.
• Leave to pick up Megan from basketball practice.
• Megan is dizzy and feels like passing out.  She eats and feels a little better, but as we're talking about symptoms, she named some symptoms of diabetes (which runs in her genes...over 50% of the population of Marshall Islanders over 30 has diabetes...something I've always worried about).
• Call a friend who is a nurse and takes care of daily testing for students with diabetes in our school district.  Wait for her to call me back.
• Megan feels better but is still pretty wiped out.
• I go to Kohl's.  Friend calls back while I'm there...thinks Megan should get checked out.  Tim has a friend who also works with diabetics.  He said the same thing.
• Cry on the phone to Tim because the emotions of the day and worry about Megan hit me all at once.
• Tim takes Nate to driving portion of his driver's license test.  Nate passed.  (Huge, loud cheering.)
• Finish at Kohl's and go home to take Megan to Urgent Care without dropping off donations (which are still, at this late hour, in the back of the Durango).
• 2.5 hours at Urgent Care.  It's their busiest week of the year (the nurse said so).  All the while I'm wondering who Tim will take to the concert if Megan is sick or in the hospital and I can't go...
• Turns out Megan's blood sugar is ok...She was dehydrated.  
• Stop at the store to buy some healthy food as Megan tries to talk me into every sugary treat imaginable because apparently, 2.5 hours of imagining her life with sugar restrictions had left her with some cravings (but I said no...such a good mom...who is more determined than ever to help this girl never get diabetes).
• Get home in time to see the huge mess I left trying to get some cleaning done...which would have to remain a huge mess because no matter what, we were going to the concert.
• But first I had to drop Jeran off at a birthday party and pick up the tickets from my office.
• Enjoyed an amazing evening of entertainment with Tim and about 2,700 of Donny and Marie's friends.

Image credit shared by my friend on facebook when she knew we were going to the concert

...And the mouse hangs the picture on the refrigerator and stands back to admire his work and seeing the refrigerator, wants milk, then asks for a cookie to go with it...  And the whole thing starts over again tomorrow.

Pondering Christmas

It's 9:45 p.m. on December 25th.  We've enjoyed presents, love, food, and companionship, and as this day ends, my heart is full of love for this season and this day.

I love my Savior--our Savior.  The Savior of the World.  It means so much to say, "He lives," because he does, and is a part of our lives every day.

Where would I be without His love?  I can take anything to Him.

Anything.  My joys, my tears, my love, my mistakes, my worries, my fears...  All of it.  When I'm hurting, or worried, I feel peace.  When my heart is filled with joy and love, I feel His rejoicing with me.

And I am always amazed he does the same for all of us, where ever we are, and whatever we are doing.  His love for us is personal, and reaches every person where they are in deeply meaningful ways that only we individually understand because He knows us that well.

His birth--the gift of God's love to the earth--is meaningful beyond measure.  Last year I started a personal tradition of reading the Four Gospels by December 25th.  It's difficult to do, for sure, and there was more than one occasion when I was cooking dinner or goodies or food for a gathering that I'd listen to chapters on my computer while I was cooking, and other times when I would listen on my iPhone as I drove...  And I finished.  And how amazing it was, once again.  It strengthens me and lifts me and helps me focus on the incredible meaning of this season.

Without Christ's birth, there could not have been the gifts of the Atonement and Resurrection.  Without His birth, my pain would remain pain, and I wouldn't know the gift of complete peace in the midst of worry.  And most definitely, I wouldn't know the hope of once again seeing and living forever with loved ones who have died before me.

(Told you my heart was full.)

At the end of the book of John, Christ is once again with the apostles, and was teaching them after his resurrection.  He lovingly counseled with Peter to feed his sheep, and then in John 21:18 Jesus tells Peter, "...When thou wast young, thou girdedst thyself, and walkedst whither thou wouldest: but when thou shalt be old, thou shalt stretch forth thy hands, and another shall gird thee, and carry thee whither thou wouldest not."

At various times in my life I read that verse, and it has had different meanings to me, but mostly a personal meaning to gain the maturity it takes to set aside my own will and live according to His will.  That is such a difficult thing.  But through my life, as I've walked those paths where the Savior has taken me wither I wouldest not, I've always known His peace, and it is because of that peace that my heart is full.

I know it is because of the Savior that on all these journeys where I don't want to go, He can somehow turn that journey into a journey of growth and love and peace that knits my heart to His.

And so it is that His birth means so much--to me, and to the world, that each of us personally can know eternal love and peace, not just after we die, but right now in this life as we walk with Him on our life's path.

Amazing.

Merry Christmas to friends and family (cards are still coming...  I ordered New Year's card's this year, knowing we wouldn't get them out in time).  My love and best wishes to all of you this season and in the New Year.

The Case of the Missing Chocolate Covered Cinnamon Bears

Have you ever had these things?  They're addictive!  Seriously...  

Try to eat just one.

We are no strangers to sports and school fundraisers this year.  In the past 6 months we have had 2 fundraisers for a local frozen yogurt place (buy one get one free cards), a fundraiser selling potatoes (huge Idaho Russets...just in time for Thanksgiving), a coupon book fundraiser, cookie dough, and a few others I'm sure I don't even remember.  We also had two fundraisers of selling all kinds of sweets...fun stuff that is overpriced, but very yummy so people will buy it.

Which brings us to chocolate covered cinnamon bears.  One of our neighbors bought some from Megan.  Megan delivered all the goodies except theirs, because they were out of town.  (Those would be the chocolate covered cinnamon bears.)  

And she naively left the tub of bears in the kitchen.  Right where everything is fair game.  Of course everyone wanted some.  I asked a few times whose they were.  No one answered.  One of the kids even said they were a Christmas present from dad.  And the boys said they were ours, that dad bought them from Megan in the fundraiser.  (Note to self:  Never believe hungry teens when it comes to claiming food.)  No one admits to opening them, but several of us might admit to enjoying them...

Needless to say, by the time the neighbors were home and Megan realized what had happened, it was too late.  We're hoping they accept a cute note and a treat...

(And no worries.  We're going with the you-eat-it, you-buy-it policy so they'll get their money back also.)

Seriously, with all those fundraisers, if this was our only delivery mishap, that's not so bad...

Unless you're our neighbors.

Sidenote:  Gabby graduated from NOVA today.  

Sidenote #2:  Nate went to an orthopedic specialist today and we found out it's his ACL that is torn.  When the swelling goes down in a few weeks, he'll have surgery.  Meanwhile he gets to wear his brace for a few more weeks, and is out of wrestling for the season...and probably spring sports as well.  His goal:  To take his driver's ed test and get his license before he has surgery.

It's Gabby Jarman Day

This is a picture taken of Gabby when we went to meet her in Omaha two years ago.  We went one week to meet her, and went back the next week to bring her home.

Today is officially Gabby Jarman Day--the anniversary of the day she became a part of the family two years ago.

I will never forget the feeling I had when we went to pick her up from school that day.  In that one moment, as we walked from the school to the car, we went from a family of 6 to a family of 7.  It's another one of those moments that is such a vivid picture in my mind, I could swear I've seen a picture of it somewhere, but no picture exists.

Can I tell you how much I love this girl?  I can't imagine our lives without her.  What a blessing she is to us!

For sure we're celebrating, although Gabby hasn't decided yet between pizza and Indian food.

And yesterday she told me, "I showered twice today so I wouldn't have to shower again tomorrow."  She was totally serious.  I guess she doesn't want to have to worry about a shower on her big day.

Sunday afternoon I read through the posts I wrote during the time we were preparing to adopt her, meeting her, and picking her up.  (Tears...but happy tears.)  I'll say it again.  I love this girl.  I love who she is.  I love that we get to share her life.  We are blessed.

See Gabby's adoption posts here.  (The order is most recent to oldest post...scroll back and start at the oldest post to get the story.)

In October (back when mono took over and I wasn't blogging much) we made a trip back to Omaha to visit people Gabby loved before she came to our family...that story will follow soon (promise).

Today we celebrate!

I'm Declaring It Family Friday

The tragedy on my mind this afternoon is the same tragedy on everyone's mind...

As you all know, early this morning a gunman entered an elementary school and shot 26 people (20 kids).  His actions have left a lot of minds reeling today with questions about safety.

Personally, when I heard the news, I felt the same way I did on 9-11.  I couldn't wait to hug my kids this afternoon.  I wanted right then to go find them where ever they were at and wrap my protective parent arms around them and make sure nothing ever hurt them.  Ever.

My next thoughts were about our crazy morning.  There were too many things happening to fit into one day and it turned out to be one of those mornings.  (If you're a parent, you know what I mean.)

Nate was sporting crutches and a knee brace, courtesy of a wrestling injury that was really a cross country injury that hadn't healed and was re-injured, and I knew I needed to try to get him in to an orthopedic specialist sometime in the near future.

Megan had to be to school early to take a test, and Joie needed to leave with her to go to a study lab.

Gabby needed Mentos, Diet Coke, and Play Doh for a science experiment at school, and the two stores I had been to the night before didn't have Mentos, so I knew I'd be on some kind of mission that morning before work to find a store or gas station that stocked Mentos...

And Gabby was worried she wouldn't get what she needed for her experiment.

Jeran was rushing around trying to pack up the 30-something birdhouses he had made and was donating to Primary Children's Hospital for kids in the hospital to paint.

Tim, who was supposed to be getting ready to drive Jeran and the birdhouses to the hospital was on a cleaning frenzy, which stresses me out because if he cleans I feel like I have to clean and that just wasn't on my to-do list for today.

Somehow in the process of us arguing passionately discussing housecleaning, the topic of kids' chores came up and poor Gabby only heard which jobs hadn't been done, and didn't get much credit for all she had done.  I hate it when that happens, and I saw it on her face as soon as she heard it.

Never in a million years would I care more about a clean house than my children.  (I can offer a free tour of our messy house as Exhibit A in my defense.)  But that's the message Gabby got.

I also hate sending my kids to school upset.  I've been known to take the long way to school so we can talk, or park in the parking lot to finish a discussion, and even drop them off late on occasion just to make sure we don't part ways upset at each other.  It's funny what loss will do to you that way, and somewhere in the back of my mind there's always the thought that we can't part ways upset...  Call it residual grief or a life's lesson learned.  Either way, it's important to me.

Today was no different.  Gabby had stomped out the front door and was sitting on the porch.  I called her back in and we had a minute--just Mom, Dad, Gabby, and Jeran.  Gabby got to hear how much she was loved and even what an amazing hard worker she was (because she is), and in just a few minutes our priorities were re-adjusted and relationships became once again more important than a messy clean house.

Why do I share that?  Because today, like so many other parents, as soon as I heard the news, I thought of all those other parents who will never get to hug their kiddos again, and wondered what if...

What if that had been our school, in our town...students we knew and loved, or even one of our own children?  And I thought of our morning.

Then I thought of people I knew, and found myself sympathizing with comments on facebook about wanting to homeschool, and sending prayers and love to people affected by this tragedy...  All of us trying in every way like I was to make sense of senseless.

Then when school let out, I went to go pick up Gabby, and was relieved that (at least for now, until she starts hearing more about it) she was just happy with the goldfish crackers and apple juice I bought her for her snack before she went to tutoring.  She heard what happened and asked a few questions, but quickly moved on to other things.

And as difficult as it was to not want to listen to the news on the radio, I turned it down and once again it was just me and one of my kids, and all was right with the world.  Then I dropped her off at her tutoring class and fought the urge to disrupt normal and just keep her with me today.  (Sigh.)

Then later when I picked her up, she was chatting about her day and asking for "Little Cheesers Pizza" for dinner because "Little Cheesers" is next to her tutoring, and she can't not ask every time we leave.  It was all oh-so-normal.

And I was oh-so-thankful that things were oh-so-normal...

And the sadness of the day hit me again as I thought about those whose lives are anything but normal today, and whose arms will feel especially empty tonight.

I know Gabby will have questions as she hears more about it, and I know over the weekend we'll discuss it more so she gets to process it first before hearing it from her friends.  The other kids have had questions too, and have already talked about it with their friends.

Sadly, tragedy isn't new to our family, and I learned a long time ago you can't make sense of senseless.  I also know, more than I wish I knew, that I can't protect children from life (but that doesn't keep me from wishing I could, and even trying...because I'm a mom and I'm human).

At the same time, the lessons I've learned lead me like an old friend through helping me process this new tragedy with my children.  I know without even thinking that my need to process isn't theirs.  And I learned a long time ago that hiding my sadness and grief won't protect them, and letting my grief show gives them permission to do the same, even when what we're experiencing isn't the same.  And fear...  My fear isn't their fear, but how I handle my fear is a cue to them about how to handle their fear.

And that is why today, like every day, they will see me doing what I always do...breathing in...breathing out...driving crazy carpools, and dropping them off at tutoring and practices and bossing them around all evening as they do their chores.

And tonight, as luck would have it, no one has anything scheduled, so we're declaring it Family Friday, and watching "It's A Wonderful Life" together.  And what do you know...the teens aren't even protesting (at least not much).  Some days I guess we're all just a little more thankful for each other than others.

And an awesome Mr. Rogers quote shared today on facebook:  "When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, 'Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.' To this day, especially in times of 'disaster,' I remember my mother’s words, and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers - so many caring people in this world."

Also some great resources about helping kids deal with tragedy can be found here.

Things That Would Make My Life Easier

In no particular order...

• A slow cooker that never over or undercooks things, because my slow cooker is my best friend, and nothing is worse than slow cooker recipes that tell you 5-6 hours when really the food is done in 3-4 hours...or less.  
• A grocery delivery service, because there's always that one thing I forgot...  Today it was Diet Coke, Mentos, and Play Doh so Gabby can make a rocket in school tomorrow.  I did remember the Christmas card for the foreign exchange student, and the cookies for the boys that came to help with Jeran's Eagle Scout Project, but I forgot the Diet Coke, Mentos, and Play Doh.  Don't you think it would be awesome if stores rewarded frequent shopper moms like me by gifting us one free delivery a week?  Wouldn't that be awesome?
• A chauffeur...definitely a chauffer, but only when I really, really can't handle getting in the car one more time that day.  Quite honestly, I do enjoy the conversations with my kids in car, and overhearing all their conversations with their friends, and overhearing two totally off-key teenager boys sing along with the radio at the top of their lungs (laughed so hard I almost crashed the car...kidding, Mom!  But I did laugh hard, and will never, never forget it as long as I live).  But it's that One.  Last.  Trip.  Of.  The.  Day.  By then I'm out of both words and brain cells, which are, coincidentally, required to make a conversation work.  I've also been known to tune out my own children during such periods of time when brain cells are in short supply.  For times like those times it would be a huge gift to have a chauffeur.
• And while I'm at it, self cleaning dishes, laundry, and kitchen and bathrooms would be nice.  Or a maid.  By the way, my kids claim they're my maids...  Sheesh!  (Said in my best teenage protest voice.)
• And a bank account that replenishes itself would be nice also.
• And a magic wand or access to a really awesome genie without a lot of rules about wishes.

Back to reality.  Now I'm closing my eyes and pretending I don't see the dishes in the sink, or the message light blinking on the answering machine, or the slow cooker waiting for me to decide what goes in it tomorrow...

And I did not just see my oldest son walk through the door on crutches.

I need a new genie.

16.5

On November 16th, this kiddo turned 16.5.  With each passing day, I'm more and more aware that he has limited time left at home.  And I gotta admit, the idea of him not being my kiddo anymore tugs a little at my heart strings.  People, trust me...  It goes so fast.  Don't blink.

He's almost half way through his junior year.  Next year he'll be a senior.  He gets his driver's license any day now...  I made a new rule for driving the kids to school this year:  Nate gets the front seat every day he rides with us because he doesn't have very many of those days left.  (Really, it was my selfish way of keeping his close to me.  As much as I hate being a taxi mom, I love talking to my kids in the car, and the older I get, the more fun those conversations are...  And I know I have a lot fewer of those left with Nate than with any of the others.)

Friday Nate had his wisdom teeth out.  He was semi-ok Friday and Saturday.  We put a remote in his hand and gave him the really good drugs once in a while, and he was fine.  They said the worst day for pain is the third day.  Sunday was not a great day for him, and he was sure there was a piece of food stuck in the back of his mouth, and he was determined to pull it out (against the advice of his doctor, who said let it work it's way out).  When there's something bugging him, he just can't leave it alone.

In all of his obsessing about whatever was in his mouth, I said, "What if it's just your stitches?"  

Then the rest of us left Nate home alone and went downtown Salt Lake City for the LDS church's Christmas Devotional.  Nate was here alone...just him and the remote...  And a waterpik.  He was determined to get that food out.

He's in a lot of pain today.  I called the doctor and they said he may have given himself a dry socket by using the waterpik...  We'll know tomorrow.

Seriously...  One day they'll all just figure out that Mom's right and we'll avoid half of the things that fall into the "oops" category of life.  Meanwhile, good thing we have a sense of humor.  (When they were babies, someone told me I wouldn't get mad when I saw all the messes they got into if I grabbed a camera and took a picture instead of yelling.  I guess it worked.)

Today, Nate came to me and said, "Mom, what if that thing that I thought was a piece of food is stitches?"   

I have to say in his defense, that I was 16.5 once too.  I think there were also things I had to figure out for myself...like gravity.  My young and in love self decided to descend the face of a giant rock without gear because in the euphoria of being in love, we both thought it sounded like a good idea...  I fell.  Thankfully, a quick thinking ranger caught me and stopped my fall (and all I remember about him now is that he had red hair and an Aussie accent...the ranger that is, not the guy I was with). 

Then later that evening, we thought it would be fun to drive in reverse down the dirt road that lead out of the canyon.  

And my mom remembers that when I told her the story, I prefaced it with, "Before I tell you what happened, I want to tell you that I didn't even break a fingernail."  (I clearly remember holding my hands up as proof, at which time she saw the scrapes down the sides of my arms.)

And 2 days after I had my wisdom teeth out I went skiing because adrenaline took over and the thought of a ski date with someone older who I had a crush on sounded too good to pass up.  (It was my last and only date with him...wonder why?)

So I've done my share of sixteen and stupid, and Nate's obsession with his stitches and possibly creating a dry socket doesn't come close.  I forgive him.

Funny though...  Everyone in the family is now telling and re-telling the story of when Nate pulled his own stitches out when he was four.  He'd had ear tubes a few years earlier, and the hole in his eardrum hadn't closed.  Surgery was recommended to repair the hole, which involved taking a tiny bit of tissue from the back of his earlobe to graft onto his eardrum as a patch, hence the stitches in his earlobe.

I remember we brought him home from the hospital, and I did the same thing back then I did this time--put him in front of the TV.  He'd been sleepy, and fell asleep as soon as I laid him on the couch, so I went upstairs to start cleaning the kitchen.  Not even 5 minutes later he was standing there in the kitchen with blood dripping off his ear and down his shoulder, and as calmly as a kid could ask for anything he said, "Mom, can you help me get these stitches out?"  Apparently they were bugging him back then also.  I also still remember the look on the face of the nurses when I walked back into the surgical center with a bleeding child not even an hour after walking out.  And by then Nate was tired and very, very aware of the stitches in his earlobe...not our favorite day at the doctor.

Nate gets that humor softens things for me.  Today in an attempt to stop the "I-told-you-so" that he sensed might follow his stitches ah-ha moment, Nate said, "It's my own special trait.  Removing stitches."  

Nate, we love you.  And all your special traits.  Maybe you'll be a surgeon someday.  

And no, you can't wrestle on Saturday if you have a dry socket.  And I won't feel bad and give in.  (But dad might, and I might go along with it.)  

(And all this while we had carpet layers in our house from 8:00 a.m. to 7:00 p.m.  Of course that only added to the fun, but new carpet!  It makes me forget everything else.)