My Babies

My baby started Jr. High yesterday. Yeah, it's killing me. I was planning on the millenium to be here by now, so he could avoid the whole jr. high thing. I should have planned a little better and put him in a self defense class instead.

Chelsea and I pulled out Trey's baby book today; (she wanted to see if Paisley resembled her favorite uncle), and the memories came flooding back. There was Chelsea, 10 years old, holding her little brother. Now she holds her own little one. I've said it again, but it's worth repeating:

They grow up way too fast!

But if that's not consolation enough for the 3 am infomercial watching, sleep deprived mom of a newborn, consider this:

School has started. That means, before you know it, it will be time to start thinking about Halloween costumes, and carving pumpkins, and stocking up on candy. And we all know what happens the day after Halloween...Christmas music! But let's not forget Thanksgiving. We'll be so busy scouring over our recipe books, trying to find a new pie for the dessert table, that it will be here before we know it. And we all know what happens the day after Thanksgiving...setting up Christmas! The trees, the lights, the garland...oh think what fun Christmas will be this year with a new little one in our nativity manger! January brings birthdays and anniversary's to look forward too, and then spring will be right around the corner! Easter bunnies, walks in the park, blooming flowers and trees. Summer will follow on it's heels. Wading pools to keep cool, popsicles and fireworks...and then before you know it, she'll be a year old and sleepless nights will be a distant memory.



Whew! See how fast that went.

(Don't you just love the way I snucked (?) sneeked (?) the thought of halloween and christmas into my post just so I could use this awesome picture I took at Tai-Pan, cuz they have all their halloween decorations up and it's getting me trunky and treaty)

When I was a young girl in primary, we had a daddy-daughter date. I think we had dinner (I remember the ice-cream sundaes) and a program. I remember my best friends Lisa and Laurel sat on their dad's knee as he sang this song to them:

Where are you goin' my little one, little one?

Where are you goin' my baby my own?

Turn around and you're two

Turn around and you're four

Turn around and you're a young girl

Going out the door

Chorus: Turn around, Turn around, Turn around and you're a young girl

Going out of the door

Where are you goin' my little one, little one?

Little dirndles and petticoats, where have you gone?

Turn around and you're tiny

Turn around and you're grown

Turn around and you're a young wife

With babes of your own

Chorus: Turn around, Turn around, Turn around and you're a young wife
with babes of your own.

Where are you goin' my little one, little one?

Where are you goin' my baby my own?

By the end of the song, all of the Dad's were in tears. Back then, I didn't understand. I just knew my Dad cried alot. I figured it was a Dad thing.

Now I understand. And it's not just a Dad thing, it's a parent thing. (sniff sniff)

My babies are not babies anymore. Their grown, going off to jr high, and college, and having babies of their own.

Turn around Trey, turn around...come sit on my lap one more time. Come sing the Barney song one last time..."I love you, you love me..." come give me sticky kisses and wrap your dirty hands around my neck...let me read you a story one more time, "I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, as long as I'm living, my baby you'll be"...let me wipe away the tears one more time while you ask me what's wrong.

Nothing's wrong baby, it's just the way life is.

Where are you goin' my baby, my own.

Cake baking, picture taking, vanessa stalking weekend

I had the best weekend.

My uncle Jack is turning 90 years old this week, so his family had a nice little party for him at the town park. In case your wondering what one does at a birthday party for a 90 year old, one eats alot, visits alot, and takes pictures alot. Sorry, no clowns or magicians, but there was a 99 year old man there as well, which I thought was pretty cool.

So, we baked alot of cakes this weekend, Faun and I. We also took alot of pictures. Well, truth be told, her daughter Lauren took alot of pictures, Faun and I were on the opposite end of the lens this time, and we had no clue what we were doing. We have a whole new respect for all the poor saps that we boss around when we say 'tilt your head'' "chin up" "your hands look goofy" "give me a serious look" "I said serious, not constipated". Anyway, it was harder than it looks, which is why out of 100 pictures, only 19 made it through the editing process.

In all fairness, Faun looked great in all of them. Ok, most of them. She's a natural. I, on the other hand, felt like my arms grew by 2 feet. They were lanky and flanky and I didn't know what to do with them. Just as I was starting to get the hang of it, Faun would utter those 3 words every profile challenged model hates to hear..."Lets do serious". I was so worried about my chin disappearing when I stopped smiling, that I forgot to suck in my gut. So if there's only 1 serious picture that made it, it's because I looked like a butt protruding, gut flaunting, chin receeding, nose weirding person. I'm not kidding. I don't do serious. Just ask our photographer. We ended up laughing too hard, all thoughts of seriousness gone. Mission accomplished.

I also got to meet the house of one of my idols. Vanessa from V and Co. lives in close proximity to my cousin, so we drove by in hopes that she would be outside, working in her garden or taking fashion tips from her turtled neck sheep. Disappointment. She must have been inside working on a quilt, or better yet, blogging. But...I saw her house! It's darling! Her yard is beautiful too! I felt like somewhat of a stalker, knowing where she lives and all. She's very careful not to disclose her location on her blog, identifying herself as living in "the middle of nowhere utah"...and I know where that is, nah nah. I drove by again on my way home from Faun's, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, working up the courage to stop and say "Hi, I'm one of your admirers, can I have your autograph", but lucky for her, she was inside. Probably whipping up some homemade apple pie in a cute frilly apron that she made. Oh, to be so close.

I wonder where she'll be October 9th? Maybe if she's reading this she can be outside, arranging her pumpkins fastidiously around her yard. Or dressing a cute little scarecrow with overalls that she made out of old pillow cases and worn out jeans. And if I just so happen to drive by on my way to a certain person's house in the middle of nowhere utah, I could stop by and say "Hi. I'm one of your admirers. Could I get a picture with you?"

Just as long as it's not a serious profile, I'm sure she would be great with that!

Smittled

I feel like I should be wise by now.

I thought by the time I was a Grandma I would be all knowing and wise. Maybe not. Afterall, we're not called Wisema's. But I can be Grand. Golly gee-wiz, I'm grand. Maybe not.

What I am is smitten...yes, smitten. That's the first word that pooped into my head when I think of my sweet little PJ.

And since I wanted to make sure I was using the word properly in a sentance, (cuz I've been known to make up my own words from time to time), I looked it up in the dictionary to make sure it was a real word. According to Dictionary.com, it is:

smit·ten 
 –adjective
1.
struck, as with a hard blow.
2.
grievously or disastrously stricken or afflicted.
3.
very much in love.

Does anyone else find it extremely ironic that the same word used to identify one being "very much in love" also defines it as "struck, as with a hard blow", and "disastrously stricken".

Does that mean when you "fall in love" you land on your head? When you're "head over heels" about someone, is it cuz you've been afflicted with vertigo? If you've been "swept off your feet", do you land on your tush with a hard blow? If you "take my breath away", have I been stricken with asthma?

I'm not sure smitten was the word I was looking for afterall.

How about...smittled. According to my pocket dictionary of Lindaisms:

Smit-tled, adj.

1. to have one's heart melt with love.

2. to be completely captivated by a sleeping baby.

3. having a strong desire to snuggle a baby in kisses.

Yes. That is what I am, smittled. Not wise, not grand, just smittled.

Do you blame me? I'm sure once you meet her, you'll be smittled too!

Finally!

I'm back...I hope. My computer has been giving me fits. I'm going on faith that everyone but me can see my blog. Meanwhile, so much has happened in the last month, I'm not sure where to begin.

We started out the month of July by packing up the whole family and spending a week at Palisades. We swam, we fished, we paddled. Some of us sailed, golfed, and caught frogs. But we all had a great time! (Except for JP who was sick, and Cindy cuz she's the mom and that's the way it is when your child is sick)

When we got home from camping, Tary discovered a message on his phone. Would we like tickets to the Paul McCartney concert? Uh, let me think about it for a minute...HECK YES! It was amazing! The guy sang for 2 1/2 hours straight! No warm up band, no intermission, no potty break, and 3 encores! It was the best concert I have ever been too, although Buble' comes in a close 2nd, possibly a tie. I think I'll need to see Michael again to make a accurate decision.

And just when you think the month couldn't hold any more surprises, last Sunday we woke up the call of our daughter who announced she is in labor! Contractions were strong, but not very close yet. But by the time church was over at 4pm, and the road blocks and detours led us past their house, they were just pulling out to head to the hospital. 2 hours later they were back at our house, starving and discouraged. She was dilated to a 3, but hadn't progressed after an hours worth of walking the hospital halls, so they sent her home.

I was expecting a good half-nights sleep, just knowing the call would come at 3 am that she was back at the hospital. But my daughter was more considerate to me than I was to my mom, and let me sleep till 6 am before she made the call. They were back at the hospital, and this time they admitted her for the duration, seeing as how she had progressed to a 6! Holy cow, I had better hurry, she could go at any time! So without so much as a shower or a dab of mascara (I would just cry it off anyway), I woke up my lamaze partner (Kayla) and we rushed to the hospital. By the time we got there, she was at a 7 and progressing nicely. They had just given her an epidural, so things slowed down a bit....

....fast forward to 10 am. Chelsea was now dialated to a 10 and ready to go. Only one problem, the doctor was delivering another baby, C-section. Not to worry, the nurse told us, pushing could take hours. Shall we give it a try? Here comes a contraction...P..U..S..H..again...P...U...S...H...nicely done. Chelsea is a good little pusher. Here comes another contraction, knees in...P...U...S...H...good job, again...P...U....S...H...very good, in fact, too good. Maybe you should cross your legs for awhile, the doctor's not quite ready. So, for the next 30 minutes, Chelsea had to literally suck it in everytime a contraction would come.

Finally, the doctor arrived, the epidural had worn off, and the pushing could continue. 2 pushes later, and our sweet little Paisley joined our family!

What a beautiful little girl she is! As they laid her on Chelsea's chest, I couldn't contain the tears, (although I thought I did a pretty good job of hiding them behind the camera). Funny, I didn't cry when any of my children were born. I think I was in shock, I was relieved, I was too busy trying to get a look at their faces and determine who they looked like. This time around, I was an observer. I was able to watch the miracle of birth without going through the pain, yet it hurt to see my daughter go through the pain. This time the relief wasn't physical, but a mental relief that both my babies were all right. It was a beautiful experience, I'm so grateful Chelsea and Joe allowed me to witness their little miracle.

I stayed long enough to make sure all was well, then after a tearful good-bye, I was off to girls camp for 5 days. I knew they were in good hands, I knew there was nothing more I could do, and I knew I had a responsibility and a commitment that I had to fulfill. I knew the Lord would bless them while I was away, and I was right. I remember after I had Chelsea, I could hardly walk or sit I was in so much pain, but Chelsea was blessed with a quick healing. And just when I thought the month of surprises was over....on wednesday, as I was cleaning up the craft for the day, I turned around and...

...SURPRISE! Standing in front of me, Chelsea, Joe and my sweet little Paisley! I was flabbergasted, shocked, stunned, excited, and a whole bunch of other adjectives! I know not all blessings are immediate, as some blessings are reserved for the next life, but I will be forever grateful that I was able to enjoy the blessings of my sacrifice for the next few hours as I held my sweet little grand-baby for the first time!

A busy month for sure. A month full of fun and surprises. Ask me what the highlight of my month was, I'd have to tell you that although unexpected concert tickets were awesome, flushing toilets and hot showers while camping was divine, rain in the middle of the night instead of the middle of the day was timely, the highlight of my month came in a surprise visit with my grand-daughter. Finally!

Fathers...in heaven

I'm writing this post pre-makeup.

It's a bitter-sweet Fathers Day. Sweet for those of us who still have our fathers with us, so we can shower them with hugs and kisses, hand-made cards and a big breakfast in bed.

Bitter for those whose fathers have been called home prematurely, and they're not able to wrap their arms around them and express how much they love and appreciate them. Wishing and hoping that they showed and told their fathers enough while they were here, knowing they passed on with knowledge of the love they left behind.

Friday night, my dear sweet son in law, lost his father to a tragic accident. Oddly enough, it was the second time in his life that he lost his father. The first time, he came back. This time, he did not. The first time he was given an extension on his life to return and see his children raised. This time, he will anxiously await with his grandchildren in heaven for their time on earth, and watch them grow from above. The first time, he came back to earth a changed man. This time, we have all been changed.

Dale was a great man. I didn't know him before his accident 15 years ago, so I don't know how he was before, I only know how he was now. He was the kind of guy who would give you the shirt off his back if you needed it, and he would give it to you before you even asked. He was faithful in his church callings, always where he should be to lend a hand. When he spoke, he used the same tone that a mother uses when she calms her little one. His voice was always so soft and caring I almost expected the conversation to end with a pat on the head.

His accident years ago left him with a brain injury that took away parts of his personality. His sense of humor was never quite the same. He always seemed so serious, and in a family where joking and laughing was a way for them to stay sane, at times the humor was lost on Dale and he wouldn't take too kindly to the laughter. Prayer and scripture time, when all should be serious and reflective, at times would take a wrong turn somewhere. Often, while reading scriptures, they would play "Popcorn", where they take turns reading, and mid-sentence can shout out someone else's name to pick up where they left off. This meant you had to be paying attention and reading along. One night they were reading in Alma, the wars were raging between the Nephi's and Lamanites, Nathan was reading..."And it came to pass that the soldier who stood by, who smote off the scalp of" MOM! Everyone started laughing, but Dale didn't find that one bit funny. Often at prayertime, someone, probably Joe, would say some offhand remark that would get them all giggling. No one would be composed enough to pray, except for Dale. He would sit with his arms quietly folded, scolding them, because nothing is funny about prayer.
I'm sure there are a hundred more stories that could be told. Each of them funny in their own "I can't believe he did that" way, just ask the fire department.

In life, he taught them patience and long suffering.

In death, he taught us about hope and charity.

In perspective, we've all learned that life is too short and we never know when it will be our time to return home.

After the media died down, the police and firemen left, the bystanders walked away. Those of us left behind, returned to our homes with our husbands and fathers by our side, and gave them an extra hug, expressed our love and appreciation for them, and shed another tear for those who will be missing their fathers more than ever this Fathers Day.

To my own Father, I love you...I love you...I love you! Thank you for your example, your unconditional love, and for your presence in my life.

To my Husband, I love you...I love you...I love you! Thank you for being the wonderful father that you are to our children. For your example, your service, your love and kindness that you show me, and the children. Most of all, thank you for your presence in my life.

To my Son-in-law Joe, the father of my soon-to-be grandchild, I love you...I love you...I love you! Thank you for loving my daughter the way you do. For your patience and kindness and gentle spirit. I know you're going to make a wonderful father...

...you had a great example.

Thank you Dale! We will miss you, but your influence and legacy will carry on.

He's got an angel with him

All's quiet on the western front.

I like to quote from books and movies that I've never seen or read. That one just popped into my head because it's, well, quiet.

Tary is away at youth conference, probably getting rained on the plains of Wyoming. Years ago when our stake started taking the youth on the trek, I was always amazed with the thought that the sights were still preserved. I always thought some unseen hand must have had something to do with the pioneer trail remaining untouched by land developers and skyscrapers...that is until I had the opportunity to go for myself and see it. It's a whole-lotta wind and nuttin going on out there. Sagebrush as far as the eye can see. But then again, maybe someone deserves more credit than I give Him. Maybe He planned it that way, so youth groups 100 years down the road could stand in the same cove, cross the same creek, hike the same rocky ridge, and feel the same presence of angels helping them every step of the way. I like to think so anyway.

Trey is at his friends birthday party/sleepover.

Kayla is at a single adult activity.

And me, I'm enjoying the peace and quiet. Nothing but the sound of clothes flipping in the dryer to disturb me, and the occasional sound of the heater kicking on. It's freezing tonight!

I've made quite the to-do list for myself and had hoped to spend some un-interrupted time this weekend working on it. I tried to get a jump start on it last night, but Chelsea came over and we ended up talking the night away. Not a bad way to spend the evening, it was rather enlightening.

Have you ever just listened to your children talk? When your paying attention, you can hear some pretty funny things.

Trey: "Do you know what I'm in the mood for? Fish legs". Fish legs? You want fish legs? "yeah"...I didn't even know fish had legs. "I mean crab legs!"

Trey again: " I have cat-like laxatives." Laxatives? You have cat-like things that make you poop? "What? No, you know, that thing where you can always land on your feet" Do you mean reflexes? "Yeah, that's what I have, cat-like reflexes"

Chelsea: "Remember the time that Kayla tooted and Mom answered 'What?' cuz it came out sounding like 'Mom'

Kayla: "Remember the time when Chelsea was being rude to me and she said, 'Just stop talking. Everything that comes out of your mouth is so stupid.' and so the next thing I said was 'Chelsea' and she wanted to kill me?"

I love my kids, they always make me laugh.

It's nice to know you don't have to go all the way to the dusty plains of Wyoming to be in the presence of angels. I have 3 of them at home.

Distractions

I started out my morning by praying for pooh.

It's true. I've learned that the more specific I am in my prayers, the better chance I have of them being answered. And today, I needed to find some pooh.

I have been assigned by my leader to be the designated pooh patrol. ok, it went something more like this. "Roberts Crafts in Brickyard is going out of business and everything is 90% off...is anyone willing to go and see if there is anything pooh related that we could use for girls camp?" Roberts and Clearance in the same sentance? I am so all over it!
We are using a quote from Winnie the Pooh for girls camp this year, and for my vision of the Hundred Acre Woods to be complete, I needed a Pooh. However, since I would be burying half of his body in the dirt, I didn't want, nor did we have the budget, to spend $20 on a new pooh bear...hence the prayer for pooh.

Prayers said...the day begins.

On my to-do list today, I was ready to tackle my closet. Spring doesn't know it yet, but I'm hoping 'If I wear it, it will come', so while swapping out my winter clothes for my spring wardrobe, I turned on the t.v. to keep me company. "My Girl" was on. I haven't seen that show for so long, so clothes sorting took a backseat to Dan Akroyd and Jamie-Lee. I'd forgotten how sad that show was and before I completely ruined my makeup job, I changed the channel in hopes of something a little less tender. Nanny McPhee looked promising. Several distractions and 3 hours later, I had a bag for the DI, and a closet of pastels and short sleeves.

I also had a visit from a young man in our ward. He just started a new job and needed to practice selling his whares, so I agreed to listen to his pitch, fully prepared to say "No" to whatever he was selling. 90 minutes later, I had signed away all my Kohls shopping rights so I could afford the 5 monthly payments on my new set of knives. I'm a sucker, I know. But these things can cut through leather in a single slice! It can cut a rope in a sweeping motion! They were amazazing!
After he left, it took all of 10 minutes to realize what I had done...my husband was going to kill me. For someone who loves a bargain, I don't know why I feel the need to buy from every door to door salesperson that comes along. Usually at a cost much higher than I can afford. My husband has had to come to my rescue more than once. He has saved me from spending our hawaii fund on a furniture/appliance club membership. He's had to cancel the $10,000 worth of new windows I signed up for and the $5000 vacuum that doubles as a air filter system.
However, he wasn't home today to save me from myself, and unless the purchase I make comes at a cost 70-80% less than retail, shoppers remorse inevitably sets in. Today was no exception. I was so embarrassed by my lack of ability to "Just say No", I couldn't even fess up how much I had spent. $50 was his guess. Way off. "More than $50?" Eyes rolling...voice volume higher and more agitated...oh boy, this is not good. Lucky for me, he's off to a softball game where he can vent his frustration with a bat and ball.

As for me, I'm off to the grocery store to buy ingredients for 3 pans of something chocolatey and gooey. Death by chocolate sounds better than the alternative of living with regret at the moment. Grocery shopping on saturdays with half the cities population is distracting enough, but shopping with thoughts of 'what am I going to do to get myself out of this one' doesn't lead to productive meal planning. Dinner and tomorrow's dessert was as far as I got before I gave up.

Groceries bought, food in the trunk, cart in the stall, keys in the door. Funny, I don't remember locking my door. I don't remember having a bag of bagels in the front seat either. Wait a minute. This isn't my car.
Do you know how many people have white Chevy Prism's? At least 3 people in every parking lot. This is exactly the reason I gave my husband just the other day for not taking down my car air freshener, even though it hasn't given off a single scent in a year. Sometimes it's the only way of knowing which white chevy prism is mine. Distracted, I didn't notice until it was too late. As I walked back to the little white car that did have a dangly flip-flop freshener, I was just hoping my groceries were in my trunk and not in the other one. Phew. I just hoped no one saw me playing musical cars.

One more errand to run, dropping off the bag of clothes at the DI. Normally I just drop and go, but feeling a little down, I needed a bargain fix. Something to keep my 'Crown of Clearance Queen' intact. Not really looking for anything in particular, I headed for the videos in hopes that some generous person gave up their season 2 of Lost. No such luck. bummer. Just as I was contemplating why the need to buy someone else's junk when I just happily shed 20 pounds of my own, something caught my eye...it was fluffy, and yellow, with a touch of red. Could it be? Were my eyes deceiving me? On top of a heap of discarded stuffed childhood memories and slobbery kisses, sat on a pile was pooh. As my eyes grew wide and a grin spread across my face, I just knew my poker face had ousted the DI's greatest treasure and now 50 other pair of eyes had also spotted the coveted prize, and if I didn't reach it within seconds, it would be snatched up before me! My speedwalk training kicked in as I dodged and maneuvered around little kids and carts, until finally...victory was mine! Pooh Bear! And he was perfect!

I didn't need more clothes in my closet, more seasons of Lost to distract me from living. I really don't need knives that can cut leather and rope in a single swoop. At that moment, standing in the middle of second hand heaven where bargain shoppers can go wild, suddenly everything was perfectly clear.

Happiness doesn't come from a store. It can't be bought or bargained for. It doesn't hang in your closet or on your walls.

Happiness is knowing that even when we act foolishly and against our better judgement, someone is always watching out for us and is there to help us, even if we don't feel deserving of His goodness.

For me, happiness came from an answered prayer in the form of a pooh.

I'm just grateful that He doesn't get as distracted as I do.