The Truth About Santa

The truth about Santa at our house is... that he doesn't come. Sometimes I become concerned that this makes me appear to be a scrooge or a Grinch or some other grumpy anti-Santa, grown up character with no imagination or sense of the magical (think the step-dad in The Santa Claus). And because part of my reason for this is religious-- as in, the holiday is really about Jesus and not about Santa-- I recognize that some people will perceive me to be some sort of religious fanatic.

This has been a matter of discussion with us for the past several years. And when it comes down to it, the question is, "Is it that important to celebrate Santa Claus?" At our house, we have five incredible (female) Santa Claus's who deserve recognition for the presents they send. These being one great-grandma, two grandmas, and two great-aunts. And then you ask, "Do our kids REALLY need MORE presents just so we can say that Santa Claus comes?" Because at some point it becomes ridiculous. Plus, we aren't big fans of lying to our children, although we don't judge other people as it's a culturally acceptable and somewhat beautiful lie that many other people participate in.

I have felt a little silly about this and am curious to see our children's opinions when they're in school and become more able to compare and process this decision. However, I take some comfort in reading other people commentary, mostly on Facebook. Like, today when I saw somebody say (about "the elf on the shelf), "I hardly know what to do with Santa Claus. I couldn't possibly do that." Or the other day when somebody else said they don't really do Santa at their house. And then my friend from Transylvania mentioned that Santa Claus and Christmas are two different things in Hungary-- St. Nick comes on St. Nick's day (Dec. 6) rather than on Christmas. And, specifically in Transylvania, Jesus brings the gifts on Christmas. So I admit, I take some comfort in not being alone. I know that my children can be healthy, well-adjusted adults without me taking part in the Santa Claus deal. And I like to think it doesn't make me a bad person.

But I know some people will think that we're silly. I'm thankful that when I told my parents (though they did do Santa Claus), they took our attitude in stride and didn't take it as an offense against their parenting decisions. Now, I'm happy to play along with Santa with other people's kids. And I'm perfectly content if you choose to bring up Santa with my kid-- we did the Polar Express and loved it-- it was like a magical journey into a book! But I thought I might as well admit that we aren't active Santa-participants. But we are big fans of Jesus--whether that makes us fanatics or not.

"All Aboard!"

I have been looking forward to this last week for months and it didn't disappoint. It was exhausting and busy and sometimes a little overwhelming (when, for instance, there were twenty family members and significant others all together in one place; or when we were in a public crowd and my three-year-old was running happily every which way and my one-year-old was getting passed around and it was a challenge to keep an eye on them; or when we were on a crowded plane for five hours). But, even with the challenges, it was well worth it all.

The highlights?

Airplane

Well, to begin with, I love every reminder of how many wonderful people there are out there. Sometimes we all get a little depressed and feel like the world is falling to pot. But then there are those moments when we realize that there are many incredibly kind people out there-- not just philosophically kind, but genuinely, practically kind. While hauling two children on and off airplanes, there were specifically three men who went out of their way to give me help-- one did it twice, once while boarding he helped Caleb get up the stairs and after disembarking off the tiny airplane onto the runway, he brought the stroller to me so I could take the boys into the airport. The last time someone helped me, I almost started crying, I was so grateful to have met such thoughtful, helpful people.

Also on the airplane, I was amused to find what kept my children content-- ripping magazines. I was a little reluctant to allow them to continue once it happened accidentally. However, I know they are replaceable, and I concluded that the airline staff would probably prefer my kids ripping magazines than screaming and crying and kicking seats. And while I had quite a mess to clean up afterwards, I intend to allow it again if it can be as successful a second time, because it's an awesome, cheap, unexpected solution.

Phoenix

Seeing my brother and also meeting my soon-to-be sister-in-law was another incredible bonus of this trip. I think my brother is getting a stellar deal in a wife. And I can't help be completely shocked that she's going to take on him and his crazy family (including me, myself, and I), but I've decided not to give her a reality check and try to dissuade her because if she thinks she wants to join us, then we will gladly have her and count ourselves blessed, blessed, blessed!

I also got to see my niece-- and it was a delight. I've been fortunate to get to spend quite a bit of time with her during the last year, since she spent a month at my parents' house while we were living there. I love every chance I get to see her and to get to know her better. At eleven, she's growing up and almost a young lady now.

Flagstaff

A lunch full of family. I have to admit that this particular gathering was a little overwhelming for me. But seeing everyone (aunt, uncles, cousins, great-aunt, great-uncle, second cousin), and especially meeting fiancees and girlfriends who will/may join the family was wonderful.

My grandparents interacting with my boys. Not every kid gets to know their great-grandparents, and there is an amazing joy in seeing these generations being buoyed up with love. My grandma is a hands-on great-grandma who threw snowballs with Caleb and read books to Caleb and talked to Eli (the crazy boy was INSANELY clingy the whole week though and mostly went to me and my dad). My grandpa is in a lot of pain and keeps to himself and his TV a lot. Many times, when he does interact, it's to tell stories to the grown ups. So it was special for me when he picked Caleb up or teased Caleb or shook Eli's hand or waved to him from across the room.

My grandpa being sweet to my grandma. After the big lunch my grandma had prepared and set up for, and after the party had died down, my grandma went to her chair and said, "I'm going to rest for a minute." My grandpa said to her (joking), "Nope, you can't." And then when she sat down, he patted her leg affectionately. My grandpa isn't the romantic type, but sometimes in the last couple years I've observed these little things he does or says that show how much he loves and appreciates and values my grandma.

The Polar Express. http://www.thetrain.com/polar-express-5679.html My grandma had done this before with some of my cousins about ten years ago. It wasn't hugely extravagant, but somehow it was just wonderful. Christmas music played, cookies were handed out, hot chocolate was passed around, the North Pole was viewed, Santa Claus came aboard, bells were dispersed. My favorite was all the family interaction-- seat hopping and chatting and yelling jokes to each other. Caleb's favorite was the treats (according to his own words) but he lit up over the lights in the tunnel and he gave Santa a hug (probably because his cousin told him repeatedly that he should give Santa a hug). Eli's favorite thing hands down was the cookie-- which he shared with me, then took from Grandpa, then got from Autumn, then tried to steal from Caleb. He also loved the bell.

Skyping with Patrick. What a wonderful thing for me that my boys love their dad. And what a wonderful thing that Skype exists in the world. While skyping, Caleb blew kisses at his dad and told him about all the things we'd done. While skyping, Eli learned to stick his tongue out to make a funny face. It was so funny to watch him touching his tongue to see what it felt like.

Well, this is quite long, and while looking at pictures I kept seeing more awesome things we did and wonderful people we saw, but I did just say "highlights," so there you have a few. I'm so glad we went! Thanks to my grandma and my mom and dad for making it happen!

Celebrate, Well, Me!

In honor of my upcoming birthday, I thought it would be fun to share some random facts about myself. I will be busy all day on my birthday, so now seemed as good a time as any.

1. First-- this is a little bit of a secret-- I still have all my journals from growing up. (I'm on about #16 now.) My oldest journal is from first grade. I was with two of my best friends this summer and they were saying what trash their journals were and how pointless they were. I think one of them had thrown away all their journals except the most recent ones. I held my tongue when I should have spoken up and not pretended to agree with them. Because the fact is, it's not that I think my journal from first grade is particularly profound, but the very idea of throwing away my journals makes me feel very sad. Never! I am a record keeper. Not a beautiful record keeper. Not a brilliant record keeper. But a record keeper nonetheless.

(Clearly, life's moments need to be captured: Cliff jumping in the Apostle Islands.)

2. I'm a little bit obsessive about names, specifically, my name. My first name is unusual. In the baby name books, you would find it under boys' names. It's Irish. It means "little fiery one" -- I liked to think of that meaning "passionate about life." My middle name is my great-grandfather's last name backwards. He used it as a pen name when publishing his poems in the local newspaper. My maiden name was an interjection-- how fun is that! And my married name is a noun. I have given a lot of thought to names over the years. One of the best things about writing when I was a kid was naming my characters. My parents even got me a baby name book when I was young, just because of that obsession.

(Little Fiery One, backwards surname, exclamation/noun!)

3. The (not super important but really intelligence-enhancing) gift I covet the most is a memory for facts. I fail at knowing trivia. I even fail at remembering things I'm really interested in-- like facts from books or history. Some friends recently introduced us to www.sporcle.com (it's highly addictive and time-wasting), and I have been disappointed to be reminded of this fault. Sometimes, it feels like such a waste of time to learn anything because I know that if I want to know it, I will have to learn it fifteen times before I know it . . . and then relearn it again after any time elapses. This, as you may be able to imagine, is highly aggravating. Probably this seems even more desirable because I know so many people who naturally have this gift-- one of my older brothers, my husband, my friend Kristi, and three of my sophomore roommates, to name just a few stellar examples of this.

(For example, Sporcle asked the name of this author. I have read this book in French and English, and I still couldn't remember!)

4. Along those lines, I always wanted to be one of those girls who was good at math and science. First, my dad loves math and science and he really did an awesome job of making them look cool and desirable. Second, when I got older, I began to realize that girls who liked reading and writing were a dime a dozen. Third, when I got even older, I began to notice scholarships for girls who were pursuing degrees in fields related to math and science. In every way, I just thought that was awesome. However, my gifts lie another direction. And I've accepted that, but I can't help but think my friend Libby is a genius-- with her master's in mathematics.

(Madame Curie-- way to go, woman!)

5. My inspiration growing up were fictional girls: Anne Shirley, Jo March, and Lizzy Bennett. Perhaps it's cliched and old-fashioned, but I adored every fiery, energetic, passionate one of them!

6. I admire my dad because he is a genuine lover of people and life. He loves all kinds of people. He loves to get out of his comfort zone and meet people and have interesting experiences. He loves to observe people. He is very easy to talk to, and he was my confidante when I was a kid. I remember slaying dragons with him while my mom was in a late-night meeting when I was a kid. He loves books. He read The Secret Garden and Tom's Secret Garden and later Dune with me. One daddy-daughter date with him included walking around Walmart telling outlandish stories about people we saw. Might make you a little uncomfortable next time you see people looking at you while you're at Walmart, but there you have it. Also, my dad is always striving to improve himself.

7. I admire my mom because she is whole-hearted. My mom is ablaze with passion for information. For a long time, different cultures were her thing-- she especially loved learning about Native Americans (and is very knowledgeable about Navajos especially) and about the Deaf Culture. When she learns something, she learns it through and through. Now, she is passionate about animals. She has a farm and can tell you the difference between Cockatoos and African Greys (both parrots but very different parrots); she can tell you about Parelli Natural Horsemanship; she can felt wool; she can give animals shots; she can bandage wounds; she can deliver animals; she can tell you about different kinds of hens. To me, my mom is a sort of renaissance woman. She's also whole-hearted in friendship. If she considers you her friend, she would be there for you 110%. She's also whole-hearted as my friend. I call her a lot. A lot. A LOT! And she talks to me a lot even though she has a lot of activities in her life.

8. My favorite color is blue. It has been for a long time. I have never been a big fan of pink.

9. As a mother of boys, I sometimes feel that boys get a bad rap. When I have girls, maybe I'll hear more negative things about girls. Recently though, I have just felt like I want to be surrounded by people who celebrate boys (not over girls or above girls, but as well as girls). I have wanted to say that boys have cute clothes. And boys are fun. And boys aren't necessarily harder to potty-train or teach to talk than girls. In fact, boys aren't necessarily harder than girls at all. And boys can grow up to love their mothers and mothers-in-law. And boys can grow up to be good husbands and fathers. I admit it, I really want to have a girl at some point. However, for now, I find absolute delight in my two beautiful, wonderful boys.

10. I hope that I will be excited about my birthday every year of my life for the rest of my life. It could be a little over the top. It could be a little silly. But it's one of those extravagances I hope my children remember fondly after I die. (My list of silly quirks they should remember is thus, so far: super enthusiastic about birthdays; lived off of anticipation of anything for several months in advance; set up the Christmas tree right after Halloween (yes, it's fake); rolled down hills and splashed in puddles; and showed off cool-looking dead bugs (though admittedly I'm really squeamish about live ones, especially if they're big).)

Happy Thanksgiving!

Have a fantastic Thanksgiving today!

We're so thankful to have you in our lives,

family and friends! We are very, very blessed!

Trigger My Memory

I love memory triggers. I'm so grateful that my brain reacts to so many things with a flood of beautiful memories. Associations are THE BEST! It fills my days with a reminder of all the great relationships I have, even if I hardly see anyone all day.

For instance, the following purse was made by one of our favorite people. Kyle was making one for his wife, Kathleen, for Christmas and it just so happened that my birthday was close enough to Christmas that he just went ahead and doubled the present to make one for me. I was completely surprised to get anything for my birthday and doubly surprised to have it be something so useful and cool! And now, every time I use this purse, I think of Kyle for making it and Kathleen for having one just like it-- and how much I love them both and miss them!

That's just one of many examples. On my wall, for instance, is a beautiful painting of the ocean that my grandmother painted. I've never met her, but it still makes me think of her. The painting used to be up on my grandpa's bedroom wall, and I remember lying on his bed when we were there for his funeral, staring at this painting for a long time, and how peaceful it helped me feel. I think of them both whenever I notice it. (And I'm so grateful my aunts and uncles let me have it.)

I have millions of things from my parents (especially at Christmas): books, a quilt (and my mom is NOT a quilter, so this is truly a gift of love), our nativity up right now, our stockings with our names on them, most of the ornaments on our tree, all sorts of things.

The quilt on our bed now is from my mother-in-law and Caleb has a matching one from her. Both of my boys have quilts that were gifts from my Grandma. I have a frog quilt from two of my best friends, Christine and Debbie, that they made for my wedding present. I have books from my friend Stacy (and this is symbolically dear to me because I feel that one of the many ways we've bonded over the last several years is through books). I have several pictures on my wall from my aunt and several trinkets from my uncle. Most of my boys' presents are tied to family in my heart-- a train set from Patrick's aunts and grandpa, a walking toy from Patrick's parents, etc.

But it's not all about presents. The fact is, there are a million triggers in our lives that we couldn't stop if we wanted to-- we couldn't throw out if we suddenly got depressed and stupid. Recipes are a major one. The food we eat is almost all tied to people. And I like that, so I promote the tie. In our family recipe book, I attribute the recipes to whomever gave them to me. One has come to be known as "Libby Pasta" even though she didn't come up with it. (Actually, Libby, this would probably offend you because I altered it so much that it's not nearly as good and now I don't have the original. I need to get the original from you again!)

And everyday things are memory triggers, too. I once had to make a poster for an event at our church. I have almost no (possibly absolutely no) aesthetic gift. Happily, my friend Kathleen has a visual eye. Now when I look outside in the fall, I remember gathering up leaves with her to put on this poster that she made for me . . . even though it was sort of my "job."

When I'm at my parents' house in the summers, I have so many triggers from all my years growing up there. Especially two memorable camping trips out in the back forty with friends Christine, Debbie, and Eun-ji.

I wish I could mention everything that makes me feel so good and so loved, but of course that would bore you all to tears. So let it simply be known: I love my memories and how they help me remember my friends!

And so ends my November Thanksgiving posts. This year I'm still going to number 100 things I'm thankful for in my journal, just like always, but I hope I can be a little more creative and specific about all the things that make me happy. Out of curiosity, what are some of your favorite memory triggers?

My In-Laws Are the Best!

(Except for my husband's, as he also got a pretty incredible deal, if I may say so.)

Now you know all those horrible mother-in-law jokes? Or remember all those sad stories about not fitting in with your in-laws? Well, that is not my story. My story is the story of a girl who gets told pretty often how lucky her husband is to have her. My story is the story of a new mom who got sick at the same time as her young baby and her mother-in-law took off longer at work and her father-in-law postponed his return to all the comforts of home to stay and let her fussy baby sleep in their room so that mom could get some sleep. My story is the story of a couple who makes room for us to stay in their house (which is already shared with another child and her spouse) when we're in the area so they can get more time with all of us. This is a couple who definitely has the attitude of adding children by marriage and not losing children.

My awesome in-laws.

And it's not just my husband's awesome-as-can-be parents. While going to college, I was always a mite jealous of all the people around me who had family close at hand. And then, voila!, when Patrick and I were dating, I got to meet his two (later three) aunties who lived nearby. When the discussion of marriage came up, I quipped, "Heck, I'd marry you just for your aunts." They made me feel welcomed from the very beginning when I joined them at monthly family dinners. These women listened to my academic goals and babysat our son while we went to the temple. They taught me many dishes to prepare when I was completely inept.These women had some really tough things happen during the time we were in Utah and they still made room for us and let us be part of their lives. By doing that, they helped us learn an awful lot about families and children and parenting and love. They supported us through graduations and graduate school applications and baby blessings and many, many holidays. I felt as much a part of the family as if I'd been born in it.

Our host-auntie and her twin.

Two local aunts and one visiting aunt.

But, wait, it doesn't stop there. That's part of Patrick's (very large) paternal side. The side he grew up knowing best was his maternal extended family. In this family, every family on Patrick's maternal side is doubled up (and one tripled up) in their houses, and this is just one example of their generosity. Every holiday we get physically showered in presents. This is a bit overwhelming for me, but how can I complain? Now I know that people don't have to send presents to say they love you (good thing because this isn't our best way of showing love). And even when people send presents it's not necessarily out of love. But in this family, the presents are definitely a manifestation of love. The presents are only the beginning. They are also a time-spending family who makes sure to see us when we're in town. And as every spouse and every child has come into the family (and as they wait for more to come), it's clear that this family has an abundance of love to give. I believe that every fiance and then spouse has felt welcomed with open arms.

This is one maternal auntie. The other would never, ever let me take a picture of her again if I posted the one picture I have. But they are both awesome.

I've heard stories galore of women whose fiance's were told not to marry them by nervous (and as the women felt, meddling and judgmental) soon-to-be mothers-in-law. I've heard stories of women who felt their mothers-in-law only liked them when they gave them grandchildren. I have heard stories of women who felt their mothers-in-law broke up the family after the marriage by trying to keep sons tied to their family of origin. But, as you can see, that's not my story. My story is filled with a loving mother- and father-in-law and incredible extended family.

I'm Thankful for Good Girls

(A few of the good girls in our lives, especially ones Patrick grew up with.

I chose this one because it was one of the few I could find with Alysha. What's up with that? Clearly, we need to get together!)

Recently, Patrick and I were talking about all the things that can go wrong in life-- all the points of decision, where good choices or luck kick-in in your favor. For instance, going on a mission for the LDS church for him, getting married, finishing school, going to graduate school. But even before all those major points of decision, there were many influences for good that I can reflect on that led him/me to those major points of decision. Growing up, Patrick and I both had some awesome friends-- friends that will be lifelong friends, friends that we can count on in need, and friends that we can reunite with and enjoy catching up with even after years.

But in particular, I have been feeling grateful for the girls he knew in his youth who influenced him for good. I have heard stories of him gathering around a piano on Sunday at the home of a friend and singing hymns with two girls. Now, my friends, it isn't likely that my husband would have done that with his male friends, but what an influence for good! What a blessing that there were people like that in his life.

The way Patrick and I met was through our mutual friend, who was my roommate in college for two years. When we were dating, Michelle would tell me that she had "trained" Patrick that he better open doors for girls. She thought of Patrick as a brother in a lot of ways, and felt she could tell him what to do, and Patrick respected her so he honored her good guidance (although at other times he calls her a hippy, but he's like that).

(Michelle with her little girl.)

Maybe this sticks in my mind because I have two little boys now, and I hope that the girls they know as teenagers will help them to make good choices and spend their time doing positive things. Also, I hope that I was that kind of girl for other women's husbands, that when my name comes up in conversation, women can say, "Gosh, I'm glad you two were friends." Because I'm glad that those amazing girls (now amazing women) were part of my husband's life.

(Another mutual friend, Cat, who I knew from Girls' Camp.)

(Cami with her husband at our wedding.)

(Aimee at her wedding. Yes, Patrick started a water fight with the bride. She is clearly an awesome good sport.)

I'm sure there are others that I don't know about or don't have pictures of, but Michelle, Cat, Cami, Aimee, and Alysha are a few I know have done him good, and I'm so glad they've been a part of our lives!

It's Nice to Like Yourself

(The Pictures that follow are in acknowledgement that this post is definitely 100 million times more interesting with pictures. They date from 2001-2002.)

Growing up, my family had a tradition of sharing 100 things we were thankful for (each taking turns until we collectively reached 100) on Thanksgiving. Then I made a list in my journal as I got older and did Thanksgiving away from my family and then I got married and made Patrick do it with me. Last year, the friends we "Thanksgivinged with" humored me and did our 100 things list with us. Looking forward to Thanksgiving generally, thinking about "my list," and watching all the other thankful people posting on Facebook, I have been giving thought to things I'm thankful for. In particular, I have tried to think of original things I'm thankful for-- things that I don't say every year (family, friends, home, school, books, etc.).

One thing that came to mind was that I am thankful for the self image I had growing up.

Now, I have to be honest. I was not the most attractive little rugrat. And I didn't get any introduction to fashion until a friend went shopping with me once in high school. Even then, the only aspect of "fashion" (if we may call it that) that stuck with me is that it is probably more attractive to wear clothes that fit and that are from the girls' section than to wear your brothers' hand-me-downs that are two sizes too big.

And I wasn't the smartest cookie in the box (or whatever the cliche ought to be). I mean, I was in Gifted and Talented, but from an early age it was obvious that almost everybody else in the Gifted and Talented program was probably both more gifted and more talented . . . and had a higher IQ than me to boot.

And I'm definitely not the funniest girl you'll ever meet. I love a good laugh, but I'm usually along for the ride, not the one cracking the jokes.

I'm also not super creative. I have friends who are artists, musicians, actors, quilters, and much, much more. I dabble in writing-- and I like it, but that was pretty much the end of my concrete talents before adulthood. But even that is frequently not a showy talent-- it's a bit private most of the time (especially growing up pre-Internet frenzy).

Now, having said all that, and even knowing all that about myself growing up, I thought I was the best, most amazing little woman. I was full of passionate, idealistic ideas. I had big plans. I thought people were lucky to be my friend (though it wasn't arrogant because I felt equally blessed for every friend I had). Of all the gifts I have ever had in my life, the confidence I had in my youth was probably one of the best things I could ever have asked for but never could have thought of beforehand. It protected me from all sorts of stupid choices. And it made choosing to be happy much, much easier.

I had friends and family members who struggled with their self-images. And I remember that I just couldn't really relate. It was just a little foreign to me. I think because I knew them and loved them and they opened up to me, I could have a sincere compassion for them and a deep sympathy, but I could never pretend that that was a struggle for me.

And for this I have to thank 1.) My parents. My dad is super confident himself and my mom was ALWAYS positive with me about my body and my talents. She never harassed me to look better or lose weight. 2.) God. I think it was really just a gift I was given. 3.) Little Women. I know that one seems funny, but I was thinking about how much I adored Jo and how she was a model for me. For Jo, being the best-looking, most charming person in the room was just never a priority for her. To me, Jo immortalized making the most of yourself and your life by being bold and interesting and unique even if "you" wasn't super showy or super gorgeous (as I always felt was the case for me and Jo). Bless you, Louisa May, for depicting that character so well.

Mawage, that Dweam Wifin a Dweam

I wish I had a husband who would watch the kids while I go away for a Friday evening and a Saturday all day. I wish I had a husband who would straighten up while I'm away, so I come home to a neat house at the end of my outing. I wish I had a husband who would say, "Go enjoy yourself," and wouldn't complain about how little our baby slept during his morning nap. I wish I had a husband who would take our kids to the park while I'm gone. I wish I had a husband who would make calzones from scratch for the first time ever all by himself and cut up vegetables (which he does not like), including onions (which make him tear up) to put on my calzone. I wish I had a husband who would ask me at the end of the day what I learned and what I heard and what I liked best. I wish I had a husband who wouldn't complain when he didn't manage to get his homework done over the weekend because of my plans, and who wouldn't complain when he had to get up at 5:00 am on Monday to complete his assignments. Oh, wait. Actually, I do. Well, how 'bout that!

In fact, this is not a love note. Public love notes aren't really our thing. This is more a commentary on marriage. I've been thinking A TON about marriage lately. And it may be a topic I revisit again. But what I've concluded recently (from watching other people's marriages and from contemplating my own marriage) is that marriage can be a fragile thing. How can it be so powerful at times and so frail at others? And it seems to me that everybody goes through cycles of each end of the spectrum where it's a little weaker at times and a little stronger at times. But when we've ridden out some of our struggles-- and, all right, we've only been married five years, but we have actually still had some pretty intense moments of major disagreement or contention or offending each other-- but when we've ridden out some of our struggles, we have something so much better on the other side. I'm not immune to the fact that some things are too awful to ride out together. And I'm not saying that there aren't reasons for divorce. But I recently heard a really, really weak reason for divorce with no intention of trying to work it out. And that to me was heartbreaking. Because, well, marriage really can be a dream within a dream sometimes. And that, to me, is worth making an effort.

(Patrick did not get The Princess Bride reference, but I hope somebody did.)

[Note to friends: Ah hem, I may have lost any commitment I had (or didn't have) to pretending like I was going to post a picture when I post. So let it be known, so let it be written. Hopefully, you still love me enough to read my picture-less thoughts anyway. Plus, I figure all you people who want to see our pictures are on Facebook where I recently spewed forth an over-abundance of pictures so that you can look at our cute little family until you get sick of our cuteness. There. Now I said it. Perhaps I'll surprise you from time to time, but I just wanted to shatter that dream--the dream that I would do what bloggers probably ought to do-- once and for all and make it official, though you may have come to suspect that at this point anyway.]

Sometimes God Takes You By Surprise

Earlier this semester, Patrick had a phone interview with a firm in Milwaukee (Quarles & Brady). This was his dream firm. When we went to a getting-acquainted event over Christmas during Patrick's first year at Law School, we loved the atmosphere. The event and people were classy without being ostentatious. Many of the people had families, and the firm itself has a family-friendly attitude. It's also professional and well-respected. With all this in mind, you can imagine how this might have become Patrick's goal. And you can imagine how disappointed he might have been when he received a rejection letter from this very firm after the interview. Add to this the stress of business school and his position as executive editor of Business Law Review, and you can imagine how little he was looking forward to applying to other firms which wouldn't appeal to him as much.

And then, stretch your mind a little farther, to imagine how startled he was when a lawyer from the firm called with the position changed-- they had decided that they would, in fact, like to offer him a second interview in person in Milwaukee. Now we had never heard of this happening before-- someone receiving a rejection and then receiving an offer for a second interview afterwards. So we were thrilled and hopeful. And we couldn't help but attribute this strange and unexpected change of circumstance to the hand of God. Patrick did do things that may have helped--sent thank you letters, emailed to ask for interviewing/resume advice and express his desire to work for the firm after graduation--but in most circumstances, that would not have given him a job this summer. He truly asked for advice with post-graduation in mind. This is what makes us recognize where the credit belongs.

Now imagine today how he ecstatic he was when he received a call from Quarles & Brady offering him a summer internship. You can also imagine, while you're at it, how all of us rooting for him (namely myself and our parents) celebrated with happiness when he shared the fantastic news.

Therefore, this summer, we'll be headed back to our home state-- the great and honorable and down-to-earth Wisconsin for another great summer, this time with more hope for post-graduation employment and more immediate compensation (read: paid internship).

With all of this in mind, you can imagine how sincerely I say, we thank God for making this happen. We are definitely blessed!

No, My Husband Isn't On Drugs

For those who wondered how Patrick's Lasik experience went, the answer is (and I quote), "possibly the worst experience of my life." In the office we went to, people had their eyes corrected by a doctor inside a glass room. This made it so that you could see it happening-- see them under those machines, see their eyes blown up on the computer above you, see the doctor looking through a mega-telescope to do his amazing/disgusting work. Then, when people had finished, they had to walk out the door and pass by their viewing audience. We were amazed at how composed people were. They came out with sunglasses covering their sensitive eyes and seemed unfazed by the experience. The office was probably glad that Patrick was one of the last in this grouping. He had talked himself into believing that it wouldn't be so bad, although he was pacing like a maniac, wearing holes in their carpet. However, the first thing he said to me on coming out was, "It was awful!" After that, I concluded that maybe everybody else was just putting on a show, or else they were in shock. Not my husband! He says it like it is!

In sum, the psychological effects were miserable. They were described to me in phrases like this: "they suction your eyeball up" and (at the end) "they squirt water on your eye and squeegee it off." The result of these graphic and awful descriptions is that it definitely solidified my no-Lasik-for-me stance. So, for those who wondered when my turn would come (specifically, my friend Debbie), the answer is N-E-V-E-R.

But the psychological effects were only the beginning. Patrick chose an office in Richmond. An office which doesn't routinely give out Valium (in retrospect, it's unclear to us why this is). Instead, they advised him to take Tylenol PM and go home and sleep for 4-6 hours. This is because soon after the procedure, the numbing medicine wears off and the pain is intense. On the forty minute drive home, Patrick was miserable and unable to sleep. While Patrick headed to bed in hopes of being overcome by sleep, I went to pick up the kids, did a few errands, and put the kids to bed (which I admit is not a quiet procedure), and I was startled to see Patrick come into the kitchen at 8 PM, two hours earlier than they recommended . . . and admit that he hadn't slept at all. "What have you been doing all this time?" I asked. He said, "I just lay there rolling around in pain." Ah, yes, just one more failed commercial sales pitch in the course of the twenty-four hours of our own show called Family Life in the episode entitled, "Patrick Meets His Match."

Fortunately, he slept fine that night. Over the course of the last couple of days, 20/20 vision is beginning to overcome misery, so that in a couple of weeks, he's going to be one of those people who says breezily, "It was totally worth it!" But for now the remains of his Lasik experience are medicinal eye drops four times a day, frequent headaches if he focuses too long, and red eyes. If the red eyes don't heal too soon, then he may be able to play that into some sort of zombie costume for Halloween. I rather hope it doesn't come to that because they look awful and he has interviews with two firms this week-- by skype and in person. And, though it isn't true, he looks a little bit drugged, which may not play out well at an interview.

Carpe Diem

You know that quotation by Mark Twain that people quote all the time: "Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did do"? Sometimes, I disagree with this quote. There are actions that people "seize the day" on that have a challenging, life-altering impact on their lives. And there are some stupid things I've done that I'll wish I hadn't done for the rest of my life. But there are times when Mr. Twain is right. There are certainly moments you come to where you must say to yourself, "I will! I will 'throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in my sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.'"

The biggest things I can think of that go with this are to get married and have children. What an adventure-- what a scary, new thing. On a smaller scale, this applies to our Disneyland trip, which we gave to ourselves after we graduated with our bachelors degrees. Was it super responsible when we were about to go into a bunch of debt for graduate school? Nope. But it was refreshing and exciting and fun and harmless. When I said, "We never do anything spontaneous anymore," Patrick said, "Let's go to Disneyland." We roped our friends into going with us, and the memory is lasting. It was perfect.

But the latest in the list of our brave, new adventures is . . . Patrick is getting Lasik eye surgery . . . today! He's been wanting to do it for a very long time. His desire to lose the glasses was reinforced when our friend Blake accidentally broke Patrick's glasses while whopping him with a pillow. Blake felt terrible, but Patrick was more annoyed at the glasses than at Blake. Who wants to limit their rough housing for a stupid little accessory! It was also reinforced during football season when it rained and rained and rained, and Patrick couldn't see a thing through that stupid windshield on his face. And the sooner the better we realized when my dad got Lasik eye surgery, and then discovered that he still needed reading glasses. Doh. How disappointing. So, we decided that with our tax return this year, he could use it to get his eyes corrected.

Now it's been a crazy semester, as I've already mentioned. But football season with intramural football is on its way. So the other day, he mentioned it. And I said, "If you want to do it, do it." And (as long as he doesn't go blind) I think this will be one of those things that we're delighted that we did. So farewell, harbor! Today dreams will be fulfilled.

Odds and Ends

I admit that my attitude this year has left something to be desired. At times, this school year has felt like a series of unfortunate events. Between hurricane power outages, computer failure, job rejections, sicknesses, limited car access, and the more frequent immediate demands of business school, I have felt a little worn out and irritable, and the semester has just begun.

However, when I step back and get things in perspective, I can see all the good that has come of these little irritations. The hurricane gave us more time together as a family and with some of our favorite people, the Wilkersons; not having the Internet or my computer gave me more time with my kids; not having the car and being sick has made me more creative about family activities; and Patrick being busy has given me time to write more and it's also made me enjoy the good time we do have together. And beyond these little challenges, our lives are very blessed.

Most Especially, I Have Very Funny Kids

Eli is incredibly verbal for an eleven-month-old. His words include "wa-wa" (water), "kaka" (cracker or anything edible), "da-da" (Daddy, said with so much excited delighted; also means people he likes in general, I think), and "ahhh-da" (all done). This last is the funniest. I've tried to use it consistently to mean the end of a certain activity-- high chair time, playing with a certain toy, being held when he's wriggling away to play. And he, brilliant little munchkin, has applied it to nap time. After I put him down in his crib, he'll call out, "Ahhhh-da! Ahhhh-da!" I don't think so, little boy!

Caleb's vocabulary is increasing faster than his pronunciation, which I didn't realize until I noticed friends of mine couldn't understand him when I've always thought he was so good at expressing himself. Ah well. Mothers are blind to these things. I'm not that bothered by it. Someday his pronunciation will catch up. As it is, I love his language skills. Two recent additions are the word "sure" (which he says properly, and uses it to mean yes, and says it either with enormous excitement or a calm shrug of assent, but it's very grown-up yet cute sounding), and the phrase "just a second" is also new, but it's pronounced "just a sen-ic." Patrick corrected him the other day, and I told him not to. It's too dang cute.

Caleb is also hilarious, though not always intentionally. As part of our bedtime routine, we do a scripture story before reading out of the actual scriptures. For scripture story one night, I was telling him The Good Samaritan (a favorite).

I'd just begun: "Jesus told a story of a man who was traveling to the city of Jericho when some robbers attacked him. They beat him up and hurt him . . . "

"And they took his money," Caleb added.

"Yeah, and they took his money," I agreed.

"I would do that," Caleb said thoughtfully.

"Do what?" I asked, taken aback. "You mean, you would beat somebody up and take their money?"

"Yeah," Caleb agreed.

Holy Cow! Well, a mother's dream come true: my son aspires to be a thief. Great!

(As a disclaimer: 1. This is only funny because Caleb is not an excessively violent child. He's very mild and calm, so that's why it took me by surprise. 2. I did have a discussion with him about what this actually meant and hopefully I destroyed all of these violent aspirations permanently.)

Relief Sa-What?

It's "Relief Society." Come on, now. Haven't heard of it? How can that be? It has over 6 million members in over 170 countries and territories. (Thank you, Wikipedia, for those statistics.) It is the largest and oldest organization for women in the world. It includes all women of the church eighteen-years-old and older. It's motto is "Charity never faileth."

Now the fact of the matter is, I wasn't all that impressed with Relief Society when I was younger. I mean, Primary (for the children) is full of fun music and active lessons, and Young Women's (for teenage girls) was full of awesome activities and girl bonding. Relief Society was old woman stuff. I've had my moments when I've stood up in defense of Relief Society, as when a boy I had a crush on stated (jokingly), "Well, it keeps the women busy." The condescension and disrespect just about ended all pining from then on . . . but in the end teenage infatuation prevailed over gender pride for a few more years. And perhaps the reason it didn't bother me more was that, secretly, in my heart I thought perhaps he was right. Keeping the women busy while the men did the important stuff.

I am pleased to say that over the years, I have gotten a greater vision of Relief Society, and last night completely shattered any lasting illusions about the inconsequential nature of Relief Society. Relief Society is a worldwide organization with the purpose of strengthening and uplifting individuals in all areas of their lives, strengthening families, and helping those in need. And Relief Society ain't for sissies (well, actually, it's for everyone, so if you're a sissy, you're not excluded, but you don't have to be a sissy to participate). When I reflect on the women I know who have been Relief Society incarnate to me, they are powerful women: Sister Baird (my friend's mom), Sister Allred (even though she serves in Primary), Sister Harmon (gentle, but inwardly powerful). There are many more, of course, but these are examples. And I have friends who are active members of Relief Society who are in many different places in their lives, some single, some married but childless, some in school, some working, some parenting full-time.

And the society itself? What do we do exactly? Well, Relief Society sisters organize things like book clubs or mothers' groups. But they are also there when babies are born. They are there for moves. They are there for operations and even death. They are there for hurricanes and tornadoes. They are there to educate and teach both secular and spiritual concepts. And I'll be blunt enough and "religious" enough to say, a Sunday with Relief Society women is an immersion into the Holy Ghost even with a room full of imperfect, very different women.

In short, this is actually, despite all my quiet childhood disdain, one of the coolest organizations in the world.

Get Your Creative On

This morning I was feeling sorry for myself. After two weeks without a car, almost one week of somebody being sick, (which led to) one week of nose wiping two little boys and myself constantly, two weeks of being almost anti-social (except for my visiting teacher who stopped by last night and Stacy who has popped in occasionally during our two weeks of confinement and a number of friends who have contacted me to chat or by text), I felt entitled to . . . something. And I felt sorry for myself, especially when it started raining. I felt claustrophobic and cooped up, and I felt like whining to somebody and I wanted somebody to do something about it.

And then I had an inspiration, which went something like this, "Girl, get your creative on." Now that might sound a little ridiculous, and it may seem a little outrageous to believe God would speak to me that way, but it had the very useful effect of shaking me out of myself. And when me and myself were separated, I grabbed myself by my shirt front and shook myself a little and said, "Hey, you! You lucky woman! You get to stay home and get to know your two incredibly cute and wonderful little boys. You are blessed because you generally have excellent health and so does everybody else in your family. You are blessed that you ever have a car to use. You are blessed because you had an awesome date weekend with your husband [tennis on Friday night while some friends babysat and a movie at home on Saturday night]. You are blessed because you have friends to miss. You are blessed to live in such a beautiful place and because fall peeked out at you last week and made you happy. So, woman, get off your duff and decide to be happy."

So I turned to Caleb and said, "This is lame, huh? We are sick, so we can't go out. We don't have a car, so we can't go out. And it's raining so we can't go out. What should we do? I think we should use our imaginations."

And bless that little boy's heart. With glee and excitement equivalent to any person who ever won the lottery, he said, "Our i-mag-in-ations! Yay!"

So after this inner battle, I popped open our pop-up tent and made a "table fort" (where we cover the table with a blanket and throw pillows on the ground). Then we called these our houses and we loaded them up with toy phones and stuffed animals and other toy paraphernalia. Then we used our toy phones to "call" each other and meet up at the "library" (Caleb's bedroom bookshelf) and the "movies" (the couch with popcorn to watch songs from The King and I). And then Caleb called me and asked if he could come over, and we read together awhile. After this, we had lunch at a "restaurant" (a small black table with benches as the chairs, set up in the boys' bedroom). And this was followed by a "pretend adventure" (inspired by my dad) to "hike the Grand Canyon."

And the morning went beautifully with two mostly very happy boys enjoying the originality of chaos in our living room and cushions and books spread everywhere and Mom paying attention to them while promoting creative play, and I felt better about myself as a human being and as a mom. So, we will call Operation: Look on the Bright Side a complete success.

Back in Action (Temporarily)

I have a moment, this Sunday afternoon, after stake conference to come back to the wonderful world of blogging. It's been almost impossible to maintain without Internet in our home. Unfortunately, while so many things looked possible when we linked ourselves up with Cox, the Internet still feels just out of reach most of the time. No, no, it's not actually Cox. (Unlike Verizon, who could neither give us service when we signed up with them and would also not end our contract or discuss our contract or take any responsibility for the fact that a strike is actually their problem and not their customers' problem.)

Instead, it's Dell. (Poor companies getting bashed today.) Patrick's computer has been on the fritz for months and suddenly spiraled into eternal computer insanity right as business school started. You can imagine the bliss that this has brought to our MBA experience so far. Don't worry, though. He has a warranty until 2013. Phew. ... Except he called them the week before Labor Day, worked things out with them for an hour or more and then was told a tech guy would come the next week. The next week, finally, the guy came and installed a new hard drive. Meanwhile, I will remind you that William & Mary does not so much as slow down during Labor Day-- so he is continuing with his studies full speed ahead and all that jazz limping along to keep up, using my cute little Notebook computer while I'm wishing fie upon Dell because he's stressed and I'm computer-less and essentially Internet-less, even though we finally gave in and paid for it. Well, you would think all our problems would be solved. But they're not. The computer continues to suffer from some sort of unknown disease in which it starts to turn on when you push the power button and then half-way through, it shuts down. So, in fact, it can take multiple tries to get it to turn on, and there's no guaranty it will stay on. Therefore, another conversation with a friendly and defensive (in a very subservient way) and concerned customer support worker is in the making for me or Patrick in order to get him a high-speed, high-memory working computer and me a ... well, my computer.

All in all, I hate to begin up again with such a negative post. Because, really, besides these computer complications, life is quite good. But I did think I would explain since somebody, no names here, accused me of being lazy and told me on Facebook to post on my own blog instead of riding piggyback off of a friend's blog. So, now, if you continue not to hear from me, you will know that my computer has been taken possession of by a poor, needy, handsome graduate student who can't give it up. But someday (no promises when) I may try to be more devoted to publicizing all the grand and glorious events of our adorable little household.

And now follows the obligatory pictures that make up for any boredom I may have caused while you forced your way through my rant. And, yes, these are the two most adorable little boys in the world.

Hello, 2011

Oh, another year has come and gone. And what things we have to look forward to in the up-coming year. Some of the things that I'm anticipating include:

-our baby's blessing this Sunday
- our five year anniversary (seems like the first especially big one)
- birthdays, especially for a three-year-old and a one-year-old
- the half-way point for graduate school (Now that Patrick's decided to do a joint degree in law and business, the end is rather farther away than we had planned originally, but it WILL be worth it!)
- an internship in Wisconsin for the summer; the adventure of living with family
- spending some time with our neice since her visit should overlap ours
- roller coasting at Busch Gardens
- camping in the fall for the first time in Virginia
- visiting some of our best friends now living in Philadelphia -- a city I've never visited before
- a visit from a friend who moved to Provo but promises she'll be coming through with her daughter (you know who you are)
- spring "tradition" (so far it's only been one year) of picking strawberries
- fall tradition of picking pumpkins, then carving them with some friends, and chasing donuts around and eating them (without hands) as they hang from their ceiling fan (which isn't set on spin, but does spin a little, nonetheless)
- devouring books on my new Christmas Kindle

And of course more that we don't even know about. Every time I talk about the good things in our lives, I'm a bit boggled by how great our lives are and how blessed we are. I'll keep you all posted on it as I can.