Almost life-sized skeleton suspended in a 7' spiderweb - $10
4 large foam tombstones - $14
9' fabric spiderweb - $7
Skeleton "Haunted House" sign - $5
36" spider - $4
Scary music CD - $3
Snickers snack sized candy bars - $10
5 pumpkins for carving - $12 + $12 for a farm field trip that yielded the 5th pumpkin
2 black light bulbs - $1/1, the other borrowed
5 strobe lights - borrowed
1 fog machine - borrowed
2 large suction-cup spiders - borrowed
A selection of other spider, skeleton, & blood themed decorations - leftover from previous years
7 trick-or-treaters - thoroughly underwhelming.
Halloween candy doesn't taste nearly as good as I remember it tasting when I was a kid. It's definitely not worth the guilt it brings on.
And finally . . . I don't want to decorate for Christmas!
Wise little Thing 4. Grass doesn't invade a diaper the way sand does.
Unless you include animated green caterpillars. Then this guy wins, hands down.
You'd uproot a pepper plant (still supporting said caterpillar), put it in a plastic container, set it in the window, and read it a story, of course.
I was lying back on the sofa, talking to my sister about her elementary school drama, my upcoming Hong Kong trip, her upcoming island cruise, kids' birthdays, ward camp . . . all the typical chattiness, when she mentioned a bone she needed to pick with me. I didn't have to think too hard before I knew exactly what she was talking about - my lack of blog activity.
Like I wrote previously, blogging has kinda hit the back burner for me. My drive, my motivation, by need to write has all but evaporated. 6 months ago if I hadn't written in 48 hours I'd feel the pressure mounting, a pressure that could only be released by clicking that "Publish Post" button.
Now I'm having a hard time working up the energy to even care. Maybe it's because school's out. Maybe it's because I've been traveling or Nate's been traveling, or we've been planning impending travels. Maybe it's because the sun is always beating down and the only moisture to be felt is from the humidity in the air or the sweat that is running full course down my back by 10 in the morning. And I really don't like to be hot.
Or maybe it's because my hormones have finally started to normalize after weaning Thing 4. Maybe those hormones were the secret power behind my blog. Oh, I hope not.
Pathetic to say, it's been over a month since Thing 4 turned 1 and this is the first mention I'm making of it. We've been to Arizona and Utah to visit family and I've posted no photos. Thing 1 had her first piano recital, Things 1-3 started swim lessons, the coyotes are back but the bunnies are still here, the garden is struggling to survive, the grass is dying, we're on water restrictions, the CA budget is on life-support, the federal government is trying to rewrite the rights guaranteed by and/or imagined within the Constitution . . . all that and more. And I don't really care.
Well, now that's not true. I do care. I just don't care to write about it all.
And that kinda makes me sad.
I started writing this blog for the same reason that many people blog - to keep a record of my rants and raves, my thoughts and feelings, our life's happenings, the funny/shocking things my Things say/do, the photos I take or receive. And I feel like I did a pretty good job of it for the last year or so. But now it's becoming a chore. And I don't want it to be. So rather than force myself to write/post and dread it all the more, I think I'll wait until the mood strikes me. Until then, faithful readers, don't hold your breath.
But for now, let me finish what I started. The gruesome scene I just witnessed needs to be shared. Well, not really. But I want to share. It was just that disturbing. I even took pictures, although my windows are dirty enough you probably can't see much in them.
Like I said earlier, I was on the sofa chatting when I saw wisps of feathers, or fur, now that I think about it more, gently falling from the tree. I sat up to investigate and saw the most magnificent of creatures, engaged in the most basic of instincts - dinnertime.
I'm not sure what the brown falcon was eating - another bird, a mouse, a small rabbit . . . don't know, don't care. My lip curled in disgust and my stomach churned, and yet, like motorists on the freeway creeping past an horrific car crash, I couldn't look away.Little time passed before the falcon realized he was being watched. I guess he'd had his fill, because then he was gone. Curious as I typically am, I've yet to go outside to find his leftovers. I think the great outdoors and the animal kingdom is often best left alone.
But now there is so much to tell that has gone unwritten. Maybe I'll catch you up in the weeks to come. Maybe I won't. Unfortunately my memory is lousy, and so are my photography skills. (For fab photo skills check out Lindsey's.)
For all you faithful fans I'll do the best I can with only putting in the effort I want to.
Then earlier this week I transitioned into the bargaining stage. I actually tried to find a surrogate speaker in Addison. You see, she wants an iPod and she is looking for any and every opportunity to earn an extra buck to apply to her growing iPod fund - in fact, I haven’t changed many poopy diapers for over a week now. So sensing an opportunity I offered her $2/minute if she would give my talk today. After a couple of hours of quiet deliberation she realized that this talk was worth at least 24 poopy diapers and she agreed to speak on my behalf. But when she learned that she would also have to write the talk she wavered. It seems changing a couple dozen poopy diapers is more fun than giving a talk in sacrament meeting. On this matter either Addy has wisdom beyond her years, or I am incredibly immature because we definitely think alike.
With today being father’s day, I want to wish my perfect husband who is a perfect father to my above-average children a happy father’s day. I also need to thank him for agreeing to write this talk for me once he recognized that I was slipping into the depression stage. I am the only person I know who married better than Nate did. I also wish my own dad, who’s far away, and all of the dads here today a happy father’s day.
I want to start with a quick story. Many of you are familiar with the tale of Johnny Lingo. For those of you who aren’t, allow me to quickly review. Johnny Lingo was a young, handsome, successful man in the pacific islands. It was said that with his wealth and position he could have any woman he chose. Mahana was a homely girl whose father was very concerned he would never be able to marry her off. As per the society’s custom, marriages were arranged and agreed upon by the groom and the bride’s father. The father was paid a number of cows by the groom in exchange for his daughter’s hand in marriage.
Rumor spread across the island that Johnny Lingo planned to seek Mahana’s hand in marriage. Mahana’s father was shocked that someone like Johnny would want his ugly Mahana for a wife. Others speculated that Johnny, being a shrewd negotiator, just wanted to get the cheapest wife possible. Mahana’s father decided to request 3 cows but, if necessary, to settle for just 1. The villagers joked that he would potentially have to pay cows to get Johnny to take her off his hands.
“Mahana, you ugly, get over here” wasn’t enough to draw a nervous and defeated girl out of the trees when Johnny arrived for the negotiation. No matter. Johnny immediately offered 8 cows. Mahana’s father was speechless, but agreeable.
With a gentle voice and kind words, Johnny persuaded Mahana to leave her home, and the island with him. Months later they returned and hosted her father in their new home. Mahana had transformed into a beautiful, confident, graceful woman – the woman Johnny had always saw her to be, and had allowed her to become through the way he treated her. Mahana’s father was flabbergasted, outraged - “You only paid 8 cows for a 10 cow woman!” he cried. A woman, that just months earlier, he was willing to give away for only a single cow.
I have always liked the Johnny Lingo story – maybe it’s because my childhood piano teacher played the role of “gossipy village woman #1” or because I had a friend whose name was unfortunately similar to Mahana, and as such, we had a good time teasing her. But, I was asked to speak on building strong fathers. Surprised? I shouldn’t joke because I have to admit I feel wholly inadequate standing up here, in the throes of giving a talk on building strong fathers, when of the potential fathers I’m raising, one still sleeps with a stuffed dog and a Mater night light, and the other still drinks out of a bottle and wears those previously mentioned poopy diapers.
In preparing for this talk, I looked to the scriptures for examples of strong fathers. The Book of Mormon is full of excellent examples. From Lehi we learn the importance of obedience to the commandments of God. Jacob taught Enos to pray with fervent honesty. King Benjamin counseled his children to provide for themselves. Alma is the perfect example of the unconditional love and hope a parent should always have for their child. Mormon, in his final days, taught Moroni to listen to the spirit and trust that Heavenly Father would direct his path.
As parents we have a sacred responsibility to the Lord to teach our children the gospel and to pray, to recognize the spirit, and to love the Savior. We have been counseled that by fulfilling these responsibilities we increase our children’s ability to withstand temptation and make righteous choices - such as serving a mission and living worthy to marry in the temple.
While preparing, I also spent a lot of time reflecting on my own experiences growing up (both then and as I continue to grow up even now), thinking about the lessons I learned from my own dad, from my father-in-law, and from watching Nate father my kids. From those, as well as the examples in the scriptures and the lessons of the gospel, I put together a list of 12 additional ideas for dads (and moms and grandpas and grandmas) on how to raise 10 cow daughters.
1. JUST LISTEN: When Addy was little, she loved the nursery rhyme “Baa, Baa black Sheep.” She also had a terrifying fear of bath tubs that we eventually learned stemmed from this nursery rhyme. “Baa baa black sheep have you any wool, yes sir yes sir 3 bags full, 1 for the master, 1 for the dame and 1 for the little boy who lives down the drain.” Yes, being sucked down the drain with the little boy can be very frightening. Young kids have fears and concerns that are often irrational. But to them they are very real. As a parent you don’t always need to solve their problems, explain them away, or even spin a bright side. Sometimes the most important thing you can do is to just listen. What she has to say matters and is worth hearing, even if it doesn’t always make sense. Just listening to her helps her gain and maintain self-worth. If you really try to hear them and understand them when they are young, they will be more likely to confide in you when they are older. If you marginalize their opinions or dismiss their fears or feelings they will eventually stop bringing them to you and instead they’ll find someone else to confide in.
2. SPEND TIME ONE-ON-ONE: Family home evening, family vacations, and dinnertime all serve as great bonding moments for the entire family. But group dynamics are always different and less emotionally intimate than one-on-one interactions. When I was 11 I traveled to Canada with my Dad while my siblings went to California with my mom. I remember feeling like my Dad’s world revolved around only me for a change – a feeling that even now as an adult I relish in. Spend time alone with your daughter to hear her individual voice. One-on-one you will experience a side of her that is available at no other time. And that will give both of you a deeper understanding, love, and respect for one another.
3. BE HER BIGGEST FAN: We are all busy and it is so easy to simply bring the kids along for the ride which is our own life. Instead, jump on the roller coaster that is her life. Whether it is art or dance, drama or basketball, your daughter will dabble or dive into a multitude of interests. Know her passions and become her biggest fan. Any lack of enthusiasm from you won’t go unnoticed. She is looking for your validation and approval – freely and genuinely give it. If you try hard enough, I promise that you can learn to appreciate almost anything your daughter loves, unless it’s the piccolo. Nate will never love the piccolo.
4. MAKE MEMORIES WORTH TRIGGERING: Have you ever noticed how certain sights, smells and sounds can trigger vivid memories? Whenever I go to Utah and stay in Nate’s grandma’s old room I can hear her laugh and feel her death-grip of a hug, even though she died almost 4 years ago. You can create similar memories for your daughter. While I recognize that boys and girls need to be treated differently, I caution you not to tie what you teach to gender. Just as your sons need to learn how to cook a meal, wash clothes, and iron a shirt, your daughters need to learn how to change a tire, drive a stick shift, and throw a ball. Trust me on this, years later when your daughter hears the smack of a ball hitting a glove, she will think of dad and remember special times talking and laughing while playing catch.
5. BE HANDS ON: When kids are young, dads provide the best physical, rough house play. But kids, and especially daughters, eventually grow out of wrestling on the floor with dad. As she grows your daughter will pull back, but don’t let that be an excuse to not be a hands on dad. A hug goodnight, a kiss on the forehead as you leave for work - your physical contact reminds her that you love her and that she is special. Don’t let her seeming apathy fool you. She notices and appreciates and needs your hug - even as she rolls her eyes.
6. SET HIGH EXPECTATIONS: Your daughter is a child of God and that defines her potential. You should have only the highest of expectations for her. Most of us only reach as high as we are expected to, so set the bar high. Obstacles and achievement work to build confidence. Challenge her to see a glimpse of what she is capable of becoming. But in the process, celebrate her progress, encourage her through setbacks, and assure her of your unconditional love. Don’t underestimate the impact of yours kind words and support.
7. TEACH HER TO WORK: Whether in the home or out, your daughter needs to know how to take care of herself. Don’t give her everything she wants, or everything she asks for. Instead, let her experience the struggle and satisfaction that comes from earning her own way. Help her to find value and take pride in learning to support herself. Teach her to manage her finances.
8. LET HER FAIL: Especially in today’s world, both boys and girls need to learn that actions have consequences. Let your daughter fail and learn to be accountable for her actions. Protecting her when she is young will only leave her more vulnerable when she is older.
9. SET LIMITS FOR HER: Kids make a lot of mistakes. And sometimes the best, the most “need to be heard” response, requires yelling - but not very often. In fact, as I’ve heard quoted, “Shouting to make your children obey is like using the horn to steer your car, and you get about the same results.” Psychiatrist Bruno Bettelheim observed, “We become most upset with our children when we see in them aspects of our own personalities of which we disapprove.” That being said, your daughter needs limits and guidance. I can say from personal experience, there were times when the backbone I needed to stand up to my friends, to do what was right, came from being able to say, “I can’t do that, my dad would totally kill me.”
10. SET LIMITS FOR YOU: As a dad, you work hard to provide for your family. Chances are, you also work hard to provide for your ego. The rewards of professional accolades, pay increases, and promotions have a direct link to many dads’ self-worth - and that acknowledgement for career success can be relatively immediate. But keep in mind as you work the extra hours that you are passing on time with your family that you will never get back. In isolation, each missed meal, dance recital, or ballgame is relatively insignificant, but collectively they can change everything. Chances are, your kids will mess up most days. They will require your discipline, your patience, your time, your energy - and the rewards of that investment can be seemingly few and far between, taking much longer to materialize than many of the rewards of career. But I am confident that when you see your daughter on her wedding day, you will either be grateful for the strong relationship you have with one of the most remarkable people you have ever met, or you will wish that you had better savored that precious time when you were still the most important man in her life.
11. TELL HER WHAT SHE’S WORTH: Adolescence is full of struggles for every child. One day everything is perfect and wonderful, and then friends change, boys are mean, and you think everyone hates you. If one good friend can make all the difference in school, how much more of a difference can a deep, raw knowledge that you are valued above anything else to your dad make? Having a dad that loves you, that tells you are beautiful, that laughs with you, that knows you are smart, that believes in you – it might not make the hurt of the day go away, but it will help to keep it in perspective. It’s hard to fully value yourself when you question whether other people value you. So don’t let her question it. Tell her what she’s worth. Help her develop the confidence and self-respect that enables her to expect to be treated appropriately by everyone she comes in contact with. Just remember, she needs to hear all this before her world melts down because you’re unlikely to get credit for pep talks when she’s in the middle of a teenage girl crisis.
12. TREAT HER AS A DAUGHTER OF GOD: Your daughter is a daughter of a loving Heavenly Father. She needs to know that. Do your best to love her as her Father in heaven loves her. Love your wife. Your daughter will likely model an expectation for her own marriage relationship from what she witnesses in yours. Are you treating your wife the way you would want your daughter to be treated by her husband? Does she see her divine nature through the way you interact with her and with her mother? As her father, you are uniquely equipped to serve as the earthly example of your daughter’s relationship with her Heavenly Father.
I have covered a lot of points today and if you are like me, it will be hard to remember most of these by the end of the week. So if I could leave one encompassing thought it would be this, from Matthew Chapter 6 verse 21, “For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.”
It is my testimony that our greatest happiness in this life will come from the emotionally intimate relationships we build with those we love. Treasure things of an eternal nature. Treasure your children with all of your heart. Make both the quantity and quality of the time you invest in them reflect the feelings of your heart. And if you do, you will receive some of the greatest treasures this life has to offer - plus 10 cows per daughter.
(Actually, it's by Ludwig van Beethoven. But that day it was by Addy.)
I think this was Thing 1's first piano recital. I really can't remember for sure. That probably means I should've started blogging years before I did. At least for posterity's sake, if not for all of yours.
But then it's time to go to bed. Last night:
11:30 pm - the dogs next door started barking. While they aren't quiet dogs, barking at night is a little uncharacteristic. I wasn't too worried, however, because while their owner is in the midst of moving back in after a 9 month remodel, she still isn't spending the night.
Midnight - I intend on going to bed but get distracted by my new handheld GPS and have to attempt initialization.
12:30 am - I close the bathroom window after yelling at Dolly and Booker to stop barking. I would have used stronger language except I was worried the neighbors would hear me. And what kind of example would that be?
12:35 am - I turn on my sound machine and climb into bed.
12:40 am - I contemplate calling Nate to ask at what point it's OK to call the cops.
12:41 am - I decide I'm going to find the non-emergency police dispatch number and program it into my phone first thing in the morning.
12:43 am - I consider climbing out of bed, turning on the computer and searching for that number right now, but know that as soon as I do the dogs will curl up and go to sleep.
12:45 am - I wonder if Daisy, the old lady that lives on the other side of my house has already called the cops.
12:46 am - I really, really hope Daisy has already called the cops.
12:49 am - I'm a little worried. Why exactly are the dogs barking? Pam's not home. There aren't coyotes in the neighborhood anymore - the proliferation of cats and rabbits attest to that. Are said rabbits decimating my garden? Are there squatters in Pam's garage? Is there an intruder working under the radar, relying on the distraction that incessant barking creates? I'm a little more worried - should I get up and close the balcony window? But what if he's standing out there waiting for me to get up and look out the window?
12:53 am - I can't believe I let those dogs arouse paranoia.
12:55 am - Like popcorn ready to be taken out of the microwave, the dogs' barking slows down.
1:03 am - Sweet doggie silence
1:05 am - I'm startled awake by a strange humming sound. I turn off the sound machine and hear a helicopter approaching. So do the dogs. Barking resumes.
1:08 am - The helicopter is gone, but the dogs keep barking.
1:12 am - The helicopter comes back. My patience goes out the window. I'm so mad and so tired I consider screaming serious obscenities out the window - both at the dogs and the helicopter. But then I'm the only one who would sound like a raving lunatic. And I would have to get out of bed. Argh! The futility of it all!
Eventually the dogs stopped barking, the helicopter flew away, and I went to sleep. I just don't remember when. It was a long night.
But then the mail is delivered. I'm selfish about that trek to the mailbox. It's my time, my relished chore. It's something I look forward to for its potential to shake up my day.
Often the mail consists of no more than solicitations for charitable donations from the lady who used to live in this house and has been dead for 3+ years. Those, along with supermarket ads, fast food flyers, and old lady catalogs (enough with the Vermont Country Store and orthopedic shoes already) are standard fare. Sometimes there are bills and other annoyances - IRS audit notifications, and jury duty assignments that are better left in the mailbox.
But then there are days like today. Days rare enough I count this one as a first, but hopefully not a last. Days where my mailbox serves as a giver of simple excitement and pure pleasure. Days where my mailbox does more than just shake - it rocks.
$20 of free shopping, waiting for blissful discovery. I'm already scheduling some quality alone time for after Nate gets home.
Fish - with eyeballs, scales, fins, and tail
Anyway . . . tonight I was out of ideas (energy, desire) and instead turned to a Penny Saver flyer advertising buy one/get one footlongs during the Grand Re-opening of a nearby Subway. The Things were almost thrilled with their turkey sandwiches, though Thing 2 whined about the lettuce on his, conceding (and more importantly shutting his mouth) only when promised half a cookie for dessert.
Thing 4 refused to cooperate entirely. It didn't help that the only highchair in the restaurant was being used to prop open the bathroom door while an employee mopped out standing water. I was irritated, holding a squirmy Thing on my lap while trying to both eat my sandwich and feed him pieces of another. It also didn't help that a second employee apologized for the backed-up sewer every time he walked by.
Um, I'm no expert, but considering there was no smell, nor color to the water on the floor, I doubt the problem was the sewer. In my opinion the real problem was Mr. ESL employee not asking for translation assistance before talking to customers who were trying to eat their dinner without puking.
Gratefully we made it home after soiling the restaurant floor with nothing more than shredded lettuce and rejected baby bites. I'm still trying to figure out what was so objectionable about a plain turkey sandwich . . . With nothing more than a 1/4 cookie in his belly Sketch was still hungry. I felt bad because the poor little Thing had lacked for green veggies all day. I sent Things 1-3 to bed and headed to the garden for a quick harvest job.
So far the peas are the overachievers of the garden. The carrots and radishes are stunted and the green beans are thin and scarce, but I'm not giving up on them yet. While I was picking, Sketch was sitting.
And happily eating dirt. With these culinary cravings he might be better satisfied in China with his dad.For those of you concerned about the well being of my youngest, fear not. While in the bath, Sketch ate approximately two dozen fresh peas.
Lauren & Sue
Lisa & Jackson
Why? Because all of the above star in current running Microsoft commercials. They're "laptop hunters", scouring electronic stores for a new computer that meets their specific needs. Each looks at an Mac, but decides they're too slow, or too expensive, or too small, or too white . . .
Unsurprisingly enough, all the hunters find their perfect machine in a PC.
Then they're told, "You find it, you keep it" and are handed the cash needed to buy the computer.
Where was Microsoft and their commercial film crew when I was looking for a new computer?
Blueberries - Although the plants have only been in the ground a couple months, one is already producing plump, sweet berries. More surprisingly, the ravens have been leaving them alone.
Side Note - The bunnies made me really, really mad. So mad, in fact, that I started wishing for the return of the coyote pack that used to live in the drainage ditch on the hill behind our house.
Since that time Addy has had 5 pairs of glasses.
The first pair, while super cute (with a miniature Ariel on the each of the temples), required frequent trips to the optician to have a lens put back in the frame. Weekly trips. That pair was replaced as quickly as allowable by insurance reimbursement.
The second pair was more grown up. Stylish and expensive. They would have lasted a while, except Addy chose to scratch the lens with a sharp implement in a fit of anger and frustration (we think.) We've yet to figure out exactly how she did it.
The third pair included photo chromatic lenses - those geeky lenses that darken in sunlight. Addy had been complaining that everyone else got to wear sunglasses and she didn't because she had to wear regular glasses. Squeaky wheel. That pair of glasses was victim of a faceplant during PE at school. Polycarbonate lenses really hold onto embedded asphalt.
The fourth pair were identical to the third pair. We liked them that well. Unfortunately quality control was an issue. The bridge failed. At least Costco optical offered to replace them free of charge.
Unfortunately the fifth pair wasn't identical to the third and fourth. By that time the manufacturer had quit making the frames. Can't imagine why. Instead pair #5 are real grownup glasses, as Costco only carries 5 kids' frames and none of them lived up to Thing 1's discriminating tastes.
All that in just 3 years.
Then I come home from book club to find this taped to the front door:
For now pair 5 is being held together by a twisted paperclip. Pair #6 will come along once these are made in her size.