Gate blown away...not awesome!

Sometimes it gets really windy out here in our neck of the woods.

We have had many household pieces fall prey to the power of those winds over the years.

We've lost backyard porch swings, screen doors, basketball hoops, trees and more.

Our latest casualty is our backyard gate.

We came home to find that the fierce winds had forced the gate free of its holds and then slammed it shut -- HARD -- literally shattering the vinyl and leaving us gate-less.

Sad, bent braces now bending the wrong way.

Yup, it's broken.

Josh is not pleased.  He has already replaced the gate twice (those were thanks to mishaps involving children...he isn't particularly fond of this project so it makes him grouchy).

Stupid wind.

Patch job

The other day I found this little number waiting for me on my bed.

Oh I honestly love that my kidlets trust me to save the day sometimes.  

You wouldn't know it from the note but this is Parker's favorite pair of pants.  He is particularly particular about clothes and actually only wears three pairs of pants despite having an entire drawer full of them (shhhh, he doesn't think I know that).  He will try to wear the same dirty pair of pants several days in a row if I don't insist on the wearing of clean ones each morning.  Lucky him, I do two loads of laundry a day so he has learned to make sure one pair of acceptable pants is in the "to do" basket each day (we do the same thing with socks, but he has five suitable pairs of those) and thus one of his three standard pairs is pretty much always available for use.

Sadly, this pair is getting a little worn (that happens when you only stride around in three pairs of pants for months on end).  They have actually been patched before, but it looks like they need some additional attention.

It is fun to be the hero once in a while.  

This is a problem I know I can fix...for now (someday they will be too far gone to save).

I love being a mom.

I am 100% pro-choice...just not in the way you think

Let me say from the start I am NOT in favor of abortion (in most cases; there is always an exception).

And yet I feel like I am entirely pro-choice.

What I mean is that I am completely for making a choice; but I am also completely for responsibly facing the outcome of that choice.

So I guess I am pro a different kind of choice.

I am pro-if you-don't-want-to-get-pregnant-then-don't-have-sex choice.  I am pro-keep-your-actions-and-feelings-under-control-so-you-don't-bring-yourself-and-others-heartache-and-pain-and-fear choice.  I am pro-think-ahead-and look-beyond-momentary-pleasure-so-you-aren't-left-facing-the-idea-of-destroying-a-life-in-order-to-keep-your-lifestyle-from-being-rumpled (or completely overturned) choice.

Killing a person because you chose not to act responsibly or because although you were the cause of its creation it is now an inconvenience for you is not acceptable behavior in my book.  It is wrong.  If you adopt a dog and then decide you don't like having it around you don't get to cut it into pieces and throw it away; why is it different with a human being?

Now, I am liberal enough to be one of those people who thinks kids should be exposed to the idea of sex early on and frequently as they grow up.  I believe it helps them develop an understanding of their urges and desires, de-mystifies the whole notion of sex.  It helps them learn why and how those drives work.  Good.  Sounds like something they should know.

However, I also believe that our children need to be taught that sex is not a play thing and it shouldn't be treated like one.  There is a power there that needs to be handled responsibly and our children need to know that.  For me, that means encouraging my children to save that intense and beautiful act for when they are married. When they are committed to another person who loves them and is a partner to them that is when they should unleash that power and use it to benefit themselves and their family.

 But whether you believe that piece or not, the creation of life is not a little footnote to something more important.  Wanting sex with no strings attached is no excuse for stealing lives.

I want to teach my children to make mature decisions, to make wise choices, and then to boldly face the consequences of those choices.  That is not always simple or comfortable.

Telling someone that "you can just get rid of it" when the "it" is a person is completely unacceptable. Quick fixes and easy outs rarely develop character and I am convinced from everything I have seen that becoming involved in crushing the most innocent of lives does not benefit those making the choice in any way other than momentary convenience.

I am full blown, all out pro-making-a-choice.  But I am also full blown, all out live-with-the-outcome-of-your-choice.

Not ready to be a parent? OK, great.  Responsibly choose to let the life YOU created be nurtured by someone who is.

Not ready to get pregnant?  OK, great.  Then keep those powers under control and don't create a life that you aren't ready or willing to give.

Making a moment

I've been spying on people lately.

Ok, actually, I've pretty much been spying on people my whole life.  I LOOOOVE people watching, plus I am a little bit on the hermit side by nature so I tend to sit back and watch rather than delving into interactions with people.  It's just part of who I am.

Anyway, lately I have seen person after person around me do small things to really spruce up the lives of people around them. These are (mostly) just tiny little pieces of happiness that one person strings onto the key chain of another person's life.

Like maybe someone holds the door an extra bit for the person coming into the building after them or maybe a friend gives a random hug because they think a person needs it.  Perhaps one of my carpool kids (did I ever tell you I have the sweetest carpool kids ever) can see that another one is sad so they tell jokes or silly stories to try to coax a smile.  Maybe you get a card in the mail from a sweet neighbor lady who only seems to see the good around her (that happened to me this week).  Skateboarders who encourage younger kids trying to learn, dog walkers stopping to let passing children pet their pooches, sharers of hand-me-downs, singers of songs while walking the neighborhood, phone calls to check on someone, help to clean up when it isn't really your job, high fives in hallways for no reason, waving happily at the sign holding pizza guy on the corner, letting that guy with only a drink go ahead of you and your very loaded grocery cart in line...just so many tiny little bits of niceness sprinkled into the collective life of earthlings.

I love the idea that we are here in some way to leave this world better than we found it and I think for the most part this is exactly how we do it.  Moment by moment, thought by thought, care by care.

We often see videos or read stories of people who make a gigantic impact through a kind act and I love those stories.  They inspire me to want to be better.  They make obvious the notion that touching someone's life for good has a rippling affect on the lives of others who will be touched as well.

But at the same time I wonder how many tiny acts those people performed that went relatively unnoticed long before the did something that stood out.  I wonder how many times they tossed lesser pebbles into the pond of humanity before their boulder really made waves.  I wonder how many times they made faces at a crying baby across an aisle or patted the arm of an exhausted mother in the grocery store before they saved the day in more dramatic fashion.

I'm not convinced those small acts are really so small at all.  I've been that exhausted mother and felt the boost of someone just smiling and giving me a little pick-me-up.  I've held that baby and been so grateful that someone took the time to try to help and even more that they chose not to judge me or act annoyed because my baby was struggling (which, I promise, is not what any parent wants the baby doing either).

Those big, flashy events are incredible.  But I think it is mostly through little things -- almost invisible acts -- that we can really change each other's lives for good.

Mostly, I think, it is just taking a few small seconds to care about someone else, to see what they need instead of only what we want.  To open the view and be a witness to the lives of our fellow travelers through life.

And then to act.  That's where the power really comes.  When we pull out of ourselves and our own little world for a tick of the clock and do something thoughtful, anything kind, to gently lure a creaking smile into the heart of another being.

We really are very powerful.

Of coarse, none of this is news to anyone.  There are those awesome videos about strings of small acts that add up to something much more than any one of the individual pieces.  I love those.  I want to be part of that.  When I finish up in this world and we get to the next life and get to watch the instant replay I hope I have a few cameo appearances in those "here's how the world was made better" films.

I know my life has been richly blessed by the momentary sweetness of others.  I have been lifted and supported by friends and family and strangers who chose to fly solo and break formation by veering into my life for twinkling or two.  It doesn't take a lot, and that's the beauty of it.  You can change a life for the better, alter the coarse of an entire day, all in tiny flash of time.

I've been seeing that sort of thing around me an awful lot lately.  I like seeing it.  What a lovely movement.

I think I want to be part of that.

Shark

I don't know if you're in the market for a new vacuum, but we were a couple of months ago.

I am a lover of research so when it comes to buying something new you can pretty well bet I will do lots of reading and studying and perusing of reviews and the like.  I needed something that would work well for a good long time.  We do a lot (like A LOT) of vacuuming around here and I can't really afford to purchase a new vacuum every year (which is kind of what has been going on the last while).  

I wanted some super sucking mechanical friend around here that would do his job well for an extended period of time.

Anyway, after all that, my choice seemed to come down to either buying a Dyson or a Shark.  Both got great reviews and both seemed to work well and have long lives.  Each brand seemed to have a dedicated following (who knew that vacuums had groupies!).

So we opted for the less expensive of the two, The Shark, and here he is.

I think he's lovely.  Oh, so sleek!

He's been working for us for just over two months now (since I wanted to be sure I was going to adore him before I bragged about him online).  He does a great job and I love him (ok, well, I really really like him at least).  We shopped around to find the best deal we could and now he lives happily in our closet.  We feed him daily, at least.  He likes that.

He really does good work, I love that I can turn off his roller when I want so I can vacuum spills off of hard floors without spraying the bits everywhere.  His extra long cord is super nice, I love his rotating head for easy turning and his quick release wand.  For me, he is a perfect fit.

Guess I'm a Shark groupie now too.  

Lucky Day!

It's March 17.

Let the green tinted shenanigans begin!

Happy St. Patrick's Day!!

Bryce shines...for a couple seconds

Bryce performed a solo at the Matheson Jr. High solo and ensemble night yesterday.  We worked on his song for months and he really put a lot of effort into it.  He chose to play "Piano Man" by Billy Joel.  This song stretched him a bit, but I think that is good.

I was really excited to share his performance with friends and family...

but...

I forgot until he was sitting down at the instrument that I should probably film his piece (I had hurried in late because I had just gotten back from picking Aubrey up from dance and was a bit flustered).  I fumbled around to get my phone out and turn it on and pull up the video app and since I was rushing I hit all the wrong buttons and so I ended up with only the last few seconds of the performance.

But...

here I am bragging about the last ten-ish seconds of my son's piano solo and I think it is fabulous!

Enjoy!

My better half or equally yoked

I'm sure we've all heard people refer to their marriage partner as their "better half."  Many of us have even done that ourselves.  But this past weekend something came up that got me looking at that phrase a different way.


Josh was at some meetings with a group of leaders and when he came home he was telling me some of the things he had learned.  Near the end of the conversation he said there was one thing that irritated him about the day.  He had been speaking with one man who talked about how great his wife was.  He doted on her good qualities and bemoaned his own flaws and faults.  The man commented over and over that me had married above himself (the fact that this was irritating to my husband immediately piqued my interest...watch your step here, sweetheart).


He went on to explain that this sweet man had talked about how much better than him his wife was, how he had married up, how she was such a near perfect person while he was riddled with problems and on and on -- you get the idea.


Josh said that for a long time it has rubbed him wrong when men (it is often men) talk about how their wife is their better half and how they married up and how great it is that their sweetheart would condescend to their level so they could end up together.  I looked at him quizzically (isn't it a good thing if husbands think their wives are incredible?) until he brought up a couple of fairly important ideas.


1. Shouldn't we be equally yoked as a couple?  It doesn't make a lot of sense to have one partner pulling really hard and working themselves to death while the other one kind of glides along easily just loafing their way down the path.  I've known people in marriages like that (I'm sure you have too) and it looks physically overwhelming and emotionally exhausting.  Josh said while he sees me as an amazing person (good save, tough guy) it wouldn't work out for either one of us if I was super awesome and he was just barely mediocre.  Our marriage works because we pull each other up.  Sometimes I am stronger, sometimes he is.  Sometimes I need support, sometimes he does. We work together to brace and fortify each other.  We are a team and marriages work best when both partners participate fully as a team.


2. Do we really want to teach young women to marry down?  I hadn't thought of this at all, but if girls regularly hear quips of "I married someone so much better than I am" what are they learning?  Are we teaching them to settle?  Are we telling them to be arrogant and view themselves as innately better than their male counterparts?  What about young men?  Do we want to give them the idea that they can never really measure up?   Do we want them to wander the world of relationships expecting to be second-rate and planning on hitching themselves to a top notch woman so she can drag him along?  I don't think so.  I don't want my sons thinking that they can stop trying to improve because no matter what they will never really be good enough to match up to their spouse.  I also don't want my daughters thinking that it's ok to accept a less than solid partner, someone that she will have to coddle and coerce to constantly improve, because that is just the way things are. 


Ok, I see his point. 


My husband is a pretty incredible person.  I look up to him.  He teaches me and lifts me and encourages me and reinforces me.  And I do my best to do the same for him.  I don't think either one of us is so much better than the other (we each have strengths and weaknesses, sure, but overall we are pretty equal).  We pull each other up, so I guess you could say we both married up.  Our marriage works because our goals and desires are headed solidly in the same direction.  We are both working toward the same things even if he is better in this arena and I am better in that.


I wouldn't want to hear Josh say that he thought he was lesser just to express that he thinks I am great. We are a partnership.  For good or bad, for ups and downs, we are in this together. 


So, after Josh had his say and I admitted that he did maybe have some valid points I then expressed that to me there is something beautiful about seeing more of the good in your partner than the bad. That's what I hear when someone says "my better half." While we know all our own emotional warts and ridiculous behaviors, I think it says something great about us if see past those things in our spouse and choose to focus more fully on the wonderful pieces that emerge in their character. 


Still, Josh's point is a good one.  I adore my husband; he is my favorite person ever.  But you know what, I think I am pretty good too.  I like myself.  Yes, there are nasty bits of my personality I would like to get rid of and there are plenty (very very plenty) of things I am trying to learn and improve on, but overall I'm pleased with the person I am growing into.


But better than who I am growing into, I like who we are growing into.  I love the life we are building as we stride through the pits and peaks and rivers and gardens and fields of this world together.  And wherever we end up, I want us to end up there as one. 

Safe

Last weekend Josh and I were running errands.  While we were out we drove past Jordan Valley Hospital and that reminded me of a funny story I hadn't told Josh about.  What I really want to talk about happened in the car with Josh, but let me give you the story to help you understand the rest.  Here goes.

**********************Story about my Lameness***************************

Several weeks ago my brother and his wife had a new little baby (p.s. he is adorable!...the brother and also the baby).  I wanted to go visit them and meet my new nephew so I had my brother -- also named Josh -- send me the hospital info.  He texted me their room number, the security code and told me the hospital was on Bangater Highway.

I had a little window of time after I dropped Aubrey at dance to scoot out to the hospital and drop in for a meet and greet with this newest little person.  

Aubrey's dance class meets right off of Bangater Highway (no, not on the roadside, they have a studio there) so I schlepped my way South and watched for a hospital.  

At 90th south I found one -- Jordan Valley Hospital -- and turned off.  I made my way in to the labor and delivery area and got in the elevator ready to head up to the third floor because Josh's text said that's where they were stationed.

Unfortunately for me, there was no third floor button in the elevator.  Weird.

So I walked over to the little lady at the counter there.  She was on her cell phone but very kindly (not really) glance up at me long enough to listen to my question.  She pointed down another hall and whispered to me (wouldn't want to mess up her personal phone call) to use the elevator down that hall.

I wandered down that hall.  There was no other elevator that I could see.  I tried another hall and it took me to a more open area and found an elevator there.  Still no third floor.

As I exited this elevator looking confused I ran into a hospital administrator, someone important at this institution.  He offered to help me and I showed him the text from my brother (including the picture of my cute, little nephew...awwww!).  He lead me back to labor and delivery although he used his fancy key card to bypass little-miss-helpful at the admittance desk and we headed up the elevator to the second floor.  Again, he used his fancy key card to get us into the unit where surprised nurses looked at me skeptically.

When I gave them my brother's name they raised their eyebrows and told me there was no one here with that last name.  

What the...

That's when I looked a little closer at the text from my brother and realized he and his wife were at Riverton Hospital -- also on Bangater highway, but just a little further South.

Oh.  My.  Heck.

I chuckled to myself, apologized for my cluelessness and walked as fake confidently as I could out to my car.  Good thing I don't know any of these people or I would have really been embarrassed.  Instead I was just a silly story they can tell their family at dinner.

Anyway, at Riverton Hospital is was a piece of cake to find my brother, sister-in-law, and sweet nephew.  Happy ending.

****************************End of this episode of Lameness************************

So I finish my recitation and Josh is laughing, which is exactly what I expected.  This is not his first encounter with my bouts of directional calamity (see one other such story here).   It will also not be his last encounter with my bouts of directional calamity, I'm sure of that.    

Through his chuckles, Josh reached over, grabbed my hand, kissed it and said, "I just love you."  He shook his head and smiled adoringly.

My amazing man (and our amazing oldest daughter).

And that is why I can tell him things like this.  

With Josh, I am safe.

I don't have to worry that he will berate or belittle me.  I am not concerned that he will make fun of me or put me down because I am extremely clumsy with course commands (although I do always end up where I'm going, just never the easiest way).  He knows me, better than anyone.  And while he will laugh at my foibles (which is fine because I think they're pretty funny, too) he doesn't demean me because of them.  Somehow my mishaps are endearing to him and I love him for it. 

With Josh I don't have to hide who I really am.  I can tell him when I am feeling catty or dorky or frustrated or befuddled or whatever else because he loves me for who I am and I do not doubt that love one bit.  I never wonder about his feelings for me even when I am telling him something absurd or horrible that I have done.  His support gives me confidence even when I really shouldn't have any.

I am ridiculous pretty regularly.  It is just part of my personality (when I was younger I used to fight it, but I don't anymore).  I'm not exactly proud of it, but I own that about myself and I'm not exactly embarrassed by it either (ok, sometimes it's embarrasing, but I try to ignore those moments).

Josh accepts that, and even (it seems) loves me for that eye-rolling part of me.

No wonder I love this guy.

Keeping my tongue tucked in on the sidelines

Did I ever tell you about the time Josh and I almost got kicked out of a Jr. Jazz basketball game?


(That's a rhetorical questions because I know I didn't tell you yet because it only just happened)


Bryce is currently in a tournament with his Jr. Jazz team (the regular season is over, this is a bonus bit of play for these boys against some more established teams).  The first game of the tournament, Bryce's team played a team of all girls and they were REALLY good (if I understood correctly they won the tournament last year...plus most of the girls stood at least a head taller than most of our boys, it was pretty wild).


The game was tight from the start and Bryce's team held their own until a couple of their big players fouled out and then we ended up getting behind by a few shots and we lost.


It really was a close game. 


And it was a poorly called game.  Like a very poorly called game.


The officiating was really, really bad. 


Now, I'm not blaming the loss on the officials or anything.  We had too many turnovers and missed shots.  While the calls were bad, the girls just flat out beat us...but only barely.


However, the officials were really whistle happy and they did have some, shall we call them, "creative" versions of calls (like charging...seriously...three charging fouls on one kid as he drove the lane while defenders were chasing him down and jumping in front of him...hmmmm, not so much).


On one such questionable play, one of our forwards had the ball and was dribbling into the key and two defenders collapsed in on him.  He had a lot of forward momentum so he planted a foot and pivoted around to pass the ball to one of his teammates.  It was actually a pretty smooth play.


But the shrill scream of a whistle sounded and this boy was called for traveling.  It was about the 6th or 7th time this official had called traveling when a player planted a pivot foot and used the other foot to swing the ball (and it was called on both teams so I'm not saying he was playing favorites).

The faces of EVIL on the sidelines!

Josh and I were sitting on the sideline directly behind the basket  just feet from the entire scene.  We had a front row seat for this slander of basketball ruleage.


Now, you have to know, we are NOT "those" parents.  You know, the ones who scream at refs and banter with coaches if their kid doesn't see enough playing time and call out other players of the team for mistakes and the like.  We are pretty chill.


But we do cheer...loudly (Josh doesn't really do anything quietly).  We try to learn the names of the players on our team so we can yell for them specifically when they do something good.  We shout and clap and try to keep positive vibes flowing at our team from the sidelines.


Still, in this case we were both frustrated.  This repeated ridiculous call was really getting tired.  I called out, "Oh, come on!" and Josh said, "NO WAY!  His foot was planted!"  I know, really controversial stuff, right? (Notice how soggy that last sentence was with sarcasm.)


Well, the touchy ref on the floor immediately turned around (mind you, we weren't the only people yelling out, but somehow he zeroed in on us).  He walked straight over to us looking affronted and angry and said, "What did you say?"


Josh repeated, "His foot was planted, that wasn't traveling!" and a bunch of people around us started voicing their opinion as well.


Getting more grumpy the ref burst out, "That's enough," and glared directly at Josh and I.


By now I am annoyed.  Not only has this guy been calling an imaginary version of the game the entire time, now he is being a jerk when we weren't even yelling at him or calling him out or anything personal.  We're allowed to cheer and shout at a game, that's part of basketball.


Still looking straight at us this guy got really ornery and yelled, "I don't have to take this crap from you.  One more word and you are out of here!"


I have never come so close to being thrown from an arena.  I opened my mouth to say, "Oh, I didn't realize we weren't allowed to talk at the games.  That's my bad," when suddenly time stopped. 


In that one drawn out moment, I envisioned my son watching as his mild mannered mother was escorted from the gym under duress.  I thought, "What will you tell him when he asks why you got tossed and you have to tell him that you couldn't keep your tongue in check?  That rather than watching him play you just had to get in one last crack?"


And that's when I snapped my mouth shut and swallowed back the retort that was already spilling from my lips.  Josh looked at me funny because he knew I had started to talk, but I just shook my head and kept my peace. 


(I learned later that Josh's first reaction had been to stand up say, "Well, I can show you what a planted foot looks like if you want so you don't miscall that again," and give a quick demonstration but he had similar second thoughts choosing to keep his tongue tucked in as well.  Good thing, bishops should not get kicked out of Jr. Jazz games.)


We both started laughing out loud (maybe that's a form of ammunition unto itself, although in this case it just kept us from saying anything we would regret) and the touchy, grouchy ref looked at us huskily and stalked off.  He didn't say another word to us the rest of the game (actually he pretty much hung out at the scorekeeper's table from then on when the game wasn't going). 


I've mentioned my snarky inner voice before, but he almost got me in trouble that day.  Luckily reason won out and wired the snarky voice's jaw shut just in time to save me from a rather uninviting conversation with my son. 


It's always fun to have a bit of drama at the Jr. Jazz game.  I imagine this is one we will laugh about together for a good long while.

"Clue" Birthday Pary for my Party Girl

This weekend we held a party for Aubrey's birthday.

When it comes to birthday parties and Halloween costumes I let my kids reach for the stars and try to grant any wish they can imagine (sometimes I am more successful than others).

Aubrey has been talking for months about her upcoming celebration so I sort of guessed what she would ask for.  She wanted a "Clue" birthday party...you know, like the board game.  She loves the game.  She loves to read mysteries.  She wanted to play detective for the evening and do some sleuthing of her own.

So we set to work.

We decided to create our own mystery to have the kids solve the night of the party.  It would be sort of like a "How To Host a Murder" party but a little more condensed because it would be for sixth graders.

Aubrey made up characters for her friends all on her own.  She imagined a move star, a computer whiz, a professional snowboarder, a scientist, a pop star and more and wove some dark secret into each of their lives.  It was fun to read what she came up with.  I was pretty thrilled with how much effort she put into the task and I think she did a great job (here is a copy of her character profiles).

We made invitations, attached a character to each, and handed them out to her friends.

(We found out early on that the girl assigned as Ruby in Aubrey's profiles would not be able to attend so when we wrote our mystery she was not included in the action.)

The next step was to create our murder mystery.  Aubrey didn't want to know the story any more than her friends did so that she could really play along as well so the task of writing our mystery fell to me.  I used the characters she had created and developed a three round set of clues for each character giving them snippets of information about themselves and the other characters.  In each round the kids would accuse each other of naughtiness using the bits and pieces in the clues they received (each set of clues was different and tailored to the specific character...our clues and other documents are included here).

After two rounds the kids would make accusations about who they thought was the murderer and then the third round clues would reveal what had really happened and who was the actual killer.

Aubs chose to be Miss Scarlet so we decorated in red to accommodate her fetish.  She dressed as a movie star (the persona of her character) and welcomed her friends.

After dinner, we had Josh (Miss Scarlet's butler) receive a mysterious text warning him that an email had just been sent to Miss Scarlet showing that someone had attempted to steal the well guarded script to her new movie and had ended up dead.

We handed the kids their personalized clue filled envelopes and the fun began.

Josh and I stayed in the room to help keep things moving and to help the kids put the pieces together if they got stuck.  The kids had fun hearing which characters were thieves and pyromaniacs and villains and who was in love with who and all that.  It was fun to watch them work it all out.

Everyone was surprised at our actual murderer, he had pretty much slipped under the radar (there were lots of clues but so many people had secrets and hidden pasts that everyone seemed guilty so it was hard to pinpoint the worst fiend of all).

Then we watched the movie "Clue" and called it a night.  

Hopefully Aubrey and her friends had a good night.  This really is a great group of kids (we feel awfully lucky that Aubrey has such amazing friends).  It was fun to have them at the house, even if it was because of a murder.