Denton Sanatorium

Foto Friday--Ride 'Em, Hyrum

2012-01-27T08:22:00.000-07:00

I've mentioned before how much I adore Hyrum's preschool teacher, right?
Yesterday this is what Hyrum looked like after school:

H week is the best week ever at Mrs. M's.

They make the horse heads earlier in the week

and she laminates and stuffs them and attaches them to PVC.
They paint marshmallow shooter pistols, and she sews vests (complete with sheriff badge) and matching holsters.

Their belts have a pouch on the front to hold marshmallows, and my favorite little detail is the row of bullet holders across the back. What goes in there? Mike and Ikes, of course--"bullets you can eat!"

Like I said, what could be better than H week?

Did I mention that she has 36 students in all of her classes? She is one of a kind.

Our weekend must include a trip for supplies--more marshmallows and bullets you can eat, for sure!

Jerry

2012-01-26T11:21:00.001-07:00

Hyrum always wants to try vending machines with toys inside (or with cotton candy inside, if you remember). He convinced someone to let him use his two tokens in the crane machine. I thought, "Now he'll learn that these machines are a waste and NOBODY ever wins."

He was unsure of his own abilities, so he asked Ben to try for him.
Try #1--Ben grabbed the toy but lost him on the way back to the start.
Try #2--Ben had learned a few things in his first attempt. He carefully positioned the crane over the toy's head and snagged him fast around the neck--nothing was going to shake it loose. He moved the crane back to the start and dropped it into the slot.

Hyrum is now the proud owner of Jerry.

Now when will I ever convince him that nobody ever wins these games?

Maybe he's that nobody.

Brings back a memory of similar circumstances when I was a kid, we stopped at a gas station in Nevada, and my dad had a pocketful of nickels. He led all four of us up to the slot machines, divided the nickels and told us to see what happened. Just like Hyrum's experience with Jerry, the first pull of the lever and the money was gone. Next pull--coins came spilling out. We had won! It took a little longer than Dad expected to teach us the lesson, but eventually all the coins disappeared, and we walked away empty handed.

Maybe next time he'll learn (I said that with the cotton candy, didn't I?)
Linking up to Jenny Matlock's J at Alphabe-Thursday.

Elbow Grease and Paint Pants: Shelf Transformations

2012-01-24T09:52:00.000-07:00

I've been up to my eyeballs in paint these last two weeks--busy, busy, busy.
For the first installment of this series and the explanation of my impulsive purchase of fourteen pieces of furniture, click here.

One of the random lots I bid on had these two shelves

along with a hutch top (future post for that one). All three pieces were only $27.50, before buyer's fees and tax. I had no idea what to do with these two shelves--especially the top one with a piece missing from the back.

After lightly sanding both down, and following the advice of my friend Kelly (from My Dear Trash), I purchased this sprayer from Lowe's and decided to learn how to use it. Kelly came and personally gave me a tutorial, as did my bestie Karen when I was struggling with compressor settings. It was a learning curve, to say the least, but I finally had both of the shelves sanded and primed. Whew.

That stage really discouraged me. I was sick of it, worn out, and it had taken me over three times as long as I had planned to get the pieces primed and ready. In hindsight, I must admit that that day of learning how to use the sprayer was worth it. Totally worth it. Glad I did it.

When I got back to this project, I was horrified to see this:

It may not look like that big of a deal, but these shelves are pine, and pine will bleed through. I was mad, so I altered my original plan of solid white and decided to use four cans of heirloom white (cream) spray paint I already had in the garage and then sand the shelves down to hide the bleeding.

After six cans of spray paint, one layer of dark wax, and a final sanding/distressing, the shelves were done. I had a few extra yards of fabric waiting for this project, so I decided to cover the backs with coordinating fabric--to hide the missing/damaged places and to add a little pizzazz.

I cut the fabric even with the back (since the shelf itself would hide the seams), stapled it to the board, then nailed it to the back of the shelves.

Here are the final results:

pardon the dark spots from my camera--forgot to dust it after sanding!

The best part of this project? I listed the shelves on Craigslist for $65 each, and within three hours, the damask-backed shelf sold for full price. Elephant shelf is still waiting for a new home.

Lessons learned from the cream shelves:

Pine bleeds. And that's annoying.
Kelly's advice: turn furniture upside down and paint the underside first. This is good advice. Try it and you'll see why.
Spray paint is way more expensive than regular paint. I ended up using six cans (at $4 a can) to do the shelves. It only took a quarter of a gallon of primer to prime the shelves using the sprayer. Lesson learned. And always find a friend who knows more than you to bail you out of a tough spot with newfangled equipment.
Projects don't always turn out (or rarely turn out) the way you plan. Be flexible. I had originally planned on solid white with no distressing, but in the end, this worked too.
Even though the pine bled through the primer, it didn't bleed through the paint. Hmmmm. Curious.

Two down. Twelve to go. It's going to be a while until the Suburban gets back in the garage, I'm afraid.

Until next week--
Going once, going twice, SOLD!

Linking up to Take a look Tuesday and Tuesday's Treasures at My Uncommon Slice of Suburbia

A Surprise Holiday

2012-01-23T11:10:00.000-07:00

When Brad realized the kids had no school last Monday, he planned a small surprise for me--Sunday night, he took all five of them to a hotel for the night, with grand plans to not return until Monday evening.
The adventure began (all photos from Dad's phone):

Video games in the hotel until 11 pm.
What was Mom doing? Sleeping, of course!

Monday morning and there was complimentary breakfast.

Mom cleaned the house for three hours--uninterrupted and no tornadoes undoing my work in my wake.

They had to take advantage of the heated pool and jacuzzi, of course.

Mom ran a few errands and got her favorite sandwich (turkey medley on croissant) at Sweet Cakes, a local bakery.

Here is where the adventure got a little crazy. According to eyewitness reports, Dad was tickling Lily under the water in the pool. She lost her air, came up for a breath, misjudged the distance to the side, and did this:

Dad called a good friend/doctor (Dr. P, Micah's cast doctor), who worked Lily in for four stitches.

Mom heard she was pretty brave, but no one told Mom until later that night, thinking Mom would worry. In Mom's defense, stitches and Dr. P would not have freaked me out. Still, glad it's all fine.

Dad picked up a picnic lunch, and the troop headed to Fountain Hills for lunch:

Where was Mom? In her peaceful, clean, quiet house, working on Light room and laundry. Sigh. It was as good as it sounds.

Dad had another surprise up his sleeve:

A little target practice in the desert. Hyrum even shot Dad's gun. Mom was a little surprised by that.

Can you see the band aid on Lily's lip? Dr. P thought it would be funny to cut it in the shape of a handlebar mustache. Guess Lily didn't really mind being mustachioed for a day. What girl can say that?

Where was Mom? Still home, enjoying the quiet.

Final stop on their adventure--movie theater to see "We Bought a Zoo."

Around 7:15 pm, the troops ran back in, Subway sandwiches in hand, ready to regale me with stories from their adventure.

Mom was ready and happy to have them all back home.

Dad? First thing out of is mouth was, "You owe me." The second? "It was more fun than any of us thought it would be."

What a treat. Thanks for the break, Hon. I owe you one.

Foto Friday--My Discovery

2012-01-19T21:02:00.000-07:00

Lily left her lamp on when she left for school, so of course it was my job to turn it off. As I glanced down into her unmade bed, I saw something . . .

When I got closer, I recognized it.

Tucker sent Lily one of his name tags as her Christmas gift.
Lily misses Tucker more than the rest of her siblings, which is ironic, because they fought more than the others.

She must have been missing him last night.

I'm still fighting Light room, but I'm becoming a little less afraid of it every day. Thanks, Kara.

Have a great weekend, folks. We're sending a package to our favorite missionary . . .

A Repeat of My Favorite"I" Word

2012-01-18T21:36:00.001-07:00

Yes, I may have taken another trip out to IKEA.
I had a babysitter for a few hours, and I had carefully structured my kid-free day.

I had a short list of purchases.

I had my iPad in my purse.

I had set aside time to eat lunch at the cafe while I perused blogs on my iPad.

It was a beautiful plan.

I had just polished off my vegie wrap and was nursing the last of a diet Pepsi while scrolling through my blog roll when I heard a soft "Excuse me."

I looked up and saw a small, silghtly overweight Hispanic lady in her early sixties, dyed-red hair and long gray roots, a tall coffee cup in her hand, looking at me with the kindest smile on her face.

"Excuse me, but I just wanted to tell you that I think you're beautiful, really beautiful." she said in slow, purposeful speech.

This was unexpected. What did she want? Money?

Slightly surprised, I replied, "Thank you."

"From my heart to yours, woman to woman, I think you're beautiful, and I just wanted to stop and tell you that." So sincere and sweet.

Again taken aback, I replied, "Thank you," hopefully sounding as sincere as she had.

"We never stop and really see people any more. We're so busy with this (and she gestured at the technology strewn over my table) that we look through people. May I sit down?" At this point, she pulled out the chair across from me, carefully took a seat, then continued: "This stuff is supposed to draw us closer together, but it drives us apart."

I continued analyzing this complete stranger. Who was she and what was her gimmick? She didn't look homeless--her denim shirt, acid washed and bedazzled, was clean. The large cross around her neck was studded with what looked like a diamond or two. A few moles on her face and crooked teeth, nothing unusual really.

I nodded in agreement and asked her name.

She carefully chose her next words: "My name is Lisa, and 21 years ago I was in an accident that left me in a coma for three months. The doctors told my family to remove the tubes so that I could die. I didn't die. And ever since then, in nineteen years, I've only had two bad days. Two bad days. Nobody can say that. I never have a bad day. You will never meet a happier person than me. And I'm not bragging."

I was intrigued.

She slowly continued, now with my full attention and more understanding of her speech patterns. "I see every day of the last nineteen years as a gift. Every single day. God is good, and life is a gift."

I agreed. I recognized that I was in a once-in-a-lifetime moment, and I was reluctant for it to end.

She rose, but before she turned to leave, she touched her heart and repeated, "I think you're beautiful. Woman to woman, from my heart to yours. We need each other. Have a good day."

And she shuffled off.

My mouth gaped open and I stared after her, following her through the crowd with my eyes until my phone rang and broke the spell she'd left behind.

My brief visit with Lisa changed my outlook for the rest of the day. I could relate to 21 years and nineteen years. Twenty-one years ago, I became a mother for the first time, and nineteen years ago, I gave birth to my second child.

How many bad days had I experienced in the last two decades? Many many many. Some were bad days with justifiable reasons. Most--were not. How had I let such precious gifts-- hours and days spent mothering my children--escape me without relishing every single joyful second? My life has been so good--is so good--and I rarely take the time to see it.

How often do I take the time to see others? I am viewed by others as aloof and brusque and busy at my best and rude and mean at my worst. How could I have squandered so much time not seeing and appreciating and loving those around me--both the stranger and those closest to me?

I must say that the rest of my afternoon was spent in a paradigm shift as I tried to see the world through Lisa's eyes (outside of my own familiar box of routines and opinions)--I saw people around me, tried to imagine their stories and to appreciate them as children of the same loving God. "God is good," she had said. He is. The list that had initially spurred my trip was almost forgotten in my altered mindset--what does stuff matter? It's people that matter. It's attitude and joy that matter.

I uncharacteristically waited without even a twinge of impatience as people struggled with their purchases and the temperamental scanner, caught up in my watching and thinking. As I exited the store, I saw a sign in the parking lot that I'd never noticed before:

Thank you, IKEA. This will hopefully be a day and an experience I remember the rest of my life.

And thank you, Lisa--you changed my life in those few brief minutes, and wherever you may be, at least I know you're happy. I know I'll never be so lucky as to have you cross my path again.

Linking up to I at Jenny Matlock's today.

And the Lucky Winner Is . . .

2012-01-17T20:47:00.000-07:00

ME!

Thanks to all the lovely ladies from the 2011 Review Extravaganza

Gift cards to Starbuck's and Barnes and Noble
Chocolate in various forms
Valentine's decorations
Notepads
Favorite beauty products plus a little bling
Picture holder and measuring cups
and two of Emmymom's beautifully hand painted Christmas ornaments

I was filled with excitement when each package arrived--so happy to see what was inside.

So happy, in fact, that I've decided to host a gift exchange for February--then I can share the joy with all of you!

If you would like to be involved in a February gift swap (send one gift/receive one gift), email me your address (jenny.denton@cox.net), and I'll add you to the list.

Thanks again, ladies. It is a pleasure to know each of you.

Tales of an Auction Addict

2012-01-16T19:23:00.000-07:00

Today marks the first installment in my new weekly series--Elbow Grease and Paint Pants: Tales of an Auction Addict.

Where do I start?

I fully blame Karen's dad, Pat, for introducing me to auctions. I've attended a few over the last ten or eleven years, but I didn't really get back into auctions until last June, when I was ready to redo my hobby room. I found a dresser and a hutch that I repurposed and got for good prices. Love them. I haven't been able to leave it alone ever since.

I've been asked many times recently about how I find such great stuff and about my auction habit in general (and it is a habit, in the best and worst sense--even my little boys will say, "Mom, you're ADDICTED to auctions!"). I've had some great experiences and some fantastic finds, and I've been burned once or twice, when I learned a few things. Now I'm ready to share!

Auctions are the lazy person's garage sale--you don't have to drive all over the neighborhood, hoping you'll find a treasure to two. In fact, now that most auction houses are online, you can surf their websites for the images up for auction that week, determine if you're even interested in investing your time, then plan accordingly. A few of my favorite auction houses actually allow you to bid online, so you never have to leave home--kinda like eBay, but better! The best way to find auctions in your area is through www.auctionzip.com.

A few of the laws of auctions:

Take time to evaluate the lots in advance. Open every drawer, wiggle every leg and arm, turn items over and investigate. That's what preview time is for. Remember, auctions are buyer beware and no guarantees, unless it's electronics or appliances. Ask the auction house for their policy. If you get that couch home and it won't fit in your house or its arm falls off, that's a personal problem, I'm afraid.
When buying furniture, familiarize yourself with which brands are expensive and will stand the test of time. I always look twice at a piece if it's Ethan Allen because I know it's built to last.
Set your maximum price in your head (or on paper, that is better for me) before you're caught up in the excitement and competition of bidding. If you don't, you will more than likely overbid, and subsequently overpay.
Remember when you're bidding, you still have to pay sales tax and a buyer's premium (the auction house's fees--usually between 10-15% of the purchase price). I mentally add 20% to the final price just to remind myself what the actual price will be.
If you lose the bid on an item, just remember: there's ALWAYS another auction. ALWAYS.
It's a game. It's fun. It's also vicious for some people, and they bid to win (I may or may not be one of these people. I'll let you decide.)
If you see something that is ALMOST what you want, and you know how to change it into what you want, buy it. If you don't know how to change it or it's unchangeable, DON'T buy it. It will never be exactly what you want, no matter how cheap it is. And then you'll be sorry.

Last week I plunged into an unfamiliar auction--one that only allows online bidding and is located 30 minutes away in Phoenix. I found a few interesting lots, left a few low-ball bids online, then proceeded through my Saturday. Saturday night I received an email from the auction house, informing me that I had won ALMOST ALL of the lots on which I had bid.

It took two trips to Phoenix the next Monday (30 minutes each way, plus loading time), and this is what I had to show for it:

Looks like a used furniture store threw up in my driveway, right?

Here's another view of all my treasures:

The two pieces in the front on the left were not part of this purchase (they're lurkers from my garage that I decided to pull out and do something with--finally), but all the rest of this stuff is from that single auction. All told, I bought fourteen pieces of furniture: three dressers (two of which are Ethan Allen and the other is solid hardwood with dovetailed drawers), four end tables, one antique sofa table, two bookshelves, two entertainment centers, a pair of antique window shutters, and one Ethan Allen hutch top with leaded paned glass (no base).

And those fourteen pieces of furniture, including buyer's fees and tax, were $360.35. Seriously. Averaged out over 14 pieces, that's about $27.78 per piece! Can you believe that? I was shocked, seriously shocked. So were my neighbors, who kept stopping by and asking me if I'd lost my mind.

Lessons learned:

Never bid higher than you are willing to pay. Even though it was a ton of stuff, I was pleased with the prices.
Driving to Phoenix twice in one day is for commuters, not for stay-at-home mothers. Don't want to do that again.
Be prepared to be the laughing stock of your street until you find places for all your treasures. My Suburban has been temporarily displaced, but that's much better than the ridicule. :)

I've already started redoing a few of these pieces, and I'll share their progress with you over the next few weeks.

Until next week . . .
Going once, going twice . . . SOLD!

Foto Friday--First Foray into Lightroom

2012-01-13T15:17:00.000-07:00

Hyrum wrote a letter to Tucker and when the mail truck drove up, he raced into the house, grabbed the sealed envelope and handed it to the mailman.
He ran excitedly back to me, exclaiming, "I gave him Tucker's letter."
I explained that we hadn't put a stamp on it yet, so Tucker wouldn't get it. Hyrum sprinted back to the mail truck, asked for his letter back, ran into the house for a stamp and handed it back to the mailman.
This time, when I explained that the letter still wouldn't get to New York because we hadn't addressed it, Hyrum dejectedly got it back and promptly sulked on the sidewalk. His plan had been foiled.

Tucker will still get his letter.

I wanted to post a video today, but somehow technical difficulties got in the way. Maybe Monday.

Happy weekend, folks. Hope some of you get the snow you've been dreaming of all winter.

Taking some time with my camera this weekend--I'm going to keep practicing with Lightroom. Thanks, Kara.

H is for . . .

2012-01-12T07:43:00.000-07:00

image from here

. . . Hammered.

Not in the college spring break kind of way.

But in the

mom of two kids with the flu

chairman of PTO-teacher luncheon

auction addict gone wrong (more on that next week)

projects and painting and sanding

not enough sleep EVER

kind of way.

My fitbit recorded over 18,000 steps just yesterday. I'm exhausted. Gratefully, I think the flu is over, so I should be able to sleep.

Linking up to H with Jenny Matlock.

Snuggles and Make Believe

2012-01-10T11:26:00.000-07:00

I went to bed EARLY last night--9:30--hoping to recoup a little of my lost sleep from the night before.

3:50 am--Hyrum's turn to throw up. This time it's on his floor and mostly in the toilet.

I had a full schedule for today. That will have to wait.

All Hyrum wants is for me to snuggle him, so I bagged my big furniture plans for the day and sat in my favorite chair with my littlest boy and his silky tucked cozily in my lap. Eve could tell he wasn't quite well, and she kept trying to hug him. Then I watched as she pretended the arm of the chair was a faucet, and she began to give Hyrum drinks of water from her hands. "More--ee?" she would say. Eventually Hyrum started pretending, and water was flicked and thrown and drunk, time and time again, until he started feeling queasy again.

Thanks for small, temporary stomach bugs that force busy moms to abandon their plans and take time to pretend and snuggle.

I am still hoping all is well soon. Don't get me wrong.

Not Your Run-of-the-Mill Monday

2012-01-09T12:02:00.000-07:00

It was a long night.
Evie started screaming at 12:30. Why can't toddlers tell you what's wrong at 12:30 am?
I changed her pants and saw that the diarrhea from late yesterday afternoon hadn't stopped.
I held her in her cute pink chair, trying to calm her down. Less than one minute later, we were both swimming in throw up. Luckily, her blanket caught most of it.

It's been a long day.
I've already changed two diapers in 30 minutes. Who knows if the vomit is done. I can only hope that the virus stops with her.

At times like this, I am always overwhelmingly grateful for a washing machine--how did pioneers do puke?

And of course, for my inseparable buddy in battling carpet messes . . .

My body clock always resets on Sunday night. I wake up on Monday morning ready to tackle piles of laundry and many chores. Not today. I'm a little worn out from my overnight adventure.

Here's to a diarrhea-free, vomit-free Tuesday . . .

Foto Friday--Video from Idaho

2012-01-05T22:36:00.000-07:00

Thought I'd share the latest Ellie video.

Love that little girl!

Have a great weekend, friends.

Going, Going, Gone . . .

2012-01-04T18:33:00.000-07:00

Still haven't figured out Lightroom--maybe I'll have a little more time tomorrow. I just wish that I could still use Picasa in the meantime. Sigh. So here are more unedited pictures.

I'm sick of clutter. Today I took down most of my tchotchkes . . .

Shelves in kitchen and family room are mostly bare . . .

Funny thing, this emptiness . . .

. . .side tables disappearing, photos missing . . .

. . . a few lonely lamps and empty baskets . . .

. . . notice the vacant mantel and table and ottoman (and Sue's quilt!) . . .

All that emptiness is filling me with joy. I don't know if all that stuff will ever make it back into the house.

Brad's garage, however, is feeling a little bloated. Craigslist? Yard sale? Or will I be sorry in a few weeks and wish it was all back? We'll see.

Linking up to Jenny Malock's G for Alphabe-Thursday.

Hope I have a few hours to dig into Lightroom. Kara? When you free?

Watch Out 2012, Here I Come

2012-01-03T09:01:00.001-07:00

This will be the fourth year of resolutions published here on my blog.

In 2009, I set five goals, and I didn't stick to them very well, I must admit.

In 2010, my goal was "Make Everyday Count." Focusing my goals for the year like that was much better for me than a list, and I felt a little more successful by the end of the year.

In 2011, I picked the word "Balance," and by doing so, bit off more than I could chew for the year. I never felt like I balanced anything in my life, and I was left struggling with feelings about myself that were almost destructive.

It's now 2012 and I've been thinking about the direction I want to go.

You see, I've been struggling with myself, wondering if this person I've created over the last 42 years is really the person I should be. I've assembled a box around me, constructed of a strong will, belief in my abilities, busy doing things all the time. I pride myself in my honesty, my opinion, my faith. I've always really liked who I am. But lately I've been wondering if this box I've built around myself is the box where I want to live the rest of my life.

I see so many amazing people around me, doing amazing things. I especially notice when someone is really good at something I'm not, and then I wish I was more like they are. I beat myself up about my inability to be like them for a little while, then I resume my regular life in my regular place doing my regular things and staying pretty much in the same spot. While I try not to minimize my strengths, I dwell too much on these weaknesses without any progress towards improvement.

Let's be honest. If you have a strength, you really don't need to spend a ton of time making it better, right? That's why it's a strength--you're already good at it, either from natural ability or from time devoted to improvement. Unfortunately, I spend way too much time in the comfort of my strengths, thinking that they will pull me through and compensate for those areas in which I'm weak. That line of thinking won't get me anywhere different, anywhere new.

This is my goal for 2012:

Image from here

Think outside the box I've built of myself and around myself.

I made a list of people I admire and the qualities they possess that I lack. My plan is still in the rough stages--hopefully I'll have it mapped out completely by the end of the week, but I intend to do two things:

From my list of 20 people, pick one every day, and when presented with a situation, think, "What would ______ do?" and then act accordingly--little things like taking time to cook something new or being willing to alter my schedule with no notice to help someone.
As the year progresses, I hope that my paradigm will shift so that I will subconsciously make these small changes permanent.

My hope is that by the end of the year, one or two of these new qualities will be part of my box--a part of who I am, not just someone I've always wished to be. Hopes are high.

So, what have you set for your 2012 aspirations? Link up below and share your goals with us. I linked up Tucker's last letter from NY with his goals as well. Can't wait to see where you're headed.

It's 2012

2012-01-02T11:26:00.000-07:00

Do you say Twenty-Twelve or Two-Thousand-Twelve? I'm still deciding.

Our company left this morning. Sigh. That means the holiday is over. I have laundry to the sky, cleaning to do, and organizing, organizing, organizing! There's something about me right now that wants to purge EVERYTHING out of this house--every tchotchke, rug, pillow, book. Everything. I'll try to save some things of value . . .

Tomorrow I'm planning to post about my word for the year, and I'll be adding a linky party for those of you who are posting resolutions and words for 2012.

Today I thought I'd share just a few shots of the new year around here. That's a little harder than it sounds, since my brother-in-law, the computer whiz and genius, not only updated all our computers and filing systems, he also installed Lightroom, which will be awesome when I have a clue how to use it, but for now I can't edit a single picture, use Picasa, or do anything else that is in the realm of familiarity. Bear with me.

So here is our New Year's Eve, in its unedited glory:

Lots of cards and speed Scrabble (and a little Catan, for good measure)

More food than should ever be allowed on my kitchen counter

and fireworks. Only AZ kids come outside at midnight expecting it to not be cold. Notice the blankets?

Happy New Year, all. I'm looking forward to getting back to real life partially tomorrow--then fully on Wednesday, when school starts (did you hear the cheer of joy where you are?)

2011 Review Extravaganza, Part Four

2011-12-31T12:35:00.002-07:00

Linking up late this week. Whew. Is it 2012 yet? I'm ready.

October

My mantel was featured on My Uncommon Slice of Suburbia--that was an ego boost!

From readers' questions, I compiled a week's worth of posts on what it means to me to be a Mormon:
Why I Believe
Missions and the Plan of Salvation
The Son of God, Birth and Conception of Jesus, and the Trinity
The Bible and Other Sacred Texts

and I Always Want to Be With My Own Family
That week in October was my hardest blogging ever--most thought-provoking and soul-searching. And the most rewarding I've had in three years of blogging.

I revealed my favorite find/transformation of the year--Grandma couch.

Miss Evie turned two

And I discovered Baltimore and Lucketts. That was my favorite trip of the year.

November

I revisited the Sugar Monkey (update on this in January)
I reposted my all-time favorite post for my three-year blogiversary, and then confessed to joining Facebook (although I have never ventured back) so I could start pinterest.

I managed to slow down and enjoy a quiet moment with Evie (one of my top five posts of the year), almost combusted in the MRI tube, and comforted Micah from a horrible dream.

In case you don't remember, Ben's football team won the state championships.

And Karen and I ventured out for our first all-night Black Friday adventure.

December

The posts were sparse but the life was full--Christmas tradition that spans generations.

A new holiday banister

And a brief rant on parents that are reliving elementary school through their kids' projects.
I had one of those frustrating holiday preparation days--if you haven't seen Tucker's video, click the link in the post. It's worth it.

And I learned a lesson about forgiveness and charity from three dogs and my neighbors.

The last few weeks have been busy with family and traditions and fun.

Thanks again, ladies, for providing this time to revisit my year. It makes me see that I really did learn a few things this year, even if I feel mostly the same.

Christmas at the Sanatorium

2011-12-28T09:33:00.004-07:00

It's a good thing Grandma and Grandpa Tucker were here for Christmas. The Sanatorium felt a little empty without the Brubakers and Elder Denton.

Christmas Eve in their new jammies and slippers:

And just before Santa hit the hay:

Micah got a skateboard, Hyrum a bike, Evie a cradle, Ben a razor, and Lily a new chair for her room (the cool channel-back one behind Hyrum's bike. She hates it.)

As for me? I got the three things I really wanted--lightroom and an iPad. Now I just need a few minutes to learn to use them both.

The highlight of the day was spending 45 minutes on the phone with Tucker. It was joyful to hear him teasing all of his siblings (Heidi conferenced in), laughing and joking the way he always does. Missions are hard. His has been harder than most, I'm afraid, and it hurts my heart to hear what he's enduring. Hopefully it will turn around in January.

My sister's family of six is here from ID, Grandma and Grandpa are going home today . . . and my HOUSE IS A WRECK! It's crazy fun around here--Catan, scum, hearts, scrabble, computer games, movies . . . Hope you're enjoying your break.

And yes, Christmas is all down, labeled and organized, and packed away in the "holiday cheer" closet. Lucky for me my mom and sister were here to help.

So Much Excitement

2011-12-27T10:13:00.000-07:00

Not much blogging for me this week:

We have Grandma and Grandpa Tucker in town

Hyrum even let Grandma hug him!

Grandpa fell and broke two ribs right before he came, so he's a cripple in a wheelchair.

Luckily Lily knew how to drive.

I'll post some Christmas pictures tomorrow. Hope your Christmas was great.

I'm taking mine down today.

Merry Christmas

2011-12-24T09:10:00.002-07:00

2011 Review Extravaganza, Part Three

2011-12-23T09:00:00.001-07:00

Part three of the Review Extravaganza--

July

July was a month of firsts

I became a mechanic--I changed my first flat tire.

I attended the blessing of my first granddaughter.

Micah had his first CAT scan--this was the scariest day of 2011, by far.

And we got our first call from the mission field as Tucker left for NYC. This photo makes me giddy, because we get to talk to him in TWO DAYS. We are all looking forward to his call more than presents!

Lily finished teaching me my greatest lesson of 2011 when she threw a reverse dive she knew she couldn't complete, and she still finished second in the competition. I will never forget this. Ever. And Ben faced his own demon--trypanophobia.

August

Lily and the gum wall in Seattle--one of my favorite photos of the year.

At Girls' Camp, I was reminded that you just never know when you make a difference in someone's life.

I shared my favorite back-to-school tradition, and then it was time for school, already?

Summer 2011 taught me a few things--enjoy my crazy kids, putter with the lights down low, read the classics (we are currently close to finishing The Silver Chair), and most importantly--it doesn't matter if everything on your list gets checked off.

August ended with FOOTBALL and too many kids in my tub!

September

Brubakers came for a week, and we all feasted on the baby.

Before they came, I updated the guest room: shadow boxes, my grandma's friendship quilt, and those cursed but gorgeous curtains.

I recapped my first few months as a missionary's mom, and I wasted the best light ever but harvested some great photography tips--thanks!

Lily left a trail of hearts for Ben--a rare day that I wanted to remember.

My last post in September was an answer to a question I'd been pondering for a while--why I blog. I'm just me, the head administrator here at the Sanatorium, and I'm satisfied with that.

If you'd like to join in on the fun, click the button below.

Happy Christmas Adam to you all!
What? You don't celebrate Christmas Adam? Why, Christmas Adam is the day before Christmas Eve!

Not the Post I Had Planned for Today

2011-12-21T22:07:00.004-07:00

As I've explained before, I am not a dog lover. I am a person who has stewardship over a dog. And this is the second post in a week about our dear dog.

Don't get me wrong. I like Roxy, really. She's a pretty good dog, as dogs go.

When Ben turned twelve, he begged and begged for a dog. I've always thought boxers were a beautiful breed, so I did a little research, found a boxer rescue organization (Boxer Luv here in Maricopa County), and one of the volunteers matched our family with Roxy. She was four years old, happy-go-lucky as most boxers are, a bundle of energy, kennel trained, and fully housebroken. Ben and I went to meet her, and he immediately fell in love. She's like another kid around here--loving my little ones, snatching treats when they're within reach, and begging for a scratch behind the ears. She loves her people, and anyone else that will pet her.

Adopting a rescue dog always comes with a little baggage. You get the benefits of no puppy stage, already housebroken, etc., but you also get some unknown factors. Dogs turned into the rescue often have a few quirks, and Roxy's happens to be other dogs--she hates them. I don't know if she was never socialized with other dogs or what, but she cannot be around other dogs. She immediately transforms into a fierce snarling beast.

That's why a match with our family was perfect--she will always be the only dog. Problem--we have four huge dogs that live next door--a boxer, two golden retrievers, and one is a huge breed I don't even know. Whenever the dogs are in both yards, it's constant barking and badgering, a playground battle to see who's the toughest. Occasionally one of my kids leaves the gate or front door open, and she escapes to continue the contest in their driveway, snarling at each other through their gate.

Yesterday, as I was leaving to pick up Lily from her friend's house, I saw Roxy returning to home from a forbidden adventure. Usually she's excited to get in the car, so I pulled over, hopped out and she sauntered towards the Suburban. I thought I should open the side gate instead and just let her into the yard, when I saw trouble approaching behind her. My next-door neighbor had her two retrievers out on a leashed walk, but Roxy had yet to register their presence. When they entered her sight . . . wow. She forgot about me, quickly wheeled around and all the hair on her neck stood on edge. She circled the two dogs and the woman, growling and snapping, and then she attacked. I don't think I've been that scared in a while. My neighbor, who had both leashes still in her hand, began yelling, "Get away. Let go of my dog!" Then she hit at Roxy and kicked at her, trying to disentangle herself from the commotion. I was yelling, "Be careful! Roxy, get off!!" Finally, after what seemed like forever but must have been less than a minute, I got my finger through Roxy's collar, dragged her off and got her in the car. Meanwhile, my neighbor had dropped one of the leashes while she checked her dog. Yelling at Roxy, I got her in the car, shut the door and walked the loose retriever back across the street.

By this time, I was not only angry at Roxy, I was humiliated as well. I apologized and cowered, fearing the justifiable wrath that was coming my way. All my neighbor said was, "Don't worry about it. Really. Dogs will be dogs."

I was in shock--had she really just turned the other cheek, just like that? After what had just occurred--less than a minute ago? When I got in the house, I cornered Hyrum and Micah, explained to them what had just happened with the dogs because they had left the gate open, then I demanded that they each write an apology letter while I was gone picking up Lily. I returned, and they had sheepishly walked next door, papers in hand and apology written across their faces. I still felt like I had to say something more, so Brad and I walked next door, asking for vet bills or whatever was necessary. Their younger son answered the door, and he reacted exactly like his mother--"Mom's in the shower, but it's no big deal. Dog's fine. Don't worry about it."

Thirty minutes later, both parents from next door rang our bell, carrying a small treat box, both claiming "dogs will be dogs," and for me not to think about it any more. She even apologized for kicking my dog--it had been bothering her. "And give these chocolate coins to your boys. That's scary to come apologize to adults like that. They were so cute. Thank them for their notes."

This experience was so not about dogs.

What would have happened if she had been bitten? Or me? What if I hadn't happened up just at that moment? I don't even want to think about it.

And most importantly, how would I have reacted in the same situation--not like this, I can guarantee you.

I wish I could better articulate what this experience taught me. I learned so much from this neighbor that I hardly see, rarely speak to, and barely even know--I don't even know her boys' names.

I have a lot to learn. A lot.

With Thanks to Mr. Clement

2011-12-21T08:19:00.008-07:00

'Twas four days until Christmas, and all were asleep,

Except for dear Mama, who tried not to peep.

She crept through the halls, finding boxes just the right shape,

Paper, ribbon, and scissors-- and WHERE IS THAT TAPE?

Awake well past midnight three nights in a row,

She smiled as she tied the very last bow.

"Now Christmas can come," she said with a quick impish grin.

"I've finished preparing and shopping--Let the fun trickle in!"

She fell to her knees right next to her bed

(the very last thing before matching pillow to head)--

"Dear Lord up above, please help me remember and keep close to my heart

Not the presents and trinkets and fresh apple tart,

"Remind me to read them the story divine--

You know which one--a mother and father and the Baby of Thine.

"Remind me to teach them because of Him not a small sheep has been lost,

And we all have been saved at such a high cost."

"Amen," whispered Mama as she crawled into bed,

But as visions of sugar plums swirled round in her head,

She quickly and quietly uttered to no one around,

"Merry Christmas to all, may His Spirit abound."

In all of the excitement and fun of these last few days, may you remember the true meaning of this beautiful season.

Merry Christmas

. . . It Was Just One of Those Days . . .

2011-12-20T07:55:00.002-07:00

I got an email from a lady in Tucker's mission, saying he had choreographed and done this number with the other missionaries at their ward's Christmas party. I spent HOURS trying to get the embed code from youtube. All I got was random videos, some in Russian, some Chinese, and always Steve Jobs' commencement address. Not my Tucker. So, instead of viewing it here on my blog or on his blog, you'll have to click on the above link. T is in the back right--not bad for a few hours' practice and choreography on the fly.

Then . . .

We invited four families over to make gingerbread houses. I bought kits at Sam's Club weeks ago (I'm so prepared like that :) ), so I pulled them out of the secret hideaway, evaluated what was in the kits, then headed to the store to get a few more sugary adornments. When I returned, one of the kits was mysteriously missing most of its gingerbread pieces. That, my friends, is why you don't have a tall dog. I don't think I've ever yelled at Roxy like that . . .

So I drove the 20 minutes back to Sam's Club, grabbed one more kit, then drove home so Lily and I could begin assembly. First, one side tipped and fell as I was reaching for the frosting, shattering into pieces. Second, another side simply broke in my hands--five required houses, now two missing pieces. Quick call to Brad, and he made the 20-minute trek out, grabbed a SEVENTH kit and returned home just in time for dinner and a quick straightening of the house.

We always tell the best and worst of our day over dinner. No one had a best that day--except Hyrum, who gratefully acknowledged that I hadn't yelled at him. Lily had a misunderstanding/fight with a friend. Ben had literally bombed his Math final. Brad had lost a rental house he was trying to buy due to some random bank decision. I had the youtube fight and the cookie incidents. Micah's precious paper bag of school trinkets had disappeared in the chaos of cleaning the house.

The night did get better. Didn't they turn out great? I think everyone had fun . . .

. . . and a sugar coma always makes everything feel better, right? At least it helps keep the Grinch at bay.

Five more days . . .

As Dad Titled It . . .

2011-12-19T08:00:00.002-07:00

. . . Santa terror.

Not my favorite Santa experience ever, or my favorite photo--looks like something off a spoof website, doesn't it? And the stupid photo is somehow protected so I can't edit it. Here she is in all her glory. Six more days!

2011 Review Extravaganza, Part Two

2011-12-15T19:36:00.001-07:00

April-June 2011 will go down in my life history as three of the most memorable months of my entire life.

April

I started off the month with a series of posts on everyday miracles--the return of my repaired hand, the scent of AZ in the spring, and for the love of books.

I answered questions from readers--work, groceries, family size, and how Brad and I met. I also vented quite loudly on today's parenting problems and why kids won't leave home.

I tried my hand at the Red Dress writing prompt, got back on my bike, and embarrassed Tucker almost to death. Follow the link to his post for an even funnier version of the experience.

I documented the conclusion of my Institute class, not knowing at the time that it would be the very last class, not just the end of the semester. A big piece of me misses that experience--every single day.

May

May 2011 will go down as the month of my life that contains the most gigantic life-altering experiences.

Tucker and I headed to CA for a few days, just before I became . . . a grandma. I remember writing this post on the shuttle from SLC to Rexburg, and it's one of my top five of the year.

Life got more emotional than the transition to grandma--Tucker left for his mission in New York City.

He's been gone almost seven months now, and I still tear up when I read this post and see these pictures.

These two monumental changes in life, along with being released from teaching Institute, left me empty and exhausted--it took me a few weeks to return to a new normal.

I hosted a linky party about the most important thing I can teach my kids, and I was surprised when part of it was quoted in Church the next Sunday!

June

Brad's baby brother got married and this has to be my favorite funny picture of the year.

And I captured this image as my little boys were scrubbing the Suburban--another of my favorites.

Another huge lesson from the year--Hyrum reminded me that mothering is more important than teaching.

We went camping, I redid my hobby room with a new shutter board and ribbon hutch, and then . . .

Lily gave me the first part of the greatest lesson I learned all year--just jump. To be continued in July . . .

Ladies, thank you for hosting this linky party. It takes so much time to review all the posts from the year, but it has been a treat for me to remember what happened, when it happened, and what I've learned over the course of twelve months. I hope I don't have to repeat a month like May 2011 ever again in my life.

Frustration and Festivity

2011-12-14T21:25:00.000-07:00

It's that time in the season when, no matter how well I've prepared and how much I've done in advance, life begins crashing down around me.

Thought my shopping was done until I went to wrap the Brubakers' and Tucker's presents for their packages. Somehow one gift disapparated--no problem. Quick trip to the bookstore.

I wanted to put together a quick photo album to send to Tucker. Now, for those of you reading my blog, you know that I should know my way around Picasa and Google and . . . the Sam's Club photo site. I fought that site and my Picasa for 94 minutes (yep--I timed it) until I gave up in frustration and a few tears. What the . .. ? I somehow could not access the album I had made. Don't get me started.

I'm ready to mail both packages tomorrow ( I know. So last minute, especially since I've been bragging that it was all done, right?) EXCEPT for the photos. Brad spent the whole day in Bullhead City (lucky guy), but he should be able to wave his wand and make them upload to the website. Then I'll just need to pick them up, shove them in the album and dash off to the UPS store (not taking a chance with USPS, sorry).

I'm exhausted. I've hosted three parties of various sizes (dessert and drinks for book club, full informal buffet with presents and pinata for Brad's work, and a sit-down formal dinner for the twelve widows in our ward) in the last thirteen days. One more to go.

I'm sick. My head is full of snot and sneezes and grouchy germs. Nothing seems to make it feel better unless I'm sipping wassail. Glad I have a smidge left over from last night's dinner.

I'm going to bed now. Hopefully the Grinch will have disappparated along with Sam's missing gift, because tomorrow I'm headed to preview the auction. That'll make me feel better, just you wait and see.

Linking up to Jenny Matlock's F at Alphabe-Thursday.

Mr. Postman

2011-12-14T08:18:00.002-07:00

Most of the Christmas cards have been sent. I have a few hanging around that still need updated addresses, but they will join the others soon.

Christmas cards are one of my favorite things of the Christmas season--going to the mailbox and finding an actual letter is so exhilarating!

I always keep all the cards from the previous year, wadded in a box and still tied on the display garland from the year before. It brings back all the memories from the last year.

When I reread a few this year, I was struck by how life changes so much in a year.

One card had a grandma, grandpa, all their kids and grandkids. Their youngest son wasn't married, and this year, just before Christmas, he will marry a girl who grew up less than a quarter mile away.

One card pictured a smiling family with four kids. Although I know their family as struggles just like everyone, I know this family tries to be happy. This year, their card was missing a child due to a custody issue with Mom, and their baby daughter was diagnosed with leukemia, so her hair had been trimmed in a preemptive strike against the chemo.

Some cards have new addresses this year, or new babies, or new in-laws.

And some seem to falter then fade as the years go by, leaving me to wonder where they are and what they're up to.

My own card this year was new--only five kids and no letter. My nest is beginning to empty. It will be a slow trickle from here on out, luckily.

From all of us here at the Denton Sanatorium

So Sleepy

2011-12-12T08:39:00.000-07:00

When Evie was silent for ten minutes on Saturday, I knew she'd fallen asleep somewhere. This is where Lily found her.

I flashed back to finding Lily asleep on the stairs, just like this, when she was about that age, so I spent over an hour yesterday trying to find the picture. Couldn't find it. That's what happens when you were born BD (before digital). I did find this one of her asleep at lunchtime.

Even Lily had more hair at this age than Evie. Hopefully one day, right?

And no, I don't make it a habit of allowing my children to get so tired that they just fall asleep anywhere.

2011 Review Extravaganza, Part One

2011-12-09T06:10:00.002-07:00

Last year I participated in the 2010 Year in Review Extravaganza, and I'm so glad these lovely ladies are hosting a 2011 event this year, too. I loved rereading all my posts from the first quarter of the year, and here are my favorites:

January

2011 began with me setting my word for the year, and setting goals of how to achieve it.

I had a perfect day with Hyrum I never want to forget, and vented about teaching my children consequences for their actions.

I also hosted a linky party focusing on what is beautiful about each of us. That picture was my profile pic for most of the year.

February

Micah didn't make the school talent show, a story that still breaks my heart, and the next day a friend from high school lost her three-year-old son in a tragic farming accident, reminding me to hold my little ones closer every day.

Tucker opened his mission call to the New York New York City South Spanish mission, one of the two biggest events of 2011.

And Hyrum swindled two free cotton candy treats out of the vending machine at the mall. He made sure he checked the machine twice while we were there yesterday, just to make sure it had been a fluke the first time!

Petunia and I took a little spill and I learned a new word--scaphoid.

February ended with a memorable last--nursing my last baby for the last time. This post ranks in my top five for the year. I'm so glad I took the time to write this down.

March

DIY week at the Sanatorium started off March--the infamous carriage wheel, the steamer trunk turned accessory case, the Craigslist chandelier, and

Evie's chair. This week may have set off my big obsession for the year--finding and redoing treasures, much to Brad's annoyance.

I wrote about parenting grown children, hosted a deep discussion on whether or not it would be nice to know the future, and vented a little about the difficulties of parenting hard kids.

Brad kept the kids in Utah so I could have a dreamy three days to myself--this memory brings a sigh of happiness to my lips.

And I went out on a limb with a hairdo--because it always grows back. I've kept some version of this style the rest of the year--in fact, I have an appointment with Debbie this afternoon!

The end of March brought a crazy day that made me stop and reflect on what is truly important and remember my balance goals for the year. I needed to reread this post. I probably should print it out and frame it in my bathroom to remind me of what really matters in a day.

Enjoy your weekend, folks. Sixteen days until Christmas, so get your shopping done! (and Happy Birthday to my sis, Karen. Love you and see you in a few weeks!)

If you'd like to link up with us, click this button.

E Is for Egypt--and One of My Biggest Pet Peeves

2011-12-07T21:09:00.000-07:00

I love our local elementary school. Great test scores, teachers who care about my kids. It's a fantastic place to raise kids.

Every November, the sixth grade puts together an Egyptian festival, with costumes, masks, and . . . homemade pyramids. When Lily came home from school with the instructions for the assignment, she had grandiose ideas of what her pyramid would look like, and like any good mother, I brought her back down to earth. We opted for foam core, spray stone texture, a kit of Egyptian artifacts from Michal's, and a sheet of glittery paper. It took hours. I had to help cut the foam core and plot the logistics of getting it to actually stick together. (Fortunately, she's my fourth child, and it's not my first time at this pyramid design stuff.)

The morning of the festival was crazy for me, and I don't even remember why. But I ran in, snapped a few pictures, looked at a few of the projects, then ran out. I didn't get a single decent picture.

Lucky for me, she has the greatest teacher. A few days after the festival, Lily received this postcard in the mail:

There are few teachers left like Mrs. Ferguson. I'm so glad Lily is spending time with her this year.

This brings me to one of my biggest pet peeves in the world: Parents who do their child's school projects. Seriously? Didn't you graduate from sixth grade thirty years ago? I know I did. I can appreciate the teacher's thinking on big projects: It helps parents get involved with their kids' education. It helps cement facts and information in the kids' minds. I'm willing to assist. I'm not willing to design, paint, letter, write, or complete the project.

Here's the kicker, parents: Teachers can tell when the parents do the project. Are you shocked? Teachers know what your child's daily work looks like, and if their project comes in not looking like that daily work, they've been around the block enough to know who earned the grade.

Lily's pyramid looked like a sixth grade project. She glued flowers on it and misspelled a few words with my label maker, things that I wouldn't have done. And guess what? She got an A. Mrs. Ferguson knew by looking at it that it was LILY'S project. Not mine.

So, to all you parents out there who do your kids' projects so they can earn A's--stop.

Thank you. Now I will retreat from my soap box.

And thank you, Lily, for completing your Egypt project just in time for me to link up to E at Jenny Matlock's this week.

Holiday Banister

2011-12-06T21:50:00.006-07:00

Ever since moving into this house in 2007, I've wanted to have a spectacular Christmas display along my stairs. I drooled over the magnolia garlands and Frontgate greenery, but I never had the cash to back up my dreams. I would watch every after-Christmas sale, searching for the perfect stuff to swag my stairs with. Never could find it.

Then, in October of this year, I had a crazy idea--how about burlap? Burlap and greenery and ribbon? And maybe some lights and a few ornaments? It all looked so amazing in my head that I bought the burlap (overpaid for it, at $1 a yard) and propped it against the wall in my hobby room for a month.

When it came right down to it, I was a little afraid to start this project. I had all morning free on Friday, so I decided to take the plunge.

First, I started out by measuring my white light strings and securing them to the banister with zip ties. Zip ties are easier on the wood than wire, I've found. Plus, you can leave them a little loose while doing the next few steps for any adjustments you need to make. This step was pretty painless.

Second, I unrolled the burlap, and during that month-long hiatus, I had conveniently forgotten that I'd purchased pieces of burlap, not a continuous bolt. As it turns out, this made the project even easier. I cut each width of fabric down the middle, then using more white zip ties, I secured the fabric around the lights.

Straight pins closed any gaps where the lights were showing.

Next, I pulled out a strong pair of wire cutters and cut my old pine garland into random lengths, and using green zip ties, I secured the greenery to each swag. Last came ribbon and an ornament or two for each bunch. I didn't want any of them to match each other, but I ended up repeating a few.

Here's the finished staircase:

I love it. I loved working on it most of that cloudy day--took four hours and probably 40 trips up and down the stairs. In the end, all this project cost me was the material (about four yards), and a few new ornaments. I used my old garland and a roll of ribbon from my ribbon cupboard.

The best part, however, is how it looks at night:

I wish I could get a picture that shows how this really looks. The light is so soft and peaceful and cozy.

What do you think?
You can totally pin me if you want. ;)

Linking up to DIY Design's holiday banister party.

and Wow us Wednesdays

My Thorn

2011-12-05T21:35:00.000-07:00

This post is categorized in the "just keeping it real" category.

. . . there was given to me a thorn in the flesh, the messenger of Satan to buffet me, lest I should be exalted above measure.

--2 Corinthians 2:7

Occasionally you are given the opportunity to see yourself through the eyes of others.

Sometimes it comes in the form of a compliment, praising something you said or did that changed their perspective or made them think or helped them in some way.

Sometimes it comes in the form of gossip--"Did you know that _____ said _____ about you?" Usually this is negative, but I generally dismiss it because it's gossip, and I'm pretty thick-skinned.

Sometimes it comes in the form of genuine criticism from someone you love and trust, and it comes in a way that can't be ignored or dismissed as unfounded.

Sometimes it comes in the form of reaction and emotion in your child's face when you know you just hurt them.

Like Paul in the New Testament, I have a few thorns in the flesh. I've come to realize, over the past few years, that I don't come across to people the way I think I do. Confidence can be interpreted as arrogance or lack of concern. My "get-it-done" attitude can be construed as "just get out of my way." Speaking whatever is on my mind comes out as cutting and mean instead of factual. And my pride will not allow me to often see my errors.

Yesterday I found out that something I said was so hurtful (although I felt it was factual and necessary at the time) that this person classified it, weeks later, as "no one has ever spoken to me like that."

This sudden, shocking revelation made me reflect on my goal for 2011: finding balance in my life, taking time for people and not check marks on my list. I saw that I have made little to no progress on the goal I set for the year, and my take-no-prisoners attitude is harmful--to others and to me.

I wonder what I would think of me if I could meet me at book club or Target or Church. Sad to say, I probably would feel dismissed and unimportant and probably wouldn't like me. That's a hard realization, one that I'm trying to be objective about so I can try to address the issue.

First, if you know me in real life and I have ever offended you, please forgive me. I must tell you that in most cases, it was unintentional.

Second, I am going to change. A few weeks ago I was discussing with some friends the potential to completely change a personality trait--whether negative or positive--and whether it's truly possible. I believe and trust in a God who says with Him "nothing shall be impossible" (Luke 1:37), so I will be placing my trust in Him to soften my heart and help me see when and how I need to change.

Third, please be patient with me. I've indulged this flaw for 42 years now, and it will take time to change it. Just know that I am trying to be kinder, less hurtful and more aware of the power of my words.

And to my children--I hope I haven't screwed you up forever.

Change hurts.

Views from Around the Sanatorium

2011-12-05T06:19:00.000-07:00

When I woke up yesterday morning, this was what I saw out my window:

I can count on one hand how many times I've seen fog in AZ. What a treat. Reminded me of all the mornings I would wake up as a girl with hoarfrost covering everything in sight and what a magical land that made.

When I got out of bed, this is what I saw at the foot of the stairs:

Micah was reading Frog and Toad to Hyrum and Evie in this cozy pile of soft things. It was that kind of day around here.

I love this weather! Brad, however, is ready to flash his AZ union card and demand better weather. Hope you're all getting cozy wherever you are and whatever Mother Nature may be throwing your way!

Foto Friday--It Was That Kind of Day

2011-12-02T09:17:00.001-07:00

We don't have many days in AZ that feel like fall/winter. Yesterday was that kind of day.

A hot-chocolate-with-marshmallows-and candy-cane day.

A steaming-cup-of-wassail-stirred-with-a-cinnamon-stick day.

Yesterday was that kind of day. . . and today looks promising as well.

Curl up with a hot mug and enjoy it.

December First

2011-11-30T18:59:00.001-07:00

It was the center of Christmas tradition in my childhood home.

All four of us kids would rotate placing ornaments on the tree and eating the miniature candy cane, but Karen always got to do "16 days until Christmas" since December 9th is her birthday. I don't remember a December without this felt calendar hanging on the stairwell wall, taunting me daily for 24 days until Christmas actually arrived.

November 1987--I was attending my first semester at BYU and working part-time for a clothing store named "Vanity." I was a transfer employee and at the bottom of the totem pole, so I was scheduled to work until 6 pm Christmas Eve, then I could have a vacation until after New Year's. I needed the job and I was eighteen, so I agreed to stay. I remember calling my parents and telling them that they couldn't come get me until late Christmas Eve and how sad I was.

Sometime before December first I received a package in the mail:

. . . my very own felt Advent calendar, handmade with love by my mom. Without my siblings around to fight, I got to place every ornament and eat every candy cane--it was a Christmas dream. I had to stay in the dorms way past when everyone else was nestled snug in their own beds, and my Advent calendar was my only Christmas cheer--this time it not only counted down days until Christmas but it also marked the time until I got to go home. The morning of December 24th was joyous for me because I knew at the end of my shift, I would see my dad and we would make the four-hour drive home for the holidays. Finally.

Fast forward 25 Christmases--November 2011. A few days ago I unboxed my treasure, made sure all the pins were in place, then filled each pocket with a miniature cane. Many of the sequins are missing now, and the #15 pocket has a stain. The doll now occupies 22 days until Christmas (and has every year since 1990): the day our teeny Heidi was born miniature and wrinkly and perfect.

All the Christmases this calendar has seen. All the changes in my family--good and bad--and all the places we've lived.

Now my own kids argue over who gets to hang the ornaments, who gets to go first and who gets the coveted position of Christmas Eve. I continued the tradition with Heidi and Tucker their first Christmases away from home--not as crafty as my mom, I ordered them their own felt calendars, lovingly filled the pockets with peppermint, and sent them away.

A week ago I dug out Tucker's calendar from last Christmas and mailed it to New York.

Christmas. It's all about tradition.

I love December.

Twenty-four more days. And you can bet I'm counting.

Linking up to Jenny Matlock's Alphabe-Thursday.

She's Gonna Be a Rock Star

2011-11-30T07:57:00.000-07:00

Not only does Evie possess amazing dance moves, the girl can also belt it out with the best of them.

And we have a few in this house that can really belt it out, let me tell you.

Watch out, Broadway. We're training this one early. If she could just grow some hair, then maybe we could send her out on audition!

Oh No You Didn't! Oh Yes We Did.

2011-11-29T06:36:00.000-07:00

Black Friday.

A tradition for fifteen years. My bestie, Karen, and I have braved the crowds and the chaos for fifteen years, arising anywhere from 2:15 to 4 am to make sure we were at the front of lines with laden arms when store doors opened.

Who can forget the $20 Gameboys, acquired by a quick sprint up an escalator? Or the year our mall offered 40% off any one item in a store, with a newspaper coupon (and then they handed out limitless coupons at the door)? Pretty sure retailers took a big hit that year.

We have gotten to a place where we can almost read each others' minds while on this adventure.

This year, they changed the rules.

Instead of Friday opening at the traditional 3-4 am, many stores opted for opening sometime on Thanksgiving, anywhere from 4 pm (Michael's) to midnight (Target, Best Buy). We didn't know what to do--arise at our regular time, or play the new game and leave on Thanksgiving night? After a short discussion, we opted for an 11:30 pm departure time.

I have to tell you--I don't remember the last time I stayed up all night long. And I'm getting old, don't forget that part of the equation. As I left the house, Brad was brushing his teeth, getting into bed.

First we made a quick stop at Walmart--or so we thought. Too few cashiers and a avalanche of humanity--and a demographic of people we had never seen before. Young people, many little kids even, were lugging 55" TVs and $9 crock pots like a shattered window had suddenly allowed them access to the store. This was not going to be our average Black Friday. We knew that now.

A quick Pepsi stop, and then off to Target, where the lines were long but so efficiently run (picture Disneyland-like lines snaking back and forth through the grocery section) that no one was annoyed.

Now it was 2:30 am, and where to head next? Best Buy. Now that the rush for doorbusters was over, lines were non-existent and the employees were friendly. In and out in less than an hour.

Here is where we hit a potential problem--Sears, JCPenney and Kohl's didn't open until 4, so what were we to do? We chose Sears and waiting in the Suburban (with our heated seats!) until they opened their doors. A quick dash through the tool department (and an encounter with slow men cashiers) and we set our sights on JCPenney, Kohl's, Office Max and Deseret Book.

The sky stayed dark until we left Kohl's, and when we finished up our slightly annoying visit to Office Max (slightly unprepared staff for the busy morning--only about fifteen people, so it's a good thing there weren't more), we listened to our rumbly tumblies and stopped for a bite at McD's. One more stop and we'd be through.

Deseret Book is on the way home, so we had saved it for last. "We will open at 9 am Friday morning." It was 7:45. NOOOOOO! Our plans had been foiled. There was no way we were waiting an hour. Home we went.

When I walked through the door at 8:15 am, not a creature was stirring, but I did hear the toilet flush upstairs. Brad had just gotten up--he slept through our entire adventure.

Evaluation of all-nighter Black Friday--nothing really exciting. No grouchy people (except for one lady that we slowed down by our looking at sweatshirts--how dare we?). No great bargains, no grand stories. Except for the book store, all my shopping is done. However, I don't know if it was worth losing an entire night's sleep. I was a basket case for two days afterward, trying to reset my 42-year-old body clock.

Verdict: Mission accomplished. Not my favorite year, to be sure. But after seeing the throngs of humanity, I'm sure retailers won't be altering their plans for next year. I bet even more stores open earlier and earlier. I don't like that they are invading the Thanksgiving holiday. Times are changing.

Sigh. I'm getting old.

A Brief Recap

2011-11-28T09:31:00.000-07:00

Nine sticks of butter

Six loads of dishes

Fourteen distended bellies

Hope your Thanksgiving was great! We have company until Tuesday afternoon, so the party's still going. Bowling, Jumpstreet, lights, shopping.

Happy Thanksgiving

2011-11-23T05:52:00.000-07:00

Here's hoping your blessings are as incalculable as mine

Personalize your own free invite card

Not Your Typical Thanksgiving Week Post

2011-11-22T06:11:00.000-07:00

image from here

I haven't been able to get this image out of my mind.

This darling little girl, Jhessye Shockley, has been missing from her Glendale, AZ, home since October 11. No one really had any idea where the five-year-old had wandered off to, only that her 12-year-old sibling had been in charge of the three younger kids while Mom, Jerice Hunter, went to the store.

This story immediately struck a chord with me--how many times have I left an older sibling in charge while I ran a quick errand? I prayed for her safe return all day and the next, then I took the time to remind my older kids how easily this could happen to them.

Then the story morphed--someone had seen her get into a car with a lady. Now it was a child abduction case. Long story--Mom screamed at the press, at people, at anyone, to get her child and bring her back. She claimed prejudice against her situation in life, her race, anything and anyone else she could blame for her child's disappearance.

Then the story changed again when Mom's record became public--conviction and jail time for child abuse. Jhessye's three older siblings were taken by CPS and placed in foster homes. Between October 11 and Halloween Mom had another baby, who was immediately whisked away as well.

Yesterday, the story changed yet again. Jhessye's home had become a yellow-taped crime scene and the Glendale police held a press conference, stating that Jerice Hunter had been arrested as the primary suspect in her child's disappearance, with "little to no hope of finding Jhessye alive."

I know we live in a terrible world, filled with horrible people who make unbelievable choices, but I keep having a flash of this image: Little Jhessye's last moments, whatever they were, were filled with the inexplicable knowledge that her MOTHER was doing this to her. Her mother. I get physically sick each time I think of it.

Many of you who have read my blog for years know of our foray into the world of foster care, and how I ended up abandoning my attempts to protect these innocent children. Occasionally I regret that decision, especially when a story like this surfaces, but ultimately the safety of children rests squarely on the shoulders of those in whom God placed that trust--the parents. No amount of government intervention or counseling or rehab can save these innocent, sweet babies from those who should be loving them.

I can't wait to ask God this question--Why?

Pray for Jhessye Shockley's four siblings today. Pray that they will find homes where they not only will be loved for the rest of their lives, but that they will find a place where parents will keep them safe.

Just in Case You Were Wondering . . .

2011-11-21T05:58:00.001-07:00

. . . this was the score at the start of the third quarter.

And we were Visitor! Heritage won the state championships Friday night!

From the initial kickoff to Kingman

. . . where #5 caused a fumble, recovered by his teammate . . .

. . . to all the patient waiting on the sidelines watching the action . . .

. . . it was an unbelievable game.

I must admit that I was among the doubters.

I mean, after all, Kingman had beaten our team 36-14 just two weeks ago.

But these boys believed--in themselves . . .

. . . and trusted their coaches. I love Coach L (in the blue). He teaches with concern and strength, never belittling, but always pulling the best out of his players. Football coaches like that are a rare breed.

There was much to celebrate after the awards ceremony. Ben and McKay were all smiles.

And there was no one more exhausted than Evie . . .

. . . Ben still had energy to pull a few faces and go to a party afterwards . . .

. . . Mom couldn't have been prouder. Final score--Heritage Heroes 60, Kingman Tigers 37.

I love this boy.

Anyone have a little Queen melody running through their head?

"We are the champions!"

Here's a little video of the second fumble he caused. We've started calling him "Digger" (heard at the end of the video), because he just knocks that ball out when he tackles, then digs it up off the ground!

Foto Friday--A Quarter and a Funny

2011-11-18T06:23:00.001-07:00

Six months ago today . . .

. . . I said goodbye to my Tucker. One quarter of his mission is complete--185 days.

It seems so long ago that I felt that hug.

And yet in some ways, the time has just flown by.

Sigh.

And on a completely unrelated and cheerful note: a Hyrum holiday funny for the weekend

"Mom, if you want to eat a turkey, first you have to pull off all the feathers, then you have to poke out its eyes."

Yes, Hyrum. No eyeballs on my Thanksgiving table.

Hope you get all your holiday preparations in order this weekend. I'm not even thinking about it until the football game is over tonight.

Go, Heroes!

The Cure

2011-11-16T23:02:00.000-07:00

I got a flu shot. I got my flu shot at Safeway to procure the entire-purchase 10% off coupon (and saved over $23, thank you).
I felt yucky afterwards. Achy, hot then cold.
I took a bath in my glorious tub (for probably the fifth time in four years). I soaked with salts and a magazine.
I took Motrin and went to bed early.

I woke up many times in the night, knowing this wasn't a reaction to the shot. I knew I had strep.
I went to the doctor's urgent care clinic at 7 am. I got a quick-strep test.

I had strep.

I went home. I wanted to sleep and curl up with a blanket, a pillow, a jug of orange juice and a lot of HGTV, but . . .

I had kids to mother. I had a messy family room to straighten. I had lunch and dinner to prepare. I had homework and piano practicing to monitor. I had carpool to manage.

The cure wasn't a bath or blankets or rest.

Three doses of amoxicillin later, and I was headed back to normal.

I took the last pill yesterday.

I still want my day curled up with the blanket, pillow, orange juice and HGTV.

Maybe in sixteen years when Evie's in college . . .

Linking up to Jenny Matlock's Alphabe-Thursday.

Up in the Night

2011-11-16T08:19:00.003-07:00

I had nightmares frequently as a child--up until I was in high school. I would dream that I was being lined up against our neighbor's barn, just waiting to be shot by Pancho Villa. I dreamed this so often that I got to the point where I could control the dream when it got to this point: When he asked for my last request, I would ask to pinch myself so I would wake up.

I need a dream analyst for that one.

What makes some prone to horrible dreams and others not, I don't know, but I can't forget that feeling of lingering fear and panic upon waking. I slept in the bedroom directly below my parents, and I would make the long, dark trek to their bedroom, silently appearing next to my mom's head. She would turn, ask what was wrong. I'd tell her I'd had a bad dream, and she would say, "I'm sorry. It's just a dream. Go back to bed." Then I would make that same dark walk back to bed, somehow feeling better from just telling someone about it.

At 4:30 am, I awoke to the sound of the little boys' door quietly open. Next thing I knew, Micah was standing by my bed.

What's up, Bud?
I had a bad dream.
You okay?
I dreamed Eve died.

I felt my heart flip for a second, thinking how horrible that dream would be. I know some who live that nightmare daily, or face that possibility every waking minute. I held my breath for a second, then I did what I always do when there's a bad dream at our house: I lifted the covers, invited his small body to cuddle next to mine, and I wrapped my arms around his frightened little self. We stayed like that until his breathing slowed and I could feel his heart no longer racing.

You okay now?
I think so.
Wanna head back to bed? Or do you need to stay here a little longer?
I'm okay, Mom. See you in the morning.

I know from years of mothering that this stage will soon be over--the nightmares, the trips to my bedside, and especially the tender few moments spent with a body the perfect size to fit in the curve between my head and my knees.

Right next to my heart, where he will always stay.

It's My Blog, I Can Brag If I Want To . . .

2011-11-15T06:37:00.000-07:00

Friday night was the football State semi-final game.

Let's just say that #5 could easily have been voted MVP of the game:

Ben personally recovered three--THREE--kickoff fumbles.

I haven't seen him play like that all season.

I haven't seen him smile like that all season.

It was joyous to watch--I may have busted a few buttons on my jacket. Just sayin'.

The championship game is Friday night, 7 pm, against their rival, Kingman. Can't wait to see!

A Whirlwind of a Week

2011-11-14T06:52:00.003-07:00

After my big confession about Pinterest and Facebook, I'm sure you all expected an avalanche of pins and hundreds of friend connections, right?

This week has been unbelievably hectic. I hosted a wedding here on Friday (thanks, Kelly and Kevin, Helen, and Devin).

That alone would have been busy. In addition to the wedding, a friend's two-year-old daughter was diagnosed with leukemia. As leader of our ward (an LDS congregation), Brad has been extremely busy, back and forth from the hospital, counseling and comforting. I wanted to find any way I could help the family, but their request for privacy at this time was fully understandable. I got a call on Wednesday that what Anndrea wanted more than anything was help setting up a blog to chronicle Katie's journey through leukemia. Now that's something I could help with. I spent a few hours at the hospital on Wednesday, a few more hours setting up the site (littlekatiesplace.blogspot.com), and a few more hours on Saturday teaching them how to post pictures, import a slide show, etc. I couldn't have spent my spare hours this week in any better way. If you have any spare room in your prayers, add Katie and her family. It's going to be a long road.

I'm hoping life settles back to normal this week. I need some time to plot out the holidays, plan a few parties, decide on a gift strategy, etc. I have tried to navigate Pinterest a few times, but I'm finding the learning curve kind of steep. Anybody local wanna volunteer an hour to give me a one-on-one tutorial? Is it because I don't Facebook?

Foto Friday--Always Remember

2011-11-11T09:40:00.001-07:00

Gettysburg, 1863. I reflected on all the lost lives, changed families. Such devastating loss--over 11,000 casualties from one battle alone.

Then my mind wandered to 2011. There may be fewer casualties, true. But there are still heroes, still loss, still mourning families.

Take a moment today to remember our modern-day heroes and their families, standing sentinel over us and our country.

Thank you.

Busy, Busy, Busy

2011-11-09T21:58:00.000-07:00

Pinterest and Facebook will have to wait. I was BUSY today.

Pottery Barn had a wall of silver trays in one of their fall catalogs (that I have since misplaced--that won't happen ever again once I get my Pinterest working, right?) that looked similar to this:

image from this blog

It was a little different, but you get the idea.

Y'all know how much I love myself an auction, right? I've mentioned that before? Well, you can get silver-plated trays at almost every auction--a lot of 3-6 trays, with other random stuff, will go for between $5 and $15. I bid on these lots whenever I see them, and if I don't get that lot, I adopt the auction-lover's mantra, "There will always be another one."

I've been accumulating trays for a few months now--I was even given a few because people knew I was gathering them. I decided that today was the day to assemble my wall. I had allocated the day to surfing Pinterest as I mentioned yesterday, but . . . it'll still be there tomorrow, right?

It took a few hours to polish all 24 of them, and I thought that would be the hard part. I was wrong. I have the hardest time laying stuff out to hang on the wall. Anyone else have this problem? So I stole a hint from my bestie, Karen, and her daughter, Brenn. I measured the wall, then I transferred those measurements to my entry floor with blue tape. I marked off the space where my menu board and thermostat are, then I began spacing the trays.

Roxy was not amused, as you can see.

I was a little worried that I wouldn't be able to remember the spacing once some of the trays were on the wall and the others were still on the floor, so I went to the top of the stairs and snapped a picture:

Then I downloaded the picture onto the computer for easy reference. I referred to that picture at least a dozen times. So glad I did that.

After about two hours of guessing, measuring, hammering, and climbing up and down the ladder, this is what I had:

I wish I could get a better picture, but this is the wall between my kitchen and the back door, and the photo space and light are quite limited.

Here are shots from either angle.

Heading to the door . . .

. . . and heading into the kitchen.

I love the different shades of silver and varying layers of patina on each tray. The square tray on the bottom left is from a thrift store in Baltimore (ah, Baltimore!). The rest are auction finds or gifts from friends.

I mentioned my thermostat, didn't I? Where could it be? Well, I just happened to read this post on My Uncommon Slice of Suburbia TODAY, and she gave a great hint on hiding it. I turned the bowl second from the bottom on the right upside down, and it's a perfect cover. Brad thinks it may interfere with the thermostat's job--which is to measure the temperature of the air. Like that matters? It's easily removed if there's trouble--hoping not.

Best of all, most of the trays are hung with plate hangers, so when I want to use them (like maybe for the wedding at my house on Friday?), I can just lift them down, remove the hanger, then rehang when done. Three are hung with hooks since they are footed or too deep for a hanger. A few others are hung with Command strips (LOVE THESE!). If they need to be used, then I'll just re-stick them.

This is my favorite plate on the wall, hanging on the right just above the menu board . . .

. . . an original, solid bronze building marker from an American Legion hall, undated but stamped "made in Nashua, NH." The most expensive piece on the wall, it set me back a grand total of $12.50.

Start to finish today--took about 3 1/2 hours, not including all the polish time. Worth every minute, and I think Brad will be happy that my purchases of random lots of silver-plated stuff are ending.

Okay, what's the next project? Can't wait . . . And I'll be totally happy to let you pin my project on one of your design boards. ;)

Linking up to Jenny Matlock's B for Alphabe-Thursday.

Anybody Know What MRI Stands For?

2011-11-09T06:20:00.001-07:00

Magnetic Resonance Imaging. Like this one.

Not my actual MRI.

I needed an updated image of my scaphoid from last February, and I also needed updated images of my poor, dilapidated, eight-pregnancy pelvis (first images taken here). Both images were scheduled for the same evening. I thought I was pretty smart.

The wrist image was most uncomfortable, with arm strapped down over my head and my face plastered against the pillow. Twenty minutes of that and I was about ready to . . . I don't know what.

Then it was time for my hips. They taped my toes together, covered me with a few blankets (why it needs to be 62 degrees in there I don't know), replaced the headset, handed me the panic button and sent me back into the tube. This arrangement was almost pleasant, especially compared to the over-the-head position I'd just experienced.

Ten minutes later, I was unexpectedly removed from the tube.

The technicians pulled up my gown, looked all over my left leg, all through the blanket, searching for . . . something. I had no idea what was going on, and they were hesitant to talk. After a few minutes, they admitted that some stray speck of metal was either in the blanket, on the bed, or on me somewhere near my left leg, and its presence was interfering with the scan. Weird--I'd just been in that tube for 30 minutes, people. Never finding anything, they reinserted me into the tube (I'm beginning to sound like the specimen I felt like).

Ever heard the story of the frog in the pot of water--how if the water is boiling initially, he jumps out, but if the water is cold then gradually heated he'll boil to death? I felt like that frog. I began to feel warmth on my left knee. Nothing really, probably just a wire on my leg or something.

No. That is a little warm right there.

Then it began to get warmer. And warmer and warmer. Finally it was hot, and I could no longer attribute it to my imagination. Now what do I do? Just finish the test? I held on for another minute, but the sensation was beginning to actually burn me.

I squeezed the panic button. Nothing happened. I squeezed it again, because now I knew something was there, and it hurt.

The technicians pulled me out for the final time, asking with what seemed like real concern, "What's wrong? Are you okay?" I explained the feeling in my left knee, and when I pulled up my gown, there was an unmistakeable red spot over my kneecap.

"We can't complete the test. You've already been in the tube too long, and it may elevate your core body temp too much. We'll have to reschedule it, maybe with a lower-strength magnet." Then they began acting all kinds of weird, somehow insisting it was my fault that I hadn't completed the scan. I asked to see the images, and there was a smoky haze coming directly from the area of my knee, clouding the images.

Was I to blame somehow, even though I'd successfully completed many images, or was the suddenly strong lingering scent of cigarette smoke the culprit? I'll never know.

Test has been rescheduled for Friday.

All I know is this: MRI possibly stands for

May Randomly Ignite.

Specimen beware!

Editor's note: For those of you holding your breath for my entrance into the pinterest/facebook world, I want you to know that my computer has been down for the last few days. "But how have you been posting, hmm?" On Brad's computer, of course. "Why does that matter, Miss Chicken-of-Everything-Facebook/Pinterest? Just an excuse, Missy." Actually, all my passwords, etc., are on my computer, and without access to those secrets, Facebook/Pinterest was locked for me. Luckily, Brad found the problem, and my afternoon has been set aside for such guilty pleasures as these (and to post/email Tucker's last letter, for those of you waiting for it. Secret addresses/passwords/pictures for his stuff are also lost within its confines.) Is this a sign to keep that info in more than one place?

Taking Time to Smell My Roses

2011-11-08T07:58:00.000-07:00

A quiet whimper slowly increased to a sleepy "Mommy." I acknowledged the monitor's sounds in my still-sleeping mind. I glanced at the clock--just before 6 am. Could I get her soothed and back to sleep before the 6:30 commotion?

I groggily made my way down the hall, opened her door and desperately felt for the missing pace and silky. She whined louder and begged for my attention, "Mommy." Eyes wide open, all vestiges of sleep gone. Instead of my usual reaction--get her back to sleep at all costs--I climbed onto her tiny "big-girl" bed, opened my arms and cradled my blue-eyed baby to my chest.

Who knows where the time went, but as we sat there, quiet and satisfied, I watched the sky silently creep up the paint chip--from black through all the shades of gray, finally settling on a subtly tinged pink.

I listened as the first bird awoke his friends with a quick call, and I counted all four garbage cans as my neighbor dragged them to the curb.

Alarms marked the end of this rare moment--first Ben's chime, then Brad's arpeggio, then Micah's insistent beep. I knew these precious few minutes would now end. As I planted a kiss on her clean head, a prayer was born in my heart--"Thank You for this exact moment in time. Thank You for all these children You share with me every day. May I never forget this frozen memory."

"Should we go get the kids and Daddy?" "Off we toddled, pacy and silky in tow. Hyrum shyly rounded the corner, looking for his morning snuggle. Micah bounded in, his energy fueled by the knowledge that his cast was coming off in two hours. Ben turned over in his messy cocoon with a kind, "Hi, DeeDee" on his lips. As usual, Lily--my not-a-morning-person child--needed a little more encouragement to join us for scriptures. And Dad met us at the foot of the stairs, dressed and ready for his workout.

May I never forget.

My life is good.

Winners! And Something I SWORE I'd Never Do . . .

2011-11-07T13:07:00.001-07:00

I swore I'd never do it.

I've told you before about my Facebook fear/loathing. Where? here and here. Those posts are from 2009. Whew. Didn't know it had been that long . . .

Last week, I joined Facebook. I think only my mom and my sister found me out before this announcement. I didn't even respond to their friend requests. I can't imagine that I will ever get into Facebook--maybe to follow Ellie's pictures and videos, and to occasionally check up on Ben. Why would I spend time there? I have a blog, right?

There was no underlying malice to my lack of response, but there is a reason.

You have to be on Facebook in order to join Pinterest. I had resisted multiple invites to join.

I finally succumbed to Pinterest. I may be sorry about it.

So far, I've pinned maybe 5 pictures, and only created a few boards. Why the weakness? I was talking with a friend, and she explained that she didn't use it as a time waster so much as an online filing system. Oh!!! Organization! Now that's something I can get behind. So we'll see.

If you're pinning, let me know. I'd love to see what you're looking at.

If you're facebooking, you can send me a friend request. But I don't know if I even know how to get back on my page. Maybe I'll change my mind. We'll see. I'm pretty hard to sway.

And now for the results of my giveaway:

Thanks for all of your kind words and comments on Thursday. To pick the winners, I asked Hyrum for three numbers. His responses were:

#8--Myke--and also the only correct identifier of The Hobbit, as titled by Bilbo Baggins (knew you wouldn't let me down on that one, Myke!). Myke lives in town, so the next time you're around my neighborhood, come over and I'll show you Fitbit. You'll love it!

#20--Crystal. Email me your address, and I'll send you the copy of The Historian. It won't disappoint you.

#22--Lynn. Email me your address and whether you'd rather have a $25 gift card (not a record folks. Sorry) to Target or Pottery Barn, and I'll get that in the mail to you.

And to anyone (Jessica! or anyone else, for that matter) who would like a trip to the auction, you don't need to win anything. Just call me! I'd love to go!

Foto Friday--A Video Treat

2011-11-04T09:38:00.001-07:00

A quick video of Evie's daily obsession--dancing and singing. It's funny to watch her, because she doesn't have any of those girly spin, tiptoe, arms above the head moves. She has gangsta break dance moves--she must watch her brothers.

Excuse the topless baby--we had just finished dinner and she was headed to the bath. If you listen, you can hear the kids bickering about their chores in the background. That's real life, right?

Have a great weekend, friends. And if you haven't entered my giveaway yet, check yesterday's post!

Anniversary! And A GiveAWAY!

2011-11-02T19:17:00.003-07:00

Three years ago, November 3, 2008, I began blogging. I had no idea where this adventure would take me.

Up and down.
Back and forth.
Here and There (And Back Again.Name that book!)

So many friends, from all over the world. So many comments (and not a single negative one. How could I be that lucky?). Linky posts and featured projects. And a giveaway or two, just for fun.

So, today--another giveaway. It's been a while, hasn't it? I was kind of hoping to do something Oprah-style--may favorite things, but only Oprah has that kind of money, right? Here are the prizes:

A (slightly used) Fitbit personal data tracker. I have been using one faithfully for almost three months, and I love having a place online to record my calories, sleep, cardio, etc. It has been my nearly constant companion. Slightly used, I say? Well, I bought Brad one, too, and he used it maybe three days before giving up. Not really his thing. It comes with the personal computer, belt clip, and computer docking station/charger. Data tracking is free on the fitbit website. If you win this, I promise you'll love it, too. It's $100 new, and it's hasn't even been broken in yet.

A copy of one of my all-time favorite books, The Historian, by Elizabeth Kostova. Dracula, history, art, mystery--this book has it all, written with beautifully orchestrated prose.

Last but not least, I wish I could give someone a trip to one of my auctions, just for fun. Dinner, a diet Pepsi as we bid and laugh at the crazy stuff people buy. Alas, that can't happen. But I can give you a gift card to one of my favorite stores--your choice of $25 to Target or Pottery Barn (it may go a little bit farther at Target, but whatever). And I require an update on what you used it for!

Make sure you follow my blog (not that I really care a ton, but there is a little twinge of excitement every time I see that number rise just a little bit), then leave a comment--What has been your favorite post here at the Sanatorium? If I get a record number of comments, maybe I'll up the gift card to $40. Yeah. No maybe. I will. Winners will be announced on Monday, November 7th.

I was going to survey you all before today to disclose your favorite post from the Sanatorium so I could publish the all-time favorite, but instead I decided to post my favorite. I'll never forget the day this post sprang from my head like Athena--it had never happened before and the phenomenon has never been repeated. Here it is, My First Masterpiece, dated April 11, 2010--two days before Heidi's wedding. It still brings me to tears.

As long as I can remember, I’ve loved art, and Michelangelo was my first favorite. I remember looking through the pages of my family Bible, studying the images from the Sistine Chapel and admiring his sculptures. My favorite was and still is his sculpture of the Pieta. The intricacy of Mary’s folded robes and Christ’s curly hair always captured my interest, and I would ponder Michelangelo's gift and abilities.
I wanted to be an artist, but I was not so endowed. When I realized in college that you could major in art history, I knew I’d discovered my path. I may not be able to create these works of art, but I could acquire a level of knowledge and expertise and appreciation far beyond my abilities to create. And I did.
Because I love art so much, I’ve always struggled with purchasing art of any kind to hang in my home. Mere reproductions or mass-produced posters always rang a little hollow for me. I always watch for something unusual, unique. I saw the quote above in a boutique five years ago. The moment I saw it, I knew I needed it, and its price tag only deterred me for a moment. It has hung in our family room ever since.

God gives mothers the privilege of becoming artists--sculptors co-creating with Him bodies for these spirits. Our bodies instinctively mold their physical bodies until birth. Then, it becomes our job to help mold their souls.
We teach them to eat, to sleep through the night, to hold toys and to smile. These skills lead to sitting, crawling, walking, speaking. We struggle through potty training and sharing. We teach them to pray and to love. This step of the sculpting process removes chunks of marble--big strokes that require mostly maternal energy and time. Now the shape inside the block begins to emerge.
They start school, and our hits with the chisel become smaller, more purposeful—learning to tell the truth, to face failure and rejection, to be grateful. We drive to lessons, concerts, games, friends’ houses, and church. We teach by example. We mold with actions and words. And the original block is no longer recognizable. There’s definitely a figure in there.
As they grow, our strokes become even finer, even more subtle. We are the sounding board, the needed shoulder, the confidante. We brush away tears and bask in triumphs. We step back and evaluate the sculpture with an ever-critical eye. What else do I need to remove? Where are the weak spots? Have I done enough in this area? It’s almost finished.
When the chisel work is complete, out comes the polishing cloth. The sculpture is almost complete. We listen and advise now, moving into the background. But how long will I have to polish it, to refine it, to shine it? Will I ever feel like it’s finished? Will I ever be able to part with my master work? And who will be the one to fall in love with my work of art—and then take it away from the sculptor forever? Will they be good enough? Will they treat my work with respect and awe and love it, even more than I do?
My first masterpiece is complete. My hammer and chisel and brush have rested for a time, and now it’s time to retire the polishing cloth. The angel has emerged, even more beautiful than I imagined.
She’s free at last.

I've been reading over my three years of blogging--and I can't believe how incredibly lucky I've been to count you all as my friends, to peer into your worlds and share your joys and sorrows. I'm so glad 696 of my best/worst moments have been left here in this little corner of cyberspace. Thanks for riding along with me.

Linking up to Jenny Matlock's Alphabe-Thursday. Good luck on the giveaway!

The Post I've Been Avoiding for Weeks Now . . .

2011-11-02T08:25:00.000-07:00

This little guy and I have been back and forth, fighting each other for years. I've posted about Sugar Monkey's exploits in my life many times--these are a few favorites: The Grand Experiment, Bye-Bye Monkey, and The Monkey Is Off My Back. And many more, trust me.

I had to declare him victor for the month of October. And when I say "victor," I actually mean that he kicked my trash so hard that my body no longer recognized the difference between beta carotene and red dye #40. Bags of Halloween treats. Milkshakes and desserts. Cookie after cookie after cookie after cookie . . .

I had the best intentions at the beginning of the month, swearing an oath with my sister that I'd abstain for the month. That oath admittedly lasted maybe two days.

I know many people who struggle with their weight, some fight just a few pounds, while others combat the title obese. My struggle isn't so much with weight (even though it is in my mind often) as it is with a different word. A negative word. A word that conjures visions of hopelessness and sadness and an endless spiral downward.

Addiction.

I'm not trying to equate my fight with sugar to battles with cocaine or alcohol or pornography or anything else equally heinous. What I am trying to express is how addiction--any addiction--makes you feel about yourself.

Worthless. Angry. Powerless. Sad. And the words of self-abuse that bounce in your brain are more destructive than any substance you let in--"How can I be so weak, so stupid, so short-sighted, so worthless?" And then, of course the way to feel better is to indulge yet again.

I know the effect sugar has on me--how it spikes my moods and creates a person that is even more impatient, more intolerant, more exhausted, more prone to temper. For some inexplicable reason, recently I haven't been able to care.

This last week has been almost a caricature--unnatural, copious amounts of candy and treats, to the point where I wasn't eating anything of substance over most of the day.

Then I had an image come to my mind of my body actually trying to make sense of all the garbage I was throwing into it, wondering where to dispose of all the excess fat and how to process all the glucose and how to keep my body functioning with few necessary nutrients. That's when it hit me. This body of mine is strong. It always keeps me functioning. And one day, it will just give up, unable to continue with the crazy diet I give it. What am I going to do about it?

I've given myself ultimatums and goals--once even going over 50 days without sugar, only to gradually slip down the slope into a lake of Snickers bars and self-loathing. I have yet to find the answer.

What I do know is that I'm thankful my battle is with sugar--not with some mind-altering substance that would render me helpless.

And I won't give up.

Enough of this.

The Halloween Experience

2011-11-01T06:05:00.007-07:00

I wish I loved Halloween.

I always have good intentions to make it a fantastic evening.

This year: eh. Mediocre.

I never can get good costume pictures. With kids like this, how is that possible? Hyrum is using his "force push" on me to prevent pictures.

Lily was the shopoholic.

Micah was Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Rum was Anakin Skywalker.

And Evie? It was the last year Mom could determine her costume, so she was a reluctant Yoda.

Hyrum had a parade at school that morning. Isn't his teacher hilarious?

But he saved his brightest smile for when he saw his baby sister was there.

Eve thought it was fun to actually go trick or treating, until she got to the first door, whereupon she cried, hid, and yelled NO at everyone she saw.

She lasted for the four houses in our cul-de-sac, which wasn't all bad, in my opinion.

Dad tried to negotiate a transportation/chaperone tax out of Lily. It didn't end well, let's just leave it at that.

Hyrum and Micah dumped all their candy into a big pile and left it open for anyone to take whatever they wanted, as directed by Micah. That invitation thinned their pile considerably.

All my kids were in bed, pumpkins snuffed and wrappers gone by 9:45, including Ben. Like I said, kind of boring around here on Halloween. We make up for it every other night during the rest of the year, right?

My Halloween philosophy: Eat as much candy as you want on Halloween night. Get it gone and out of my house as soon as possible. No more fights. No more sugar fits. No more chocolate-smeared wrappers found in the couch.

What do you do? Dole it out, one piece at a time, carefully monitoring sugar intake and counting KitKats? Or is there a sugar free-for-all?

Hope your night was all you dreamed it would be. Linking up to Boo in the Blogosphere.

Let the Fun Begin!

2011-10-30T20:56:00.001-07:00

Happy Halloween!

We're not the most creative of carvers here at the Sanatorium, but we do have fun!
Can't wait to see all the scary costumes.

Foto Friday--Good Night, Baltimore

2011-10-27T23:08:00.001-07:00

I must say, one of the top five vacations of my life. Nothing spectacular. Just loved every second.

Loved the people. So kind, polite, helpful.

Loved the city. So clean, accessible, beautiful.

Loved the countryside. So scenic, creative, educational.

I told Brad, more than once, that I'm moving here.

He told me I better find a sugar daddy to support me.

But in all seriousness, I want to find a fully furnished farmhouse to lease, somewhere in rural MD, VA, or PA where I can stay with my four littlest kids for at least three weeks this summer, maybe even four. (and possibly bringing a trailer full of goodies home?) Anybody out in that neck of the woods who can help me out?

Thank you, Baltimore. I'll never forget you.

Have a fantastic fall weekend. Temperatures in AZ are dipping to the low 80s. It really is FALL!

And, as a side note, Laura at Living a Big Story posted a link today to my life as a Mormon series. Thanks, Laura, for you nice words. You're really kind.

A Pilgrimage of Another Sort--Gettysburg

2011-10-26T21:26:00.001-07:00

Saturday was the only full day of the trip that Brad and I could spend together, so we decided to indulge our dual interest in history and my special penchant for the Civil War with an excursion to Gettysburg.

Funny sight on the freeway: only 2200 miles to Cove Fort--UTAH. I thought that was hilarious! Who drives that whole way?

Spending so much time alone with Brad was a treat, but an added bonus was getting to see, feel, smell, and experience a true Autumn. Arizona NEVER looks like this:

I got to wear jackets, sweaters, and BOOTS every day. We smelled crisp fall air, saw the leaves changing and felt them crunch beneath our feet. And--we filled our remaining extra suitcase with freshly picked Fuji apples. So yumm.

This may sound like any regular fall day to most of you, but if you live in the land of eternal summer, you understand what a delicious experience this was. I still sigh at the memory . . .

My favorite history class ever was History of the Civil War--some because of the professor, but mostly because I have been infatuated with the Civil War since I read Gone With the Wind the summer after fifth grade. I couldn't believe I was walking those orchards and fields, seeing Little Round Top with my own eyes.

We listened and learned and experienced. I gained a new-found appreciation for the strategy and luck involved with this encounter, and I couldn't believe I WAS ACTUALLY THERE.

So many graves. So many men. So many heroes. No matter your allegiance, it is such a reverent, still, sacred place.

Visiting Gettysburg--a fulfillment of a long-time dream. And Gettysburg in the fall? One of God's greatest creations.

Linking up to Jenny Matlock's Fall Break.

Day Two: The Pilgrimage

2011-10-25T21:35:00.000-07:00

Thursday night I got a wild idea: I wonder how far away the famous Lucketts Country Store is from Baltimore? As it turns out, just a quick 90 minutes! Off I went.

I wasn't disappointed. This store was everything I thought it would be and more--shed after shed of salvage and beauty.

The porches were deep with treasures and trinkets . . .

I even saw this famous room inside . . .

Room after room after room of wonderful, magical things . . .

Next door is another little shop, stocked floor to ceiling with creamy, sparkly, feminine things.

This was what I'd been hoping to see. Creativity explosion. Treasure trove. How I wish I had brought more than one empty suitcase. Luckily, I had room for a few treasures of my own: 6 wire locker baskets, a pewter pitcher, and a small Christmas star.

Sigh. It was two hours of pure bliss. As the owner of Lucketts said to me as she was wrapping my purchases: "There's nowhere like Lucketts." She was so right.

My drive back to Baltimore was interrupted with a quick stop at a roadside stand for some cinnamon roasted almonds (and regular for Brad), kettle corn, and a jar of cherry butter (which was unfortunately confiscated by a kind but insistent TSA agent at BWI airport). I loved Virginia--every last minute of it.

What could be better than this day was?

Good Morning, Baltimore!

2011-10-25T11:27:00.000-07:00

Landing at BWI at 11:45 pm Wednesday night wasn't the epitome of introductions to Maryland.

This is what greeted me the next morning:

Brad had used his persuasive lawyer skills to get us a room on the 29th floor, harbor view. Wow. What a beautiful city!

Brad was in class all day Thursday, so I spent some time searching the internet for salvage yards and thrift stores and antique shops to keep me busy. I was not disappointed.

Second Chance, Inc., is a set of four WAREHOUSES full of salvaged architectural pieces, furniture, whatever. I spent two hours wandering the aisles, dreaming of what I could do with their treasures.

Stained and clear windows, as far as I could see.

This window was especially impressive. I wanted to find a way to ship some of the treasure home--in particular two salvaged transom windows. They just don't have those here in AZ. Alas, completely impractical. But a girl can dream, right?

I know I just redid a couch, but who wouldn't love this one? Only $199. I never figured a successful route for it to travel to AZ, so in the thrift store it stayed.

I drove everywhere in the city--thank you, smart phone and your navigation system. I found thrift stores, junk shops, antique stores, garage sales, and every neighborhood had their own beautiful architecture.

I had to snap a picture of this radio--not because it was so gorgeous or anything, but because I was in this darling antique shop, managed by two old ladies whose cumulative ages had to surpass 160, and this radio was on the shelf, staged and plugged in--belting out "Edge of Glory" by Lady Gaga. I laughed out loud. Really? Lady Gaga?

Can't even remember how many stores I perused, and all I bought was a silver plated platter for a project I'm working on. But, for the first time in recent memory, just the discovery and adventure was way more fulfilling than armfuls of parcels. It was an absolutely perfect day.

And to top off this perfect day, I spent the evening with my husband at a nice restaurant, enjoying Maryland's famous crab cakes. Yes, they are everything you've heard, and worth every calorie.

And that's just the first day, folks.

. . . Dear Evie . . .

2011-10-24T11:55:00.000-07:00

October 23--Evie's big day.

It began with Lily making a chocolate cake . . .

. . . with two assistants . . .

. . . who were willing to perform any task necessary.

Then came presents. By this point in the evening, Evie was a little less than enthusiastic about the whole birthday thing. Luckily, she has big siblings who helped unwrap presents and got excited for her.

. . . Bitty Baby was a hit . . .

. . . especially the bottle.

Everyone wanted to get in on feeding and burping, even Hyrum took a turn. That was a little unexpected.

And then, of course, the cake. Hyrum insisted it have sprinkles.

We skyped in Heidi, Sam, and Ellie, and Evie couldn't take her eyes off the computer and "ELLL-IIEEE" long enough to care about the candles. Once again, a great time to be the youngest--everyone else huffed and puffed them out for her.

She didn't need any direction when it came to diving into the cake--but she did require a fork. Dainty little girlie.

The kids were patient for a little while, but they just couldn't stand it. So I let them all dig in with her. It quickly became a free-for-all . . .

. . . and ended with a cake carcass. No one seemed to mind, especially when I told them this morning that they could take "cake gobs" in their lunches. Much more fun than any slice of plain old cake ever was.

My Eve Diana.

Two years ago . . .

One year ago . . .

And just yesterday . . .

I can't imagine my life without this happy, spunky, beautiful, sweet, loving, cranky, darling daughter.

Happy Birthday, Evie!

No Foto Friday, Just Answers and a Pilgrimage

2011-10-21T06:01:00.000-07:00

Just a quick post from out here on the East Coast.

I had a few people ask me why I didn't blanch my peaches, because it would be so much easier, etc. I didn't blanch them because my kiddos are too young to work with their boiling slippery-ness, so we peeled them. And I must say, I actually liked it better. It kept the kitchen cooler and less slimy, that's for sure.

And as for the orange pillow on my new couch? I bought that silk fabric at the same time I bought the couch fabric--$7.99 a yard for 100% SILK!! I made two pillows, used pillow forms I already had, for four bucks a pillow. Did I mention they're silk? I love that store--the name of the store is SAS, and I don't know if they have them anywhere in the country besides AZ. It's a factory seconds/bolt ends/garbage dump/rummage sale for fabric. It's so fantastic. You can't ever go expecting to find a specific fabric, but if you are flexible, you can really find a steal or two (or four). If you're ever in AZ, stop by my house and I'll take you (and if you live here and want to go, I'm always up for a trip!).

As for vacation, I'll post about that next week. Loving every minute. I didn't have any real plan for today and Brad has class, so I decided to make a quick pilgrimage to Leesburg, VA, and drop in on Miss Mustard Seed's shop. I can't wait, and I promise I'll take a few (dozen!) pictures.

Have a great weekend!

A Little Old Lady No More

2011-10-20T05:56:00.002-07:00

I've been trying my hand at finding neglected furniture at the auction and redoing it. It's been fun, and as long as you know what to look for, it can save you a ton of money. I found this beauty at the auction a few weeks ago.

An old grandma couch from 1968. Lemon-lime with cream. Not the cutest girl in the room, that's for sure, but I could tell she had great bones--clean, classic lines, solid construction. I sat on it--no broken springs. I shook it--no wobbles. I even looked under her skirt--legs were in great shape. I decided to watch what she went for that night at the sale. Bidding started at $40, and I ended up getting it for $50--with buyer's fees and tax that's right around $60! I brought it home and promptly put it away, trying to keep the "grandma couch smell" as isolated as possible while I looked for fabric.
Fabric hunting took longer than I thought--three to four weeks, actually. I was looking for something really tailored, masculine, lightweight men's suiting style, and I couldn't find what I wanted anywhere. When I did, I knew that was THE fabric. And at $3.99/yard, fifteen yards only set me back $60.

On the top of my bucket list right now is learning to reupholster--I have two small chairs that I'm going to tackle as learning projects. But doing an entire couch? Not now, probably not ever. I have a great upholstery company that has done a few projects for me, and I dropped off old grandma couch at Shirley's to see what magic she could work.

Old grandma couch had been at Shirley's shop for a few days, when I answered the phone and heard the squeals of my upholsterer on the other end of the line. You have no idea what you just bought, she began. Then she proceeded to relate the details of the couch's construction to me--solid oak frame with legs that are one continuous piece of that frame, special coils and padding, etc. She said that I couldn't get a couch of that quality at Ethan Allen any more. I would have to special order those springs from Thomasville, and the couch would run anywhere from $3,000 to $5,000. Your kids will never wear this thing out, she concluded, and she knows my kids, so that's really an endorsement.

I could barely wait the week it took to finish it. Here is what it looks like now:

I get so happy every time I see it. Here are another few shots:

Can you believe it's the same couch? They added padding to the cushions and modernized the piping details on the arms, but that's all. I couldn't be happier. It went from an old grandma in a flowery dress to a young man in an expensive suit. And while I was reading a design magazine, I came across this picture:

No. That is not my couch. It is the Jackson sofa from Williams Sonoma. Starting price $2250. I scored--big!

Lily came into the living room, took one look at the new couch, let out a squeal (this is a girl after my own heart!) and exclaimed, "It looks like a couch from one of those design shows!" Thank you, darling daughter.

But my favorite response yet has been Brad's reaction. He was a little leery of this whole new hobby--it does entail spending some cash, that's for sure. But when he saw the finished product, sat on it, evaluated the workmanship, etc., he asked, "So, do you really like it?" Duh. "Well, if you do, then we need a new rug and a new chair as well."

Now that's what I like to hear! I'm on it!

Linking this post up to My Uncommon Slice of Suburbia and Miss Mustard Seed's Friday Furniture Party.

A Mom of Boys

2011-10-18T22:31:00.001-07:00

There is nothing like being the mom of boys. Especially my boys. God did not give me easy-going, relaxed boys. He gave me high-energy, short-attention-span, loud-as-airplane-engine boys.

They are FUNNY. They are SMART. They love to have fun and learn anything and everything. They love to read and pretend. And they say the funniest things.

I was walking down the hall a few days ago, and I cornered Hyrum.
"I love you so much I could just EAT you!"
"That would be gross. I would just taste like blood and meat. Yuck."

This is about as much as we see of Ben lately--Sunday.

He's busy with football, work, and a budding social life. Today he rode his bike 6 miles to school, had 2 1/2 hours of football practice, rode his bike 6 miles home, burst through the door in his football pants and cleats, yelled, "Someone make me a sandwich . . . with MEAT!! I have a basketball game right now!" He switched uniforms, snagged the ham and havarti sandwich off the counter and we ran out the door to watch him play ball. I don't know where he gets the energy to do that (probably from meat sandwiches).
Ben has entered a stage I love--where he is much taller than I am, and he occasionally will snag me around the waist and give me a quick hug. There's something about these big man-cubs that just melts a mother's heart. If you have little boys, just wait. There is nothing better.

My favorite part of being mom to so many boys is watching the way they treat their sisters. I often wish I had my camera to capture the small moments of kindness I see--Ben walking through the store with Evie on his shoulders as she drools on his head and pulls his hair, or watching him play a game with Lily, even though he really doesn't want to. Hyrum sharing his cup or giving Evie his silky blanket when she cries. Micah strolling down the sidewalk, gently leading Evie by the hand then giving her a ride around the cul-de-sac in the Jeep.

I wouldn't trade these wild, crazy, loud, smart, kind (did I mention wild and loud?) boys for anything in the world. Mothering boys is such a gift.

Why Didn't I Do This Years Ago?

2011-10-17T20:57:00.000-07:00

I remember it well--fall was time to can and freeze.

I remember snapping beans, blanching tomatoes, grinding applesauce, peeling peaches and pears, and even once I remember canning fruit cocktail (that was an adventure we never repeated, if I remember correctly). Sticky floors, boiling syrup, bubbling pots, and beautiful bottles lining the counters. Mom enlisted her army, and we helped (I think we helped).

I can a few times a year, but I've always hesitated to include my kids. It's too messy. It's too annoying. It's easier to just do it myself. This year, I decided that they needed to have the joyful experience that is canning peaches.

They each had their assigned tasks: Hyrum was Official peach mover--from the counter where I'd sorted them to the island where we were working. Micah was official peach splitter and pitter. Lily was Official Assistant peach peeler and slicer.

One Saturday we did 14 quarts, and the next Saturday we did 13 quarts. So little complaining. So little arguing. They laughed and joked and helped and cooperated. It was heaven with a sticky floor.

My pantry shelf now glows with their peachy sweetness, and I already have teachers' Christmas gifts, made by me and my little monkeys.

And the peaches? The peaches are just a bonus. I just wish I'd made this a yearly tradition for the last--22 years.

Linking up to Anti-Procrastination Tuesday.

A Mom of Girls

2011-10-16T20:54:00.000-07:00

Can you tell . . . which daughter just got out of the bath?

One of my most enjoyable moments as the mom of girls who are far apart in age (Heidi is nine years older than Lily and Lily is nine years older than Eve) is watching their relationships develop.
Little Sister always goes through a stage of hero worship. Evie is currently in that stage--mimicking everything Lily does, asking for Lily all the time, wearing Lily's shoes, whatever.

And Big Sister thinks they have a living, breathing Baby Doll in the house. Lily is currently in that stage--choosing Evie's clothes, cuddling up with Evie while watching "Say Yes to the Dress" (anyone else love that show as much as Lily?), doing Evie's hair, whatever.

Another of my favorite moments is seeing how Heidi cultivates her relationship with them. Even though she's far away, she does girl things with them when they're together--pedicures, cooking, whatever, and I know that that bond will continue between Evie and Ellie.

I love being the mom of girls.

Here's a question for you all: Ever been to Baltimore? Brad and I are headed there this weekend, sans kids (Thanks, Grandma Tucker!), and I need the lowdown on all the great places to go and shop and eat and experience!

I Always Want to Be with My Own Family . . .

2011-10-14T01:28:00.002-07:00

Final question: I know that when you are married in the temple, you are sealed to your husband for eternity. Any children born into that marriage are automatically sealed to you. But what happens when those children grow up and get sealed and have their own children? Are they all sealed to you too? Will everyone in the celestial kingdom just end up being sealed to each other? I have been dying to ask someone about this. Please tell me what you think!

I purposely saved this question for last because, as you know, my family is my favorite thing in the world. For more general information on marriage, click here.

source

June 23, 1989--I was almost twenty years old and that day would change my life literally forever. At 9:25 am in the Salt Lake City temple, Brad and I were married for time and sealed together for all eternity. The covenants that we made with each other and with God would not only keep us together while we live here on earth, but these sacred promises extend even after we die--no "until death do we part." Always. I would always have Brad by my side, and any children who came to join our family would be ours forever, because our family was sealed by a covenant unbreakable by time or death.

I knew that this was the beginning of everything I'd ever dreamed of--a handsome husband, and children who, one by one, expanded our family's circle of love. Each one came and I was almost surprised how I instantly loved them with all my soul and how I almost forgot what life was ever like without them.

For thirteen years, I kind of took these promises for granted. I went along, busily living my life and raising my family, learning to love most of my job as mother of my family. Then, my whole world came crashing down around me.

On September 10, 2002, I lost my fifth child, a stillborn daughter.
So much of that time in my life is a blur--barely suffering through each torturous day, feeling her loss and my pain so intensely that I couldn't eat or sleep.
So much of that time in my life is sacred to me--lessons I learned through my suffering that I know God couldn't have taught me any other way. I learned compassion. I learned patience. I learned about pain and suffering, and I learned that I was stronger than I ever thought possible.

Most importantly, I remembered something I'd always known--families can be together forever through Heavenly Father's plan. I knew that even though my pain was real and overwhelming, God's plan covered my loss, and if I am faithful to the covenants I made in the temple and at baptism, one day I will have my sweet, tiny tiny daughter again. I will see her, comb her hair, look into her eyes, hold her close to me, and never let her go again. The promise of this eternal blessing is what got me through that dark time in my life.

The pain of this trial has lessened over time, but the scar has never disappeared. I often credit that experience with the miracles that are my last three children. Someday I will share all of their birth stories and the lessons I learned through bringing their spirits to earth.

Life moves on, and as sure as rainbows follow rain, children grow up and move out and find someone they love above all the others. They decide it's time to get married. When Heidi told me she had found "the one," I wasn't quite ready to have her leave the nest, but from the first day I met Sam, I have been amazed at the ease with which he has slid into our family--never missing a beat--and he loves and takes care of my daughter in ways that make me proud. The day that they were sealed in the Mesa, Arizona temple was a day of joy and celebration, for all of us.

Now that I am entering the next phase of life--the next generation of Denton descendants--these covenants mean even more to me, because I know how far-reaching and vital these promises are. Ellie is sealed to her parents, Heidi is sealed to Sam, Sam is sealed to his parents, and Heidi is sealed to us. I am sealed to Brad, and I am sealed to my parents and my siblings, who are in turn each sealed to their spouses and children.

It's a never-ending chain, where not only immediate family but extended family will be able to eternally continue those loving bonds fostered on earth. This chain isn't as much like the chain on a swing as it is like a chain-link fence--the chains go back generations as well as across generations. The goal of eternal marriage is like they say in Lilo and Stitch: Ohana means family. Family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten.

Life will always throw us a curve ball when we least expect it. I take great comfort in knowing that if anything ever happens to a member of my family, we will be together forever, as long as we keep our part of the covenant, stay obedient to the commandments, and endure to the end of our life on earth.

And I wouldn't want to miss out on a single moment with this bunch. This is where I belong. Always.

Thanks for taking the time to read my posts this week. I would love to hear your comments or any further questions you may have. It has been a joy for me to think about what I believe, why I live it, and how to share it with you.

Fifth post in a series of five:

Monday: Why I Believe

Tuesday: Missions and the Plan of Salvation

Wednesday: The Son of God, Birth and Conception of Jesus, Mormons and the Trinity

Yesterday: The Bible and Other Sacred Texts

The Bible and Other Sacred Texts

2011-10-12T22:46:00.002-07:00

Before starting today's post, I would like to respond to a few comments from yesterday. Brittany and Alycia kindly corrected me on an error I made. Catholics do not worship Mary. I had mistakenly thought from all the small shrines I see in people's yards and from cathedrals I've attended that it was worshipful instead of respectful. Thank you for your kind correction, and I will adjust my thinking accordingly.

And this is Erika's question from yesterday. She wrote:
That's very interesting about God and Jesus being flesh and bones. I've never thought of them in that way, but it actually makes sense. Particularly in thinking about Heaven on Earth, or the new Earth. It definitely would be easier to explain them to my children that way as well. What would you recommend reading to understand that belief more? Thanks for this series. I truly respect your willingness to be so open.

I was feeling the exact same way about all of you. I have been happily surprised at the responses, comments, emails, phone calls and texts I've received about this series. Thank you for being so accepting, understanding, and truly kind, even disagreeing with respect. I knew there were people out there that could discuss religion openly and without conflict. You are amazing.
In regards to your question, the best place I've found to answer questions about God the Father is this link on lds.org. If you have any further questions, feel free to email me, and I'll answer as best I can.

Today's questions:

Do Mormons believe in the inerrancy of the Bible?

I hope anyone who knows me in real life knows how I feel about the scriptures. I love them. I love reading them, I love comparing and contrasting them, I love teaching them, I love searching them, and I especially love finding answers to my life's challenges in them. I try to study them every day, but I am far from perfect on this. Sometimes life crowds out my time with the scriptures, and when I find my way back, I feel like I am back in the arms of a friend. Richard Scott, another apostle for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, gave a talk on the subject of scripture study just two weeks ago. He said, "Scriptures are like packets of light that illuminate our minds and give place to guidance and inspiration from on high. They can become the key to open the channel to communion with our Father in Heaven and His Beloved Son, Jesus Christ." Read his complete talk here.

The Bible--how I love it. I love to read about the life of Christ and His apostles in the New Testament. I feel of His love for others in His parables and stories. The Old Testament has some of my favorite stories to teach young people of my Church, especially the story of David and Goliath in 1 Samuel 17. How many stones did David take for his pouch? Five. How many did he need? One. Why did he take five? He knew the Lord would help him, but he didn't know when and he needed to be prepared. Kids can understand this and relate.

As members of my Church, we use the King James Version of the Bible. There are so many different versions and translations of the Bible that it's hard to know which version is closest to the original, and our Church has decided to use this version.

When I studied Medieval History, I became intrigued with the translation and reproduction process involved with copying scripture. I know some people believe that truths were maliciously removed by leaders or purposely changed to fit different schools of thought, but my personal belief is that many, many pious and righteous men spent their entire lives meticulously copying or translating these holy words, and I know most tried to do their best to be as accurate (and as beautiful) as possible. Over as many centuries and editions as the Bible has traveled, I'm sure mistakes were made, however innocently or purposely. As members of the Church, we believe the Bible to be the word of God as far as it is translated correctly. How are inaccuracies determined? Individually and through personal study.

Are there any other texts Mormons consider sacred or as God's Word?

If you've heard of the Mormons, I'm sure you've heard of The Book of Mormon: Another Testament of Jesus Christ. This volume of scripture is what separates us from other Christian denominations. If you would like to read more information on The Book of Mormon, click here for more in-depth answers listed on mormon.org. The Book of Mormon teaches of Jesus Christ from every page. It contains the record of people who left the Old World, led by God to a New World. It recounts their history and their church. It also relates Christ's appearance to them after His resurrection. (We believe that it was to these people Jesus was referring when He said, "Other sheep I have which are not of this fold" in John 10:16.)

We also include two other books as our scripture: the Doctrine and Covenants--a set of revelations given to leaders of the Church since Joseph Smith's time, and the Pearl of Great Price--Joseph Smith's translation of Matthew and writings of Abraham and Moses, and accounts of Joseph's experiences. These four books make up the canon of our Church. All four are considered God's Word to His people today, with no book being more valued than another.

It's impossible to know what you think of a book without reading it. In all honesty, I have only read most of the Old Testament, a hole in my study that I will one day fill. I have read the New Testament quite a few times, as well as the Doctrine and Covenants and the Pearl of Great Price. I have read The Book of Mormon many times in my life, and each time I come away having learned something different and new. I spent the last year of my life teaching The Book of Mormon to a class of seventy adults, devoting 25-40 hours every week to learning about it and learning to love it. I can wholeheartedly say that teaching that class changed my life. At the final class last April, I concluded with this:

"To say I've grown to love The Book of Mormon is inadequate. Since my call to teach this class [in July 2010], I have devoted my time to studying, pondering, learning, applying, living, and loving this book. . . . The Book of Mormon has strengthened my faith in Jesus Christ. It has deepened my resolve to live His commandments. It has altered and transformed my prayers. It has sharpened my perspective. . . . I see that I am forever changed. I see with new eyes."

Which edition of the Bible do you use and why? Do you consider other writings to be sacred?

If you have any questions about this post, email me or leave a comment.

Fourth post in a series of five:

Monday: Why I Believe

Tuesday: Missions and the Plan of Salvation

Yesterday: The Son of God, Birth and Conception of Jesus, Mormons and the Trinity

Tomorrow: Eternal Families

The Son of God, Birth and Conception of Jesus, Mormons and the Trinity

2011-10-12T00:01:00.004-07:00

What is the Mormon Church's take on the Trinity?

I may be one of the few members of my Church who has studied the Council of Nicaea (thanks to a degree in Medieval Art History from BYU--not very handy in my daily routine, but it was handy today when I could pull A.H.M. Jones' The Decline of the Ancient World off my shelf for reference). Although I am far from expert, my understanding is that most Christians believe in a oneness of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. We believe in God, the Eternal Father, and in His Son, Jesus Christ, and in the Holy Ghost, but we believe that they are three separate entities, with the Father and the Son having bodies of flesh and bone, whereas the Holy Spirit is just that, a Spirit. The Godhead, the term we use in place of "Trinity," is One in purpose--helping direct fallen man back to live in Heaven, with the Son and the Holy Spirit always doing the will of the Father.

image from here

What does the Mormon Church teach about the conception and birth of Jesus?

Who do Mormons say Jesus Christ is? THE Son of God or A son of God?

We believe that Jesus Christ is THE literal Son of God, "the firstbegotten into the world" (Hebrews 1:6). Mary, Jesus' mother and a virgin, miraculously conceived a Child--the Messiah, the One Anointed to become our Savior. How this happened no man knows, but I consider Christ's mother one of my personal heroes. Imagine her struggles--coming from a small village, engaged to be married, and she's suddenly, inexplicably pregnant. Think of the ridicule and the loneliness. I can't imagine her suffering and her strength to endure. We do not worship Mary as other churches do, but I am so thankful she was willing to fulfill what was asked of her.

One of our most beloved songs, one that many consider to be almost our Church's anthem and a lullaby I've sung to all my babies, is "I Am a Child of God." Although we as Mormons believe that we are all children of a loving, personal Heavenly Father, we know that there is only One--Only Begotten Son in the Flesh. Jesus Christ is the Way, the Truth, the literal Son of His Father, born into mortality to fulfill all righteousness. Born to fulfill the will of His Father, completely and fully. His is THE Son of THE eternal God, His Father and Father of us all.

Let me conclude this post with the words of another of my personal heroes--Jeffrey Holland, currently serving as an apostle for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Here are his words about our belief in Jesus Christ, THE Son of God:

I could never fully explain Jesus Christ and His role in my life and what I owe Him. I hope this answers your questions. Feel free to ask further questions or leave comments of your own today.

Third post in a series of five:

Monday: Why I Believe

Yesterday: Missions and the Plan of Salvation

Tomorrow: The Bible and Other Sacred Texts

Friday: Eternal Families

Missions and the Plan of Salvation

2011-10-11T00:01:00.010-07:00

I chose Tuesday to post about missions so I could get Tucker's response to Jen's question:

I have so many questions to ask about missions and missionary work. Sort of like what are the reasons you go through them and if it's required for everyone to do missions?

Here is what Tucker said:

Missions are a sacred privilege and duty. No one is compelled to serve a mission, but all worthy young men have been strongly encouraged to do so, to the point where many feel it is obligatory. . . . Initially, motives range from obligation by church leaders, to compulsion from parents, to . . . The reasons morph quickly to a love for the people, a love for the Lord, and a love for our mission. I guess in short, the reason we're here is love. We love these people and know what we have will help them.

I've struggled trying to find the words to answer this question. I never served a mission. My dad and brother never served a mission. Brad served a mission from 1986-88 in Tokyo, Japan, but that was before I knew him. Tucker's is the first mission I have experienced first-hand. The best information you could read about the why, who, where, and what of missions is here, on mormon.org.

It's difficult to explain to people not of my faith what a mission means to a young man, to a family, to a mom. As the mom, the minute that new baby boy is placed in your arms, you hope that one day, nineteen years from that very moment, that newborn son will no longer be yours and it will be time to entrust his care to God for two years. We have no input on where they serve or what language they will speak, but we know that those two years will be fully dedicated to serving their Heavenly Father, serving their fellow man, and hoping to teach others about our Church.

Young men, ages 19-26 are strongly encouraged to dedicate two years of service on a mission. Young women, ages 21-28 are also supported in their decisions to serve 18-month missions. Why the difference in time served? I don't really know. Senior couples who no longer have children at home are also strongly encouraged to serve--any amount of time from 3 months to 2 years. Couples (like Tucker's mission president and his wife, pictured above) are also asked to serve as presidents of each of the missions, serving for a period of three years. Missions are largely paid for by the missionaries and their families. Members who wish to serve missions but are unable to pay for them are supported by the Church with money from the General Missionary Fund, voluntary contributions from members for this purpose.

As a mother, my greatest desires for my missionary son (and the three following behind him) are these:

I know that the best way for teenage boys to grow into men is to leave the sometimes overprotective care of their mothers to serve God for two years. During this time, they learn independence, people skills, and life skills like budgeting and living with others. What better way than to be completely away from everything you know?
I want Tucker to stand on his own beliefs, not just the things he has learned while growing up in our home. I want him to know in his own heart and mind what HE believes.
I see blessings in my family as he is away serving the Lord. My children are less selfish in their prayers, always remembering Tucker and hoping he's safe and happy. I am more aware of how hard it is for these young people, and I see what a great sacrifice it is, not only of their time, but other things as well, like time away from friends, learning a different language and culture, living with people you've never met before.
Most of all, I want my boys to learn to love Jesus Christ and God above everything else. What better way is there than taking two solid years focused solely on that?

While on missions, missionaries spend time finding people who have sent in requests to receive a Book of Mormon or talk with missionaries. Missionaries talk to people wherever they go, looking for opportunities to serve and work and teach. Tucker helped people board their homes for Hurricane Irene, then spent an entire day helping people clean up from the aftermath. They seek out lost members of the Church, encouraging them to return to Church.

One thing many people point out about members of my Church is that in general, we are a happy people. Happy not because our lives are so easy and trouble-free, I can tell you. Mormons in general are happy people because of our belief in God's plan of salvation (also called "the plan of happiness"), one of the primary ideas that missionaries share with the people they meet.

For an in-depth explanation of the plan of happiness, you can go to this link on mormon.org.

My own explanation is this:

I believe that before we were born here on earth, we lived in Heaven, with our Father, God. He had a plan for us to return to live with Him one day, and that plan included getting a body and coming to earth for a mortal experience, where we would learn to love others, choose right from wrong, experience pain, sorrow, happiness, families, sin and the joy that comes through repentance. I love that it was a PLAN. It wasn't just something that happened or was thrown together without thinking about it. God had a plan, and at the core of that plan is man's happiness. In order for man to appreciate joy, there had to be sorrow. To appreciate health, there had to be sickness. To compensate for sin, there had to be the miracle of forgiveness and repentance--all part of a master plan.

The crucial piece of this Plan is Jesus Christ. Jesus agreed to come to earth, be born into mortalilty with immortal power, suffer and die for man, which He did.

Our job here on earth is to make our way the best we can through this mortal experience, using the tools God has given us to find our way back--the scriptures, covenants, prophets, families, repentance, and the Atonement of Christ, among other things. Life is hard and we all stumble. Luckily, Christ led a perfect sinless life that we can look to for comfort, guidance, and most importantly, forgiveness.

When our life here on earth is complete, we will return to that God who gave us life, approach Him and His Son at the judgment seat, and account for our days on earth. If we are worthy, we will then spend eternity in God's presence, enjoying the blessings that are awarded to those who are His--immortality and eternal life.

This plan for our salvation, this plan for our eternal happiness (not necessarily earthly happiness), this plan of mercy and redemption--the knowledge of this plan is what makes Mormons a happy people, what gives us a perspective on this life. There is more to our existence than just earth, there is more to our existence than just suffering and hard things and trial. Bad things happen. So do good things.

There is a plan.

The knowledge of that plan makes me happy, and that's why missionaries serve. They have so much joy that they want others to understand why.

I hope this answers your questions a little. I would love to hear your own beliefs about the plan of salvation and the purpose of life here on earth. Leave your explanation or ask any further questions in the comments.

Second post in a series of five:

Yesterday: Why I Believe

Wednesday: The Son of God, Birth and Conception, Mormons and the Trinity

Thursday: The Bible and Other Sacred Texts

Friday: Eternal Families

Why I Believe

2011-10-09T22:34:00.000-07:00

I spent the last few days thinking about Karen's, Alycia's and Jen's questions contained in the comments section of this post. Your questions made me reflect not only on what I believe, but why. It's been an interesting journey. Thank you, friends. I hope this series of posts can shed some light on your questions.

image from here

I was born into a Mormon family--many generations back on both sides. It's all I've ever known really, so I don't have any perspective of Mormonism from outside my faith. One statement has always puzzled me: "Mormonism is a cult." I don't know exactly what people mean when they say this.

I worship God the Father, and His Only Begotten Son, Jesus Christ. I call myself Christian, and I feel this word accurately describes who I am and what I believe. I do not worship Joseph Smith, Thomas Monson, or any other man who has lived or will live on earth. I respect and honor Joseph Smith as a man who was persecuted for his beliefs, a man who had a difficult task to perform on earth, like I respect Mahatma Gandhi, Abraham Lincoln, or any of the other Founding Fathers. I believe Thomas Monson to be the man currently holding responsibility for me and the other members of my Church. He is nothing more than a man, doing his best to be obedient, and chosen to lead a large group of people who believe in the teachings of Jesus Christ.

I attend the temple whenever I can. The practices in LDS temples are best described here. In essence, the temple is a sacred place on earth where members of the Church can go to ponder and think about holy things or personal problems, away from the distractions of daily life. The lessons taught in the temple aren't secret. In the temples around the world, we are reminded of the importance of obedience, chastity and virtue, studying the scriptures, and devoting our time and energy and talents to working in God's kingdom here on earth. We also covenant with God that we will follow these commandments. These covenants--two-way promises between us and our Father in Heaven--are not secret, but they are so sacred to us that we keep them private, so that they remain sacred and personal. Marriages are also performed in the temples. I'll talk more about that on Friday.

Let me describe myself a little bit:
No one forces me to do anything. Ever. As a child, I would call black "white" just to be obstinate. I am very opinionated, often admittedly to my detriment, and I'll try to prove my point to my dying breath. And that's just my good qualities.

True, I was raised a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, but I consider being "converted" to its teachings, doctrines, beliefs, and practices a lifelong journey. My parents never forced me or my siblings to attend Church--it was always our choice, but we knew where they stood on the issue and where they would be for three hours every Sunday.

When it was time for me to get married, no one forced me to marry in the temple or take my children to Church or pay tithing or read my scriptures or pray or volunteer to work in my ward (a term for a Mormon congregational division). I do these things because I've tested their promises. I know that when I take my family to Church, we are happier and are one in purpose. I know that when we pay our tithing, there is always enough money to meet our expenses. I know that the scriptures contain answers for me and the problems I face and questions I have. Why? Because time and again I have found what I desperately sought in their pages.

When I serve others in my ward--whether I'm teaching a class or cleaning the meeting house or watching the little kids in the nursery--I am happy, and I know that no matter how small my efforts may be, God is pleased with my offering. It isn't a contest of who can be the most important or pay the most tithing or work the hardest. The underlying beauty of the Church that I belong to is this (as summarized by Dieter F. Uchtdorf, one of our Church's leaders): "God knows that some of the greatest souls who have ever lived are those who will never appear in the chronicles of history. They are the blessed, humble souls who emulate the Savior’s example and spend the days of their lives doing good." (For the text of his entire message, click here.)

I spend my days teaching my family, working, studying and thinking, praying and playing--and trying to "do good." And every day I reconvert myself to the teachings of Jesus Christ. It's an ongoing, lifelong process.

Why do I believe? Not because my parents believe it or because a man in a dark suit in Salt Lake City, Utah, requires it. I believe because I've tested it, and I know it's where I belong.

Today: My personal conversion

Tuesday: Missions and the Plan of Salvation

Wednesday: The Son of God, Birth and Conception, Mormons and the Trinity

Thursday: The Bible and Other Sacred Texts

Friday: Eternal Families

Foto Friday--Two Tests

2011-10-07T15:32:00.001-07:00

Two tests today:
One trip with Micah confirmed what my mother instinct had already told me:

Four weeks in a cast and two weeks in a splint. At least it's not summer and I have to try keeping him out of the pool. Funniest thing at the doctor (same doctor who treated Micah's broken leg two years ago--they're buddies). After Micah had relayed his dog poop humiliation along with the agony of a broken arm:

Dr. P: Micah, knock, knock?
Micah: Who's there?
Dr. P: Europe.
Micah: You're a poo?

They were both laughing hysterically. Then, completely out of nowhere--

Micah: Knock, knock?
Dr. P: Who's there?
Micah: Phillip.
Dr. P: Fill a poo?

Micah made that one up on the spot, and Dr. P and I were rolling on the floor, impressed by his brilliance.

Test #2:

image from here

In honor of my friend Catherine in NZ who is fighting through her last few treatments of breast cancer, I decided it was time to join the club--the mammogram club. I've been nursing babies or pregnant, and at 42, it was finally my turn to get smooshed. It's October. Remember your mammogram.

Have a great weekend. I will. It's been 75 degrees two days in a row, and I've been able to wear boots both days! You know it's a great day when . . .
Answer that one, friends!

Yikes. Yet Another . . .

2011-10-05T20:53:00.001-07:00

X-ray. Yikes is right.

I couldn't invent these stories if I tried.

Micah took a dip off our swing Monday afternoon, and he landed in a way that hurt his elbow.

It was still swollen and painful the next morning, so we took a quick 90-minute trip to Urgent Care.

X-rays were inconclusive, but it did reveal a dark cloud around his elbow, called a "fat pocket," which often indicates a break. We have another x-ray scheduled for 11 am Friday. For now, he's in a splint and a sling.

Seriously. This week has been a doozy. The worst part of Micah's fall, he will tell you, is the complete humiliation he suffered as he fell. Not from the fall itself, but from the dog poop that somewhat cushioned his fall. Nothing like super stinky shrieking through the house.

Linking up to Jenny Matlock's Alphabe-Thursday. Hopefully no x-rays next week.

I Belong . . .

2011-10-04T20:33:00.001-07:00

I'm a Mormon--a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Shocking, I know. Maybe you've heard that I have a missionary serving for my Church in NYC. Check out my sidebar. Now does it sound familiar?

All joking aside.

On October 2, my Church launched what is being called a "media blitz" in the Phoenix metro area--TV and radio ads, billboards, buses, the works. It even made the local news.

Why? you may ask. Is it because Mitt Romney is running for president (who I don't particularly love as a candidate, even though he's Mormon)? Is it to get people to join the Church? Not at all. The three reasons for this media campaign are 1) to express our Church's strong foundational belief in Jesus Christ, 2) to dispel any myths people may have about our Church's beliefs and practices, and 3) give people a place to go where their questions can be answered.

Our Church has two main websites: mormon.org and lds.org. Either site is accessible to anyone, with lds.org more geared to members of our Church who want to find articles/material published for its members. Mormon.org focuses on people not of our faith who may have questions about our beliefs, and our Church has encouraged members to create their own profiles on this website. My husband, Brad, has completed his profile, accessible here, if you're interested.

I thought this was as good a time as any to address my membership in my Church. So, before I create my profile page, I thought I would ask the people I know who are not of my faith what questions they have about my Church and my beliefs. Is there anything about Mormons that you've always wanted to know, but were too afraid to ask, or you didn't know anyone who could answer your concerns? I'm that person. I want to use your questions to help create my mormon.org profile.

Leave a comment or email me, and I'd be happy to address your questions, either in a post, an email, or when my profile is created.

And if you're so inclined, take some time to watch the video profiles on mormon.org.

Fall? It's Still 100 Degrees

2011-10-03T21:56:00.004-07:00

The forecast promises temperatures below 100 this week, so I pulled out the fall decorations. One thing I detest about AZ is the lack of fall--no sweater weather, no falling leaves. Nothing. But at least I can make it look like it's crisp outside.

Here's a look at my living room mantel. It's hard to get a good shot of the entire fireplace, since it's partially blocked by an enormous black piano.

My goal this fall was to buy no new items and see what I could do. I almost made it--the only thing I bought was the berry sprigs--a rope of about 100 sprigs for $17.99, and they've made an appearance just about everywhere in the house.

I wrapped a few around candles, tucked another few under vases. I used my burlap scraps from my guest room curtains (described here) as a makeshift mantel scarf, and I love the texture.

I asked for a little photography assistance in this post, and I listened. I read the first few lessons on 3 Boybarians, I messed with the shutter speed, and I used my 50 mm lens. I couldn't be happier.

This old scale may be my new favorite thing--that and my 50 mm lens.

Who would have thought I already had all this cuteness in my fall decorations and in my tchotchke closet (closet described here)?

Linking up to My Uncommon Slice of Suburbia and Sugar Bee Take-a-Look Tuesday.

Foto Friday--But Today Isn't Friday?

2011-10-02T21:09:00.001-07:00

I've had a BUSY weekend. And for me, that means BUSY!

Thursday night was Ben's big Homecoming game. The jury was still out on whether or not he'd get to play (see Thursday's post about X-rays). Coach said he'd play, but he didn't guarantee how much.

The game was actually close for a while. Then, with the score 34-16 in the fourth quarter, Ben ran in the extra points! So fun to watch him do that, his first points ever! Ben rarely plays offense, and he touches the ball even less often. What a fun surprise.

I scooped up the little kids and took them home to bed. It was so late, and they all had school Friday. Before I even got home, my friend Mark sent me this text: "McKay (his son) scored a touchdown." Then, before I could even read the full text: "And Ben scored the extra points!" Then this one: "!!!!!!!!" I'd missed it! Mark did leave out the small detail that Ben had tried to score the touchdown, but he'd misjudged the distance of the ball and let it pass through his hands and bounce off his face mask. Wish I could have seen that so I could razz him a little.

Luckily, Mark thought to photo the after-game celebration. Can you find Ben?

It might be a little easier in this shot:

Friday--I had offered to host a party for the sophomore crowd that was too young to take dates to the Homecoming dance (our Church's standards recommend dating after kids turn 16). Ben told me ten people were coming: three guys and seven girls. I planned a make-your-own pizza bar and Just Dance. How could that get messed up, right?

Wrong. One of the girls had to help set up for the dance, so all the kids volunteered to help. They came, built their pizzas, then went to the venue to help. I thought, "Pizza will cook for 25 minutes, cool for 10, then they'll be back." Nope. Almost an HOUR past when they were due back, they showed up. And there weren't ten kids. There were fifteen.

Easy enough. Pizza cuts into slices, fruit salad is served in scoops, chairs and place settings can be added, and there were a few extra cupcakes as well.

This was the first time I'd met almost all of these kids, and I couldn't believe how polite and kind they were. When the meal was gone, all of them helped clear dishes, strip the linens, whatever I needed.

Then we tried for a group shot on the stairs. Any suggestions on improving group shots in inadequate light?

Whew. What a fun few days.

So glad that they won. So glad that they came over. So happy to meet his new group of friends. I couldn't have picked better myself.

I Swear I Didn't Stage This

2011-09-28T19:09:00.003-07:00

Sorry I didn't post yesterday. We've been a little ocupado around the Sanatorium.

What I really wanted to post was a huge Thank-you Kiss for all of your personal and kind comments yesterday. Thanks for reading, and thanks for commenting. I want to email each of you personally, and I plan to do that tomorrow. These two commenters have no email address, so . . .

Catherine--I was wondering where you've been. So sorry to hear about your challenge. Email me, would you? jenny.denton@cox.net

Nikki--Talk about a surprise! I'm so flattered. Truly. I thought my mom was the only person besides me that had read every single one of my posts. Thank you. Email me too!

This is what has been keeping me busy yesterday and today:

Lily was home from school with the flu--a flu so terrible and devastating that I found her on the floor of her bedroom Tuesday morning, two small puddles of bile on the carpet. TMI, right? Just keeping it real.

She was sick all day, and another, even bigger surprise awaited me when I picked Ben up from football practice. He has been recovering from his yearly bout with bronchitis, nothing weird there. Then, the bombshell--shortness of breath; inability to take a full breath.

This is one of the times that I count myself extremely lucky to have a very dear friend who happens to be our family doctor. A quick text and a thermometer and stethoscope investigation later, and my suspicions were confirmed--possible pneumonia.

Fast forward to today, 11:50 am (I even left the time and date on the x-rays to prove this is no fabrication!). I kept the two little kids interested in McDonald's chicken nuggets while the techs took two pictures of Ben's insides.

And what did they find? Two VERY healthy lungs, just aggravated with a post-infection inflammation.

Good news: If he's up to it, he can suit up and play the Homecoming football game tomorrow.

Bad news: He has to eat humble pie after making the announcement on Facebook that he doesn't really have pneumonia.

Not that bad of news.

X rays courtesy of SimonMed Imaging, just in time for Alphabe-Thursday. Can you believe my luck?

Why Do I Blog?

2011-09-27T11:22:00.002-07:00

I've been pondering this question for a few months now.

Blogging for me has been an ever-changing experience.

When I first started blogging, way back in November 2008, I was captivated by Stephanie Nielson's story. I had never read her blog before her accident, but I became enveloped in her recovery. I met a few bloggers through comments on her blog and on her sister's, CJane, and a few friends had blogs of their own, so I jumped in.

I remember feeling a little embarrassed to tell people that I was "blogging." Luckily, my friends and family reluctantly added me to their google readers. I was blogging for over two months before I received a comment from a "stranger." That was exhilarating, and a little addicting. I have found a core group of women--all across the country and a few around the world--with whom I visit regularly. Some a few times a week, some daily. I consider you all friends and wish somehow I could host a huge "Denton Sanatorium Gala Weekend" and have you all fly in for a girls' weekend of chatting and chowing. I can dream, right?

For a while, I became obsessed with the number of comments, followers, and page hits per day. I participated in a few different memes, I tried commenting on blogs I liked, hoping they'd be my friend and read my drivel in return. That was exhausting and time-consuming, but I had a hard time letting go of the whole "popularity game."

Of late, that popularity pull has gotten weaker and weaker. I still wonder why one post generates many comments, and others only one or two. Sometimes my feelings are temporarily bruised when I see a friend has commented on someone else's post and not mine. But I've been consciously trying to change my focus of why I blog.

Yesterday, a friend posted this--Blogs and Dodos. I knew it was time to tie my thoughts together into a somewhat cohesive ball and share them with you.

Why I blog now, today, September 2011:

I realize I'll never be NieNie.
I understand my piddly attempts at design will never make Miss Mustard Seed.
I know I'm not as profound and deep and intelligent as . . . I don't really read anybody like that, anyway. Do you?

What I have come to understand is this: I blog for me. Sometimes I blog to brag about my auction finds and what I've done with them. Sometimes I blog to share some great mothering idea that I've finally implemented. Sometimes I blog to show off my beautiful, amazing kids. Sometimes I blog about TV or politics or society, just because I find it interesting at the moment. Sometimes I blog to reestablish connections with those of you who are far away, and many of you whom I have never met and probably never will.

Bottom line is I always blog for me. I think I'm finally ready to accept the position this blog plays in my life--it's for me, and for those of you who follow along on this ride, thank you. And if all of you end up deserting the blog world for Facebook or Twitter or some grand technology not yet in place, that's fine. I will still be here.

I'm not the fanciest or the best dressed or the smartest or the funniest or most creative.

I'm just me. Head administrator at the Denton Sanatorium.

And I'm fine with that.

Thanks for the Help

2011-09-26T11:03:00.001-07:00

To all of you who commented on my post Friday, thanks.

Myke: My standard lens is a 15-85 mm, and I usually love it, but maybe I need to mix it up a little bit. Just dug around in the camera bag and found a 50 mm. I'll try that one this week. I've also tried the sharpening feature, but then the pictures just become more pixelated, and that is intolerable. As a side note, your post-script on your Neil Diamond post today was hilarious! Seriously. Click here to read it.

Diana: I'm going to visit her site this week--that sounds like a good idea, and I'll look into that book. A side note: I've lost your blog. Help me!

Taralynn: Your comment cracked me up, because I actually bought that book this week! Advice: it's $10 to download and $20 to have it sent. I paid the $10, and it cost me $8.40 at Americopy to print and bind. Not a money saver, but you know impatient me!

Kara: I'm bringing my camera and lenses to the park tomorrow, so consider your offer accepted.

Gabe: I'm going to follow her lessons. Your pictures speak for themselves.

Sloan, Jen, Pondside, Me Too, Amy, Em: Thanks for the positivity. What really matters is that I captured the moment, right?

And here are a few pictures Lily took of Evie in the bath. She's got a knack for the camera, that girl!

Don't know what Lily had been feeding her to turn her tongue that color . . .