Happy Mother's Day!

I heard this essay read in church some years ago. It is a very touching way to describe a mother's love for each of her children.

I've Always Loved You Best 
by Erma Bombeck

It is normal for children to want assurance that they are loved. Having all the warmth of the Berlin Wall, I have always admired women who can reach out to pat their children and not have them flinch.

Feeling more comfortable on paper, I wrote the following for each of my children.
 
To the First-born: I’ve always loved you best because you were our first miracle. You were the genesis of a marriage, the fulfillment of young love, the promise of our infinity.
 
You sustained us through the hamburger years. The first apartment furnished in Early Poverty … our first mode of transportation (1955 feet) … the 7-inch television set we paid on for 36 months.
 
You wore new, had unused grandparents and more clothes than a Barbie doll. You were the “original model” for unsure parents trying to work the bugs out. You got the strained lamb and three-hour naps.
 
You were the beginning.
 
To the Middle Child: I’ve always loved you the best because you drew a dumb spot in the family and it made you stronger.
 
You cried less, had more patience, wore faded, and never in your life did anything “first,” but it only made you more special. You are the one we relaxed with and realized a dog could kiss you and you wouldn’t get sick. You could cross a street by yourself long before you were old enough to get married, and the world wouldn’t come to an end if you went to bed with dirty feet.
 
You were the continuance.
 
To the Baby: I’ve always loved you the best because endings generally are sad and you are such a joy. You readily accepted the mild-stained bibs. The lower bunk. The cracked baseball bat. The baby book, barren but for a recipe for graham cracker pie crust that someone jammed between the pages.
 
You are the one we held onto so tightly. For you see, you are the link with the past that gives a reason for tomorrow. You darken our hair, quicken our steps, square our shoulders, restore our vision, and give us humor that security and maturity can’t give us.
 
When your hairline takes on the shape of Lake Erie and your children tower over you, you will still be “the Baby.”
 
You were the culmination.

How To Buy a Dog in 12 Easy Steps!

This weekend, our family added a puppy to our home! This is a project that I've been working on for quite a while, and finally the stars aligned. Plus, my daughter finished potty training a few weeks ago and I decided that there was no better way to enjoy my new freedom than to teach something new where to go potty.

My family had two dogs in my youth. The first was acquired for free through one of my dad's patients, who's dog had a litter of puppies they wanted to get rid of. Our second dog was the offspring of a friend's dog, which they did pay for. My mom's childhood dog was also a freebie.

Our dog acquisition story was completely different, as we did not know one person with puppies to dispense to friends. I found that seeking out your own dog is much more complicated than getting a freebie puppy. Maybe I made it more complicated than it needed to be, as I was determined to be educated and responsible about the whole thing. I learned a lot, so I thought I'd pass on my experience in 12 easy steps to prepare/help another novice for the process.:

Step 1. If you want to buy a dog responsibly, you will first research what breed best fits your lifestyle (For example: exercise needs, shedding, and size of dog). Stay tuned for an upcoming post on this step alone!

Step 2. Become familiar with your state lemon laws on buying a dog... like if the seller is legally required to provide you with a state health certificate. Other good protections are a contract allowing you a few days to have the animal checked by your own vet and a health guarantee (1 year, 5 year, etc.) on the animal.

Step 3. If you want to buy a dog responsibly, there are two paths of purchasing a dog. 

1. A responsible breeder who adheres strictly to the AKC breed standards, tests their animals' health rigorously, and ideally shows their dogs creating "champion" lines... which seems kind of obsolete since it will be a family pet and you'll be neutering it but, hey, you want a healthy dog
2. The animal shelter. 

There is no responsible middle ground. Of course, if a pet store puppy winds up in the pound then you have the green light! 

Step 4. You will soon discover that breeders who adhere strictly to the AKC breed standards, rigorously test the health of their animals, and show their dogs creating "champion" lines, have waiting lists months out for expected litters and charge more than a mortgage payment for their puppies. Budget and common sense will prevent you from forking out the money. Instead, you will obsessively contact every breeder of your Step #1 breed you can find within a 6 hour radius, in hopes of finding a puppy that comes close to your budget. You will not. You will wonder who all the people are that are paying for dogs at these prices. Don't they know our economy is in the tank?

Step 5. You will then move your search to the local dog shelter. There you will discover that the majority of the dogs available are: Pitbulls, Rottweilers, Pitbull/Rotweiler mixes, Bulldogs, or Bulldog/Pitbull mixes. None of the dogs here are on your Step #1 list.

Step 6. One day, in a moment of weakness, you will visit the website of a local pet store. And then again... and then again.... Soon you will become comfortable with the idea of irresponsibly buying a dog from the pet store. Upon inquiry, you will learn that they also charge the equivalent of a mortgage payment for their dogs. Their dogs are supposed to be inferior. Apparently, they don't know that. That's okay, because puppy mill horror stories have been haunting your conscience anyway.

Step 7. One day, in a moment of desperation, you will search for puppies on a local ad website. You will find that the majority of dogs available are: Yorkies, Bulldogs, Chihuahuas, and Pitbulls. None of these dogs fit the list you created in Step #1.

Step 8. Your local news channel will play a segment on people who are burned after buying dogs from ad website sellers. This will scare you back to responsible puppy research.  

Step 9. The process of finding an affordable Step #1 dog from a responsible breeder has become like an addiction for you. It is the ultimate puzzle to be solved. Your husband will become overwhelmed by the blackhole you have fallen into and declare he is willing to share a home with any breed of dog, in hopes that this will facilitate a decision and he will soon have his wife back.

Step 10. Your parents will not understand the trouble you are having (see second introductory paragraph), and wonder why friends with puppies aren't knocking down your door to get rid of them. You will curse Bob Barker and the spay/neuter campaign, resent that your friends aren't overburdened with puppies, and wish that your streets were filled with stray dogs to take in. You recognize the irony of being so selective about buying a dog, when you wouldn't care what breed a stray dog is... But you can't help yourself. 

Step 11. After weeks of research with nothing to show for it, you will decide that maybe you have been too close-minded in your breed criteria and consider new breeds. Repeat steps 1-10. This will always lead you back to your original list. 

Step 12. Finally, when you can't take it anymore and you think you're brain will literally fry, through divine intervention you will find your puppy (responsibly or irresponsibly- it's your choice)! You welcome your sanity back, your husband will welcome his wife back, and your children will be elated with their new furry friend.

Now, you just hope your puppy will live up to all your expectations after spending the best years of your life on researching and hunting for the "perfect" dog.
So far, she is.

Seed Bouquet

"If plants could be credited with reasoning powers, we would marvel at the imaginative ways they bribe or ensnare other creatures to carry out their wishes. And no more than when we consider the strategies devised for the dispersal of their seeds." -Jane Goodall

I was reminded of this sentence as my family took a walk one fresh, clear, spring evening. No child (or adult) can resist the whimsical lure of the dandelion to send a puff of seeds sailing into the air like little, miniature umbrellas. Especially, my sweet, little girl. Weeds are her bouquets of choice these days, and each little yellow flower she spots in the grass is a treasure to be picked.

Air Fare

Included services for a single $700 plane ticket:

• Flight across the country
• A seat on the plane
• An additional charge if you actually want to bring stuff
• Mandatory pictures taken of you naked
• Frisking (if you're lucky)
• Body search and delousing- oops- wrong list
• Peanuts 
• Random searches of your stuff (if you're lucky)
• Luggage being handled with the utmost care and respect

Isn't flying the best? It's the only service in America in which you pay hundreds to thousands of dollars to be treated like an inconvenience.

Madness

This was my daughter's 2013 NCAA Tourney bracket. It gave my bracket stiff competition- and yes, I actually filled one out. How'd your brackets do?

Do As I Say, Not As I Do.

Last night, my son was reading to me out of "The Book of Mormon". He read a verse that contained the word 'idleness'. The footnote for the word led him to the Topical Guide. When we looked up 'Idleness' in the Topical Guide, the words 'procrastination', 'apathy', and 'laziness' were suggested synonyms. These are words that make me uncomfortable. Then my son started asking questions to obtain a better understanding of what qualifies as idle behavior. Questions like:

"Say you're one of those people who likes to sleep a lot. (Done) And say it's the weekend and you don't have any special occasions. Would sleeping in the morning be idle?"

or

"Say you're up all night working on a science project and you don't go to bed until 1:30. Would it be idle to sleep in really late?"

I will not lie. I had no idea how to answer these questions. I wondered why my son was condemning me. I honestly wanted to teach my son good values. On the other hand, I wanted to reserve the right to sleep in every now and then on weekends without answering to my son. 

We had a good discussion about how important sleep is for our bodies, and times when it's good to sleep a lot- like when you're sick. But then he wanted examples of when sleep is idleness. I was not ready to betray my good friend Sleep. Nor did I want to take on the title of Hypocrite. I lamely responded with indirect answers. It didn't work, my son was on a quest for truth. Then, I realized it was way past his bedtime and informed him that he needed to go to bed and we could talk about it later. What a wonderful lesson in procrastination.... I'm concerned that my name might be included next to it in the Topical Guide.

Happy Easter

"He is not here: for he is risen..."

-Matthew 28:6

 

Spring Break

Last weekend, our family decided to travel south and take in a Spring Training game. This is something we've been meaning to do for a while, and since our son is obsessed with baseball, and our daughter is too little to care, it seemed like perfect timing.

As expected, our family trip was accompanied with a modest dose of rain. This rain karma has haunted our trips ever since we took a day trip to Tybee Island 2 1/2 years ago. (I think we may need to revisit the site and chant some spell to cleanse us of this bad karma. I'm not a witchcraft sort of person, but I'm getting desperate). The rain has dominated an anniversary trip, a trip to the desert, and now this one. Or spontaneity may be the key to enjoy good weather on our trips. In this case, I will need to prepare 72 hour vacation bags... ("The forecast says clear skies for the next 3 days. Grab your bags and get in the car now!"). 

For the first 90 miles of our trip, we endured crazy heavy rainfall. The next day, the sky was overcast but it behaved long enough for us to fit in our morning activities, which included walking around the temple grounds with our kids. I love to see the temple...

By lunch time the sky unleashed its fury. We were in the grocery store at the time. We heard much thundering, the store's lights flickered and went out, and we witnessed crazy hurricane type rain/wind in the parking lot. It was very exciting. We were very glad that we were not driving at the time.

There was a break in the weather, and we booked it to our hotel. As we drove, we were witnesses of the toll the storm took. Ten oak trees along the road had been completely pushed over, roots and all. (Note: this picture was taken the next day, sans rain).

We bunkered down in our hotel and watched a movie together on my husband's laptop. The weather cleared enough for us to go downstairs and take advantage of the pool. This  consisted of sitting on the edge of the pool with our legs in the water because the water was so cold. Apparently, outdoor pools need the sun to warm them. Imagine that. Even the spa/hot tub failed us, though my daughter enjoyed playing with the foam it made. I'm not sure what to think of that foam...

The next day- the day that really counted- was perfect! We enjoyed our game in sunny and comfortable conditions. Our daughter preferred to sit on any row but with us (already?!) and was done with the game before the first inning ended, and the home team lost. But, my son soaked in the baseball, my daughter learned how to do the Braves' "Chop", and they both got to run the bases when the game was over. This was perhaps the sweetest moment of our trip. As I stood in line with my son, he excitedly plotted to slide into home plate. As we got closer to the field, my husband met us and handed our daughter to my son so that she could run with him. He dutifully took her by the hand and carefully jogged around the diamond with her, holding her hand the whole way. He didn't even complain that he didn't get to slide. He was a true Big Brother looking out for his sister. 
Despite the weather, our family trip was a success!
 

Speed

This above blur is my son's Pinewood Derby car. My son and husband carefully and thoughtfully crafted it for weeks- sanding, painting, resanding, weighing, etc. It was fast. In fact, it was so fast it won the second place trophy!

I wish the story ended there. His car's placement meant it qualified for the District Pinewood Derby- which we didn't even know existed and (in complete honesty) kind of spoiled the win for me. I waffled as to whether I would take my son to Districts, since my hubbie was working that day and my son also had a baseball game that day. In the end I cast aside my doubts, sucked it up, and committed. I should have listened to my doubts. Districts was a Fiasco. The races were running behind when we arrived for our race time. We sat in a gym of chaos for 2 hours waiting for the first race to finish. We were the third race. We ultimately ended up leaving my son's car, drove home for him to change uniforms, relaxed a bit (sitting in a gym of chaos for 2 hours is exhausting), and returned at my estimated time of his race. From there we would drive to his baseball game. We completely missed the race! At some point during our absence, they figured out how to speed the process up. And to add insult to injury, his car didn't even place. A double whammy for my son. He cried as he grieved the death of a dream... and I suffered from excessive guilt.

Luckily, his baseball team had an awesome game (thank heavens) which helped ease his pain. But not completely. A few days later, in our calendar where I had written "Districts", my son crossed it out and wrote, "I did not go." Ouch. What a way to turn an initial sweet victory into a bitter memory.

Guess Who?

When my husband and I were coming home from Montana and waiting for our plane in NYC, we invented a game to pass the time. We would find people in the terminal who reminded us of someone, only with a feature that was completely wrong.  For example, "Your dad only with thick, grey, hair," or "Your dad with a beard and an Amish hat." This game continued after we got home. One of my husband's co-workers gave us symphony tickets they could not use. During the intermission we picked up our game again: "Your brother with a beard, playing the viola," or "Paul Ryan playing the bass." The fun of the game is agreeing or disagreeing over the person's likeness. And then laughing when it's spot on. I suppose it's a game I've always played in my head, so it's fun to involve someone now. On a side note, I find lots of people who look like Sam the Eagle. Now, I bet you will too.

Yesterday, a solicitor selling a product that can clean "anything" paid a visit to our home. As I came out of the house he exclaimed, "Why, nobody told me Mariah Carey is living here!" I immediately blew the compliment off as a desperate sales ploy to win my favor, and ultimately did not buy his product that cleans "anything". But, I found the compliment amusing, and it caused me to ponder... on what planet am I the likeness of Mariah Carey? I am white. I can't belt notes too high for people to hear. I have not had enhancements. I don't wear tiny dresses. And my house is the size of her shoe closet (just thought I'd throw that in for fun. But it's true.).

It wasn't until later, when I told my husband about this ridiculous comparison that he pointed out the truth... I had been a victim of our own game. This guy's got it all wrong though. You can't just make comparisons willy-nilly or that takes the fun out of the whole game. Or maybe that's another game altogether...

The Parable of the Homemade Shirt

"My mother, bless her, was a marvelous seamstress. In my childhood years, when money was short and new clothing hard to come by, she would sometimes make clothing for us to wear to school. I would see a shirt in a store window or in a mail-order catalog, and my mother would say, 'I think I can make that.' By looking at the shirt as closely as she could, she would then cut cloth and put in seams to a degree that was close to the expensive original.
"I pay her tribute of being both willing and able to do that. But she didn't like to do it that way. While she could study the commercial products and come close, what she really wanted was a pattern. A pattern helped her anticipate angles and corners and seams and stitches that were otherwise hard to recognize. Furthermore, if she went back for a second or third shirt, she was always working from a perfect original pattern, not repeating or multiplying the imperfections of a replica.
"I think you can see my point and hers. We are bound to be in trouble if a shirt is made from a shirt that was made from a shirt. A mistake or two in the first product- inevitable without a pattern- gets repeated and exaggerated, intensified, more awkward, the more repetitions we make, until finally this thing I'm to wear to school just doesn't fit. ...
"Now, I hope this helps you understand why we talk about the pattern, the ideal, of marriage and family when we know full well that not everyone now lives in that ideal circumstance. It is precisely because many don't have or perhaps have never even seen, that ideal and because some cultural forces steadily move us away from that ideal, that we speak about what our Father in Heaven wishes for us in His eternal plan for His children.
"Individual adaptations have to be made as martial status and family circumstances differ. But all of us can agree on the pattern as it comes from God, and we can strive for its realization the best way we can.
"We who are General Authorities and general officers are called to teach His general rules. You and we then lead specific lives and must seek the Lord's guidance regarding specific circumstances. But there would be mass confusion and loss of gospel promises if no general ideal and no doctrinal standard were established and, in our case, repeated. We take great strength in knowing the Lord has spoken on these matters, and we accept His counsel even when it might not be popular."

-Elder Jeffrey R. Holland ("General Patterns and Specific Lives", Worldwide Leadership Training Meeting, February 9, 2008)

Watch Your Back

Happy Daylight Savings. As my son said this morning as he groggily got out of bed to get ready for school, "Daylight Savings is stupid." These time changes, and air travel, always confuse me in a half-glass-empty sort of way. Did we lose an hour because we skipped an hour, or did we gain an hour because we moved forward on the clock? This is a debate my husband and I have every 6 months. But I digress...

Recently, my husband subbed for my son's Sunday school class. As part of an object lesson, he brought a baseball card of one of my son's favorite players. In the car after church, my son asked to look at the card. He studied it for a minute, and then said:

My Son: "This is a really cool card. I think one day it will be mine."
Me: (to self: Surely he can't mean how that sounds) "What do you mean?"
My Son: "You know, when he passes?"
Me: (to self: Yep, that's what he meant.)

It seems my son is already calculating his inheritance. My husband is now under strict surveillance.

Imitation Is The Highest Form of Flattery

It's fun to have a daughter. Before she was a twinkle in my eye, I would listen as my son declared how he wanted to follow in the footsteps of my husband or father for his future career. One night while doing the dishes I mused, "What? My job doesn't look like fun?" Well, we were blessed with a daughter, and I'm just beginning to feel the flattering effects of a copy cat living in the house. 

For example, the other day my daughter was playing with some abandoned flower pots in the back yard. She was filling two small pots with leaves, and dumping them into a larger pot. She then picked up a stick and informed me that she was cooking, and then began to stir the leaves. I reveled in it!

And lately, my daughter has been diligent about bringing her purse along whenever we go on a shopping trip. The other day, I informed her that we would be going to the store and began to prepare my purse. I didn't want to bring a diaper bag, so I stuffed an extra pair of training pants and leggings in my purse. I started out the door with her, but my daughter began to protest loudly. I asked her what she needed, and she went running back to her bedroom. She emerged with a pair of training pants and stuffed them into her purse as well! Then she was ready to go. It was hilarious and darling! She is learning the ropes of womanhood.