Sweet Sixteen

On Friday, September 21st, Richard and I celebrated our 16th Anniversary. Richard sent me on a fun treasure hunt last year, so this year I thought I could step things up a bit and put a little more effort into my gift and ultimately, our relationship. Here's what I came up with-

16 Candles- One for every year we've been married.

A note delivered with Candle #1 and breakfast that said:

Sweet 16 and you've never missed an opportunity to make me feel loved or give me a kiss,

so throughout today enjoy a gift or deed for every year of marital bliss. 

(I know it doesn't really rhyme- I was brain dead.)

#2- His favorite soda pop.

#3 His favorite gum.

#4 Route 44 Coke Zero with lemon served along with...

...#5- Lunch from Bajio.

#6- A favorite candy bar.

#7- A gift card for a healthy lunch.

#8- A favorite snack.

# 9- Sweet sentiments

#10- Another favorite snack.

#11- Yummy chips

#12- Money for movie tickets.

#13- Favorite dessert. 

No, I didn't just give him the box, I actually made it for him.

#14- A little something to relax after a hard day of work.

#15- A garment steamer for making dressing for the corporate world a little easier.

#16- CENSORED!  :) We are married after all.

It turned out to be a really fun day and Richard was surprised and pleased with all of his gifts, which in turn made it all the more fun for me.

A Request

You know how you don't want to talk about something or in this case, write about something, because you're afraid if you do then it will really be true? Well, that is partly why this post has taken me so long to write.

You see, a little over a month ago, August 12th to be exact, my friend, Gerb, showed up at my church along with her husband, Allen. I was excited to see her poke her head into the overflow and catch my eye. She motioned for me to come and talk to her. We were having a missionary farewell that day and since her oldest son had just left on a mission, I thought that perhaps the boy speaking was one of his friends and that they had come to come to listen.

The look on Gerb's face and the way she suggested we go outside to talk told me otherwise.

My mind was racing as I crossed the short expanse of foyer. I associate with Gerb along with two other friends that if something was dreadfully wrong, which I had the feeling this was going  be, she would come get me out of church to tell me. Since I had seen the back of Rachel's head a few benches ahead of me, I knew it wasn't her. That left one person- Jason.

I thought perhaps he had injured himself on one of his solo desert excursions, but my mind questioned why she didn't just call to inform me? That is when it registered that I needed to brace myself for what was coming. Gerb told me that our amazingly gifted friend, Jason, had left us the day before to return to our true home and to our loving Heavenly Father.

My mind rebelled at the thought of someone so full of life being absent from it. Since then I have had the hardest time grasping the loss. I have cried many tears at the thought of the world without this friend. Since it has gone on just as before without coming to a grinding halt as you feel it should when you lose someone close, I figured he really couldn't be gone. Could he? This had to be some cruel twisted joke or elaborate hoax. I even told Richard that he had to be in the Witness Protection Program because there was no way Jason could really be gone.

I thought about driving past his house or visiting his classroom to find out the truth, but I haven't. I don't really want to know. Deep down under all of the denial I knew, accepting the truth hurts.

But last week, the realization of a world without him started to settle in around me. His picture taking presence was absent at skate night. He did not ride the saddle at Texas Roadhouse for his birthday dinner. His blog has been stagnant. His phone disconnected.  He is not driving any of the blue Hyundai Santa Fe's that pass me on the road. And, I hear there is a different teacher in his classroom, though I haven't been able to bring myself to go find out.

So if I seem a little quiet, slightly distracted or a little slow to laugh, please, bear with me- I miss my friend - and getting used to a new "normal" is hard to do.

Dallin Said- Race Day Filings

Yesterday, I ran my first race since having surgery on my foot this past winter. It felt really good to be back in the saddle, so to speak.

Runner's high.

Running this race was kind of a last minute decision, but since I had been running with my friend Rachel as she trained anyway, I felt like this decision was meant to be. I easily found someone selling their race bib and they happened to actually be in my age division. It was a sign!

Finish line hugs.

I seriously re-thought this meant-to-be scenario when, 2 days before the race, I acquired the stomach bug my children had been passing around since school let out. Luckily, it was a fast and furious 24 hour kind of thing and even though, I was feeling a little pooped (pun-ny), I was able to make it to the bus and down the course finishing with an official time of  2:42:02. Our unofficial time is more around 2:31, due to my running buddy's call of nature and the race organizers lack of porta-pottys at mile #6. Seriously, the wait time for a turn during a race should not be almost 11 minutes!

But, we are happy with our unofficial time considering we only had a month and a half of training with little to no running up to that point. I proved that my foot is back on track and Rachel, who suffers with Chronic West Nile, showed that pesky little mosquito just who is boss.

Happy finishers.

My wonderful friend and neighbor, Carrilyne was running her first full marathon yesterday also, so of course, I had to stay and see her triumphantly across the finish line. With Richard having business in the Philippines, my munchkins were on their own until I got home around 10:30 in the morning.

Me with my marathon hero.

I walked through the front door, carried by the euphoria of a runner's high, expecting an excited chorus of greetings asking me about my race. Instead, I got this-

Dallin: "Clean it up."
Me: "What?"
Dallin: "The cat puked. Clean it up."

(A long, probably too long, stunned pause.)

Me: (in my best angry, but hurt voice) "I love that I come home from just running 13.1 miles and I don't even get a "Hi, Mom. How was your race?" I just get a demand- clean it up."

Dallin: "Soooorrrrry. I'll file that in my brain under things not to say if you ever run another race when the cat pukes."


Please, give me another race to run. It's far easier than dealing with a 9 year old.


*Thank you to Rachel and Kristen, who I shamelessly stole these pictures from off Facebook. Thanks for all of the great captures.

Hunger Games

A little less than a year ago, our kids discovered a computer game named "Minecraft". Really, I don't find the appeal of it, but then again, I haven't found the appeal of a video game since the Atari was popular. That being the case, you would think Minecraft would appeal to me since the graphics look like an antiquated game of virtual blocks or Legos.

Evidently, I'm missing something very important about this game of creating virtual worlds because my kids are, for lack of a better word, obsessed. Obsessed in so much, that they will play or watch each other build worlds for hours and would wither away to nothingness if I did not remind them to eat.

With four equally obsessed children and only two computers you can imagine the fuss over whose turn it is to play. We have had quite the war of words and knock down drag outs over this little virtual playground. It infuriates me to no end, especially, when it gets down to tooth and nail.

 Literally.

That red mark on Dallin's upper arm? That, is a bite mark from his brother, Ben. And yes, it was done in a fit of rage over a dumb video game. How completely insane is that?

At first, I thought I had forgotten to remind them to eat and they were turning into cannibals! But, upon my question laden scolding, Ben's defense was that he has "anger issues".

I promptly told Ben that until he resolved those "issues", he could consider himself and his little button pushing fingers grounded. And, he was for an entire week. Dallin was also grounded for his part in provoking the bite, so we had one week free from fighting to the death over Minecraft. One simply wonderful week.

Maybe I should consider letting them starve more often. ;)

What Do You Find...

What do you find underneath all of this?

You've found treasure in this handsome young man I am proud to call my son.

 Even though, he refuses to obey when we tell him to quit growing and is now an inch or so taller than me.

*sigh*

Teenagers....they never listen.

My Best Christmas Present Ever

I was asked to speak in church this past Sunday. I may as well been told the end of the world was near. You see, I don't particularly like to talk in church, but I do it anyway. Kind of a type of self torture, I guess. But I told this story in my talk and decided that it would make a good blog post. And since I haven't written a whole lot lately I figured I would post what I have written. So to those of you who didn't have to hear me in person, you get to read it minus my shaky chipmunk voice and trembling hands. And to those of you who suffered through it already, I'm sorry and God bless you.

When I was growing up our family had a paper route which had to be completed every day, even on Christmas. I should say especially on Christmas, as the papers were very large due to the fact that they were stuffed with the ads for the sales to occur the following day. 

The massive amounts of ads caused the paper to be delivered in two parts requiring us to assemble the paper before trying to stretch a wimpy rubber band around the massive girth of those Christmas papers. Needless to say, many a rubber band broke making the delivery process even more tedious and lengthy. 

 Oh, how I loathed delivering those papers on Christmas morning.

It wasn’t just the process of getting the papers delivered, but the fact that we couldn’t open any packages or see any of our Christmas until all of the papers were done. The time came that the paper route became my responsibility after being passed down through all of my brothers and after 6 years of helping, I would be delivering the Christmas morning papers alone. 

I dreaded the very thought.

Christmas morning came and I could hear my parents upstairs rustling around and I knew that soon they would be coming for me. So true to the lazy teenager that I was, I pulled my covers up closer around me, clinging to the warmth and comfort that my bed offered and quickly drifted back to sleep. 

When I woke up some time later, knowing that my parents usually woke us around 6:00, I put off looking at the clock not wanting know the minutes left before the impending doom would occur. And that’s when it dawned on me that the light beyond my closed eyelids was a little too bright for 6am. I stole an glance at the clock- it was 9:06! The papers were late!

I rushed upstairs questioning my mom along the way. 

“Where are the papers? How come you didn’t get me up sooner?”  

My mother just smiled and said, “Merry Christmas! We got you a sub.”

Over the years, I have been asked about the best present I have ever received and to this day it remains the time my parents arranged a sub on Christmas morning for my paper route. This gift was nothing concrete that I could hold in my hands and only lasted the length of a morning, but the feeling and sentiment behind what others hands had done for me that morning has stuck with me for the last 20 years.

Back From Black

It has taken me over a month to get this post written due to computer complications (who knew a little light bulb could cause such a ruckus) and it isn't even what I really wanted to convey to you. But honestly, those feelings are hard for me to put into words. By the time you get to the end of it, I hope you understand and forgive me.

If the whole wedding reception tradition hadn't been so formal when I got married, I would have had two Bridesmen along with my Bridesmaids standing in the reception line. One of them would have been this guy, my friend, Digger.

Obviously, Digger is not his real name, but it is what he has gone by as long as I have known him and he still answers to it today. He is one of my best friends from high school who let me drag him to early morning Seminary Morningsides and kept Mr. Trimble's Spanish class, down right bearable. He could make me smile on the worst of days and took me to Senior Cotillion, when my R.M. boyfriend (Richard) had no interest in attending a high school dance. Although, I know Digger would have rather taken the girl that is now his wife.

But that life seems like a hundred lifetimes ago before we traded in the responsibilities and fun of high school for those of grown ups with families of our own.

Over the last three months, as I have gotten my children settled in to a new school year, Digger has watched as doctors at PCMC settled his little girl, Gracie, into a medically induced coma. As I have shuttled my kids to and from basketball, football, and other lessons, he has watched as Gracie has been shuttled to and from the operating room for various procedures to stop or slow down the seizures that have taken hold of  her little 9 year old body. Over the last month, as I woke my children to each new day Digger and his wife, Mindy, have wondered if this would be the day they saw their daughters eyes again as the doctors brought her slowly out of the coma.

Sometimes life seems really unfair.

I want to tell you Digger and Gracie's story because of a video I saw the other day. It was delivered to our inbox from a radio talk show host that we regularly receive mass emails from. It was a video where a toddler, about the age of two, is hit by a delivery van in a Chinese marketplace and how many minutes elapse before anyone helps the crying baby. It was honestly, the most horrific thing I have ever seen. The horrifying part not being seeing that child cry out in pain, but to watch 18 different people walk or drive by, obviously notice the child and not do ANYTHING! I didn't, because I couldn't, watch the whole thing.

The talk show's host intent on sharing the video was to show what living in a communistic country, under heavy rule by the government in all aspects of their lives, does to the charitable and basic humanity of its inhabitants.

 I guess he got his point across because I started to think about Digger's little Gracie, her situation and how the people of the communities in Utah (and I'm sure other places as well) have handled it. Here is a little girl and her family who have spent over 100 days in Primary Children's in the fight of their lives, just like the toddler laying in the street. This fight has taken a heavy toll on their family- both emotionally and financially. Instead of walking by and hoping that the next guy will do something many people, some that know Gracie and even more that don't, have stopped to give aid to a girl and her family in need.

People have organized and carried out a 5K and carnival with enough participants to catch the media's eye. Neighborhoods have held yard and bake sales. Friends and family have participated in special fasts. Restaurants have held dinners in Gracie's honor and donated the profits. Accounts have been set up where annoymous donations can be made. It has blown me away to see how people have stepped up and poured out all kinds of charity simply because of the goodness of their hearts.

This is the world I am thankful to live in.

A world where, thanks in part to those friends and strangers who have not only supported Gracie financially, but also with positive thoughts and prayers, she opened her eyes after 11 weeks in a coma on 11/11/11. And now a month later, she has been moved out of the ICU to a Neuro Unit and is making miraculous strides in her rehab and recovery.

Isn't it amazing what a little compassion, coupled with hope and prayer can do? It saddens my heart to think of children living in worlds where compassion is crushed by the fear of  "getting involved" and hope and prayer are nonexistent in a God-less society. Now I know the video is not indicative of all Chinese people as a whole, so here is my hope and my prayer that the baby laying in the street was afforded a miracle, just like Gracie .