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.

Scout Camp

Last week, Ashton went to Camp Tifie to attend Scout Camp for the first time. Like a good mama, I helped him pack a change of clothes and underwear for each day, a towel, wash cloth and soap, various treats and snacks, and $30 in cash for items he needed from the Trading Post. Would you like to guess what came back virtually untouched after being gone for six days of camping?

I'll give you a hint- it wasn't the the cash or the snacks.

FYI- Boys are gross.

I love this photo of the Menagerie. All personalities on display.

It's All in the Family

Something interrupted me in a deep sleep. Being a creature of habit, I glance at the clock- 1:42 a.m. A dark figure in the doorway poses me the question, "What now?"

Normally, dark shadowy figures standing in my doorway in the wee hours of the morning would have given me heart failure, but this figure didn't have the voice of a crazed maniacal serial killer, just the endearing voice of my 12 year old.

My mind considered his question, "What now?" and honestly, since it was almost 2 a.m. I thought, "How about going back to bed?" Instead, I think, I answered, "About what?"

"The rocket!" came the reply.

"The rocket..."

"It looked like a light bulb."

My head was reeling. Was it my half awake state or the cold medicine I had taken before bed that made this conversation so hard to follow and even harder to comprehend? I didn't get a chance to figure it out before the conversation continued.

"The rocket looked like a light bulb?" I had to ask.

"Yeah, and there's only one left."

I just sat there thankful the room was dark so he wouldn't see the confusion written all over my face. He jumped up on the bed and sat down, "So....what should I do?"

In my stupor I figured he was talking about either: 1- NASA's rockets or 2- His homemade rocket which consists of a film canister and Easter egg half glued on top and fueled by baking soda & vinegar, so I asked him point blank, "Are you talking about the government's rocket or your own?"

The irritated answer came as, "The government's!"

"Well, honey, if they are the government's rockets there's not much you can do."

He was quiet. My mind was trying to process everything in the ensuing silence and that is when it dawned on me...he was sleep walking and talking. He was taking after my side of the family!

I got him settled and back to sleep, but in the morning he could remember the last part of our bizarre conversation, so the questions began and the stories were told.

Stories that included those of my brothers mistakenly using the hamper as the toilet, how I got the scar on the right side of my forehead, and Richard threw in a few of the crazy things I used to tell him in my sleep as a newlywed. And of course, we had to tell the story to top all sleepwalking stories, about the night my brother, Nate, left the house, walked across our busy intersection to a friends home where he was dreaming he was to tell my other brother it was time to come home. Luckily, he woke up before he rang the doorbell. But the best part of the story? He did it all in his Yoda pajamas and bare feet.

So although, Ashton may have gotten Richard's eyes, sensitive demeanor, and intellect, I'm happy to know he got the fun DNA from me. I will sleep better at night knowing I have passed on something worth while. Well, after last night's little episode maybe that's not true, but at least, I'll have the laughs they produce to keep me comfortable while I'm awake.

Elvira and her Homie

Last week Richard and I were asked to help with a "Where's Waldo" type activity for the youth in our ward. We were excited to help out especially since it was Ashton's first mutual activity to attend and it gave us the chance to dress up like Halloween in January. Our job was to dress up incognito and stroll the corridors of the mall. The youth were told that there were members of their congregation at the mall and their job was to find them and answer the questions they had.

Easy right?

Not so much.

Especially when they look like this...

And this...

Elvira and her 'Homie' were totally out of character for both Richard and I, but I think that was what made it so fun for us. Maybe, not so much for Ashton since this was his first mutual activity at the mall, with his friends and his parents show up dressed like a couple of goons.

The best part for Richard and me was walking past Ashton twice and he didn't recognize us. Richard worried that he wasn't disguised enough, but apparently he was.

I also got a kick out of the looks both the leaders and youth got on their faces when they recognized me. It was priceless.
I have to thank my friend, Julie, for the use of her wig. And just so you know, I will not be going 'dark' anytime soon. (You can now breathe a sigh of relief.)

So the next time you go to the mall be sure to look closely around at those walking past you, they may not be the strangers you think they are..... they may be even stranger.

Recitals

As I see it part of a mother's job is to worry. And I am so happy about this job requirement because it is one I have down pat. I am seriously perfect when it comes to worry. So last week when Dallin had his first piano recital and Ashton had his guitar recital I was just fulfilling my role as their mother by worrying about it.

Dallin is shy, easily frustrated, and quick to tear up if that frustration doesn't disappear quickly- all the ingredients for a recipe of disaster when it comes to recitals. Especially first recitals. I knew he knew his piece "Frosty the Snowman," because it is all we have heard for the last 2 months in varying tempos and octaves. But I worried would it come off in front of a room of people, who with the exception of 5 family members and 2 friends, were complete strangers?

Then there was Ashton.  He has taken to practicing in his room clear on the other side of the house from the kitchen and laundry room where I usually reside, so I can't hear him. I really had no idea how his piece was coming along except for 1 or 2 impromptu performances and no "Can you get him to practice more?" calls from his teacher. He said he was good, so what could I do but take his word for it.

And cross my fingers.

Here are their performances.

Turns out I really didn't need to worry that much after all.

Constructively Destructive

He came home with it. That creative little glint in his eye that told me he had plans. I'm always interested to see what forms from that glint. The other day while I was busy with scouts he disappeared into the garage and built a protective covering for his tortoise's newly inherited outdoor habitat using hammers, saws, wire cutters, and a staple gun- all by himself. I was most impressed.

He busily got to work with clay, toothpicks, paint, fishing twine and cardboard and upon entering the kitchen to find a bunch of little clay balls of varying sizes, I discovered the making of a universe right in my very own kitchen. Now on any other day having the solar system formed on my kitchen island would have been thrilling, but as I had been fighting a headache since early afternoon thrilling was a little too much to handle.

By evening the ache in my head would not relent. Despite 2 doses of meds and resting in a dark room it continued to build until nausea became my newest worry. So just when each planet was getting its very own personalized paint job I lost my dinner, decided to throw in the towel, and just go to bed...leaving my 4 munchkins in the hands of a boy who was lost in the creation of the heavens- literally.

I woke up a 5 a.m. feeling grateful I hadn't decapitated myself the night before like I had been tempted to and got up to see where the other 2 who hadn't ended up in bed with me had landed. As I opened my bedroom door I realized my house was lit up like a Christmas tree. As I walked around turning off lights I found that every light was on in my house except three. Not to mention the 2 televisions blaring in deafening decibels. Wow, I bet the power company loves us.

I had been given a glimpse of the completed solar system through squinty eyes in the dark of my bedroom the night before, so yeah, I had no idea what it really looked like. So I headed downstairs to the kitchen to get a better look at the finished product. This is what greeted me...

Suddenly, I felt my headache returning and I turned around, went up the stairs, and back to bed.

Just this once, the universe was going to have to wait for me.

Constructively Nonconstructive

First day of school 2010

A week or so before school started, Ashton came to me with that look on his face and the famous summer phrase on his lips- "I'm bored."

I instantly responded with, "I've got plenty of things you can do." while the list of jobs that needed to be done scrolled through my head.

He quickly retaliated through gritted teeth with "I don't want to work, Mom." 

Since he had already completed his chores for the day I couldn't argue with him, so I listed a number of other things he could do. He wanted nothing to do with any of them and said, "I don't really feel like doing anything constructive." as he sulked out of the room. Figuring he would eventually find something to occupy his time I headed off to Cub Scouts.

When I came home he was busily at work surrounded by cardboard and armed with my glue gun. When he emerged he had created this masterpiece- a tech deck skate park.

I never have really understood what was so great about those mini skateboards they move with their fingers until I took the boys and some of their friends to the real skate park down the street.

Steep cement walls leading down into a cement pit with kids of all sizes zooming back and forth is not particularly my idea of fun. It's more like a nightmare ER visit with a head injury or gaping head wound waiting to happen. Needless to say, by the time we left I had 10 new gray hairs and a new found appreciation for the simplicity and safety of tech decks. Because really....what's the worse that can happen with a tech deck? Maybe a hangnail or at the worse, a sprained finger? Those injuries I can handle.

Also, if you have you ever priced the pieces that go into a tech deck park you know that they are certainly not cheap. I figure Ashton's nonconstructive ingenuity that boring summer day saved about $35-$45.

Maybe I should let him be nonconstructive more often.

This Interruption Was Brought to You By....

This 2+ week interruption Of a View from the Parke Bench was brought to you courtesy of the last week of school and the first week of summer vacation.

Events worthy of being too busy to post included;

-Benjamin's Pre-School graduation. He was beyond ready to move on from pre-school and is excited to start kindergarten in the fall. I, his mother, am really excited too. I think his pre-school teacher was ecstatic.



Dallin's acting debut in his class play/musical titled the "Three Piggy Opera". He played the part of one of the very nervous and shy straw peddlers.

As you can see he was a complete natural.



-Ashton's class award presentation where he received an award for making it into the "Foot Hall of Fame". To make it into the "Foot Hall of Fame," one must read as many books that are at least 120 pages as your foot is tall. And for a 5th grader whose feet are bigger than his mothers that is quite a feat. No pun intended.


The first week of summer;

-Memorial Day found us up north visiting with family, barbecuing, and sitting around the campfire. We made S'mores and a mess with these gigantic marshmallows that were about 4 times the size of a normal one.
They were awesome. Can you tell?

-Pedicures in the backyard. I did Emma's and she did mine. She gives a new definition to 'Glitter Toes'.

-A new chore system. Like anything new this is taking some getting used to and called for the resurrection of the "Nazi Mom".

(Sorry, no pictures are available because she ain't pretty.)

-Lessons in getting dressed by ourselves. These lesson include, but are not exclusive to the correct appendages in which underwear are applied.

(Note- If you are ever in need of a straight jacket try inserting the offending child's arms into the underwear and wrapping them around the shoulders. It works pretty well. I am considering this trick for all 4 children on our upcoming vacation.)

-Simply enjoying summer with my friends. Four of the best you'll ever meet.

Thank you for your patience. Regular posting, which is usually irregular at its best, will now resume into your regular blog reading which obviously, is already in progress. 

*Sorry about all the camera phone pictures, but I figured bad pictures were better than no pictures at all.

My camera is having issues with its shutter and is currently awaiting surgery at the camera hospital. No need to fret, if by some unfortunate circumstance he does not return, a replacement is already on its way.  

The Secret to Recovery

At 5:00 yesterday morning I was awakened by the sound of my name. I worked to peel myself off the love seat where I had fallen asleep when my body gave out late Saturday night. After a busy Saturday of finishing my first half marathon, attending a bridal shower for my niece, and a belated Mother's Day dinner with my family, the 13 stairs to my bed were too much; I simply couldn't go any further. But at 5 a.m. with much effort I made it up those stairs and to the source of the call of my name. It was Ashton, hot with fever and a really sore throat.

He was given a drink and I took my sore quads back down the stairs to locate the thermometer. By the time I got back up to his room he was complaining of nausea and asking for a bucket, so my sore quads and I went down the stairs again to retrieve a basin. We made it back just in time.

After a few more trips up and down the stairs of agony, I made my bed on the playroom couch right outside his room, but I didn't sleep; luckily, Ashton did. When he woke up he felt better in the way that you do after you have almost turned yourself inside out beginning with your stomach and the exhaustive sleep that follows. He called to me and I went in to find a wide eyed excited looking boy. He said, "Wow, I feel better." I replied with some remark of how glad I was. He continued as serious as can be, "I guess while I slept my white blood cells must have opened a spicy can of kick-butt on that virus." I nodded and smiled and after trying to hold it in, I laughed. How could I not? A spicy can of kick-butt. Where do they come up with this stuff?

(My sickie)

The thing is that spicy can of kick-butt must have not been spicy enough since his fever and sore throat stuck around and he stayed home from school today. So if you happen to know where I can find a can that is spicy enough- please, let me know. I have 3 other children that love to play follow the leader.

Dreams and Nightmares

Easter morning Ashton woke up after having a dream about owning a turtle with the desire and determination to have one of his own. Last Friday night, that dream came true since he had worked hard for and saved enough money to finally buy this Russian Tortoise.

Her name is Ricky; the short and feminine version of Richard, Ashton's dad. Can you tell my kids idolize their father?

I was not particularly fond of the thought of this purchase, but look at the smile on that boy's face? He even kissed her shell the other day when he took her school. Gross, I know. But how do you say "no" to a love like that? If you're a sucker like me, you don't....and you end up the co-owner of a turtle that will probably outlive you.

And this is where my nightmare begins. 

You can't have 4 kids and have only one of them get a pet. The others let out cries of unfairness and protest favoritism, so your husband takes them to the store and comes home with ...no not another turtle, but 3 goldfish and 2 very creepy arachnid-esqe crabs. I know it is probably just payback from all the birds, lizards, hermit crabs, and turtles that I as a girl tormented my own parents with. But fish? Why did they have to want fish? Really, is there any pet stinkier than fish?


Anyway, our aquatic family members have been dubbed Cocoa, Jason, and Chad (who as of yesterday, is now swimming in the greater waters above. YES! I mean...How sad). Ben's crab is named Anchor and Emma's is "Nice Crab" as she so lovingly calls it.
 

Within the space of 24 hours we went from being a one psychotic cat family to a seven blended pet family.

A horrific nightmare, indeed.

Now I have six five more strange, stinky, slimy, scaly, somewhat freaky, and helpless individuals to help take care of....

Okay, maybe it is do-able.

It's not too much of a stretch from having kids.

Just kidding...I really do love them.

The kids that is.

Kid-isms

I haven't posted a Ben-ism for a while because....I've been accused.
Of being partial.
By my mother.

I tried to explain that I can't help it if Ben is the main child home during the day that speaks in full sentences and does and says the silliest things, but it just doesn't stick in my mother's brain. I need to spread the love around, my mother says. So I have conceded to my mother to include some posts about some things my other 3 kids say.
And the truth... is they do say some funny stuff too.
Thanks mother.


*Emma and I went shopping one day. Our first stop was the Distribution Center to pick up my new scriptures.
As we walked toward the store Emma asked, "What we buy this store?"
"We are getting mommy new scriptures." 
"Get me scriptures too?"
"No. We'll buy you some when you turn 8 and get baptized."
(Really excited) "When I get my Holy Ghost?"

*Emma has taken after me and loves black "lick-lish". Only I call it "licorice".

*Dallin asked me what year it was in Canada.

*One morning as we hurried to get out of the door to school, Ashton asked Dallin, "Do you have lipstick on?" Dallin being embarrassed, hurried to wipe at his mouth as he emphatically declared, "NO!"  I explained to both boys that his lips were just stained from the Popsicle he had for a bedtime snack the night before. Ashton seeming somewhat relieved replied, " 'Cause dude, that's just not your color."  

*A few weeks ago we opened Ashton an e-mail account. The day after when he came home from school and I asked my usual "How was school?" question I was met with this very unusual and unexpected response as he ran upstairs- "I'll e-mail you." 

Spring Marathon: Easter

I don't know why they call it Spring "Break" because at our house it is never a break, it's more like a marathon. We just go and go until school starts again signaling our finish line. 
I have debated about how to record all of this because I want it for future family history and I have family members that keep up with us through blogs, but yet I hate to bore all of my friends with a travelogue. So I've decided to do it in parts and if you are bored all I can say is keep on scrolling... 

 Easter

Checking out their baskets.

Easter for our family was really simple this year. Life simply didn't allow time for anything else.  We didn't color eggs and the Easter baskets were simplified, although the kids still received enough candy to last them until Halloween. We didn't even attend any egg hunts, except for one on Easter morning in Grandma Jeanne's and Pop Marlin's livingroom. This room is not the ideal place for an egg hunt because it really has a lack of nooks & crannies that make great  places to hide plastic candy filled eggs. This made the whole Easter Bunny part of Easter very short, but that left the rest of the day to focus on the real reason we celebrate Easter.

Along with celebrating Christ's atonement and resurrection we did get to watch or hear all sessions of General Conference which led into a funny conversation with Dallin on our way to Goblin Valley that afternoon.

Dallin's finds.

Dallin- I wish Jesus was alive and living on the earth right now.
Mom- That would be cool, huh. But you know he will come again and we never know when, so we want to be trying to do what's right so that we can be counted among the righteous.
Dallin- Ashton makes that really hard.
Mom-  What's that?
Dallin- Trying to be righteous.
Mom- (fearing to ask) How?
Dallin- He does things to annoy me, so then I have to call him bad names.

Ashton & his loot

Those darn older brothers.....they're just gonna keep us from going to heaven because we have to call them  bad names!
You know, I kind of wish we could blame some of the not so good stuff on older brothers. Then when I reach the judgment bar I've got three of them to pawn stuff off on.

Maybe there is hope for me getting into heaven after all.

I hope you all had a wonderful Easter.

Ben's new movies

Grandma Jeanne helping Emma find an egg the boys didn't get to first.

Emma happy with her 2 eggs.

Worn out after a successful morning.

Arrow of Light

Upon entering the 'tween years there is another rite of passage that occurs in a young scout's life before advancing from Cub Scouts into Boy Scouts, that is earning the Arrow of Light.

 Ashton received his Arrow of Light along with his friend Jared, at our Blue & Gold Banquet held at the end of last month.

No more goofy award cheers or building derby cars that may or may not win.

Nope. No more of that silliness.

He is now on to serious court of honors, camp outs, and eventually, Scout Camp; long with a multitude of other activities that no doubt will put gray in my hair and etch worry lines in my face. I wonder if I'm really ready for all this more grown up stuff.

Thank heaven we have a year of being a Tenderfoot to practice. 

And I am glad to see he's not ready to grow up quite yet either.

More B&G pictures clockwise from the top left- 1.  My BSA birthday cake creation. 2. Dallin & Richard enjoying dinner. 

3. Receiving my 3 year service award. 4. Ashton pining on my Arrow of Light mother's pin.

#11 is Heaven...

...Especially when you are spoiled like Ashton!

And you choose steak & broiled shrimp for your birthday dinner followed by a Pepperidge Farms chocolate cake, receive a new air soft gun and a new game to play on your DS, and of course, some clothes which an 11 year old boy is very excited about- let me tell you.  (I'm sure he would be very excited about them if he were faced with the possibility of going to school naked!)

And then a week later, you have your friends over for a late
night where you receive MORE presents, eat Cookies & Cream pie, and have a fantastic time bowling at the BYU Rec. Center. Then to end it all, you come home to play Runescape and run around sounding like lunatics with a volume that would wake the dead (or at least neighbors that are trying to sleep) playing night games outside.
In a word-
AWESOME!

Happy Birthday Ashton!!!

We love every spoiled inch of you!

Oh, and speaking of bowling...This is what I had in my head the whole time we were knocking those pins down. I thought you might enjoy it.

Needs

After spending too long at our weekly girls night on Thursday, I came home and darkened the lights, locked the doors, put the cat away, and lay across the foot of my bed exhausted past the point of easy sleep. I inserted my ear buds to drown out the sound of Nick Jr.’s “Oobie,” which would occupy Emma’s attention until she drifted off to dreamland, and dialed up my most recent download on my iPod.

I just caught a snippet of this song on the radio that morning while dropping the boys off at school and it stirred something in me. So I went home and downloaded it, but I hadn’t had the time to really listen to it until I lay down to sleep that night.


As the lyrics swirled around in my head, I thought about;

My 11 year old who couldn’t go to bed until I was safely home. Making it a much later bedtime than a school night should be,

My sweet boy who went to bed with his newly lost tooth stuffed under his pillow counting on the Tooth Fairy to compensate him generously,

The boy, that earlier in the day, I was ready to sell while shopping at Wal-Mart, but who as night falls can’t sleep unless it’s in mom’s bed,

And my baby girl, who lately has a case of the "Me do it myself"-itis, still wants mom’s hand to hold as her eyelids grow heavy, finally, giving those beautiful brown eyes a much needed rest.

But as the song ended, I realized that even though I always tend to think it is me that they need, maybe it is really the other way around.

Kitchen Moments

There are times in my life where I am reminded of how lucky I am to be married to the man I call my husband. Times when I am grateful for his patience while I was a fickle and silly 19 year old girl who was still growing up, and that continued patience as I still have much growing up yet to do. It is during these times when I realize just how much I do love him and why. I call these moments, “kitchen moments”.


They are called kitchen moments because 9.5 times out of 10, that is where they happen. Why the kitchen? Because, as I figure it, the kitchen is where I spend at least 50% of my life. It is where my computer is, my desk and calendar, and of course, the dishes and all those appliances necessary for cooking and preparing food which come in quite handy for sustaining my family’s lives. It is where homework and projects happen; meals, bedtime snacks, and even the morning combing of hair before we dash out the door for school. It is where life happens and hence, also my “kitchen moments”.

One particular kitchen moment happened a few weeks ago on an ordinary night as the boys were finishing homework and I was attempting to clean-up the kitchen, but found myself very distracted by the music coming from my new under cabinet docking station. “Moon River” a great song to waltz to, was playing and I was itching to dance with someone. So I grabbed Dallin and proceeded to drag him around like a rag doll. He finally got some sense of the rhythm along with that I would die if my friends saw me doing this, but I kinda like it look and we danced until I felt like I had adequately humiliated him in front of his older brother and I let him go.

That’s when Richard walked in. I feigned great disappointment that Dallin didn’t really want to dance with me and Richard said, “Start it over and I’ll dance with you.”

My husband does not do things he considers unmanly; dancing is considered one of these things.

But I figured if he’s willing I’m not going to pass it up, so we started to dance.

First, he started off like a snobby aristocrat at some fancy ball so stiff and proper; speaking with a fake English accent while commenting on how waltzing is lovely, or some other flowery word. Next we fell into a more relaxed sloppy sort of waltzing where many toes were crushed; the better part being mine. But this led into a portion where he seemed to be actually trying; being more led than leading we went around in small circles on the vacant piece of laminate floor. And even though, Henry Mancini & His Orchestra were playing a beautiful version of “Moon River” I had the words from another song playing in my head.

You make me shine like the sun

Fall out of bed, sing like a bird

Dizzy in my head, spin like a record

Crazy on a Sunday night

You make me dance like a fool

Forget how to breathe

Shine like gold, buzz like a bee

Just the thought of you can drive me wild

Ohh, you make me smile

Don’t know how I lived without you

Cuz every time I get around you

I see the best of me inside your eyes

You make me smile.

And then like a needle being ripped across the vinyl of an LP, my dreamlike state was rudely interrupted by…

“Do you guys really have to do that in front of us?!”

And

“That’s just wrong!”

And

GROSS!!!

…Spoken by our on looking offspring. And so we stopped. The waltz ended.

But I was reminded once again, how lucky I am that in a world that sometimes seems as though it has been turned upside-down and is filled with doubt and uncertainty I have someone there who, even when he may not want to, is still able to make me smile.

And as for my offspring, my greatest hope for them, besides learning some manners, is that they will be lucky enough in this life to find someone equally worthwhile to have kitchen moments with.

Which I hope will be rudely interrupted.

Magnetism

Ashton's 5th grade class has recently been studying about magnetism.  Apparently, some "magnetism" has rubbed off on Ashton, since he came home with this little note in his pocket yesterday.

Maybe it was just the spiked hair he sported yesterday...Or his incredible brown eyes...Or his killer smile (not shown in this pic.)

Whatever it was, he seems to have little Miss M's heart in a flutter.

This is the second time Miss M has "taken a shot" (his words, not mine) at him. The first was in December in the form of a note thrown into his desk during read aloud that read, "Will you be my boyfriend?" Back then he was honestly in a conundrum, with the What-do-I-do?-Girls-still-have-cooties! panic in his voice.

Yesterday, it was a whole different story.

He told me that, "This time there was just no getting out of it and he thought he was just going to have to say yes." This statement was said with the I'm-trying-to-make-it-sound-like-this-is the-worst-thing-in-the-world-because-you-are-my-mom-so-I-am-suppressing-the-excitement tone emanating from his words.

It is a little crushing to realize you are not the only girl in your little man's world anymore.

I know the hormones are changing; I can smell them when I stand close or not-so close, to him at the end of the day, but I'm not sure I was ready for this. Not girls. Not at 11 years old. I was born boy crazy, but I figured boys, especially my boys, would be impervious to cupid's arrow; and so my naiveté' rears it's ugly head again.

But this morning as I walked him to his appointed door where Miss M and his friends were waiting, he still gave me that arm around my waist sideways hug and I thought...I'm still number one...

At least, for a little while longer.

The Revolving Door

Do you remember your first experience with a revolving door?


I do.

And I was terrified.

I don’t recall where I encountered it, probably somewhere in downtown Ogden on an errand with my mother, but as a small girl that rotating X scared the soup out of me. The fact that my little arms and legs might not have enough strength to push my way through the entire process, fed the fear of getting stuck between the entrance and the exit in a small vestibule of suffocating glass. I’m sure this fear had a great deal to do with the claustrophobia I had acquired from being barricaded inside the kitchen pantry by my loving older brothers (jerks) more than questioning my own strength. I was a tomboy with 3 older brothers, I was tough enough.

But worse than getting stuck and having a panic attack where everyone can see, was the fear of getting caught between the rotating X and the wall as you entered its circular movement, especially if someone else was coming through from the other side and doing so at a mighty fast speed. If your timing wasn’t right, you were in trouble; having the correct timing was imperative. If it wasn’t fairly precise you would risk severing an arm, leg, or even your body- right in two! Well… at least, that is what my kid mind told me would happen.

But I did it. Somewhere I found the courage (probably from a mother’s soothing encouragement) and pushed my way through. And I am pleased to report that I have done so on many occasions since without the loss of life or limb.

There is a point to me writing about this, I promise; just bear with me.

After a recent phone conversation with my mother, I started to reflect on some important events that happened 11 years ago this month. As I thought about these events and their importance to me, I could only think of them in the analogy of a revolving door, of sorts. A revolving door between the entrance and the exit of this the world we know and the world we once knew, and one day, will know again.

Death & birth.

A revolving door.

One of which I was terrified.

I often questioned my choice of professions because of this fear. I worked with a mainly geriatric population, of which many suffered from terminal diseases. I lost many of my dear friends, but none while they were under my care or while I was present. For this I was very grateful. I just couldn’t deal with facing it and the unknown surrounding it. It was a cold, unwelcome, violent thief that stole loved ones and I wanted nothing to do with it.

I was also in nursing school experiencing my labor and delivery clinicals while expecting my first child. Giving birth was something I was never sure I wanted to do. I wanted kids. And I wanted to be a mother. I just wasn’t sure about the whole process in accomplishing that.

First of all, pain is not my favorite sensation (shocking, I know). Second of all, I was what you could call a private person and I wasn’t sure I wanted to be on “display”- even for a medical staff audience. I had seen enough births to know that there was plenty of both involved to put me totally out of my comfort zone. Now 4 kids later, delivered in 4 different hospitals, by 4 different doctors, and one of which was a natural birth (thank you, Canada and your socialized medicine), I can say that I have sufficiently overcome this fear. But facing it for the first time, I was not exactly confident in my ability to do it.

At this same time, Richard and I had the opportunity of caring for my 92 year old great aunt Annie in our home following the death of my great uncle Albert (86) to a self inflicted gunshot wound. In the midst of all our discussion of whether this was the right thing for us to do at that point of our lives and marriage, my biggest concern was –What if she passes away while she’s living here?

Irrational?

Maybe, considering all the other things like school, work, and the arrival of a baby in the near future that seemed to be more pertinent, but I couldn’t help it, that was the worry that weighed on my mind.

Caring for Annie was an adventure. I say “adventure” because like most adventures it was not easy, but it was one of the most fulfilling things I have ever done. But two months after Annie’s arrival, her health declined significantly and since our baby was due any day, we along with my mom and her brothers, made arrangements for Annie to be placed in the hospice wing of the local rest home where she could be taken care of until her time came to go.

It was a Saturday and all the arrangements were finalized, we were to take Annie that afternoon to the rest home. I went into her room in our little two room mobile home to give her a bed bath, get her dressed, and ready to go, but as I rolled her onto her side to wash her back I stopped.

I knew Annie was going somewhere soon, just not the place we had intended on sending her.

Her body had started to shutdown and the signs of it showed in the “mottling” that had appeared on her back and undersides of her extremities. I called my mother, a licensed RN, to come in and confirm my suspicions and she did.

The arrangements with the rest home were cancelled, it was finalized and my worst fear was realized- Annie would spend her last hours in our home.

As Annie’s last hours ticked away so did the daylight and nighttime was quickly approaching. I was scared; I didn’t feel ready to face it yet. My mother agreed to stay the night in case it happened in the middle of the night she would be there with us and Annie.

In the early morning hours on Sunday, January 10th, 1999 I awoke to a noise on the baby monitor and directly headed to Annie’s room. There in the early morning light I was privileged to watch as Annie took her last breath.

There was nothing cold, unwelcome, or violent about it. The emptiness I expected was filled with peaceful, warmth.

Two weeks later to the day of Annie’s exit from this world into the next, 11 years ago today; I was also privileged to watch Ashton Ted Parke take his first breath as he made his entrance through the revolving door from that world into ours.

The pain and uncertainty were lost in an indescribable and exhausted joy.

I did it.

Somehow I found the courage (probably with the soothing encouragement of a wise and loving Father) and pushed my way through the fear and the claustrophobia of my own naiveté’ and found that I was strong enough; despite what my childlike mind when ruled by fear told me- I was ready.

As for the timing…that incredibly impeccable timing…all credit there rests with the Doorman.

My Little Strummer Boy

Last night Ashton performed in his first guitar recital. He started lessons this past summer and I feel like he did a fantastic job especially since we were in a mad rush to get there. Apparently, his brain-dead mother had it in her mind the recital started at 7:00, when it really started at 6:00. I realized this little fact at 5:51.

So despite the nerves and anxiety that his dad wouldn't make it in time, he pulled off both of his songs without much problem. Thankfully, Richard arrived just as Ashton's turn to play came up. Whew! We really lucked out on that one!

We are really proud of Ashton and all that he has learned so far. We also love to see the enjoyment he gets from playing Ol' Blue, thanks to a great teacher who works so well with our 10 year old boy.


Ashton and his teacher, Mari Farr, playing "Can Can".


Ashton and Mari, playing "Frosty the Snowman".

Head Bangin' Birthday

(Ashton sang 'Happy Birthday' to me in sign language finished off with "clapping".)

Birthdays bring so many things. Not only do they bring another year to add to your timeline spent upon this earth, but hopefully, they add another year of wisdom from lessons learned and viewing the past year's challenges and blessings from different perspectives.

Yeah, I suppose that is mostly right.... But really it brings things like being remembered by friends and family, even obscure ones I haven't spoken to in years, who wish me birthday happiness through the power that is Facebook.

It also brings really long phone calls from Nebraska and Missouri and the chance to catch up with  two of my favorite girlfriends.

It brings fabulous gourmet cupcakes from the Sweet Tooth Fairy Bakery delivered my another two of my favorite girlfriends who insist that I eat them all by myself, no sharing with my hubby or children- those were mine and only mine. What great friends and cupcakes.

It brings lunch at Bajio with my hubby who so kindly shared his lunch with Ben, so I could enjoy my shrimp tacos by myself. I love that guy.

It brings the kindness of marvelous neighbors who watched my kids, so Richard and I were able to take in the new flick "Sherlock Holmes," which I loved and think you should all see if you haven't already.

It of course, brings presents...

Birthdays on occasion also bring unexpected surprises too...

Like chairs that had been put on the table so I could mop the floor, but fell off....

breaking into pieces, along with Mr. Ben

and his head, which could have probably used a stitch or two. But from previous experience with stitches and Ben, we decided to avoid them if at all possible.

And like Ashton, (who was not available for a photo op.) who ran down the upstairs hall like a freight train, knocking the playroom door into the wall, causing a decorative oil lamp sitting on a shelf  that was hanging on said wall to become unstable and fall- squarely on the top of his head. Luckily, there was no blood, but he did receive a nice goose egg and the determination that something is trying to kill him.

I guess the great blessing among the head banging is that we got away without any stitches on my birthday. But along with blessings, I guess there are still lessons to be learned and wisdom to be gained for me, so the guidance I'm taking from my birthday now past is:

#1- Do not mop the floor nor do any other house work for that matter on my birthday.

#2- Inform Richard we need to redecorate the playroom since the decor in there now (which I am a little tired of) seems to be conveniently hazardous to our children's health.

Such hard lessons to live by...