I've missed you.
I don't think anyone checks you anymore - and how could I blame them? I was never super reliable to begin with - but the truth is, I miss writing on a regular/semi-regular basis.
(Journaling habits died in college.)
So here we are, November 1st, five months since my last post, and I'm gonna go radical and commit to posting every day for NaBloPoMo EVEN THOUGH I've never done it before and we're planning a 10-day trip this month and who knows if I'll even be able to post while we're gone and I might have to write scheduled posts beforehand to keep this commitment. See the level of commitment here? It's impressive, right?
Comments or no, I have so much to write about.
11.01.2015
6.01.2015
Five
You are five years old! We took the training wheels off your bike today, as promised, after you asked us to a hundred times over the last several months.
That's pretty much the stage of life you're in - ready to take off. You just recently stopped taking naps (a sad day for me). Last month you went to kindergarten screening, last week you graduated from prechool; now you're asking to peel carrots and cut strawberries for dinner. I can't wait for the adventures that will open up to you this next year as you learn to read.
Your personality is effervescent as ever. My mom said to me recently, "I think Will has only one volume: Loud!" We can only shake our heads at the enormous amount of energy you possess. You love to go play with neighborhood friends and disappear for hours. You also love to find my phone and take silly-face selfies or watch Rescue Bots on Netflix.
You're a good big brother, especially to Lex, who thinks you are the funniest. We've had to start some conversations about NOT saying people are fat or chubby, even if (like Lex) they are.
You and Emma are partners in crime! My favorite thing in the world is when you get treats from something, and you find Emma to share with her. She does the same for you.
We love your enthusiasm, your helpful attitude, and your happy disposition. The only thing you REALLY don't like is when we force you to get dressed. Oh, the tears. I hope we can get over that as we get ready for kindergarten.
You will love school once you start in a few months. You have great social skills and a truly bright mind. We love you, and we are so excited to see what the next year brings!
Mom
4.10.2015
Bonnie
I've been wanting (and not wanting) to write this post for quite a while now. No matter how much time I spend thinking about it, it's not gonna write itself. And time is of the essence: my friend Bonnie is slipping away from this life.
I wrote once before about how college friends are (maybe) the best friends you can ever have. They see you for who you are, without the trappings of home and money and status. They see you through the crucial life-changing-decision years, and the ones who remain are friends for life. It's surreal to see that life ending so soon.
I first met Bons when I came back from Europe. She was a close friend of my five new roommates and became lovingly known as our "pseudo-roommate." In the first few weeks she mostly laid on our couch, pining over an ended relationship. I wasn't sure what to think of her - except that at least she'd HAD a relationship, which was more than I could say.
It got better from there!
Bonnie was articulate and spontaneous and delightful, not least because she didn't seem to care what people thought of her. She sang the tenor part in choir. We went to a midnight showing of Pirates 3 and drove around the roundabout 20 times afterward. We spent a weekend in Roosevelt (including Tyson!?), hiking and swimming across a freezing windy reservoir, building a bonfire and screaming at a near-crash. She went to London, I moved out, Lu went to Jerusalem and then moved in with her.
I remember walking to a football game at Lavell Edwards Stadium and listening to her talk about her first date with Adam. She'd been crushing on him at work; as soon as the interest was reciprocated it didn't take long. She was so happy. They got married a couple weeks before Slice and I did.
Bonnie moved across the country and had two babies close to mine, and we became blog friends. I loved her wise comments on my musings and her posts about life with an opera singer. Then she got cancer. And she wrote beautiful, humorous and heart-wrenching things about her experiences with treatment.
She got a grim diagnosis. She accepted it with courage and grace.
I've watched Bonnie mostly from afar, these last several years. But I'm so grateful for what I have learned from her. I've learned to cherish the mundane moments of young motherhood. to count myself fortunate to be with these kids another day. I've learned to be more patient with myself and others. To love more completely.
I'm learning to find the humor, the joy in dark times. I'm trying to be more generous. More brave.
I think of Bonnie and her family often, wishing there was something any of us could do to change this course. But her beautiful children are a legacy to a great woman - to two wonderful people who love each other - a loving Heavenly Father and an eternal bond.
Thank you, Bonnie, for everything. I'll love you forever.
I wrote once before about how college friends are (maybe) the best friends you can ever have. They see you for who you are, without the trappings of home and money and status. They see you through the crucial life-changing-decision years, and the ones who remain are friends for life. It's surreal to see that life ending so soon.
I first met Bons when I came back from Europe. She was a close friend of my five new roommates and became lovingly known as our "pseudo-roommate." In the first few weeks she mostly laid on our couch, pining over an ended relationship. I wasn't sure what to think of her - except that at least she'd HAD a relationship, which was more than I could say.
It got better from there!
Bonnie was articulate and spontaneous and delightful, not least because she didn't seem to care what people thought of her. She sang the tenor part in choir. We went to a midnight showing of Pirates 3 and drove around the roundabout 20 times afterward. We spent a weekend in Roosevelt (including Tyson!?), hiking and swimming across a freezing windy reservoir, building a bonfire and screaming at a near-crash. She went to London, I moved out, Lu went to Jerusalem and then moved in with her.
I remember walking to a football game at Lavell Edwards Stadium and listening to her talk about her first date with Adam. She'd been crushing on him at work; as soon as the interest was reciprocated it didn't take long. She was so happy. They got married a couple weeks before Slice and I did.
Bonnie moved across the country and had two babies close to mine, and we became blog friends. I loved her wise comments on my musings and her posts about life with an opera singer. Then she got cancer. And she wrote beautiful, humorous and heart-wrenching things about her experiences with treatment.
She got a grim diagnosis. She accepted it with courage and grace.
I've watched Bonnie mostly from afar, these last several years. But I'm so grateful for what I have learned from her. I've learned to cherish the mundane moments of young motherhood. to count myself fortunate to be with these kids another day. I've learned to be more patient with myself and others. To love more completely.
I'm learning to find the humor, the joy in dark times. I'm trying to be more generous. More brave.
I think of Bonnie and her family often, wishing there was something any of us could do to change this course. But her beautiful children are a legacy to a great woman - to two wonderful people who love each other - a loving Heavenly Father and an eternal bond.
Thank you, Bonnie, for everything. I'll love you forever.
3.09.2015
UBOC
My life for the last few weeks has been pretty much consumed by UBOC.
We had sectionals every Tuesday evening, 3-hour rehearsals on Saturdays and one all-day marathon that left us totally wiped out. (Especially me, because I was singing first soprano and Mack Wilberg is NOT EASY on his first sopranos. I'll tell you what.)
Plus, we had to commute to Vernal every time.
BUT OH.
SO WORTH IT.
The feelings are indescribable, really, so I'll just say that we came away from rehearsals strangely energized. Craig Jessop is a true master and still, the kindest conductor I've ever seen. It was remarkable to watch him correct, cajole, shape and conjure. He gave us direction and laughter and fascinating anecdotes, not to mention all the catch-phrases.
We loved him.
When I left BYU, I didn't expect to sing in a good choir again. My hard-earned skills were doomed to decay. I've been thinking a lot about the many (so many!) hours I spent in the Madsen Recital Hall, the lonely times and the solace of music. The joy I found in being part of something bigger than myself.
And that's what choral singing is to me: becoming one. A single conductor, a single song, many voices with a single goal. Creating something beautiful.
There's really nothing else like it.
2.24.2015
Lucky's First Birthday
I've been saying "Third time's the charm!" for a year now. YOU are the charm. You came to us with your curly hair and your daddy's dimple and the mildest disposition. You charm us all with your sweet, happy spirit. We are so lucky to have you in our family.
Somehow you're jolly and snuggly and fearless at the same time. You never care about getting hurt. You'll climb all over things, fall and smack your head, cry for a second and try it again. Rinse, repeat. That's why you walked early. It drives me totally crazy.
Your brother and sister LOVE you, and you want to be like them so badly. You chase them up and down the hall (and stairs!), reach into their bathtub, grab their toys, and give them multiple kisses before going to bed. They laugh and kiss you back, tickling to hear you giggle and begging for more hugs. Your favorite thing in the world is eating. And it shows.
We didn't have the easiest start, you know. For the first months of your life I was stressed beyond anything I'd experienced before. My milk wasn't fatty enough, you didn't gain weight, and you didn't (couldn't?) take naps in our tiny house with two noisy toddlers. We were trying to move. I fixed and painted and cleaned and nursed and stressed and cried, feeling all alone with your dad gone as much as he was. It was HARD. And I was so grateful for the help I got from my parents, siblings and friends, without whom I surely would have landed in a mental hospital.
Things got better! You took bottles and slept better, we sold the house and Daddy finished his fire training. You got your own room. We spread out in our new house and it made a huge difference. We are in a good place as a family. We've been so blessed.
When I look back at the last year, I can see the wonder of God's timing. He knew when to send you to us, so all the other things we didn't know we needed could work themselves out. I'm grateful for you and the sheer joy that you bring to my life every single day. I hope you keep your curiosity and love for life always. I adore you.
Mom
2.18.2015
J
Two days after the car accident, my sister and her husband came back to Roosevelt. Sunday evening our favorite Dr. offered to do an ultrasound, just to make sure everything was okay with Ki's 17-week pregnancy.
It wasn't.
The ultrasound showed no heartbeat, and after some other tests, they decided to admit her into labor & delivery the next day. Ang and I stayed up late trying to put together a baby quilt like my mom has made for all of her grandbabies. It wasn't perfect, but it was something to take to the hospital.
She delivered a broken baby boy, and they buried him in the local cemetery.
We all kind of sat around for a week, visiting and grieving and being with each other. Brent & Megan came from Missouri (to attend another funeral, actually). We talked about the most important things. We remembered that the most important thing is being together.
Eventually, Ki and Sheldon still had to go home, to heal and get back to their "normal" lives. The new normal.
It wasn't.
The ultrasound showed no heartbeat, and after some other tests, they decided to admit her into labor & delivery the next day. Ang and I stayed up late trying to put together a baby quilt like my mom has made for all of her grandbabies. It wasn't perfect, but it was something to take to the hospital.
She delivered a broken baby boy, and they buried him in the local cemetery.
We all kind of sat around for a week, visiting and grieving and being with each other. Brent & Megan came from Missouri (to attend another funeral, actually). We talked about the most important things. We remembered that the most important thing is being together.
Eventually, Ki and Sheldon still had to go home, to heal and get back to their "normal" lives. The new normal.
2.15.2015
the UBOC
There's a new thing in the Basin, an audition-only orchestra and choir that is under the great umbrella of the USU-UB extension. They've put on a few concerts over the last year and a half; in December my Mom, Aunt Lana and I decided to try to join.
Thou gracious God, whose mercy lends
the light of home, the smile of friends,
our gathered flock thine arms enfold
as in the peaceful days of old.
Wilt thou not hear us while we raise
in sweet accord of solemn praise
the voices that have mingled long
in joyous flow of mirth and song?
For all the blessings life has brought,
for all its sorrowing hours have taught,
for all we mourn, for all we keep,
the hands we clasp, the loved that sleep.
The noontide sunshine of the past,
these brief, bright moments fading fast,
the stars that gild our darkening years,
the twilight ray from holier spheres.
We thank thee, Father; let thy grace
our loving circle still embrace,
thy mercy shed its heavenly store,
thy peace be with us evermore.
Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr., 1869
The last time I auditioned was for BYU's Concert Choir (didn't make it - it was a strange and terrible audition), so I was expecting to be nervous. Glory be! I wasn't. I made it in, even with a less-than-perfect sightreading performance, and my family members did too. We geared up for the first 4-hour rehearsal in Vernal on Saturday, January 10th.
Friday night we gathered to talk carpool. Then Mom got a text from Kiana saying she and Sheldon were in a serious car accident and in the hospital. My parents left almost immediately for the 1 1/2 hr trip over the mountains to Price.
The next day during rehearsal, I sang as my phone buzzed over and over in my lap. Texts from Mom and Dad and Ki, showing damage to their car and detailing injuries, marveling that they were even still alive. I muddled through Cindy while Dr. Craig Jessop stood four feet from me (shorter than he looks on TV. conducts with a weird wrist flick). (Completely delightful to sing for.)
I cried through Thou Gracious God, Whose Mercy Lends.
the light of home, the smile of friends,
our gathered flock thine arms enfold
as in the peaceful days of old.
Wilt thou not hear us while we raise
in sweet accord of solemn praise
the voices that have mingled long
in joyous flow of mirth and song?
For all the blessings life has brought,
for all its sorrowing hours have taught,
for all we mourn, for all we keep,
the hands we clasp, the loved that sleep.
The noontide sunshine of the past,
these brief, bright moments fading fast,
the stars that gild our darkening years,
the twilight ray from holier spheres.
We thank thee, Father; let thy grace
our loving circle still embrace,
thy mercy shed its heavenly store,
thy peace be with us evermore.
Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr., 1869
2.09.2015
Gathering Speed
Sometimes, it's hard to write. Sometimes it's harder to not write. And sometimes I've been not writing for so long that it seems impossible to start writing again.
Lately, in my mind I've been picturing life as a huge hill. A mountain, maybe. But I'm not trudging up it, I'm rolling down it on wheels, gathering speed. It's exhilarating and terrifying and I don't know how long the ride will last, or what will happen along the way, or how I'll do everything that I need to do. I'm clinging to my loved ones in the hopes that we all make it through in one piece.
Over the last few months I was "officially" diagnosed with an autoimmune disorder. My thyroid is fighting itself, and as far as anyone can tell, it's slowly dying. The main effect I have is exhaustion. I get easily overwhelmed, occasionally dizzy, my hair falls out, and I can't stand anything touching my neck. But mostly it's the exhaustion. I can't do everything I want (and need) to do, and that bothers me.
The oilfield is suffering now too, and although Slice's job seems secure, we know the industry is unstable. We've been saving for many months but feel like we can tighten our belts a little more, in case things don't get better in the near future. Thank you Dave Ramsey for motivating us to have a 6 month emergency fund. The peace of mind it gives is incredible.
In other news, we had a delightful Christmas break at home with family. After a miserable Thanksgiving holiday, it was just what we needed. I sang in the annual Messiah performance, and had a few solos, and I was pleased with them until I watched the recording on our camera. (Me to Slice: "Don't ever record me singing ever again. Ever.")
Emma had a super-fantastic birthday and then she potty-trained in about 3 days. Hallelujah!
On Christmas Eve we continued our tradition of a progressive dinner, including a musical program at the assisted living center nearby. Slice didn't even get yelled at by any of the residents this year.
Christmas Day we got to Skype sweet Em, who was giggling at everything and crying at the rest. Her Spanish sounded great to me!
Lately, in my mind I've been picturing life as a huge hill. A mountain, maybe. But I'm not trudging up it, I'm rolling down it on wheels, gathering speed. It's exhilarating and terrifying and I don't know how long the ride will last, or what will happen along the way, or how I'll do everything that I need to do. I'm clinging to my loved ones in the hopes that we all make it through in one piece.
Over the last few months I was "officially" diagnosed with an autoimmune disorder. My thyroid is fighting itself, and as far as anyone can tell, it's slowly dying. The main effect I have is exhaustion. I get easily overwhelmed, occasionally dizzy, my hair falls out, and I can't stand anything touching my neck. But mostly it's the exhaustion. I can't do everything I want (and need) to do, and that bothers me.
The oilfield is suffering now too, and although Slice's job seems secure, we know the industry is unstable. We've been saving for many months but feel like we can tighten our belts a little more, in case things don't get better in the near future. Thank you Dave Ramsey for motivating us to have a 6 month emergency fund. The peace of mind it gives is incredible.
In other news, we had a delightful Christmas break at home with family. After a miserable Thanksgiving holiday, it was just what we needed. I sang in the annual Messiah performance, and had a few solos, and I was pleased with them until I watched the recording on our camera. (Me to Slice: "Don't ever record me singing ever again. Ever.")
Emma had a super-fantastic birthday and then she potty-trained in about 3 days. Hallelujah!
 |
| Emma;s birthday cake. I'm a slacker ok? |
 |
| the singing crew |
 |
| There's always more of us than there are of them. It's awesome. |
 |
| Nativity at Lana's this year. None of my kids were naked or violent! We're making progress! |
Now, let us not forget my Lex, my precious chubby snuggly baby girl. All she got for Christmas were bath toys and socks. She didn't even care.
This girl was crawling at 7 months and walking at 10. She is now growing out of her 18-month clothes. Girl can eat. I love that about her.
12.08.2014
MG is 3
Today's your third birthday. Three years ago I marveled at the difference I felt between giving birth to a boy and a girl. I still marvel at that difference, nearly every day.
If there was ever a girl who was made of sugar and spice, it was - and is - you. You are feisty and sassy and silly and sensitive. You are downright hilarious when I least expect it. You mimic your older brother, dote on your baby sister, happily share your toys (most of the time), and talk about your best friend Gracie if you haven't seen her for a day.
We call you our dancer girl. You dance your way through life, twirling in church and swinging your hips, shaking your limbs without caring who's watching. I love that about you. You ask me constantly for ballet lessons, and I really better get on that.
You're the early riser of the family. I see your face by the side of the bed and if Dad's already gone, you ask, "Is Daddy at work?" hoping you can climb onto his pillow next to me. You love makeup and nail polish and dresses and "girl colors." You sing all the time. You'll eat almost anything I give you, which I'm VERY grateful for on days when Will is especially stubborn about food.
You want to grow up fast, and it seems that you are. When you tell me you want to be a mom, I'm pretty sure that just means you want to be a grownup. Still, I don't mind saying that a mom is the best thing to be. Motherhood makes you something greater than yourself.
I love you fiercely, my Emma. I think that's the only way to love you.
Mom
10.08.2014
seasons
"Which creature in the morning goes on four legs, at mid-day on two, and in the evening upon three, and the more legs it has, the weaker it be?" asked the Sphinx.
"Man - who crawls on all fours as a baby, then walks on two feet as an adult, and then walks with a cane in old age," answered Oedipus.
Last week I attended a Relief Society meeting where a young mother asked the rhetorical question "what are my hobbies and interests? can I have any hobbies with kids??" and the rest of us smiled and shook our heads. I don't even read books anymore, hon, and that makes me wonder sometimes who I've become.
But this season of my life has brought some pleasantries. Aside from the joy of conversing with 2- and 4-year-olds constantly, there's the benefit of being "established." For the first time in my life I'm wondering which to buy first: kitchen furniture or bedroom furniture? What would I like to put in my house? Where shall I spend the money that I actually have?
So really. I can't complain. I guess I'll read books when the kids are grown.
Baby Lucky is growing like a bamboo shoot, crawling (at seven months - two months earlier than her older siblings!) and weaning herself and snuggling more than any other babies. (WHICH I LOVE.)
MG is making waves in nursery, prompting other adults to ask me where she gets her personality. Also prompting me to wonder when/where I should put her in a dance class.
Liam is writing funky letters and pretending to be a Rescue Bot, and giving me multiple hugs and kisses at night because he "loves me so much."
I'm squeaking by with my three side jobs, wasting time when I should be knocking things off my to-do list ..... and forgetting half of the things that needed to go ON my to-do list. It's getting out of hand, actually. Any volunteers for a personal life coach?
"Man - who crawls on all fours as a baby, then walks on two feet as an adult, and then walks with a cane in old age," answered Oedipus.
Last week I attended a Relief Society meeting where a young mother asked the rhetorical question "what are my hobbies and interests? can I have any hobbies with kids??" and the rest of us smiled and shook our heads. I don't even read books anymore, hon, and that makes me wonder sometimes who I've become.
But this season of my life has brought some pleasantries. Aside from the joy of conversing with 2- and 4-year-olds constantly, there's the benefit of being "established." For the first time in my life I'm wondering which to buy first: kitchen furniture or bedroom furniture? What would I like to put in my house? Where shall I spend the money that I actually have?
So really. I can't complain. I guess I'll read books when the kids are grown.
Baby Lucky is growing like a bamboo shoot, crawling (at seven months - two months earlier than her older siblings!) and weaning herself and snuggling more than any other babies. (WHICH I LOVE.)
MG is making waves in nursery, prompting other adults to ask me where she gets her personality. Also prompting me to wonder when/where I should put her in a dance class.
Liam is writing funky letters and pretending to be a Rescue Bot, and giving me multiple hugs and kisses at night because he "loves me so much."
I'm squeaking by with my three side jobs, wasting time when I should be knocking things off my to-do list ..... and forgetting half of the things that needed to go ON my to-do list. It's getting out of hand, actually. Any volunteers for a personal life coach?
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