12.24.2013 - The Eve

The table got cleared off yesterday and we ate a meal there, only to be piled again this morning with groceries from this morning's last (I hope) run to the store.

Christmas cards have been sent. Neighbor gifts have been distributed.  Loads of wrapping to do. I may not sleep tonight. (Looking forward to it!)

Happy Christmas Eve, all!

12.12.2013 -- Dun Dun Dun...

Life around here is getting downright exciting!

Will my kitchen table ever again serve as anything other than a (messy) Christmas staging area?
Will I address and send all of the Christmas cards I have before the 25th?
Will Lucy practice her violin again before performing with the local Suzuki Strings group?
Will any of my children make it to school this week?
Will Gabe ever go to preschool again?
Will my children discover my Christmas gift hiding spots this year?
Will I ever again get to go to my adult gymnastics class to learn the art of artfully flinging my middle-aged body upside down and rightside up again?


Stay tuned for the dénouement, resolution, or... catastrophe!

Who has the "perfect" tree now?!

(About ten years ago, my sister's tree
was decorated by her four young boys.
Mine was decorated by me.  The tables
have turned, my friends, they have turned.)

12.10.2013 -- Looking Back...

Notable Tayler Family events

(and exclamation marks) for 2013:

• January: Brian turns 40.  Successful surprise Utah surf party!

January: Gabe and Lucy in the snow.

• February: Brian and Val both involved in car accidents within 36 hours.  (Winning!)

• March: Gabe starts his first ever soccer season. (Dreams do come true!)

March: Zen and the art of learning to ride.

• April: Charlie wraps cars in towels, calls them “babies.” Maximum cuteness.

March: Charlie checking out the train museum.

• May: Brian manages 544 weeks of employment as a professional Estimator/Project Manager!  (Estimated.) 

May: Charlie's first train ride.

May: Lucy and Gabe hike the big hill at the park.

• June: Celebrate 15 years of (almost) constant marital bliss!  Gabe puts first toad on head, also has first stitches in head (unrelated).

June: Gabe on his way to our friends' moustache party.

• July: Val slalom skis.  (Not since 1993ish!)  Val also learns that tiny orange newts are babies.  (Efts.)

July: Waiting on Maddox fried chicken.

• August: Month of weddings and lots of swimming at local pool. All kids do divingboard!

August: Lucy's work.

• September: Charlie comes home from Lake Powell with an agenda.  Potty trains himself!

September: Southern Utah.

September: Lucy and Gabe tubing at Lake Powell.

• October: Miss Kansas 2013 (in fatigues), Firefighter and SuperWhy.  Lucy gets baptized!

• November: Gabe’s 5th birthday falls on Thanksgiving AND Hannukah!  Solar System Cake.  (Dreams do come true: Part II)

 

November: Lucy with cousin Eliza at Eliza's signing party.

 

• December: Lucy has 4 violin concerts!  Plays Jolly Old St. Nicolas & Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.

December:  Charlie loves to build towers.  Built this with his momma.

November 30, 2013 -- A rant for the holidays: to you from me.

No Way.  I haven't posted since October first?!

Life is screaming past, friends.  Lots of good, fun things have happened!

When I try to think of all of the things that have happened in the past 2 months, I am overwhelmed to the point of inaction.  Except... well, what comes to mind is how people function.

Brian and I are not big planners.  We never have been.  This is why many of the events which have taken place in the past have occurred without a lot of forewarning.  There are certain characteristics that don't usually get a lot of praise these days.  Among them: spontenaity spontinaity spontineity spontenaety spontaneity.   Sometimes I feel a little heat from people for not planning my life enough. 
           
Nobody likes to feel judged.

Not me.

Don't we all just want to be loved?

I admit, I'm a little sensitive when it comes to criticism.  In my mind, anything can be criticized.  Anything can be seen in a negative light.  Why choose to criticize?

I guess some people like to talk about ideas, some people like to talk about people and some people like to talk about what other people do wrong.... But... If it's a problem, why not tell the offending person?   To me, it seems pretty simple.  The most complicated part of it is being open to a difficult conversation.  Okay, so most normal people avoid difficult conversations. 

And I'm not immune.  I judge people.  I just really try not to.

....

So, how 'bout Thanksgiving, huh?  Wasn't that great?

10.01.2013 -- Bent Twigs, Inclined Trees

image (and tree) courtesy of George Stapleford

There's a saying that goes like this, "As the twig is bent, so is the tree inclined."  It has me thinking.

Maybe I get over-anxious about child rearing, but I just can't help imagining all of these little twigs as full grown trees.

Our dog, Zoey, is fourteen years old now, and so I have a glimpse of how cute or tolerable childish (or puppy) behavior can become problematic in an older dog (or child).  We used to let Zoey sit on my lap when we went places in the car with her when she was a puppy.  Have you seen Weimaraner puppies?

 Image by Androlitate Weimaraners

Anyway.  It was great/tolerable when she was a puppy, but it became annoying and dangerous when she grew up.  (Picture a 55 lb. hound on the lap of yours truly.)  She's too old now to jockey for position in the car, really, but we know where she thinks she belongs.

Where was I?  Twigs?  Trees? Children?

Lucy is going to be a very strong person when she grows up, I think.

That's my awesome parent way of saying that I had a power struggle with her this morning.  I want to say I won, but I'm trying not to think in those terms.  After all, when I tell Lucy that she needs to be able to humble herself sometimes to learn something, I've got to give her more to go on than hot air.   I'm not even sure she knows what being humble means.

We had the best surprise this weekend.  My cousin Jacques came to see us.  We get to see him every once in a while, but never before at our house.  He was so much fun.  I sometimes forget how awesome he is with kids--he's single for a little while longer--but it took no time at all for the kids to warm up to him again.

Because we have a strong connection with extended family, we often want to call relatives who are technically cousins, "aunts" or "uncles."  Lucy solved this with my cousin Becca and her husband, Jameson, by coining the terms, "Cuncle" and "Caunt."  It's sort of odd, but it IS less syllables than cousin/uncle or cousin/aunt...

Jacques killing it in Sorry!

Good times, y'all.  Good times!

09.24.2013 -- Growing Up, I Guess

Lucy wouldn't hold my hand today at the hospital (went for a check up) and flat out refused to let me take a picture of her.  She looks super cute today.  I just want to scoop her up and kiss her face all over.  (I know, I'm loony.)

Charlie is outgrowing diapers.  I may never buy another pack of diapers again, folks!

Gabe is almost reading...  He can recognize his letters (big and small) with about 90% accuracy.

Brian and I have been married for YEARS, and we have never had a formal photograph of us or our family taken (besides wedding pictures).  It took way more courage than it should have for me to actually get a session scheduled, and I've only seen 5 pictures so far, but I'm so happy to have some pictures of us as a family while the kids are still little.    Here is a candid picture I grabbed with my phone when the boys were outside watching Lucy and friends walk to school.  Gabe has binoculars and Charlie has "binoculars."

Bottom picture of Lucy and Charlie courtesy of Joshua Terry Photography.

09.22.2013 -- Crash

Our kids love to ride bikes.  Seeing them zooming around happily makes me smile.  There are a few ingredients, when added to a childhood that dramatically increase success and good times.

• Homemade baked goods.  Not all the time, but sometimes.
• Kites.
• Water and mud.
• Tree climbing.
• Roadside lemonade stands.
• Fingerpainting.
• Mud pies.
• Matchbox car races.
• Legos.
• Sleeping under the stars.
• Bikes.

This list is not exhaustive, but it's a start.  (In order for me to function these days, I embrace starts and imperfect efforts--otherwise I wouldn't accomplish much.)

So, Bikes!  Kids on bikes make me smile.  If you look carefully at this picture of Gabe, you should be able to see a scrape that takes up roughly 1/8 of his face.  He and Lucy were riding bikes and he crashed.   He was wearing a helmet, thank heavens.  It took a good half of an hour for him to stop screaming.  I probably would've screamed too, poor kid.  This happened a few days ago, and the picture isn't from today either, but the only real difference now is that there is some green around his eye now. 

He's a chip off the old block.  Both his dad and I have had some pretty good bike crashes, too.

09.14.2013 -- Forget Me Not

Things I don't want to forget:

Gabe, upon hearing about laser eye surgery, "Mom, does that mean that they are going to get LASER eyes???"

Gabe: "Mom, I love science. I'm going to be a space scientist when I grow up. You should have named me Bill Nye when I was born, so you could call me 'Bill Nye the Science Guy!'"

The way Charlie uses Y for other consonants.  "Mom, I yike you." "Mom, I yike my yooter."

The way Lucy is so independent and determined, but still loves to sleep in our bed.

Tickling the kids and hearing them laugh.

Seeing the sense of accomplishment on the kids' faces when they've finished a project that they thought was beyond them like cleaning up the basement to earn a movie night or an afternoon playing with friends.

Charlie deciding to potty train by himself, forsaking all stools, climbing up on the toilet by himself (but only when it's truly his idea).

Lucy and Gabe playing spies, telling me, "In the game, mom, you're a person who has no place to live and we just let you stay here for a while."

Charlie thinking its hilarious that I hate him shoving his fingers up my nose.

Gabe finally switching vocabulary from "goodest" to best.  (This week.)

 

09.15.2013 -- Owning Weird

Last night I witnessed something normal.  An a cute teenage girl complaining that she has "the weirdest brothers on the planet."  Weird because they like theater, weird because they have "no common sense, no street smarts."

I was uncomfortable then. I tried to point out the hyperbole of her statement indirectly by saying something like "Yep, they're the weirdest on the planet."   Sarcasm.

Now it's the morning after and my brain won't let go of it.  I want to explain to this young lady what bothers me so much about what happened last night.  Calling someone weird is hardly terrible, at least it happens. A lot. 

Even before the name calling last night (call it as I see it), I was thinking about weirdness and fitting in after reading this blog post yesterday afternoon. 

It won't surprise many people to hear that I have been called weird for as long as I can remember. One of my earliest memories happens at a playground where some kid asked me if I was a boy or a girl. I was a tomboy. I hated dresses, idolized my big brother, and had just been "shorn" of my long ponytails because my mom couldn't get lice out of my long hair. I had my ears pierced, but few other clues pointed me out as a girl.

Teachers (well, okay--one teacher) called me weird in junior high, but she also said I was cute. Friends called me eccentric in college, I've been called crazy, daring, and courageous for my unconventional choices.  

What I want to tell that young lady is this:

Calling people weird is hurtful.  It doesn't help anyone or anything.  When you call people weird, I find myself thinking, "So ...what? Does everyone have to be just like you to be okay?"  The thing about judging other people is that we are all at risk.  From the President of the United States of America to the most highly paid popstar to Nobel Laureates and über successful super nerds.  None of us has a way of escaping  the critical eye of some other human being who feels like taking someone down a notch.  

Nerd. Weird. Slut. Faggot. Bitch. Redneck. Anorexic. Slob. Anal. Stuck up. Geek.  Fat. Loser. Freak. Self absorbed. Stupid. Jerk. Airhead. Obsessed. Hippy. Prude. Whore. Feminist.  Chauvinist. Clueless. Fake. Douchebag. Druggie.

Anyone who doesn't conform is subject to being judged and labeled.

Why do we do it?  Insecurity? Is it a way we cope with our differences that soothes the fear in us that we may not measure up? Psychologists used to think it was insecurity.  The conventional wisdom now is that "bullies usually have a sense of entitlement and superiority over others, and lack compassion, impulse control and social skills."

What's really wrong with giving people a label, though?  Is it really so wrong?

Columbine. 
Ted Kazinski, the Unabomber.

Labeling people or excluding people is not a positive thing.

There are alternatives. 
Really.  There are alternatives.  If someone is different than you and bugs you, you don't have to say that they're weird.  You can just smile and nod and do your own thing.  Be civil.  Better than that, we can act with compassion.

09.02.2013 -- All Thumbs

I don't think I've ever written up an actual full length post about Lake Powell.   That's probably because when we get home, we're all scrambling to get everything put away and in order so we can get into real life again.

This time, I'm thumb typing it into my phone as we drive toward Cedar City.  We are driving through a heavy duty rain storm, and a bolt of lightning just cracked directly over the truck--light and noise together.

http://www.ksl.com/?sid=26698787&section=featured-story

I can't go through this area without feeling drawn to it. I really grew to love southern Utah when I went to school here.  It's not that I don't appreciate other landscapes.  I just have a soft spot in my heart for these wide sage and juniper dusted valleys.  I especially love the fall and spring, when yellow blooms accent the waves of green.  (It must have been all the walks and bike rides.  I have a similar soft spot for Logan...)

We had rain while we were at the lake, too, but were never out in anything more than a light sprinkle.

Besides talking about weather, what do people say when they write about a trip to Lake Powell?

This was our first trip solo as a family of five. I have to admit that I was a bit nervous heading out.  Let's be honest, though. I'm nervous before any trip. Period.

It turned out great.  We spent a good amount of time out boating with a new toy piece of equipment that Brian picked up: a ski trainer.   I wasn't skeptical, but it would sound right for me to write here that I was "skeptical at first, but that the gadget won me over."  That's how it goes, right?   It was great to have something for the kids to do besides tube.

The ski trainer is like an inflatable child-sized jet ski with built in skis.  The only part of the skis that are visible are the open bindings that kids put their feet in.  There is a ripe attached to the front if the trainer which goes toward the boat, and there is a much shorter handle placed
perfectly for kids to get used to holding the handle while waterskiing.

Lucy and Gabe were all over it. One afternoon when Gabe and Charlie had both fallen asleep, Lucy skied until her muscles got too sore.  Brian has a knack for finding and acquiring  toys pieces of equipment that are just right.

So the kids had all the fun this trip. Not having another adult spotter, we just let them do all the riding behind the boat this time.  Brian and I did get some swimming in, though.

Our last night on the boat was sort of one of those made for TV moments where a little sentimental music and closeups of me and Brian exchanging proud looks--as we notice the kids' bravery and hear the funny things they say--would've been perfect.

Charlie wasn't as excited about the water this trip as Gabe and Lucy were. I kept reminding them that he's only two years old, but they were still VeRY disappointed when he didn't want to go down the water slide alone. He did swim with all of us on the last night, though. I personally, think it took him several days to get over having to wear a life jacket.  I think that his refusal to swim was mostly on principle.

08.26.2013 -- For Good

Today is hard.

We have been operating under the assumption that both Gabe and Lucy would be heading to school this week.  However, Gabe doesn't start yet.  Who do you think was more disappointed this morning--Gabe or me?  Heaven only knows.

I'm not a big planner.  When I actually do get a plan in place and it falls through, well.  I tend to...  mope.  So there's that.

And I got really, truly, incredibly sad news today.  My friend died.  And although David died only once, I find myself mourning twice for him.  Once as a friend and once as my dear friend's husband.  They have a family full of adorable small children and are just the best people on the planet.  He was young, friends.

This may be a strange memory to keep, but perhaps my most potent memory of David will forever be his telling a joke about a man who is trying to get into his car in the middle of the night in the bitter cold.  He's in this packed parking lot...  He's freezing cold...  He tries his key in the lock and, just as he thought, the lock is frozen.  He looks around and, seeing no one else around, he thinks out of the box to solve his problem.  All of a sudden, he gets a tap on his shoulder and is surprised by a stranger.

The punch line (and joke) were in French and there is really no comparison to David's perfect delivery on this...  "Ahem...  Vous êtes entrain d'uriner sur ma voiture."

There it is.  My favorite memory of David.  He was a funny, funny, funny person, with an artist's eye, and the most impeccable taste in women.  (His wife, Amy, is amazing.)

I do believe in angels. So I imagine him being out of pain and constantly near his loved ones now.   That's not a bad thought, but I imagine losing my husband...  and that just... crushes me.   I think about his kids not having him around...  and that makes me weep.

There's nothing to do though, is there?
Seconds pass and turn into years, and people come and go.
Accidents take them.
Illness.
Cancer.                  

No matter how much we think we need them.

08.22.2013 -- Hap Hap Hap Happy Birthday

Yesterday, we celebrated the birthday of our Lucy. This picture was taken in the middle of her party.  The bunny appeared when the magician put a balloon through a cage, promising to turn it into a butterfly (a very hairy butterfly).   The dove also came from a balloon.  (Balloon animals, anyone?)

Love this girl.

What did she ask for for her birthday?  A rock tumbler.  She was also very, very, very excited about the box of rocks that she got.  (No sarcasm here, folks.)  Looks like somebody inherited a funny thing for rocks from her mommy. 
                                               What can you do?  Some people like rocks!

06.23.2013 -- Mother Mother

Today in church, there was a discussion about developing talents.  You know...  pursuing your interests and putting time into talents so that they "multiply."  Way better than burying talents. (Matthew 25:14-30)  This all made me think about mothering.

There are many days when I feel like my full time job is encouraging, persuading, cajoling, manipulating, sometimes even threatening our kids into using their time well.  Playing, by the way, definitely qualifies as an excellent use of time in my book.  (I'm not perfect about using all of my time wisely...sometimes I wish I lived with my own mother so I could be mothered that way...  MOM?)

Lucy has been interested in gymnastics and violin for years.  She has a real desire to progress in both areas.  They're not her only interests (swimming, cooking, drawing, and science also interest her a lot), but they're the ones she's focusing on for now.  AND YET,  it's rare that she doesn't need encouragement from me in one form or another to work on these "talents." 

I know from experience that all parents don't do this.  Many don't have the time or energy.  By the time I rolled around, my parents would allow me to sign up for classes, but they didn't press the issue if I didn't feel like practicing.  If I stopped practicing, the lessons stopped too.  I think both approaches teach valuable lessons.  Sometimes I find myself thinking about being able to play the piano, lamenting my mother's unwillingness to force me to practice.  But that's just ridiculous.  I had plenty of interests which developed without hand-holding from my parents:  reading, art, soccer, languages, karate, yoga, backyard volleyball, basement dancing expositions with friends, etc.

On one hand, Lucy is learning right now that perseverance (mine and hers, I guess) pays off.  We are both learning that dreams are attainable through hard work and consistency--not necessarily perfect consistency, but through dedication.  Now is probably a good time to explain that if it were left up to me completely, I would probably have Lucy enrolled in just tumbling and maybe dance.  She loves gymnastics, though--bars and beam more than floor.  And the violin is something that she came up with 100% by herself.
 
Gabe is a little different.  He's still 4.  He was in gymnastics because he wanted to be, but I pulled him out because he refused to go about 50% of the time.  This gives us a concrete example of what happens when you don't do those hard things that don't sound fun.  Here's the gist of my spiel:  "When you don't do the hard things, you miss out on chances to practice.  Without practice, as awkward and as painful as it may be, progression is not going to happen."

Gabe has been asserting his independence lately by sometimes deciding not to participate in swim lessons.  I haven't made him get in the pool, but he does have to come with us, of course.  Last week, he was going on his second day of non-participation, but after a little lecture along these lines, Gabe decided that he would go to swim lessons.  Actually, he suggested that he would commit to going to every lesson so he could start gymnastics again.  That kid can understand me pretty well sometimes.

With Charlie, we're still focused on helping him not hurt himself or other people too much.

06.01.2013 -- Pace Myself

One of my strongest character traits is enthusiasm.  There are pros and cons to being naturally enthusiastic.  If you haven't heard or read my thoughts on all of that, just ask me and I'll go on as long as you keep listening to me.

One of the issues that arises, though, from a natural and almost irrepressible enthusiasm is that I get a lot of new stuff coming into my life.  I also see a lot going out.  Not many of my passions/obsessions/hobbies make the cut.

My newest hobby is snail keeping.  It turns out that snail keeping is a pretty great way for me to chill out.

It started by accident.

I was weeding one day with a friend and my boys were with me.  Whenever I'm working in the dirt and come across something living, it is the subject of great excitement and the kids immediately want to make it a pet.  Roly polies, worms, and snails all qualify as cute and keepable in their eyes.

When Gabe asked me if he could keep the snails he found, I remembered a little specialized ventilated glass box that I got on clearance from the pet store for Christmas.  It was really too small for most animals, so it was being used to hold down a corner of a shelf in a closet.  Snails, though... snails could make do in a little glass box with a top screen and a back wall made of painted foam rock.

That first round with snails was short lived.  I let the kids take them out and handle them whenever they wanted, and the poor snails got left in the sun without adequate water.  I learned a lot, though.  I learned a lot more about snails than you probably want to read here.... and I learned how relaxing it is for me to watch them.

If you can get past the ick factor, snails are amazing little animals.  When they slide over a pane of glass, you can see the symmetrical ripples of their foot which propel them along.  When they eat with their disappearing mouths, you can hear the crunching of your compost scraps. And you can watch that food moving up through their heads into their bodies.  The way their feelers and eyes retract and extend is fascinating.  Yes, friends:  I have found that a snail's pace is ideal for stress relief. They're free, and when we're done with them, we plan to feed them to our neighbors' chickens.

I would post my own picture here today, but I need to clean their cage again.  Keeping nine snails in a 10"x10" box does not let the walls stay clear of snail poop and slime for long.

05.05.2013 -- To a Screeching Halt

This blog has been around for around 5 years.  I'm not the world's most consistent writer, but I think that it's been rare that I've failed to post for an entire MONTH.  Maybe it's not just me, then.  Maybe I really am busy.

What if you and I were sitting together, having an intimate conversation...  and I said to you, "This soccer mom thing is not for the faint of heart."  Would you think less of me?  Would your suspicions be confirmed?  Would you avoid me in the future?

But really, what would I mean by saying that, anyway?  Context would help.  When this thought occurred to me, it was a very busy week.  Taxes, favors for friends, violin lessons, violin practicing, soccer practices, soccer games, gymnastics, preschool, doctor's appointments, mailing stuff, fulfilling commitments, homework enforcement, reading enforcement, laundry, food prep, etc.   And, I kept thinking to myself, I only have three kids!

We got through that week pretty well, and I was almost ready to declare myself a success.  But then, guess what? Charlie got the stomach flu.  He threw up for four days.  He had a zillion dirty diapers (I counted them).  And once Charlie stopped throwing up, Gabe got something that seemed like food poisoning, and then a day after we stopped worrying that Gabe might be sick, Lucy came down with a fever and chills.  (That was a run-on sentence because it was a run-on week of sickness.) Things slowed down very quickly.   Having to stay home and say "no" to almost everything was sort of nice, but also made us all stir-crazy.

We finally we're all better just in time for some really fantastic weather, so we've been enjoying being outside.  I decided to build up a little garden plot in an area that was just dead space before.  I based my attempt off of the idea of hugelkultur.  It's not the prettiest garden bed, but it was 100% free, so it has a sweet spirit.

I also decided to plant a rose bush.  The fact is:  I like roses.  I like the way they smell, and I like the way they look.  I know some people of impeccable standards and character who do not like roses because of their thorns.  Without roses, though.  We would not have this:

“The little prince went away, to look again at the roses.
"You're not at all like my rose," he said.
"As yet you are nothing. No one has tamed you, and you have tamed no one.
You're like my fox when I first knew him.
He was only a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes.
But I have made a friend, and now he's unique in all the world."
And the roses were very much embarrassed.
"You're beautiful, but you're empty," he went on. "One could not die for you.
To be sure, an ordinary passerby would think that my rose looked just like you
–the rose that belongs to me. But in herself alone she's more important
than all the hundreds of you other roses:
because it is she that I have watered;
because it is she that I have put under the glass globe;
because it is for her that I've killed the caterpillars
(except the two or three we saved to become butterflies);
because it is she that I have listened to, when she grumbled,
or boasted, or even sometimes when she said nothing.
Because she is MY rose.”
                                                                          ― Antoine de St. Exupery 

To my embarassment, I fell asleep in church today.  I would probably sleep better if I didn't have a two year-old who thinks it's funny to put his fingers up my nose.  Just sayin'.

03.26.2013 -- A Rough Patch and the Magic Circle

This past week has been an interesting one.  With most of us being sick and a cold snap that has made playing outside a no go, it has taxed our patience.  I was really hoping that yesterday would be the end of it, but it wasn't quite.

When Gabe woke up with a cough Tuesday morning, I had to take his requests to go to the "dentist" (doctor) more seriously.  He had a sore throat, he said, and wanted the dentist to help him to feel better.  I took him to the doctor, only to have the doc tell us that there was nothing that he could do to help with what he thought was adenovirus.

Not fun. It certainly could be lots worse, but it has been a lot of work this past week, trying to recover and trying to keep the kids rested and happy. 

Thursday, Lucy started to have headaches.  She called from school to say that it felt that like her shunt had broken and water was on her scalp.  It was pretty easy to get someone to look at her head to see if everything was still intact.  It was.  She asked a ground duty to look at it for her.  I asked if she had known that Lucy had a shunt.  Lucy said, "No. She thought it was a goose egg!"  She almost giggled when she told me that part after school. She called again a little later from school to say that she had a headache.  They came and went.  I chalked it up to the beginning of the adenovirus that we have been sharing around.

This whole adventure with hydrocephalus is slowly morphing into a scene where Lucy is becoming a central figure with a voice.  It's a nice change.  When she was a baby, we were just guessing at what she felt.

When the importance of Lucy's own recollection of her symptoms became obvious to me, I went to our stack of notebooks (okay, so "stack" might be too "neat" of a word to describe our stash of coloring books, activity books and notebooks) and pulled out a small notebook that still had some pages left relatively untouched.  I gave it to Lucy, strapped on her watch, and explained how she could keep track of her headaches and stomachaches so we could give more information to Dr. Walker.  There was no ceremony, but it did feel a little like a rite of passage.

With a lot of support from an especially savvy health care consultant (my sister-in-law),  I got on the phone and got an appointment with Lucy's neurosurgeon for today.  It was easy, but I did get lost on hold for 15 minutes.  I just needed a little encouragement.

Anyone who has been to camp as a kid has probably seen the trust-building exercise where a big group crowds together facing the same direction in a circle.  Then, of course, they've got to get very close or it won't work.  If the group gets close enough that each person is effectively sandwiched between the persons in front and behind him or her, standing with the same shoulder inside, everyone can sit at the same time.  It's a self-supporting circle.  Everyone has a seat, but there's no beginning and no end.

It takes commitment and a little bit of balance, but it works well every time, provided that the circle is big and close enough.

Yesterday, a friend of mine texted me and sneeked (YES sneeked!) it out of me that I was going through a rough patch.  I was physically, mentally, and emotionally drained.  It was nothing I haven't felt before.  I and our family would have survived without intervention.  Still, it was so nice when she brought over her magical cough syrup  and dinner.

When I got a chance to help out my niece yesterday afternoon, it improved my day just as much.  I went from feeling tired and stuck to energized and motivated.  Really and truly.  It was nothing big.  I just gave her a ride.  Anyone could've done it.  But it was something she couldn't do for herself.  It provided her a little bit of support and eased the way a little.

I think this is the way the world is meant to work.  When we all do just a small something for somebody else, it's possible for all of us to get a little extra support.  A lot of times, that little extra that we do for somebody else makes a big difference for both parties.  

**Update:  Brian took Lucy to get a CAT scan and  shunt series today while I stayed at home with the boys.  Charlie woke up with a fever and was pretty miserable.  When given the choice, Lucy asked Brian to take her--she's such a daddy's girl!  Dr. Walker adjusted the setting on her valve to 110 from 100,  making the shunt drain more slowly.  We hope that this will make a difference for Lucy along with some time lying flat on her back after school to give her a break from all of the activity of school.  We will give it three months and re-evaluate.                                

03.08.2013 -- In a Nutshell

Charlie almost always has something on his face these days.

                         LBB (Lucy before braces.)                                      LAB

Gabe and one of his cute girl friends.

 

With Grandma's bird, "Blue."

Waiting for Lucy's first recital to start.

12.27.2012 -- Happiness!

This year at our post Christmas reunion, we were missing some people we love, but we also got to have Kate join us for the first time!  Such fun!

01.10.2013 -- Recovery

I'm now married to a 40 year old!  He's great and kind and funny and fabulous and... you get the idea.  For his birthday, I threw together a surprise party at the last second.  It never would've happened without help from our buddy, Ken.   Ken and I got Brian to the Flowrider in Provo on the night of his birthday before he suspected a thing.  We rented the Flowrider for an hour, then went to dinner, all with a bunch of people we love.   We had so much fun!  (If I forgot to invite you, please forgive me--if you couldn't make it, we missed you!)

 

This is NOT what we looked like.

  

Lots more of these kinds of moves. (Especially me.)

To be honest, though, this experience with the flowrider was pretty good, considering the last time we went (Brian's 35th?), I never even stood up.  I didn't get to the point where I was relaxed on the board, but at least I could stand up on my own!  Maybe in 5 years, on our third try, I will be shredding.

After Christmas vacation and Brian's birthday, I was scrambling to get caught up on the house, the laundry and putting Christmas away.  This despite a LOT of help from Brian.  ...I had my hands full with Charlie, who is not an easy teether.  Charlie's comfort objects are attached to me, so he wants to be held all the time.  His temperament is interesting.  Very different from Lucy and Gabe.  The longer Charlie goes without the comfort and attention that he wants, the longer he is upset, even while getting what he wants.  Last night it took us an hour to work out getting a drink of water and getting back to bed.  It turned out that Charlie wanted the light turned on, wanted a specific cup (Snoopy), and he needed about 20 minutes of support until he calmed down enough for him to get over the fact that I didn't turn the light on in the first place.  By the time I got him back into bed, he had at least stopped screaming and crying, but I spent another 20 minutes holding books up for him in the moonlight while he closed his eyes.  This at 2 in the morning.

Did I mention that he has the flu?

Lucy just went back to school today after taking 6 days off to go through the flu.  The kids and I have been hermits for the past week.  It has actually been nice.  Because they've been sick, they have watched way too much television and I have been getting a lot done.  I'm caught up on laundry and housework.  Christmas is all put away.  I'm even taking a minute to blog.

Even though it's been rough dealing with the flu, it has actually been great having Lucy home and not having to shuttle everybody to lessons.  I find myself feeling grateful for the recovery time.  In my experience, the value in having even a somewhat orderly home is hard to overestimate.

Recovery by New Buffalo

(This is the song only, no cool video.)