Eeeek!

In all the Girls' Camp hullabaloo, I forgot to write about the drama that happened around here.  Two Saturdays ago, I came downstairs in the morning to see Braeden asleep on the couch on the main floor.  Every light in the house was on and Braeden was fully clothed in the previous day's clothes. 

When he woke up, he told me his sad and alarming tale.

We had a mouse.

Braeden had been watching TV in the basement the night before and he saw the mouse out of the corner of his eye.  He spent the rest of the night driving himself crazy trying to see if there really was a mouse or if it was a figment of his imagination.  He named the mouse Pat because he couldn't tell if it was a boy mouse or a girl mouse.  He finally realized that Pat was real.  He was armed with a broom and tried to smack it but Pat, in addition to being real, was illusive.  Finally he gave up at 6:00 a.m. and collapsed on the upstairs couch.

It turns out we are all, from the biggest to the littlest around here, terrified of mice.

Give me snakes, all manner of bugs, spiders, lizards, teenage mutant ninja turtles, I don't care.  I just don't want a mouse in my house.

Adam and I bought some traps, after consulting with my dad about the right kind of traps to buy.  We set six traps and Pat stayed hidden for the next 24 hours.  On Sunday at church, when I told my friends the sad and alarming tale, they said things like, "Well yeah, you live right by the mountain."  Like we should expect mice.

Oh nay, nay, nay.

Since we were about to leave for Girls' Camp, I told Braeden that if he by chance caught Pat, he could just throw away the mouse trap.  "Use a shovel," I told my squeamish boy who refuses to even squash a spider.  I said if you catch six mice, go buy more traps.

Braeden said, "If I catch six mice, I'm moving in with Ammon until you get home."

Sunday evening, Emma went to the Dungeon which is the name we've given our storage room in the basement.  She was after a sleeping bag for Girls' Camp.  She came upstairs with an apprehensive face.  "I think I just saw Pat."

We all hurried toward the basement but Adam stopped us at the top of the stairs.  He wanted to go down and see if he could catch Pat.  He didn't want the rest of us nervous giggling hooligans scaring Pat away.  We waited at the top of the stairs like it was Christmas morning and I grabbed a nearby plastic Harry Potter wand because I wanted to be armed in case Pat attacked.

Adam called up the stairs, "I don't see him."

We all thundered down the stairs to see if we could see him.  Emma peeked in the Dungeon.  "Right there!" she said.

And sure enough.  Pat.  In one of the six traps.  There is one more mouse angel in heaven. (Wait, tell me there aren't mice in heaven!)

Braeden went to his bedroom and shut the door.

Emma climbed up on the table.

Adam made Mark come and hold a garbage bag while he emptied the trap.  "You've got to," Adam said, "You're a man."

I don't know why Braeden was excused from his manly duties or why it's a man's job to dispose of the mice but I was glad to be considered too dainty and feminine for the task.  My skin was crawling at the very thought of it all.

If it hadn't been so horrible, it was terribly funny how freaked out we all were by a small little rodent.  We're a hopeless bunch.

I took on the task of carrying the garbage bag outside to the trash can.  You have to tag team in these trying times.  I was fine, keeping the garbage bag well away from my body.  When I walked outside, the light hit the bag and I could make out the outline of poor little Pat.

I may never recover.

Monday, while we were at camp, our pest control people (because apparently when you live by the mountain and are incredibly terrified of rodents, you need pest control people) came and sealed up a few possible entry points for mice.

We'd better not see any of Pat's friends.

I made it!

There I am in my smashing sun hat that made my children mock me.  I did not get sunburned.

Girls' Camp

Not for the faint of heart.

I experienced a wide range of emotions.  I had anxiety (but only before it started).  I was tired.  I got a little annoyed (because sometimes people can be annoying).  I got a little cranky (at 1:30 in the morning when I was freezing cold and I couldn't get my sleeping bag zipper to cooperate.  I woke Adam up and he settled me down and fixed my zipper.)  I would look around on occasion and think there was no place I would rather be.

I can't tell you how happy I was that Adam was there.  Here he is with the other brave man that accompanied us:

They were our go to helpers.

We hiked in Zion National Park, which is stunning.

half the girls are still wearing swimsuits because we hiked in the Narrows

In keeping with our theme of camp, which was "Unsinkable," the girls made boats out of milk jugs:

Then we floated them in a reservoir.  They turned out really well:

these are the darling little first years

The actual camping part wasn't as terrible as I thought it would be (mostly thanks to Adam).  One of the other leaders put this sign on our tent.  (She'd had Emma text her the pictures of us.)

Then I laughed out loud for awhile. 

I like all the women who are also YW leaders even more after our time together.  Their true colors shined.

Our last night, we abandoned ship (ha ha) and left our campsite and stayed one night in some condos.  The original plan with the previous leaders was to stay longer in the condos but I'm glad we only stayed one night.  It was harder to connect with everyone when we were spread out like that.  (Although taking a shower was a very positive mood altering experience.)

In the condos, we performed skits.  The leaders did a synchronized swimming number which was dazzling.  First we giggled for about 20 minutes while we practiced, then we tried really hard to keep it together while we performed.  It was SO funny but the girls didn't really laugh.  They sat in sort of stunned silence.  It's always a little sad when you think you're funnier than maybe you really are.

So. Very. Synchronized.

notice one of the girls is scratching her head...what is going on here?

 
I laughed so much that my face hurt.

The YCLs (Youth Camp Leaders) of which Emma was a part, did a lip sync of a Backstreet Boys song.  Some of these girls are so funny that they should be able to charge admission just to be able to hang around with them.  

I loved spending time with the girls.  There are some good ones. I felt closer to them as we shared spiritual experiences and I saw them step up to the plate to serve each other and be kind and helpful.

Also, I loved being there with this girl:

I don't camp

In Paul Blart: Mall Cop, (Have you seen that movie?  Go watch it.  And the sequel.) Paul Blart says a few times that he doesn't drink.

He's at a party and says, "This lemonade is insane!"

Then his friend tells him that it is because it is a margarita.  So poor Paul gets unwittingly drunk.

Later, when he ends up with a tattoo on his back, he says, "It's the Loch Ness monster.  I don't drink."

I keep thinking about that with Girls' Camp happening next week.  All the plans are moving forward.  It's taken over my life and I dream about Girls' Camp, but here's the thing:  I don't camp.

I have anxiety about leaving my boys behind.  (Don't forget to water the plants, Braeden.  Also, keep your brother alive.)  I have anxiety about it all going smoothly and everyone getting along and staying healthy and safe.  I have anxiety that I'm in charge.

And then that detail:  I don't camp.

I am I-can't-even-explain-the-extent grateful that Adam is going with me.  His very presence is a comfort.  He's funny and a good go with the flow type person.  He keeps a cool head and knows how to set up a tent and start a fire.

He may have to bar the door (tent flap?) to make sure I don't make a run for the nearest hotel.  He's up to the challenge.  I will go.  I will do my best.

But if I show up with a tattoo of the Loch Ness monster on my back, remember you heard it here first.

I don't camp.

Boys

Tabor and Hyrum stayed with us after the Eagle Court of Honor.  Hyrum is going to stay a week at Tabor's house.  Uncle Tabor Camp.  Cowboy Camp.  Hyrum's Dream Vacation.  Any title works.  (It would be like if Mark had an uncle that was a professional Lego builder and we sent him for the week.)  Hyrum took his guitar and his saddle.  What else do you need?

Tabor had some stuff to do yesterday morning so we got Hyrum for awhile (which we enjoyed).  At one point, I looked out the window and the three boys each had a sword and were jumping on the trampoline and talking about books they'd read and who knows what else.

It was a reminder that before you get too wistful about boys growing up, they don't do it all at once.  Occasionally they pull out their swords.

Eagle

Last night, Braeden had his Eagle Court of Honor.  We planned it for when Marianne and Robert would be in town (they took Clarissa to the airport...the girl has gone to New Zealand!).  My parents were also around for it and then Tabor was passing through.  Combine that with Ammon and Melanee and we had a good family group.

I felt a little regret that so many of the people Braeden grew up with and that care about him couldn't be there, but I was very grateful so much family was there.

Here's Braeden, Mark and Adam with Robert, Hyrum and Morgan:

They're a good group.  Mark led the flag ceremony which consisted of his cousins.

Here is the big moment when Braeden pledged, on his honor. (He's pictured with Brother Walker, his young men's president who is a wonderful man.)

Here he is with our bishop, who we love.

Here's the scout commissioner with Braeden:

He complimented Braeden on his board of review.  Braeden said later, "I realized something about myself.  I love being the center of attention and have people laugh at me but I don't like standing in front of people and having them talk about how great I am."

I said, "Don't worry, that doesn't happen too much in life."

I decided to include the picture of Adam getting his parent pin.  He deserved the pin more than I did.  He put a lot into Braeden's scouting years.  Following the example of his own dad, Adam loved to be along on scout campouts.  It was a wonderful way for them to make memories and be together.

We had a slideshow with a bunch of scout pictures, like this:

My job, besides make mint brownies for the occasion, was to figure out how the scarf slide worked:

One really wonderful part of the night was that David was there.  He's at BYU still this summer and we've gotten smart and gone and claimed him a few times as our own.

He was the only one besides our immediate family that knew everyone in the slideshow:

I would love to see these people again...even though most of them are now man sized rather than this younger version of themselves.

Here's the Eagle Nest:

It was small, but meaningful to Braeden.  These men all matter a lot to him. 

I love seeing Braeden and David.  They have the easy relationship of two boys that grew up together.  Even though he's older than Braeden, David has only been kind and tolerant of Braeden in the ten plus years we've known him.  David has always been someone for Braeden to look up to (even though Braeden passed him in height).

We love David!

They were sitting by each other on the couch and realized their striped socks.  Braeden texted this picture to Janet.

She texted back that Leif had the same socks as Braeden.  Which made Braeden happy.  He misses Leif!

Actually we all do. 

And the rest of the Jorgensens.

I still have mint brownies.  Come and see us?

oh, boy...

Yesterday started with a text message that sent my day into a tailspin.  It was nothing life threatening, just a rather important kink in the planning of Girls' Camp, which is next week.  That kink unearthed some other pretty major problems in the whole Girls' Camp Plan.  Oh, and the camp director is on vacation and out of cell phone range this week.

The result was two different two hour long meetings, several phone calls, an enormous barrage of text messages.

And just a teeny tiny little bit of stress.

Which is, you know, no big deal for me.  I got this.  Stress is my favorite.

Except it makes my brain sort of melt.

I sent out a big group text to ten people calling the second of the emergency planning meetings.  People started answering me back and I was responding to their texts while I was trying to find the other numbers of the people that I needed to text and my poor little brain, which can't handle much at best, was in overdrive.  (Multi-tasking!  Bad idea!)

One girl answered back that she could make the meeting.  I cross my heart and hope to die that I  thought she'd texted that she couldn't make the meeting.  I texted her back with alternative times we could meet.  She texted back, I can make it.

Which, I of course, in my brain melting way, read, "I can't make it."

Wow, I thought, she can't come to any meetings?  I texted her again with more alternative times.  Her response of course didn't make sense because I had forgotten how to read.

So I did what any person would do.

"Emma!"  I yelled, "Come and read this for me.  I am not understanding this."

She picked up my phone and read it.  "She. Can. Come. To. The. Meeting," Emma said.  She didn't add, you are a crazy and deranged woman and pretty soon we're going to have to put you in a home so you don't hurt yourself.

(That was nice of her not to add the last bit.)

Before you start looking up the number of the insane asylum to refer me to, I am feeling better.  My goal today, besides hide my cell phone somewhere where I'll never be able to find it again (because I can't handle that guy, obviously), is to get organized.

This stack includes all the little notes that I've written to myself that need attention (because it's not just wrecked Girls' Camp Plans that are happening...there's all that other life type stuff as well):

If I can make sense of that stack and maybe put it all on one piece of paper (a rather large piece), I think I will be OK.

Wish me luck!

Litle things mean a lot

It's probably a combination of let down after our trip, melancholy about Braeden graduating, Mark going to school next year, and flat out just missing my friends.

Whatever it is, I've been a little gloomy.  Occasionally I look around and think, "Is this really my life?"  It still feels surreal at times, almost like an essential part of things is missing.

That's change for you I guess.

The other day I was talking to Sue.  She is my visiting teacher, the Young Women camp director and Emma's English teacher all rolled into one.  I take advantage of each relationship I have with her.  She is a wise and good listener.  She loves to camp so she's in charge and I'm just going along and trying not to be grumpy.  I also confided in her about the great abyss in my life that is caused by the local anemic library.  (She's an English teacher, she gets it.)

She told me about the Orem library.

So Mark and I stopped by.  That place is enormous!  (The empty lot next to us sold.  Adam talked to the new neighbors.  They are moving here from Orem.  I said, "But do they know about the library?  Why would they leave Orem?!?) I immediately paid the non resident fee to gain a library card.  Then I gathered an armful of books.  I just haven't been reading as much as usual because I don't have a good source for free books.  Armed with a new card and a seriously colossal collection of books in front of me, I felt better.  I felt a little bit of restoration of basic Thelma-ness was happening.

While I was checking out my books, I saw I had missed a call.  It was from Becky, who I haven't seen or talked to since last August.  Surprised and delighted, I called her back.  Becky lives in my old neighborhood.  When we first moved into our house there, she came to visit me along with the Relief Society president.  She has never been anything but kind to me.  She has kids the ages of my kids.  Her husband is legendary in our family for his scout leadership and general awesomeness.  Becky and I were in bookclub together.

She's my friend.

I don't think I really appreciated that fact until after I'd chatted with her a few minutes in the library parking lot.  She is interested in me.  She wanted to know about my children.  It's like every time I talk to Janet on the phone.  I felt understood and connected and I felt this little reminder.  Oh yeah, this is what it feels like to have a friend.

Because I don't really have friends here yet.

I tell myself (and it's mostly true) that I'm OK with that.  I am busy.  I am introverted.  I don't want to force a friendship.

There are some women I know here that are kind and seem like people I could connect with, but it's a slow process for me.

In the meantime, I'm grateful for the reminders of friends I have.  They are in the world.  They care about me.  Like having a library card to a good library, it feels restorative.