Three snapshots

On Monday Braeden and Emma and I were taking a walk and I told them to grab sweatshirts.  They are t-shirt wearers while I have three layers on.  Braeden insisted it wasn't cold.  I insisted it was.

So Braeden pulled out this coat (and sunglasses) he and Jadon got on a trip to Value Village.

 
I guess it's an example of being careful what you ask for.

Braeden and Adam and I went on a short drive that turned into a long drive and an errand.  I felt a little like the stranded cast of Gilligan's Island.  It was supposed to be short!  I texted Emma to apprise her of our progress.

Texting with Emma is a high point of my life.

When I went to bed here's what Mark had left on our bed...a Sonic Screwdriver for each of us, made out of Legos.  Mark loves Dr. Who and Legos (and us apparently).

Enjoy the little things, for one day you may look back and realize they were the big things.

Robert Brault 

A rant from Mama Grizzly

Saturday night Braeden went to Tolo with one of his friends.  For those of you not from the Pacific Northwest, Tolo is a girls' choice dance and I don't know why it's called Tolo here but it is so there's your vague cultural lesson for the day.

The girl who asked him to the dance isn't in his usual circle of friends so they were going to double date with her friends while a big group of his friends were going separately.  He was disappointed to not be going with his friends but I was proud of his amiable spirit about it all.  She asked him first and he was rising to the occasion.  He offered (and was quickly taken up on the offer) to pay his own way, he dressed up, he was determined to have a good time.

I sent him off with a hug and an admonition to behave and drive carefully and be a gentleman and all of that.

His date's parents wanted her to drive so he drove to her house at the appointed time.  His date was in shorts and a t-shirt because her mom was sewing finishing touches on her dress.  Her date's dad took the opportunity to send Braeden outside to move his car.  He followed Braeden out and gave him a Talk.  He smacked his hands together in a threatening way and told Braeden that if anything happened to his daughter, he was holding Braeden personally responsible.  Braeden said "Yes, Sir," and shook his hand.

To all of that, all I could say is, "Are you kidding me?"

Maybe there was a little Napoleon complex going on (the guy hit Braeden about shoulder height) but he did not have to speak threateningly to my boy.  For one thing, she asked him on the date!  For another, she was driving!  Back. Off.

I know it's a time honored tradition for dads to look out for their daughters and maybe that's The Thing for dads to be all threatening but I'm glad my dad never felt compelled to act that way.  For one thing, I think he trusted our choices and for another thing, I think the boys we brought home respected him (and were a little intimidated) without him even trying.

I think if anything, moms should be able to have a talk with their son's dates.

I would never hold a date personally responsible for my son but I would like to request (pretty please) a modest dress.

Z

ZZZZZZzzzzzzzzZZZZZ

I'm writing to you on my shiny new laptop Adam bought for me.  Z. zzzzzzz.  Zz.

Guess what works?

The ZzzzzZZZZZ key!

I think not having a Z key (Did you see how easy that was?--ZZZZZzzzzzz) made me more creative and increased my vocabulary (I tried to find words without Z in them).

I learned which words would auto correct and which would not.  I learned tricks for finding the letter.  It was all a great learning experience.  (I also learned, don't spill Diet Coke on your laptop.)

My old laptop, old faithful, the beloved, was wearing out.  She was slow.  Painfully slow and sometimes would just refuse to get out of bed and get to work.  (I know the feeling; I didn't hold it against her.) I texted Adam with a computer complaint.  He is a good one to tell me how to fix whatever is ailing.  He texted back, "It is time to get you a new computer."

(That's not the first time he's told me that.)

I texted, "So are you saying if my computer were a racehorse you would shoot it?"

He texted back, "Yes."

It needed to be put down.  Sort of tragic.

Adam told me to look at the Apple website and compare different choices and figure out what I wanted.

Ha.

I don't understand the language spoken on the Apple website.  Also computers don't come in enough colors to be distinguishable to me. 

Saturday afternoon found Adam and Braeden and me at the Apple store.  Adam told me to pick what I liked and he would figure out which one had what I needed based on my choice.

Here's the thing.  They are all gray.  Kind of a silvery gray.   "I like the gray one?  The silvery gray one?"

First I had to pick the size.  (Woohoo!  That was so easy to type size!  That was not a word that would auto correct before!  It's really the little things that make life grand!) I picked the one that was the same size as my old computer.  I was still dragging my feet a little bit about the whole endeavor.

We were in a computer store so Adam pulled up a website comparing the specs on the two choices with 13 inch screens.

I didn't understand a word of it.  Braeden looked at me with barely contained mirth.  He knew I didn't understand a word of it.  (He didn't either though.)

I told Adam to get whatever he wanted.  He had a conference with one of the genius bar guys (which must be great for their self esteem--to be part of the genius bar).  They spoke in the foreign computer language...all that mega giga stuff that sounds like the adults in Peanuts cartoons.

Adam turned to me, "So?"

The genius bar guy was looking at me.

Braeden was smirking at me above the genius bar guy's head.

"You decide," I told Adam.

Braeden pulled me over to look at the computer with the comparison page.  "This will clear it all up for you," he said, pointing to the list of features in a sort of mocking way.

"I don't know what any of that means," I said.

"I know," he said, "Neither do I."

We decided to go look at phone cases.  They come in different colors and so are therefore distinguishable.

I finally rejoined Adam and told him which computer I wanted.  I picked the one with the best visual display.  It has retina display and Hey!  I have retinas!  I know that word.  I picked it because I like to watch Netflix on my laptop when I fold laundry so I want to use my retinas.

I started texting and eventually talking on the phone with Emma because she was making schemes for her evening plans.  (It involved seeing the movie Frozen for the third time.) Adam worked out all the details of the memory--which I still only vaguely understand despite Adam's noble attempt at an analogy--and whatever else needed to be worked out and now I have one shiny little laptop that can type z.  Any number of z's I want.

ZZZZZzzzzZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzZZz

Z

z

The Super Bowl

It was my first Super Bowl.  I don't usually watch but made an exception in the name of family solidarity.

The family was sort of into it.

Whitney and Kelly came for the weekend from Atlanta.  On Saturday we stopped by Geri's to see them and they were just leaving to go to the Boeing factory to see the 747-8 painted for the Seahawks so we went too (Adam was recruited to drive everyone).

There was a festive and holiday air about town.  And everybody was wearing a Seahawks shirt.

Sunday, after church, where several men were sporting ties with subtle green and blue stripes, we went to Brian's house.  The game was underway when we pulled up and we heard yelling from inside the house before we got out of the car.

If you didn't come wearing a Seahawks shirt (like the members of our immediate family) you were handed one at the door.  We piled on couches and chairs and when the Seahawks scored--which they did--it was sort of deafening and maybe dangerous as children and adults dog piled and high fived. 

I started texting my bearded brother and we sent each other memes that were maybe a little derisive toward the opponent, but meant...respectfully.

During time-outs we took selfies:

During offensive plays everyone (except me because Skittles are the worst) ate Skittles--just to help Marshawn.

Emma eating blue and green Skittles like it's her job.

I don't know if it was strictly necessary but it couldn't hurt.

My favorite part of the victory was watching Scott.  He's probably the biggest fan in Seattle.  The Twelfthest Twelfth Man.

He paced and twisted a towel in his hands the entire game and then his face reflected his pure joy.  Whitney texted me this picture.

I thought it was awfully cute.  Notice he's wearing a Seahawks shirt when he was a little boy.  He's a lifetime fan.

When I got home my grandma called me to talk about the game.  My grandma is not necessarily a Seahawks fan but she is a diehard football fan and a really wonderful grandma too.  She said she was pulling for Seattle on my behalf.

All in all, a good day.

I'm all for family solidarity:

Except Kain looks pretty serious...uh Kain?  We won!

Phone photos

Yesterday Mark was cold during math and wanted to go get a blanket.  Blankets and math aren't a great mix.  (Blankets and reading are a natural and winning combination.)  I told him to go put on a sweatshirt.  He came back with a hooded sweatshirt and his cloak that Grandma Geri made him for a Halloween costume.

I snapped a few pictures because it looked like a bat was in the school room and you've got to document things like that.

I scrolled through some of the pictures on my phone that have not been deleted yet.  (For some reason, I delete photos on my phone but I have a trillion unread messages--give or take.)

I still have this picture from last May:

Wouldn't you also keep something like that?  I like to document talent when I see it.

I have this picture from a hike I took with the Webelos last summer:

My son is the one throwing something off the hill while everyone else is posing nicely.

I found these pictures taken at Larabee State Park last summer:

I miss summer and blue toenails and starfish and sparkling water...

Here's one either Geri or Whitney texted me last summer:  Mark and Aunt Whitney going to the World of Coca-cola in Atlanta.

I found this picture of Braeden taken for unknown reasons:

I don't know if he was impersonating Hagrid or his uncle Enoch...

I found this selfie of Braeden which is one of the millions of selfies he takes on my phone.  I delete 99.9% of them:

Here's a picture of Emma's new haircut, from December.  I took a picture to text Adam:

Pretty girl.

And here's maybe my favorite photo I found on the phone.  Adam and I had to go to Wal-mart to return a gift and I took this picture and sent it to Braeden:

Then, Adam was driving home and I was texting Braeden and this happened:

When we got home, he came running out to meet us, in slight distress.  He had the same look on his face that he gets when he's eating food he doesn't like but pretends he does because he doesn't want to hurt my feelings.

It all made me triumphant because I never can trick people. Despite growing up in Nevada, I don't have a poker face.  Texting is a good medium for me and trickery.

So photos are cleared off my phone.

Now I should do something about the email...

A list

I've had a week of not getting enough sleep and freaking out about things that I didn't need to freak out about and it's gray and wet outside and the lightbulbs keep burning out.  The downstairs ones that I can't reach even if I stand on a chair.  Also, my to do list is neglected and I'm not getting to things at an alarming rate.

There's nothing to do at a time like this but write a list.

Here are things that redeem being tired, freaked out, too short to change lightbulbs and unproductive:

✩ homemade bread--it makes the house smell wonderful and I love it

✩ the seat heaters in my van

✩ library books

✩ umbrellas

✩ walks (see above)

✩ our fireplace

✩ our children love me...sometimes I think more than I deserve then I remember that I carried them inside me for 9 months, I gave birth to them, I have helped keep them alive and clothed and fed for all these years so no, they probably do not love more than I deserve...

✩ Adam loves me...sometimes I think more than I deserve

✩ this morning I heard birds singing at sunrise when the sky went from black to dark gray to lighter gray

✩ also this morning, I start with a clean slate just like every day...maybe today I will show that to do list who is boss

Rollercoaster

I remember going to the amusement park Lagoon in Salt Lake City when I was growing up.  There was a rickety roller coaster.  For some reason I allowed myself to be dragged onto it--I think more than once over the years--and every time I thought I was going to die and that riding that roller coaster was the worst thing that ever happened to me.

I don't like roller coasters.  I can't even watch the California Screamin' ride at Disneyland.  (I can't watch the Tea Cups either but that's a different story.)

I don't like roller coasters but I have a teenage driver and an over active imagination and that's almost as deadly a combination as that Lagoon roller coaster and me.

Last night I was making dinner which I usually like to do.  I was making a recipe that everyone loves which makes it an even better pursuit.  The house smelled good, Adam was on his way home, I was warm and safe.

Then, Adam walked in the door and told me about the horrific traffic.  He said there must have been an accident because there was a lot of traffic on a street he drove that usually doesn't have much traffic.

Braeden wasn't home yet.

And when I hear the word accident and my boy is out in the world, my heart stops a little bit.

It was past the time I was expecting Braeden to be home.  I grabbed my phone and tapped on the app that locates Braeden's phone.  (I always feel a little like Big Brother at such times.)

He couldn't be located.  His phone has been buggy lately.  Adam says he needs to get Braeden a new phone.  Maybe Adam just wants to go to the Apple store...

Anyway.  I wrung my hands a little.  Where was Braeden?  I don't like to call him or text him in case he's driving.  (I don't want to test my theory that he ignores phone calls and texts while driving I guess.)  I wrung my hands some more.  All the simple joy I was feeling minutes earlier had left.  I kept telling myself to relax.  I texted Braeden. 

No response.

I called him.

An automated voice told me that the phone didn't have a voice mail set up.  I don't think anyone ever calls Braeden anyway, texting is king.

I was ready to get in my van and go look for Braeden.  Adam told me the traffic was terrible.  He told me Braeden was fine.  He told me that just because Braeden's phone was dead, that didn't mean he was in an accident.

In my mind I protested that a dead phone didn't guarantee he was safe either.

I also decided that if he wasn't home soon I would go looking for him.  Even if it was on foot.  It's a well documented fact that I'm not a stable person when I'm worried about my children...

Then Braeden walked in the door.  "HelLO!" he called his familiar greeting.

Relief and gratitude all flooded back in and Braeden pulled me into his arms because he could see I was stressed and because this isn't his first rodeo.  He knows me.

"My phone died," he said.  There had been an accident and so a closed road and diverted traffic but also he'd stayed late to get his hair cut by his director.  "I knew you'd be worried, I'm sorry."

He hugged me several more times, probably until he could see the furrows in my forehead smooth themselves out.

I don't like roller coasters.