Wrapped up in support

I am not saying I have the best siblings in the world...

...it certainly seems like it though sometimes.

Everyone except Enoch, who is the busiest basketball coach in America, has watched or will watch Braeden's and Emma's show this week.  (Enoch and Jennifer have both texted their regrets.  Those two are good people.) 

My siblings drove from hours away to come and watch and make us feel loved.

(Well, I guess Ammon and Melanee won't have to drive far.)

Still.  It matters to me that this matters to them.

Last night at the show I was on the same row as my parents and Geri.  How lucky are my kids to have such wonderful grandparents that love them?

In the row in front of us were Tabor and Katie and their girls and a few rows up from them were Olivia's crew. 

Sometimes I regret the times when we were growing up and I got into hair pulling fights with Olivia or gathered up all of Tabor's stuff and threw it out of the room where he slept.

(Sometimes I regret being a jerk.)

I never regret being part of this though.  I like being a middle child (one of several).  I am safely planted between my tall, funny, kind brothers and sisters who love my kids, encourage me when I need it, help me when I need it, and send me unfunny memes about the Seahawks after they lose the Superbowl, even when I don't need it. (Enoch!)

I love those kids...and their spouses...and their kids.

Five, Seven and Nine

I guess I'm feeling nostalgic lately.  Or always.

The other day Mark and I were walking along, he nearly as tall as me.  He said, "I feel grown up lately."  He had just procured $2 from my wallet and bought himself a hotdog and soda to be consumed while I shopped at Costco.  He was feeling pretty pleased with himself and his autonomy.

Him crowing about being grown makes me want to demand that he slow down and possibly revert to a past time:

Pretty please, Mark?

He is grown up lately though.  He is my adviser in many things.  He knows where every tool is kept and can always find a fresh battery when needed.  In the absence of Adam, he provides tech support. He is full of opinions and would be very happy to plan my days for me.  I can't imagine my life when he goes to school.

(And I have a pretty good imagination.)

It wasn't all roses when he was little though.

We were at Ikea on a recent errand and I remembered how it was when he was five and I would take him to Ikea.

He was very cute:

 

But every time I took him to Ikea, I would check him into the playland and then they would page me because he was being kicked out of the playland.  (Usually for fighting and general wildness.)  They finally said that if it happened one more time he could no longer go there.

It was a really happy time.

So Mark not getting kicked out of the Costco food court while I shop is an improvement.

And improvements are good.

One of my favorite Braeden stories isn't too much of a story but a tiny little moment in time.  He had some camouflage shorts when he was about seven, which excited him.  He put them on and ran out the front door.  At that time there were woods in front of our house.  He stood in front of the trees.  "Can you see me?" he yelled.

It was Braeden in a nutshell.  He has more enthusiasm than any ten kids you could find.

seven year old Braeden

Last Saturday night it was about 9:00 and we were sprawled on couches in semi comatose states watching Larkrise to Candleford, which Braeden has proclaimed the most chilled out show in the world (and I think he's right).  One of Braeden's friends called for him and wanted him to come over.  Braeden sprung from the couch, negotiated a curfew and changed from his pajamas back into his jeans and was out the door before any of the rest of us knew what hit us.

He's Braeden and I just try to keep up.

One of my favorite Emma memories is when she was nine and we went to London.  Braeden was on that trip too but I remember Emma.  I loved seeing the magical Northern lights with my girl as we flew through the night sky and I remember her hopscotching her way across London.  She was delighted with the cobblestones and brick walkways and the perfect way they provided a hopscotch grid.

hopscotching one night after a concert at St Paul's Cathedral

I tried to get her to stop because it isn't always efficient or convenient to hopscotch your way across London.  I was unsuccessful though.  And that is Emma.  She's her own girl.  She'll hopscotch if she wants.

Try to stop her.

Drama mama

At Glacier Peak, we were spoiled rotten.  Not only did we have a fancy and state of the art facility but we had this great photographer who took wonderful pictures I could post on my blog and stare at to remember the spectacle that happened on the stage.

If there's a photographer here, I don't know about it.  I may try to take a few blurry cell phone shots...that always works so well?

The theater isn't as posh, but the kids!  They blow me away.  Such talent!  Granted they are mostly Mormons and Mormon kids start singing at a very young age.  Three year olds belt out "Jesus Wants Me For a Sunbeam" with vigor and enthusiasm and then they sing every Sunday at church for the rest of their live long days.

So these kids...they sing.

And they are great actors and it is all sorts of fun to watch.  They work hard and are a sweaty and happy mess by the end.  I love my kids coming home, euphoric and riding high on the great time they had.  They love being part of something that makes people happy.  My eyes are on Braeden the whole time he's on stage.  As far as I'm concerned, he's where the action is.

Emma is a very serious tech crew member.  I am proud of my girl!  She auditioned for the play but the competition is stiff (again with all the talented singing Mormon kids).  She was happy her brother got cast and switched gears for herself and put all of her energy into being on the tech crew.  She's gone early and stayed late and worked hard.  She doesn't get the applause and the accolades but she's every bit a part of making the magic happen.

I'm very grateful that so many of our family members are coming to watch.  Marianne and her kids came Monday (and Braeden was matchmaking friends and cousins), Geri is coming today, more family will come and watch tomorrow and Friday and it only compounds the joy to share it with people we love.

I miss the Glacier Peak drama program.  I loved those kids and that stage.  I loved the other moms and our camaraderie working in the trenches together.   It was all pretty stressful too though.  It is nothing short of luxury to go watch the show and just...enjoy.

There's no business like show business...

It's all Braeden's fault

At least that's who I am blaming.

He seemed to bring the latest virus home.  We have never had such a constant round of sickness.  First year school teachers are notoriously sick a lot.

Does the same hold true for first year Utahans?

When Braeden was sick, he got a few exclamations of sympathy.  That's about it.

When Emma was sick, she missed a little school and was allowed to sleep in as long as humanly possible.  (And for Emma, that is an impressive amount of time.)

Braeden said, "I should have complained more when I was sick."

Then Mark and I got sick.

We were fresh out of juice/Dimetapp/Kleenex.  I went to the store and stocked up.  Even though I felt like death warmed over.

When Braeden got home from school, he opened the fridge (because it's always the first thing he does) and said, "Look at all this juice! Why didn't I get juice when I was sick?"

"We didn't have any?" I offered.  Then I told him he didn't get juice because he's the one that brought the germs home in the first place.

Then I gave him some juice.

In my weakened state, it's hard to maintain my blame.

I'm staring down a really busy week full of out of town family visiting and Braeden and Emma involved with the school play (I will tell you more about the play when I am less fuzzy headed) and other sundry obligations and things to freak out about, but whatever.

I got this.

(Maybe.)

Ten things about the Super Bowl around here

1-We had to go to Hobby Lobby on Friday anyway, so we got some Seahawk themed craft supplies.

(Bracelet supplies)

I made one for each of us.

2- I gave each kid one food request for during the game.  Mark wanted Chinese style BBQ pork, the kind that is available in every grocery store in the Pacific Northwest.

3- We went to three stores and called one other.

4- No one had heard of it.

(No one.)

5- I made it up to Mark with chocolate.

Oreo cream cheese truffles...on a cracked and banged up plate

6- I wore Seahawk colors to church.

(I mean, how did that not tip the scales to make us victorious?)

7- We watched a little into the third quarter of the game and then we had a youth meeting at church to go to.  We promised our kids it was worth more than the Superbowl.

And it was.

8- But then, as you probably know, the Patriots won.

9- Enoch, a Patriots fan sent me unsupportive texts.

10- Braeden thinks the Seahawks lost because he stopped eating Skittles.  As long as he was eating Skittles, things were going fine. I guess we'll never know.

(Skittles make game day awesomer, just ask Marshawn Lynch.)

Now that's better

All sorts of yin and yang take place in a marriage.  His strengths are my weaknesses and vice versa so it all works.  (Pretty much works.)

I am an impatient, get it done, don't-let-perfect-be-the-enemy-of-progress type person.

Adam is patient.  He contemplates and waits and doesn't want to settle for less than the best possible outcome.

(I think we drive each other a little crazy sometimes.)

I'm a clutterer, the queen of tchotchkes.  I like decorations and Adam is more of a minimalist.  I decided to hold off taking over one corner of the house and let it be Adam's.  His office.  If he didn't have it figured out, that was OK with me.  I was going to let it be his space and his domain. 

I have restrained myself from hanging pictures (and marginally scary wreaths) on the walls or filling the blank spaces with trinkets and vases.  I have let him be in the driver seat and take the lead.

Except I did get some paint chips for him to choose from because it was time already (a tiger can't change her stripes that easily):

See the brown walls?  Sort of a rust/dirty diaper motif.  Also sort of sponge painted.  Were they going for an old world feel?

Every time I walked in the room, I felt like it was sort of an abomination.  (Are the people that bought our old house staring at the walls and wondering, what were they thinking?) Adam chose the paint and we spent Saturday painting.

Before:

Do you know how impressed I am with myself that I remembered to take before pictures?  And the color was way uglier in person.  Believe me.

After:

OK, I did prop those pictures there on the mantel.  So much blank space.  It makes me fidgety.

I like it a LOT more now.

I painted this bookshelf the same color as the walls:

And yes, I put some stuff on that top shelf.  (I can't resist with ampersands.  Adam's initials are AND.)

P.S.  I think I should tell you...I was way too exuberant in my furnace excitement yesterday.  I spoke too soon.  The saga continues but I'm pretty sure we have a resolution and I'm pretty sure this one will stick.  (Don't hold me to that.)

Calling in the cavalry

Our furnace and I have a storied past.  There have been highs and lows; disappointments and frustrations.  And I've been cold.  Adam is usually at work and also not cold by nature.  The big kids are usually at school/play practice and also not cold by nature.  Mark burns enough energy being Mark that he's usually not cold either.

So basically, I'm the main one with a dog in the fight.

Since I'm nothing if not a complainer to my parents, they have been privy to the unhappy tragedy that is our furnace.  A week ago, when my dad was deathly ill, coughing and miserable, he and my mom speculated about whether or not they should drop everything and come see me so my dad could look at the furnace.

I told them it was OK.  We were surviving.  They told me they were going to be in the area this week and they would come and take a look.

Meanwhile, I paid for another company to come and attempt a fix.  (My confidence in repairmen is rapidly dwindling.)

Meanwhile, I was cold.

Meanwhile, I tried to tell myself that my dad may not be able to fix it where so many others had failed.  He is, after all, not a professional repairman.

Meanwhile, I know my dad.  And he fixes stuff.

So Tuesday night they came.  Ammon and family came over too which only boosted my confidence about the furnace.

After some pleasantries, my dad and Ammon and I went to the basement.  (I had Ammon reattach a light fixture I couldn't reach on his way down the stairs.  I mean, if you have the height in the vicinity, use it.)

While they surveyed the scene with the furnace, my mom was upstairs rescuing Emma from herself.  Emma was making tortillas for her online geography course.  (Since nothing says geography like making tortillas?)  My dad and Ammon were downstairs and my mom was in the kitchen helping Emma, so I sat down on the floor and played ponies with Azure and chatted with Melanee.  What else was I to do?

As far as I can tell, we've spent over $800 on furnace fixes that haven't fixed it.

My dad and Ammon spent a little time and my furnace?  It is perhaps too early to tell because it's quite mild out and we'll see what happens when it gets truly cold, but it's working.  It. Is. Working.

Their fix?  Leave the room to the furnace room open. 

Seriously. 

(I hate to admit it but Ammon had suggested that fix over the phone earlier and I'd never tried it.)

They didn't charge me a cent (but I did give them some cookies).

It all reminded me how incredibly lucky I am to live closer to my parents (and Ammon).  This is the sort of treatment my other siblings have been spoiled by.  I went a reaaaaaalllly long time seeing them a few times a year and I like this better.

I like Braeden and my dad talking about politics and renewable energy.  I like my mom teasing me about how ugly she thinks my new wreath is.  (It is ugly but I maintain that is a big part of its charm.)  I like Emma and my mom working side by side in the kitchen.  I like Mark orbiting around, hugging people and coming up from the basement after a wild rumpus with his little cousins, red cheeked from the exertion.  Adam had a late night at work and I like that my parents stuck around later than they'd planned so they could wait for him to come home so they could say hello to him.  

Also, I played my ukelele a little for my parents.  I want them to know that I'm not wasting my time here...I have real talent.

Ha.

Ha. Ha.