Yesterday

Braeden carried this around for Emma while she got checked in.

Then shortly after taking this picture, he wandered away and took a wrong turn and got lost in a girls' dorm carrying a stuffed tiger and a plant.  He texted me:

We eventually found each other.

Emma's room was all set to rights and she was happy.

Her bed is tall and she...isn't

After some more errands, I went with Braeden back to his dorm to unload still more stuff.  I met his roommate's mom who was also there, dropping off more stuff.  They're from Payson and apparently when you live close like we do, moving in is a multi step process.  We chatted and talked about our recently returned sons and how grateful we were to be close by.  She said, "I see some parents cry and throw their arms around their kids.  You can tell who lives far away."

I nodded my agreement.

And then I cried and threw my arms around Braeden when I said good-bye.  I just got that kid back.

I think I will buy this shirt.

Then I went and said a last good-bye to Emma and cried a little more.  Darn kids.  Who said they could grow up?

I failed to take a picture of Braeden in his room so I texted him to send me a selfie:

Mark has been lost in the shuffle a bit but now he is back to front and center.  I told him when he got home from school he needs to hug me three times as often now.  So he gave me a big hug.  He's sweet and funny and tall (for reaching the top cupboard) and strong (for carrying in groceries).  I'm grateful I have him.

I'm going to figure out a way to freeze time.

I'll try.

Last night we went to a Court of Honor and he got a rank advancement and I got a pin!  If there was ever a mother who didn't deserve a mother's pin for these things, it's me.  The only thing I do is grudgingly attach badges.

Mark led the color guard.  And I contemplated the fact that he needs a haircut and I wondered what sort of debate will have to happen for a haircut to take place.

Moving day(s)

This is taxing.

Today we move Emma in.  She was stressed last night and feeling (what?!?) a little shaky about leaving home.  It broke my heart a little.  Braeden wrapped his arms around her and said, "You know you will have me right there."  They were both coincidentally wearing BYU t-shirts and I felt this little catch in my throat because those two are some of the best things in my life and I'm glad they have each other.

Yesterday we moved Braeden in (although he slept here last night). 

We met his roommate (he was very nice, he likes the color blue apparently, he is a mechanical engineer major so he can help Braeden with any math needs, and he just returned from a mission in West Virginia).

Walking across the bookstore, someone yelled, "Elder Davis!" and threw her arms around Braeden's waist.  (She was short.)  She is from Virginia--hence the Elder Davis.

Across campus and at Target I kept having to get him to slow down.  He has long legs and a quick pace that was only accelerated by his excitement.  Finally at Target I told him I wouldn't buy him one thing unless he waited for me (and I'm not a particularly slow walker!). We bought all the things and got Braeden as set up as possible.   He's pretty Spartan in his needs and I'm not too worried about it.  For one thing we're close and for another thing he kept himself alive on cereal and quesadillas for two years so there's no reason to think that trend won't continue.

Braeden is happy and excited and it's hard not to get swept up in his enthusiasm (even though my heart hurts because college feels like such a big milestone).  Over and over he'd look around and say, "This is going to be so great!" and "I'm so happy!" and "Thank you for everything."

His prayers are full of gratitude for the opportunity.  Mine too.  I'm beyond thrilled that Braeden and Emma get to go to BYU together.  (It is just a little bit sad and unsettling for Adam and me too.)

Monday we went to BYU for Family Home Evening.  We walked all around and showed them where their classes were.  We commented on all the changes from what I started calling Pax Thelma--the Golden Age of BYU when the JKB was the JKHB and you could walk all the way through the library and out the south side and there was a building known as the syphilis.  It was a simpler time.

Walking across campus, Adam said, "Do you wish you could come back here?"

I said no.  Then I thought about it a little and said, "Yes."

Love. That. Place. 

Drama mama

This is on my chalkboard:

Emma said I should erase "mountains" so it reads "Kid, you'll move."

Because they are.

Braeden said, "I'm so glad ya'll are going to be only 30 minutes away."  (He says ya'll now.) 

Considering he came home two weeks ago, I said "I know! I would die a thousand deaths if we still lived in Washington and I was sending you to BYU."

Yesterday, Adam told me I was being dramatic.

That wasn't even about the thousand deaths things.  It was about my eye.  I've told him several times that I'm dying because my eye infection has been rearing its ugly head.  BTW, don't google herpes keratitis if you have it.  All you'll read is about how you're going to go blind.  And also stress is bad for it.  So don't worry about the fact that you're going to go blind.  It will just make it worse....

I went to the doctor and I have to double up on all my medicine.  For the rest of my life.  Or until I go blind.  Whichever happens first.

(I said that and Adam shook his head.  I think he thought I was being dramatic again.)

I also told Adam that the doctor said I don't have any scarring on my cornea and that the inflammation looks good.

"But you're still dying?" Adam asked.

Yep.  (I mean, eventually.)

Family Weekend

This week is The Kids Move to College Week aka the week Mark becomes the only child.

I may have flung my arms around Emma at one point this weekend and wailed dramatically, "Don't leave me!"

She whispered in my ear, "I'm going."

It was a happy weekend.  It felt like a vacation and like something fleeting that you want to hold onto and remember.  We had some family over, we went to a play, ran a few errands together, we played games, we ate good food, we languished on the deck at sunset, we had our across the street neighbors over for an evening (we love them!).

We also did a little yard work.

Saturday morning we were planning to do some weeding.  Let me illustrate the differences between a 14-year-old and a 20-year-old.

Early in the morning Mark texted me this:

And Braeden texted me this:

I deputized Mark to go wake up his sister and we all joined Braeden outside weeding.

(A difference between me and my children is that I didn't text my mom on Saturday mornings about chores.)

Also, 20-year-olds?  They just do stuff around the house without you asking.  It's a weird but welcome change.

Apparently I'm the exterminator

Yesterday morning I saw a tarantula in the garage.

It's legs were moving vaguely and it seemed to be lying on its back.  Then it was still.  I took a picture to text to Emma.  (She hates spiders so of course that's what I did.)

I included my foot in the picture to provide scale.

She texted back, "Yeah, I saw that this morning when I left for work."

Was she tempted to move it?  Tell anyone?  Keep it from climbing into one of my shoes?  (My shoes live in the garage.)

I showed Braeden and he got a pained expression because it appeared dead.  (He will never not ever kill a bug.)

I showed Adam and he said, "Yeah, we need to get rid of that."

Then he got in his car and drove away.  He feels about spiders like Emma does.

I recognized that by we Adam meant me so I got a shovel.  I scooped up the little guy and carried it outside.  I didn't fling it on the hill which seems like the thing to do because I wanted to show Mark.  It's not every day of the week you get a tarantula around here.  I tilted the shovel into the dirt beyond the sidewalk.  The spider righted itself and then ran right at my feet.  Seriously. 

I was too surprised to do anything except beat a hasty retreat back into the garage.

I told Braeden and he said, "That's funny."

I said, "It wasn't funny.  It was coming at me.  Its teeth were bared."

"Teeth?" he asked skeptically.  Then he added, "Don't hurt it."

When Mark got home I said, "Guess what was in the garage today?"

He said, "The tarantula?  Yeah I saw it on my way to school this morning."

What it all comes down to is that I'm on my own when it comes to tarantulas.  If you hear a scream from the Pleasant Grove area, you'll know I slid my foot into my shoe and a tarantula was inside.

(I'm going to check my shoes from now on.)

Tiny notes

Dear To Do List:  You are making me hyperventilate.  Turns out adding to my already mostly busy life a son recently returned from his mission (and all the STUFF that entails) and two kids getting ready for college (and all the STUFF that entails) and the first days of school where all the teachers let you know the small random school supplies is a lot.

Dear BYU website and Alpine School District website:  You are terrible.  The end.

Dear Procrastinators:  Don't let people give you a bad rap.  If I were more like you, I'd be calmer.

Dear Adam:  Thank you for being something of a procrastinator and reminding me that it doesn't all have to be done right now. (Even though I want to do All the Things now.)

Dear Teachers:  I am not interested in your grading policy or attendance policy or really anything about your class.  I'm not in your class.  I don't want to read all this stuff.  I know.  I'm the worst.

Dear Braeden and Emma:  Thank you for recognizing all the signs of when I'm not waving, but drowning.  Thank you for saying, "Mom, how can I help?  What can I do?"  Thank you for being able to drive.

Dear YW leaders everywhere:  Dial back on the cutesy gifts.  I beg you.  Part of the multi column to do list around here has been wrangling useless crap as we go through Emma's closet.  A large portion of the pile are gifts from well meaning YW leaders.  Emma surveys something and says, "Yep, I think I've had that an obligatory amount of time."  And discards it.

Dear Braeden:  Thank you for declaring that you and Mark are going to take "An Incredible Journey" and for taking him to the store for the last (here's hoping) of the random trickle of needed school supplies.

Dear Life Transitions:  You are hard on me.  For the girl who orders the same thing at the restaurant everytime, change is the enemy.

Dear Blog readers:  Thank you for reading even when I'm cranky.

This is me in grade nine

When you ride your bike all summer and you are a quite grown up freshman who doesn't need his mother thankyouverymuch, you ride your bike to school.

Notice the rectangular phone shape in his pocket?  He used that to text me to come and pick him up after school.  That hill is steep and we all know it.

When you're the mother of the emancipated 9th grader, you follow him outside, under the guise of taking a picture, but mostly to make sure he really wears a helmet.

Sometimes this summer he "forgot."

We're back in the school saddle.  Back to "Do you have homework?"  Back to watching CNN 10 over breakfast.  It's familiar territory although Mark is something of a mystery.  Today he has cross training (which is a class he purposefully chose, didn't get into, convinced me to go to the school and get his schedule changed).  Here I thought PE classes were something to be endured, not sought out.  Last night at dinner, he said he was looking forward to cross training.  Who is this kid?!?

I'll have a chance to figure it out.  In a week, Mark will be the only kid around here.

I'm glad we like him so much.