Sneaky

At my Grandpa's funeral, every one of his children spoke. My mom's oldest brother spoke first and has not been in an LDS church for probably 45 or 50 years. It was kind of a joke that Grandpa got him to stand at a pulpit. Although he was clearly out of his comfort zone, he gave some beautiful thoughts about his father. He talked about how he felt that Grandpa had led a "sneaky" life. To my Uncle Doug, it always seemed that his dad was living a mundane, ho-hum, work-hard-so-you-can-support-your-family kind of life. But as he and his sisters sat around discussing my grandpa's life, my Uncle Doug came to realize that Grandpa had sneakily lived a very full, happy life. Grandpa filled his days with small, seemingly insignificant moments that when added together created a grand portrait.

Sort of like a puzzle. When you open a box containing a 1000 piece puzzle, each individual piece doesn't mean very much. But when constructed, a beautiful image comes to life. My grandpa lived his life at campgrounds, singing around campfires. He spent his days gliding across a glass lake on a slalom ski. He spent nights at Yuma, St. George, Bear Lake, and Escalante swapping hilarious stories and off-color jokes. He spent hours in a fishing boat. He spent Sunday afternoons playing whiffle ball and H.O.R.S.E. with his grandchildren and spitting corn kernels at each of us while he ate corn on the cob and laughed simultaneously. He spent Christmas Eve in the cheapest, most hideous Santa suit you can imagine (generally with one eyebrow falling off). He was so sneaky about his happiness that one could miss it is you weren't looking for it.

I think of my grandpa often as I notice the sneaky moments of my life. A few months ago, we were at Bear Lake. Greg was in the big pool with Austin and Macy throwing them off his shoulders and having "hold your breath" contests (which Greg always wins - hands down [I swear the man has gills]). I was in the baby pool with the youngest three trying not to concern myself too much with the fact that it was significantly warmer than that hot tub or the big pool. When suddenly, a ladybug landed on my hand. I quickly gathered my three littlest hens under my wing to show them this "sneaky" treasure of nature. We probably spent 20 minutes or so passing the ladybug among the four of us. The boys got good at holding out their pointer finger and waiting patiently for the ladybug to climb aboard. They would all watch in wonder as the ladybug made its way up their arm. The lucky bug-holder would squeal with delight as it got closer to their shoulder. Then, I would gingerly take the ladybug in my fingers and pass it along to the next child. They were mesmerized. Every once in a while, the ladybug would fall and land in the water and like little chirping chicks they would point and beg for "Mommy" to save it.

As I sat there, looking into the faces of Paige, Spencer, and Kade, I was kind of sad that I didn't have a camera handy. I wanted to capture this magical moment. The first time my boys experienced a real, live ladybug. Then, I thought of my grandpa. I was determined to remember where I was sitting, the look of sheer amazement in the eyes of my babies (who aren't technically babies, but the word "technically" bugs me), and try to take a mental snapshot of all the details of this precious, "sneaky" moment. I consider ladybugs one of God's most fascinating creations.

The happiest people I know...are those who, while in pursuit of worthy goals, discover and treasure the beauty and sweetness of the everyday moments. They are the ones who, thread by daily thread, weave a tapestry of gratitude and wonder throughout their lives. These are they who are truly happy. - President Dieter F. Uchtdorf

Efficiency

I came home the other day to find this posted on the hallway bathroom. Is anyone else confused about the smiley face?!?

10 Years

Growing up, my grandparents would describe where they were and how they felt when they heard that Pearl Harbor had been bombed. For my parent's generation, they can describe where they were and how they felt when they learned about Kennedy being shot. And all of us can describe where we were and how we felt when we saw the planes hit the Twin Towers and watched them fall.

I remember getting a call from Greg, who was at work. When I answered it, he urgently said: "Turn on the TV." I asked him which channel, and he said that it didn't matter. When I turned it on, only the first plane had hit and people were still unsure exactly what had happened. I sat on the couch and watched the North Tower burn. Austin had been born two months earlier, and we had a port-a-crib set up in our living room. He was asleep in the crib. I remember watching the plane hit the South Tower. It happened so fast that even the news reporters were astonished and had trouble getting their mind together to verbalize what was happening. As reporters tried to piece together the stories and theories, I watched in disbelief. Greg and I spoke on the phone a number of times, as he was watching the coverage at work. When the South Tower fell, I remember losing my breath, picking up my brand new, perfect little baby, and just crying. I remember thinking, "What have I done? How could I bring a person into a world where these things happen?" Then, I remember watching and anxiously waiting for the second tower to fall.

It was truly unbelievable.

We had friends in New York, and our first priority was to make sure everybody was safe. I remember being on the phone with my sister as she was trying to make contact with people in New York. We were beyond relieved when we found out that everybody was safe.

I had a friend from work who was on a business trip in Japan. He had taken his wife and two little boys with him (they were babies really - one was an infant and the other a toddler). They had made it to Canada, but were grounded because all air traffic shut down for days after the attacks. it was strange to think that it wasn't safe for them to make it home. Those must have been some extremely long days for them, living in the airport, just wanting to bring their kids home.

About 6 weeks after the attacks, I went to New York with my sister and my friend and her boys. My friend's husband had joined the National Guard, learned Arabic, and was sent to New York to aid in interrogation. She was going to visit, and we decided to tag along. At 3 1/2 months old, I took Austin to a city that I loved that was still very much suffering. We walked to Ground Zero (or at least as close as you could get), which was still very much a recovery zone. The fires were still burning, there was still a considerable amount of dust and debris, and there were giant machines working to move all the rubble. There were walls erected with messages from loved ones of people who had perished, along with flowers and "Missing Person" posters. Most people still wore masks.

Do you know what I remember the most about my time in New York in October 2001: I remember people helping us with our three little boys; carrying strollers down subway steps, gentlemen immediately giving up seats on the subway, strangers asking us our story and expressing their gratitude (many with tears in their eyes) to my friend for her and her husband's service to our country. It was still a very solemn, surreal feeling in that city, but one with so much love, care, and concern. It made me love the people of New York so much more than I already did.

* * *

It has been an interesting couple of days. Austin has been quite fascinated by the events of 10 years ago, and we have showed him some pictures and let him watch some of the TV specials. It's just hard to fathom how that day changed our country and his entire way of life. It is strange to think that my children don't know a reality in which 9 11 didn't exist. I realize that it wasn't the most significant event in history, based on the number of lives lost. I hear some people throw out numbers of those that have died in the military efforts in the Middle East since the attacks on the twin towers (military deaths and civilian deaths). I understand all of these points, and I think they are valid.

But what is hard to explain to my children is that I have lived parts of my life where our country wasn't at war. I have stood in those buildings; I knew people that worked there. I never thought I was in any danger because nobody had successfully carried out a terrorist attack of that magnitude before. You could actually walk your loved one to the gate as they got on an airplane and even watched that exact plane take off. You could attend a baseball game or concert without passing a check-point in which you turned over your purse, bags, and jackets. My children do not know of this reality. I think that when those planes hit the towers that day (and consequently the Pentagon and Flight 93 in Pennsylvania), as a nation, we knew we were vulnerable. We knew that there were people that hated us (as Americans) so much that they would sacrifice their lives to take innocent lives and destroy family.

But what is even harder to explain to my children is that I have had the privilege of getting a very small glimpse into the heart of Americans. I have seen people love each other deeply, regardless of whether or not they are technically "strangers". I have seen a nation pull together, reach out to one another in charity, and actually call upon God collectively. The past 10 years have been rough, and we (as a Nation) have forgotten how we treated each other after these attacks. Life has forced us to move on, to worry about the insignificant, and to criticize the petty. It is human nature to do so, as history has shown us over and over again.

I think it is good to have anniversaries and memorials. It is essential that all of the innocent who died that day are not forgotten. It is important for us to retell, over and over again, the miraculous stories of courage and sacrifice that emerged from this tragedy. It is good for our souls to feel hope. And I believe, that as a Nation, it is necessary for us to try to put all the petty aside again (even if for one day) and recall those feelings and emotions - the good and the bad - and recommit ourselves to doing a little bit better and loving a little deeper because we never know what tomorrow will bring.

In a talk by President James E. Faust, he relates one of the many unselfish, miraculous stories that emerged from the attacks on the World Trade Center. He tells the story of Rick Rescorla of Morgan Stanley who refused to leave the burning building until every one of his employees made it out. Although the tower collapsed before he could evacuate, all but 6 of his 2,700 employees survived the attack. President Faust states that "Most of us don't demonstrate our unselfishness in such a dramatic way, but for each of us unselfishness can mean being the right person at the right time in the right place to render service. Almost every day brings opportunities to perform unselfish acts for others. Such acts are unlimited and can be as simple as a kind word, a helping hand, or a gracious smile."

This is the message that I choose to carry with me from 9 11, and these are the lessons that I hope I am teaching my children.

It is important to simply remember.

Irrational Fears

So, the other night I walked in the door about a half hour after bedtime to find Paige crying. I picked her up and asked Greg what was wrong. He related the following experience:

Paige (running to Greg and screaming): Macy just punched me in the stomach.

Greg: Why did she punch you in the stomach?

Paige: Because I wanted to know what it felt like to be kicked by a goat.

When we finally got her calmed down (and we both stopped laughing), Paige explained how she was terrified of goats. If she sees one outside, she's just going to run inside as fast as she can. And if she knows if she hears really loud knocking on the door, then it just "has to be a goat."

As a result, she now has to sleep with her door cracked open just in case a goat gets in the house. She wants to know right away so she can take the proper precautions.

* * *

When Austin was about 3 or 4, he developed a deathly fear of scorpions. It did not matter how many times I explained that scorpions do not live in our region (I even checked out books at the library with maps), every night we would go through this routine to get him in bed (and un-convince him that he will be stung by a scorpion in the night). One night, I was so exhausted, that I stopped trying to rationalize. I just grabbed this little, plastic, red hammer toy and handed it to him. I told him it was his "Scorpion Killer." Every night, he would set it up right next to his bed (for easy access), and he slept with the "Scorpion Killer" for years!!!

* * *

What irrational fears have you (or your kids) developed over the years?

Distractions

I don't know how you feel about these people:

Apparently, they are quite controversial. For the most part, I really admire them. I don't agree with all of their philosophies (and Greg cannot stand that his name is "Jim Bob." Every time the show is on, he always says, "Why doesn't he just go with 'Jim'?" I think his name is actually James, which makes me wonder how one gets "Jim" from "James" or "Bill" from "William" or "Dick" from "Richard". It just doesn't make sense. They aren't shortened nicknames, they are completely different names. Why don't people just name their children the name by which they will be called?).

Anyway...I digress.

I don't agree with all of their philosophies, but I greatly admire parents that are willing to bring so many children into the world and teach them all and love them so much. It boggles my mind how a mother can plan and prepare just to meet the physical needs of 19 children, but Michelle Duggar seems to do that and manage to truly love each child and find joy in having them around with astounding patience and true dedication. It is amazing.

The other day, I had their show on while folding laundry. Doing laundry for 7 people seems so manageable when I compare it to their household. Anyway, during this episode, Jim Bob and Michelle were sitting at the kitchen table trying to finish up their 2nd book. Every couple of minutes, another child came up needing something-a face wiped, a diaper changed, help with some schoolwork, a snack, etc. Then, it had a little clip of Jim Bob (cheerily) explaining that it was a little challenging to get their work done with all of the distractions.

The point of my post and my lesson for the day:

Next, it had a little clip of Michelle responding to her husband's statement. To paraphrase, she said something like this: "Well, I wouldn't call them 'distractions.' The children are our priority; the book is the distraction."

I don't know how many times I am trying to get something done, and I get frustrated and lose my patience because I am distracted by my kids. I don't know how many times I get on the phone or the computer to make an important call or send an necessary email and all chaos breaks loose in the house. The other day, I caught Kade jumping on a bag of chips to get it open while I was trying to fill out insurance papers. Or right now, as I write this, Spencer is "coloring" on the table while Kade is pushing all of our chairs to the corner of the house. The only problem, Spencer was sitting on the chair and I intervened as Spence was holding onto the table by his fingertips. Last week, Paige managed to go through an entire box of Band-Aids during a piano lesson.

I need to change my attitude. These kids are my first priority; everything else comes second. These kids were not given to me to be an afterthought. These kids are my greatest blessings and I have no right getting frustrated when I perceive that they are"interfering" with my life.

The First Concerto

Love this kid:

He turned 10 yesterday...TEN! I'm not sure how that happened. I remember when I turned 10, and my grandmother told me that I'll be double-digits for the rest of my life. T.E.N. (But more to come on his birthday). I took this picture at swimming:

While I was editing it, it struck me that I'm not looking at a little boy anymore. This is a picture of a big kid. His chest seems wider to me or something. It was a surreal moment.

In May, Austin started with a new piano teacher. When we met for the first time, she was explaining her protocol with me and recitals and festivals, etc. She mentioned that they do a Concerto Festival in November and asked if Austin would be interested. I thought that he would, but didn't think much more about it.

A few weeks later, Austin was assigned his piece for the festival: a 31-page Concerto duet meant for 2 pianos. Granted it is a duet, but still...31-pages?!? When I was 9-years-old, I had never played 31 pages (or even 16 pages, if you account for the duet). In fact, I'm pretty sure that I have never played a piece even close to 16 or 31 pages. I was quite surprised by not only the length, but the difficulty of the piece. After Austin had gone to bed, I sat down and played it. It is a pretty challenging song. I was quite doubtful that he would be able to pull it off. I wondered if perhaps his teacher hadn't evaluated his level correctly or something. Of course I never vocalized any of these doubts in front of Austin, but I was definitely concerned that he had gotten in over his head.

Although he never said anything, Austin was quite overwhelmed at first. But I just tried to be really encouraging and I helped him as he started. The first week, he didn't even play anything; he clapped the rhythm every day. And he just started with the first little section-maybe a page and a half or so. After that, he practiced that small portion with his right hand only. A week later, he started on his left hand. Finally, and very slowly, he practiced his hands together. Once he got that section down, they repeated the process on the next small section of the song. Occasionally, he needs to go back and practice a handful of measures over and over again to perfect the notes or the timing. He just keeps working at it, and before he realizes it, he has another small section learned.

The other day, I picked up the music and realized that he is already 11 pages into this song, essentially 1/3 of the way. I was shocked that by following the process of practicing small chunks, starting slowly and gradually building up to speed, and really focusing on those areas that need a little extra attention, he has progressed quite far in just 2 months. I am absolutely positive that by the time the festival rolls around in November, he'll be ready. I'm so excited to hear the finished product.

I've thought a lot about how this is a parable for our lives. Sometimes, when we are given trials or challenges, it seems like a large mountain stands in our way (or in Austin's case, a 31-page concerto). It seems too overwhelming to conquer if we are looking at the entire scope of the situation. It seems like there are no answers. And yet...we are asked to wake up every morning, get out of bed, put one foot in front of the other, and try our best. We try to conquer just what that day has given us (perhaps a small section of the overall problem or challenge). We take it slowly and carefully and (if we are smart) asking for assistance through prayer. Eventually, we look back and realize that we have actually made a little progress. We realize that the more we try, the more we work, it may even become a little easier (sometimes). We realize that we really have no choice but to try and endure and do our best.

Sister Marjorie Hinckley sums up everything I am trying to say:

• There are some years in our lives that we would not want to live again. But even these years will pass away, and the lessons learned will be a future blessing.

• God is what He is because He knows everything. And the beautiful thing-perhaps the thing I love most about the gospel-is that everything we learn we can use and take with us and use it again. No bit of knowledge goes wasted. Everything you are learning now is preparing you for something else. Did you know that? What a concept!

• Elder Neal A. Maxwell once said, "We are here in mortality, and the only way to go is through; there isn't any around!" I would add, the only way to get through life is to laugh your way through it. You either have to laugh or cry. I prefer to laugh. Crying gives me a headache.

Seasoning

The other night, the twins were at my feet whining while I was in the kitchen. It was late; they were tired. They were begging for a sippy cup. As I filled two cups and attempted to hand them to the boys, in a fit of fatigue, they both pushed the cups away and simultaneously threw their bodies to the ground. I shrugged and put both of the cups in the middle of the floor and turned around. In a matter of seconds, both boys picked themselves up off the ground, grabbed a sippy, and started chugging. Greg laughed, kissed me on the forehead, and said, "We are such seasoned parents."

It's true.

Nine years ago, I probably would have marched my toddler down the hall to a time-out while lecturing about how we don't slap the sippy cup away. I'd probably mutter something about respecting your Mommy and the importance of using your words instead throwing a fit.

So sorry Austin...I love you, Buddy...I don't know if it's as much experience as it is pure exhaustion.

Do you know what else seasoned parents do? They spray off a puke-infused carseat like it's nobody's business.

Saturday Summary

We went on a walk this evening. Paige very adamantly exclaimed: "Don't step on a crack, or you'll break Mom's heart." (except she says "heart" like "height")

* * *

I spent the afternoon trimming the shrubs and starting to plant some plants. Greg watched the boys and we listened to the Giants game on his phone on the front porch. As I was pruning our hedge, I suddenly thought of Grandpa. I felt very close to him trimming those plants. For some reason, yard work (especially pruning) reminds me of him. I could just picture him in his nude-colored, too-short shorts working alongside me. It was a lovely moment.

* * *

I went to this store tonight. I should NOT be allowed to enter this store. It is bound to be expensive whenever I walk through the doors of this store. While I was there, I fell in love. Head over heels, butterflies in the stomach, giddy and giggly - in love. (I know Alexie will fall in love as well when I show her.) I discovered this series:

It's called "Poetry for Young People." It features probably around 20 famous poets. Each poem comes with a short summary/background, and the illustrations are beyond delightful. They are little pieces of artwork on every page. The ones I really, really, really wanted and (almost) convinced myself I couldn't live without, are still hardback. So, I bought the one on Animal Poems and the one on Lewis Carroll. I think my children will adore everything from "Alice in Wonderland." It took unbelievable self-restraint to settle on only bringing 2 home. I plan on collecting all of them. Greg is beside himself.

* * *

I bought some more sunscreen this morning. Apparently, Macy took it with her while playing with friends. Tonight, Jackie gave it back to me. It is nearly gone. Not quite sure how much SPF 50 Macy was wearing around today, but I am certain that she did not get a sunburn.

* * *

This is our bath time routine: All four of our youngest kids get in the bathtub together. First, I wash the boys. Then, I wash Macy and Paige's hair and leave the conditioner in. While they wash their bodies, I get the boys out one-by-one. Finally, I rinse the girl's hair and get them out. Whew! The other day, I bathed the boys by themselves. I got Spencer out and all ready for bed. Then, I went in to get Kade out and this is what I found:

* * *

Kade decided to get comfortable at the top of the laundry pile. He has one hand on his ear. This indicates: "Warning: I am getting tired." When both hands hold onto both ears, this is my sign: "I am now ready to be asleep."

* * *

The boys are obsessed with hats and shoes. Typically, both mine and Greg's shoes are strewn throughout the house because either Spencer or Kade have been wearing them. This is Spencer, or "Bence" as we call him. Isn't he adorable! Oh, and the most recent obsessions at our house: cars, trains (choo choo's), and airplanes. All other toys have become obsolete.

Sweet Best

Sweet Best:

The other day, I was driving Paige to her dance recital. She said, "Mom, you're the 'Sweet Best'." I said, "Thank you." Then, she said, "Do you know what that means?" I honestly didn't, but it sounded like a compliment, so I just went with it. She said, "That means you're a good Mom." Awww...It meant so much to me (especially since I was just dropping her off at her dance recital and wasn't going in to watch-she had another one about a month ago, but we were quadruple-booked for the evening, so Greg and I couldn't attend).

Pretty:

When I was dropping her off for the dance recital, she was meeting Alexie and Abby. She said, "Alexie is going to think I'm so pretty." I told her that she is always pretty, with her gorgeous brown eyes and adorable smile. She said, "I know...except when I'm crying...or mad." When I dropped her off, she and Abby ran to each other (squealing with delight) and hugged. Hilarious!

Delicious:

One of our favorite shows is Tangled. Paige sings along with all the songs. There is one song called, "I Have a Dream" that begins with the following lyrics:

I'm malicious, mean, and scary

My sneer could curdle dairy

This is how Paige sings it:

I'm delicious, mean, and scary

My smile could turtle hairy

Heart Happy

I walked out the front door last night and saw this. It made my heart so happy. There were 6 or 7 boys playing whiffleball in the street. They used sidewalk chalk to draw in the bases and pitcher's mound. They decided to only have two bases instead of three because there weren't enough people playing. They took turns in every position. They argued over calls and complimented big hits. It was adorable!

It made me think of this:

It made me think that maybe we really can raise these kids in a world where, every once in a while, they can put down their DS, their ipads, their computer games, and all the pressure that we put on them, and just enjoy a fun game of street baseball.

Happy.

Clubs

I walked past the girl's room this afternoon and saw this:

I had a couple of thoughts:

#1:

#2:

#3:

Warning

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about those signs that they have in industrial workplaces. The ones that indicate how many days the company/plant/division has gone without an on-the-job accident.

I've been considering posting something similar in my kitchen:

I'm thinking that "Days" may be a little too ambitious. Perhaps "Hours" would be more realistic.

He's Not Heavy, He's My Brother

Life has been too heavy lately. I have felt heavy. Getting out of bed every morning has been a challenge. I find myself dreading the day, and it feels so strange to even smile. It's been a rough go. Time to change. Time to smile. Time to laugh. Time to let my children exist in a happy home.

So...

I turn to my good friend, the blog. I've decided that I am going to start look for opportunities throughout the day to blog about. Like this morning, I vacuumed and mopped as soon as the kids left for school. I started with the kitchen, and while I was working on another part of the house, Paige decided that she wanted some milk. True to form, Paige didn't ask for help but decided to do it herself. This would be a disastrous situation in and of itself (given that Paige is possibly the most adorable, most clumsy child I've yet to encounter), but we opened a new gallon of milk this morning. Yep. That's right. Milk, all over the kitchen floor. Ironically, there was not one drop in the small cup that she chose. Obviously the person who coined the phrase, "Don't cry over spilled milk" never had a Paige.

Now, to my credit (I mean, I deserve a TON of credit), I didn't yell. But, how much funnier would it have been if I would have stopped, snapped a picture of the clean floor, milk pool, the empty carton, and the bright, shiny, spotless cup in the middle of the disaster?!?

I started this blog with the idea that it would be cheaper than therapy. In the past several months, I've started a dozen or so posts, but I felt that I couldn't publish them because they weren't honest. I certainly don't pretend that our family is perfect-far from it actually. But because I was/am feeling so bad about myself, anything that showed happiness, I felt that it was a lie. How backward is that??? The fact is that we have 9 people living in this house; 9 personalities...9 bodies with hormones and tummy aches and headaches and bodies that get tired and rarely get enough sleep...9 social networks...9 schedules...and at least 18 loads of laundry. There is so much good that happens during the day, so many funny situations, and so many hilarious conversations. And there are some really difficult, exhausting, downright messy moments every.single.day.

So, here is my public admission that I will look for those little moments during the day to blog about. I will start my "Grateful" section again, and update the funny things that my kids say.

I will search for the joy again.

I will find it.

I really need new carpet, so I can't be blowing that money on a therapist.

Grandpa

My Grandpa passed away on Wednesday, April 13th. He was diagnosed with cancer nearly a year ago. They tried a few different types of chemotherapy and treatment, but the cancer continued to grow. My mom and her sister's decided that it would be best for him to be home at the end. The three of them, along with my Grandmother, were by his bedside when he left this world. Thank heaven for hospice nurses that do their job with such care so that people can have this type of opportunity. We were extremely blessed to have my cousin's husband, Ed, take care of my Grandpa. I had the chance to stand by his bedside on Monday and say Goodbye. While he wasn't awake, I really felt like he could hear me and be there with me. It was one of the most tender experiences I've had, and I'm so grateful to have been able to be there.

I was also able to be there on Wednesday night before he left, but I didn't feel his presence as strong as a few nights prior. As I sat and talked with my Grandma, siblings, mom, and aunts, I thought of the movie "Lars and the Real Girl" (which sounds like a strange premise, but is such an adorable, tender movie). There's a scene in the movie when Lars's "girlfriend" is dying and the women of the town come to his house bearing casseroles and just hang around while working on their knitting. When Lars asks what they are doing, the women say "sitting." They explain that's what people do when there's a death-they sit; they are simply there to be with those that are bereaved. That's what we did. We sat. Occasionally, we cut a sandwich up to share. While we were there, we talked about Grandpa's life and all of our memories: profound, happy, difficult, funny. My mom and her sister's planned his funeral and wrote the obituary. We scoured through photo albums and laughed at old fashions or found images that sparked memories we had forgotten. Those few hours that I spent at my grandparent's house this week are moments that I will treasure the rest of my life.

While we were talking, my aunt explained how Ed would come over and explain the stage that my grandpa was currently in and then explain the signs for the next "phase." My aunt commented how death is sort of like a birth. There are distinct phases. We exist in one "phase" and wait for the next one. For some, it goes quickly; for others, it moves slowly. For some, there is not much pain involved; for others, the suffering is great and difficult. We talked about how death really is a second birth, and I think in the end, although we may have been a little sad for us that we have to live in a world without him, we were happy for him. His parents, his siblings, and his baby boy (along with countless family members and friends) were waiting for him. When we were little, my grandparents would take us to Escalante (their home town in Southern Utah). We are pretty much related to the entire town, so the whole vacation was like a giant family reunion. I will never forget the way both of my grandparents would light up around their family and as they took us to all their favorite childhood places. They were never happier then when they were home. Now that my grandpa truly is "home," I just picture him with his hand on everyone's shoulders, giving them the "side hug" and sloppy kiss and smiling so big that he kind of chuckles. I will miss him terribly, but I am happy for him. I am happy that it doesn't have to be so difficult anymore.

Several months ago, when the doctor's decided that there was nothing more that could be done for the cancer, and it became apparent that we would lose my grandpa soon, I realized how strange it will be to live in a world without him. I truly believe that grandparents are one of God's greatest gifts. I've definitely noticed this with my own children. My parents and Greg's parents are able to love my kids so completely and unconditionally. I felt that so strongly from my grandpa. I know my parents love me, but it's a more complicated type of love. I don't know that anybody loved me the way my grandpa did. I felt so adored by him. He was my biggest cheerleader, and when I faced challenges (of my own creation or just what life handed me), he didn't sugar coat it, but he made me feel like I could conquer it. He had so much confidence in me. He always saw the good-the potential. I know he'll keep loving me and helping me. Maybe one day I can actually be the person that he saw.

Some cute pictures of Grandpa in Escalante as a kid:

And I just love this picture. This is Grandpa with his daughter, my Aunt Jeri:

For some reason, I am having a difficult time finding a picture of us. Some of my favorite memories include:

• Camping. I remember camping at Bear Lake and at the reservoir in Escalante. He used to take us fishing. I remember being so fascinated while he gutted and cleaned the fish. Then, we would pile around the picnic table and eat the fish, while being warned to look for bones. I remember climbing and hiking all over the hills around the campsite. Grandpa always told this story about me: He said that I was probably about 4 or 5 when I came tearing down the hill into the camp so excited. I told him that I saw a dinosaur! I said, "Well, it was either a dinosaur or a lizard." He laughed and laughed every time he told that story.

• Singing. My grandpa always had is guitar out. I remember sitting in the condo in Bear Lake. It was before Gavin was born, so I was probably 5 or 6 years old. I remember him sitting in the chair teaching me the words to "Somewhere Over the Rainbow." When I got older, he would always strum the guitar and say, "How about a song or two." He would tap his foot, and the actual beat was not that important. He just loved it and felt it deep inside. I still sing all those songs to my kids. If you happen to hear my kids start singing "Into a Lake," a darling little song about skinny-dipping, you can know that it comes from Grandpa and we all love it! Whenever we sang in church, or recital, or competition, Grandma and Grandpa were always there-tape recorder in hand (even in Sacrament Meeting). After we would sing, Grandpa was always there to put his arm around our necks, give us a slobbery kiss, and offer some sort of a compliment such as: "Dammit, you sound good" or "My hell, you sure can sing."

• Dinner. Growing up, we ate Sunday dinner together all the time! In the winter, we would pile around their table and Grandpa would wipe our hands and faces down before we were allowed to get down.He was truly passionate about clean hands and faces. All of my cousins laugh about how hard he would wipe. In the summer, we often set up the picnic table in the backyard. We played H.O.R.S.E. afterward or a little wiffleball. Sometimes, we would help harvest the peaches, raspberries, or cherries. We would all beg and plead with Grandpa to let us climb up the tall branches of the cherry tree, but he never let us. I can still picture him standing up there. Of course we would eat as we would go. I remember the year that we had all eaten buckets full before we realized they had worms. And we often had water fights. I remember one year, my grandpa was chasing me. Being the smartalec that I was, I ran in the house and shut the screen door behind me. He ran right through it. He wasn't even mad (although I'm pretty sure my parents were); I remember him sitting on the floor just laughing and laughing.

• Boating. My grandpa had a boat. There were lots and lots and lots of safety rules, but we spent so many hours at Echo, Bear Lake, and Lake Powell. I remember when he tried to teach me to waterski for the first time. We were at Bear Lake (freezing). He gave me the instructions, and at the end he said, "Whatever you do, don't let go!" I yelled "Hit it" and the boat pulled me up and right over on my belly. But I didn't let go. I just held on for my life. It seems like forever, but for a few seconds at least, I let the boat drag me on the water on my stomach with water splashing all over my face because Grandpa said not to let go!!! Grandpa always slept in the boat, and being one of the oldest grandkids, sometimes I got to sleep with him. I remember Amy (my cousin) and I sleeping out with him. I bet we drove him crazy, but we felt so lucky to get to sleep on the boat!

• Hard work and ice cream. My grandpa worked very hard his entire life. He often worked several jobs, and was always "fixing" something. He felt a great responsibility to pass that on to us. He would always say to us, "You aren't better than anybody else; but you're no worse either." He always told us that no matter what we were doing, it was important that we do our best. "If you do your best, then you never have to be ashamed." My cousin said that Grandpa once told her, "Whatever you do in life, do your best. The world needs good garbage men just as much as it needs good doctors." Grandpa also liked to play hard. At the end of every occasion, we had ice cream. Ice cream sundaes. Ice cream cones. Root beer floats. And we usually had several flavors to choose from.

Love you so much, Grandpa. Thank you for such beautiful memories. I will miss you.

Macy's Princess "Tea" Party

I don't know how it is possible, but Macy has been with us for seven years already!!! Her birth was my first experience with being induced, and I was terrified. Little did I know that 2 and a half hours later, she would make her presence known in a drama-filled delivery (her flair for the dramatic hasn't ceased since). She was a darling, happy, content baby. I can honestly say that Macy has brought a smile to our faces every single day of her life (this girl is hilarious)!

For Macy's birthday, she wanted to have a Princess Tea Party (with hot chocolate). We invited a few friends and had a very girlie day. When the girls arrived, I had little bags and pink princess crowns for them to decorate. Austin wanted to get in on the action:

For "tea" we served peanut butter and jam sandwiches and turkey and cheese sandwiches cut into flowers and butterflies. We also had blueberries, strawberries, and carrots and dip. Our tea was actually *warm* chocolate with marshmallows.

After lunch, the girls made necklaces and hair bows.

When it came time for presents, Macy was spoiled!!! She loved all of her gifts, but the first thing she opened was a much desired Pillow Pet. (When Paige and Abby got Pillow Pets for Christmas, Macy was beside herself. I had to take her into the other room to calm her down and explain that she was being really ungrateful. Over the past three months, she has connived and manipulated Paige every which way to "borrow" her Pillow Pet. Honestly!) Thankfully, she received 2 Pillow Pet's for her birthday so the whining has officially stopped!

We enjoyed a crown cake and ice cream:

Then, the clean-up crew arrived:

Spencer and Kade just sat right up to the table and made themselves comfortable. They finished off Claire's ice cream and cookies and Paige's cake. They were in heaven!!!

Macy is ALL GIRL! She likes everything to do with sparkles and glitter and shimmer. She says the funniest things (even her teacher and school principal comment on how hilarious she is). She also dishes out endless compliments ("Oh Mom, I really like your dress today."). She has a gift, a natural ability, for getting out of work that she doesn't want to do (which is pretty much anything that requires effort of any kind). She can get Austin and Paige to do just about anything she wants, and she has a way of getting them to believe that it was their idea and they do it happily. Amazing! This child has no fear! She likes anything thrill seeking. She is Greg's best companion when it comes to indoor skydiving or rides at Lagoon. This girl is full of SPICE, and our lives are definitely richer because she's alive. I love her!