say, you think santa likes gumbo?

This morning when I got up I started a load of darks, and then twenty minutes later when Ike finally dragged himself upstairs he looked at the washer and said, "Well, now I don't have a way to have my legs not freeze!"  You see, he had been keeping all of his jeans in the dirty clothes basket, and they weren't dirty.  I asked him why he was keeping his clean pants in the dirty clothes basket instead of in the drawer with the other clean clothes, but he was past reason.  He spent the rest of the morning sulking and stomping and decrying the unfairness of it all--the unfairness, let us not forget, of me washing the pants he'd put into the dirty clothes basket.  Finally, as the bus was making the stop right before ours he decided he would rather wear a pair of pants one size up than wait for the dirty clean pants to finish washing and drying and pay me three dollars to drive him to school.  Then I got to drive Grant to school ($5) because he waited until his bus was coming down the hill to tell me that the goats were out of water, and p.s. he hadn't eaten breakfast or brushed his teeth or washed his face or combed his hair.  But it's not HIS fault he feels like crap in the morning (I'm sure it has nothing to do with refusing to ever go to bed on time).  So it was a party, is what I'm trying to say.

We had a delightful Thanksgiving, and are now becoming ever more agitated in our anticipation of Christmas.  I think I bought too many presents this year.  I feel gross.  And although it's hard to backpedal on an arms race, or for the president to give back powers that he has previously enjoyed, next year I am going to do just that--one present, one book.  So get ready to be deprived, children.  I don't need to be raising superconsumers.

John went to New York last week for work and went up to the Statue of Liberty's crown.  He saw Newsies.  He looked at a bunch of buildings.  He did not eat a cronut, because it would probably make him die of diverticulitis or something.

like a stumbling ghost I haunt these halls

We got a new couch for the parlor, and Ike was so distressed at the idea that we would get rid of our other one that he begged to take it downstairs into the toy room.  We should just drop the pretense and call it what it is, which is a Lego, garbage, and dirty clothes room.  They are seriously so piggish.  Thank goodness for basements.

It's a new trimester and Grant and Emmett liked their first day of classes.  Emmett is relieved that the middle school installed--just last week--some kind of curtain dividery things in the P.E. showers so he doesn't have to shower with a bunch of other people.  He was so sicked out by that concept, and rightly so.  I don't know how we, as a modern, developed society, have tolerated such a bizarre practice for so long. "Just go ahead and take off all your clothes and join your friends in the shower."  Pass.

Grant likes at least one of his teachers this trimester, which sadly is good odds.

Ike draws on his assignments and sometimes when he's feeling mouthy he writes in huge letters I DON'T KNOW in response to worksheet questions.

Willa is doing so much better with her new teacher.  I was there helping yesterday and the energy of the class is much calmer.  She's enough of a hyper dingbat in regular life; she doesn't need reinforcement of it at school.

hey this is nothing new; I've got more than enough for you

Emmett is ripped because he was just displaced as first chair percussion by the kid who used to be FOURTH CHAIR.  Oh snap!  The shame!  He says it must be because the teacher wanted the kid to feel better, and as soon as break was over Emmett challenged him and says he's going to destroy him tomorrow because the other kid stinks at everything to do with percussion.  Ha, I love seeing Emmett get competitive like this, even if it is only about making noise with sticks. 

try something fresher, something pleasant!

On a whim John and I decided we'd take our family to Mexico for our fall vacation.  Thanks to Voice Male we get a week of vacation in a time share every other year, and one of the places is in a town just south of Tijuana called Rosarito.  It's been really wonderful.  Anytime I go on vacation I start feeling like I want to move to that place, and Rosarito is no different.  I could do it.  It would take me a minute to remember how to speak Spanish, but even now I can get by all right.  I know how to buy food anyway, and that's supposedly one of the important things. 

A briefish recap for record-keeping purposes: 

Last Friday we picked the kids up from school and started on our way.  When we got to Willard I remembered that our passports were at home on my nightstand, so we got to backtrack for that.  Then Willa was carsick and we had to pull over for her to throw up three or four times.  We got to our hotel in Las Vegas after midnight.  Breakfast Saturday morning was pretty good for a free hotel breakfast buffet.  We considered for a moment going to M&M World or Coke World, but then we remembered that that was a dumb idea.  Then we saddled up and drove the rest of the way to Rosarito, with a stop in Tijuana for fish tacos.  We grabbed some groceries for Sunday at the Comercial Mexicana, and I was in heaven because foreign grocery shopping is my favorite thing. 

On Sunday we went beachcombing in the morning.  There are so many sand dollars around here; they are just scattered around the beach like cookies--big, nice ones that haven't been smashed to pieces yet.  It's amazing how quickly you acclimate, because the first one we found that had only a small hole was like a miracle, and a half hour later, when we had a stack of six or seven, only the most perfect, unblemished specimens could even capture our attention.  Later we went to church in the Spanish branch in Rosarito.  We pulled a Nate and only went to Sacrament meeting because:  Espanol.  I got the main gist of the testimonies, but going to class would have been a total mare's nest.  We had omelets for dinner. 

Monday we took some food to an orphanage that John's friends had told him about.  They were all jazzed about it and said to mention their name, since they go there all the time, but the people we talked to were a little bit like "Who?"  They seem like they are so strapped, and they have so many charities coming in and out all the time, and so many kids to take care of--fifty in one house and forty-five in the other--that they don't really have the deep connection to any particular benefactor that the benefactor might hope for.  It's a great big mess, pretty much, but the kids were all smiling and friendly and seemed as happy as could be expected.  We ate some carne asada and tacos al pastor at Tacos la Gloria, and then we went and got two cocos.  I was hoping my children would have the same magical experience I did, watching the guy chop off the top of the coconut with a machete and then be able to drink the coconut water, but they all seemed kind of underwhelmed.  Oh well, more for me. 

We spent Tuesday and Wednesday at the beach and the pool.  I was not present while the meth-heads were scraping all the sea stars off the rocks and trying to sell them, but all the same it's a good thing I didn't have my smiting powers that day. 

Thursday we drove down to Ensenada to see La Bufadora (The Blowhole, a geological marvel, not to be confused with Blowhole the whale from that one episode of The Tick).  We were hounded by vendors and bought some marvelous things:  Willa one of those faux peasant outfits, Ike a luchador mask, John a wide-brimmed cowboy hat for irrigating, and me a painted terra cotta skull and a skull necklace.  I'm into skulls I guess.  I'm pretty goth. 

Friday we bought candies and food from our favorite vendors and took one last look at the tide pools during low tide.  All of the days we watched a lot of futbol with occasional Jeopardy and Price is Right and movies. 

Saturday we got up and out of there as quickly as we could and spent two hours in the line to cross the border back into the U.S.  Let's just make Canada, America and Mexico into one big country, shall we?  We ate lunch at a gas station where we were mistaken for Europeans, I guess because none of us were wearing white socks or sneakers and two of my kids were wearing soccer jerseys.  Then we surprised the kids by taking them to LEGOLAND, which we will not be going back to ever again if I have anything to say about it.  The models are amazing, and the kids liked the Mindstorm robot thing, but other than that it's a turd convention.  We only made it as far as Henderson that night. 

Sunday we got up and ate and left and were able to make it to Washington for church in what turned out to be a singles ward, and the lady who sat in front of us turned around and scolded my kids for kicking her bench.  She told us afterward that we had nice voices, probably because she felt bad and is trying to buy her way back into heaven.  We ate at the Mired Ox (Café Rio) with all the other Mormons on their way home from California.  Willa barfed I think three times on the way home.  I read Harry Potter OotP for seven hours.  We got home and had a beautiful reunion with the cats. 

I loved this vacation so much.  I want to go back to Mexico.  I want to move there!  I hope my kids remember it as fondly as I remember the trips I took with my family. 

when I get to the bottom I go back to the top of the slide

A couple of kids in our ward are in the Mandarin immersion program at a nearby school, and I thought for a while about putting Willa in it, but then I despaired at the thought of having to run her back and forth every day for the next five years.  I am a lazy mom.  But also one of the moms is a giant drag and I don't want to have the forced intimacy of a carpool schedule with her.  Besides, I think that Spanish is as much the Language of the Future as Mandarin, and I can actually converse haltingly in elementary Spanish, so I think I'll just buy some textbooks and teach the kids a Spanish class once a week or something. 

Grant got on the basketball team he wanted, he is surviving middle school and getting excellent grades despite some of the teachers doing all they can to squash his love of learning, he is sometimes a jerk to his siblings, he doesn't practice his trumpet, he has been doing slightly better at getting up on time and feeding and watering the goats.  So, a mixed bag.  We take what we can get. 

Emmett loves school and life and is almost always happy except when I am making him eat cream of mushroom soup.  He does a slapdash job on his chores and incurs frequent fines for letting the chickens run out of water.  But because money actually matters to him, when we showed him the hole the fines had dug into his savings he got very wide-eyed and repentant. 

Ike is a child of contrasts.  Monday he was a turd and getting him to practice his piano was infuriating.  He sulked the entire afternoon.  Tuesday he came home and did his chores and practiced his piano right away without any nagging.  This morning he took 45 minutes to put on a shirt and barely caught the bus.  His two settings are happy and angry.  Hey--he must be my son! 

Willa is getting her claws out this afternoon.  I think we've finally succeeded with her.  It took a long time of wearing the mitten at night, but I think she's cured.  It helps that she's busy at school all day--it's when she gets bored that things get ugly.  I wonder how she'll do on our long drive to Mexico, since the car is like the most boring place you can be, and that's always been her hardest fight. 

John interviewed for and was offered a job at a different company but ended up not taking it.  It would have been fun, but there really are some very nice work/life balance benefits to working for the church.  Plus I like him working downtown--who wants to go out to lunch in West Jordan or whatever?  Not me. 

I love not being the PTA president.  It's nice to have only YW to worry about, because that is plenty of worry by itself.  Thankfully my Laurels are bright and inquisitive and happily engage in discussions during the lessons.  A couple of them are planning on serving missions, which is an exciting prospect.  I'm interested to see how the role of women in the institutional dealings of the church is going to evolve over the next little while.  My advisor Wendy and I do our best to disabuse them of incorrect notions regarding doctrine vs. custom, and hopefully it will help them find a space in the church that they can be comfortable and faithful in. 

keep smiling until then

We said hasta la vista to my sister tonight.  She's headed off on her mission for the next eighteen months, and we will miss her something fierce.  She's the first missionary out of all my sisters and me, partly because she's the first one to have the juevos to do it.  She made enough money to pay for her whole mission by selling cinnamon rolls every summer for the last nine years.  She came out of the womb just plain better than most people, and I am proud to know her. 

I can't show you any of the pictures with me in them, because I looked vomitrocious tonight.  But believe me, I was there.  Right before we went to the airport we stopped at the Rancho Market, which is a glorious wonderland of Mexican groceries, and we bought some stale chicharrones, a chocolate concha, and a weird ball-shaped thing covered in butter and sugar and filled with some kind of goop.   

 

We saw those guys who got flash-mob engaged in Home Depot last week and wondered if they were heading somewhere to get married.  I just want to make sure you all know that I disapprove of flash mobs to the utmost.  It seems like everyone in the video is part of the flash mob, so I'm wondering, who are they performing this for?  The only one that does not earn my undying ire (by which I mean it makes me cry) is that one where they play Peer Gynt on the train. 

 

Justine and Cannon brought cookies from Paradise Bakery, which were delicious.  Everybody took one, and there was just an oatmeal raisin one left, and someone asked, "Does anyone like oatmeal raisin?" and I pointed to my mom, and she said, "Oh, I thought everyone liked oatmeal raisin."  No, mom.  Just you.  Because oatmeal raisin is the worst cookie.  Can you even think of a cookie worse than oatmeal raisin?  A real cookie, not something made up like a barf cookie with poop frosting?  I don't think I can. 

we both found what we were looking for

Ugh, what is up with teenagers wanting to stay up all night?  It's a real problem.  Grant is really settling into the traces of his messed up teenage circadian rhythms and that in turn is going to mess up MY circadian rhythms, because mommy needs a certain amount of awake time after her children go to sleep to restore her sanity.  When else am I going to watch Bob's Burgers except during the day when they're all at school? 

John and I were going to have to sing at what we were fondly referring to as a Troubled Marriage Retreat, but we've been pardoned.  Pity, because we were going to rock on "Ben," the Michael Jackson song about that rat who eats people.  Kidding!  Or am I?  Now you'll never know, because the event was cancelled.  But I'll say this:  our rat costume, that John and I bought for private reasons, was going to come in super handy. 

All the children are playing sports and musical instruments of one kind or another.  They all enjoy school.  Neon is back in a big way, so they all hurt my eyes when they get dressed in the morning. 

is it just me, or do those gilly sketches go on way too long for way too little return?

It's the last week of summer, and boy, are we ready.  The fighting about the absolute stupidest things has reached an unacceptable level, and I think everybody just wants to be shut of each other for a while.  This is how the modern world has broken the family, you guys.  Instead of spending our short, brutish lives working our family farms together in harmony and ignorance, we have come to enjoy--nay, prefer--living in comfort and ease with greater access to health care, education, and foreign cuisine.  What a sad commentary on our society. 

We went school shopping and got clothes for everybody, and it was brutal and not at all enjoyable.  I so rarely have to take my kids on errands anymore that it was almost like I no longer have that set of skills.  Like that muscle has atrophied and now I'm useless.  They were not even that naughty, it's just that there are four of them, and they wander like crazy!  All over the store, grabbing and touching everything on the shelves like a family of goshdarn raccoons!  But we prevailed and got everybody taken care of.  Grant and Willa got the most because there's nobody to pass stuff down to them.  Poor Emmett and Ike.  At least they get new shoes, and I do always buy them a few new shirts that no one else has sweated in and spilled on yet. 

Grant and Ike are done with basketball, Emmett and Ike and Willa are done with swimming lessons, we have eaten about 1/10th the amount of shaved ice we should have, and we turned the basement room into a dormitory so the boys could still be all together, but not smooshed quite so tightly. 

John asked about a job at work that would require a transfer to Europe, but his current boss was like, "Uh, who's going to do your job if you move to Europe?"  Flattering that they aren't willing to let him go, but it would have been nice to have an adventure, especially because as soon as we heard about the job I was on that like flies on a gutwagon and had already picked out where we were going to live.  Oh well, Groceries and Rex would have hated the plane ride. 

what does it even mean to miss someone by their hair

Last week I went to Girls' Camp.  We had flushing toilets and showers, and it was so much better than dirt camping.  When I was little we were always going camping and woodcutting with my mom's side of the family.  There were never bathrooms and you just had to wander to a private area away from camp, collect some soft leaves, and do your dirty business over the side of a fallen log or something.  I didn't really mind it then, and I would still probably prefer that to an outhouse, but I am old enough now that a real bathroom is pretty important to me.  Anyway, the second afternoon we sent the girls off to read their letters from their moms, and two of them found a decent-sized rattlesnake.  Thankfully our camp director's husband was there, and he is a mountain man deluxe edition who trains dogs to hunt bears and mountain lions (he just takes pictures of them; his reasoning is that if people kill all the bears and mountain lions there won't be any left to hunt, and then what is he supposed to do with his dogs? I like this approach), and he tromped off into the weeds with the shovel and soon found the snake and dispatched it and buried the head.  It was a very exciting time for everyone.  Thankfully none of the girls fought and there was no crying or meanness.  Our testimony meeting was only about a 2 on the bizarre/awkward/inappropriate scale.  Pretty much it was a terrific success and I'm looking forward to next year. 

I had the kids sort all their clothes so we have at least a vague idea of how many shirts, pants, socks and underwear they have before we go school shopping.  They never use their drawers and all their stuff just lives on the floor and travels up and down the stairs every week, being washed over and over again without being worn because they're too lazy to differentiate their clean and dirty piles.  Where do they get that from?  I'm sure I don't know. 

but sadly we just left rhode island

Last weekend we had our final family reunion for the year, sniff.  I love my family in all its multitude and it makes me sad we don't see each other more often.  I rode a horse for a minute.  I stubbed the crap out of my toe on a stump and thought maybe I broke it, but it turns out not.  I got a 91 on my BB shooting attempt, which I think is good but not great, but I'm not sure.  I think I overheard a conversation defending whaling, but I chose to remove myself from the situation rather than end up in an argument.  There was a brief game of what was called fireball, which is exactly what it sounds like, which was shut down by some killjoys who didn't want to set the borrowed mountain ablaze.  I got a sweet hat that belonged to my grandpa, and I must say, I look way foxy in it.  My cousin's fifteen-year-old son is 6' 4 1/2" and Grant standing next to him looks like he's next to the World's Tallest Man.  It seriously looks like photoshop.  I feel a little jealous of all the talls in my family. 

Grant is at scout camp, probably being initiated into all sorts of unspeakable teenage behaviors.  I have done such a good job of dissing BSA at our house that I've had to backtrack a little and defend it for the good life skills it teaches, aside from just knots and fires.  Overall I guess it's a decent program to be involved in, but I sure as heck am not going to hold any of my kids hostage and say they aren't getting a driver's license until they get their Eagle.  I mean, how dumb.  What in the world do Eagle Scout awards have to do with driving?  Parents, if you're doing that, stop it.  Read a parenting book that talks about natural and logical consequences. 

Emmett went on a 14-mile bike ride the other day along the highway.  Ugh, the highway.  Why can't we have a bike path in this place?  It's nothing but cyclists from dawn to dusk in the summer, and how many of them need to be hit and killed before we figure out they need some room?  At least Emmett wears a helmet, so if he does get hit by some texting jackass he will have a lovely, intact head atop his mangled body. 

Ike cut his foot open again today, because: aggressive researcher.  It was only a small cut, even though he was bleeding like a stuck pig.  I predict that the infrequency of his shoe wearing will not be affected. 

Willa has worn a hole through the mitten.  I might have to make a new one.  At the reunion we took it off for a family picture, and her hand is all pale and white like a cave fish, so she said that she wants a mitten for both hands so they'll be the same color.  But she's singing a different tune now, and all of the sudden wants the mitten OFF.  Well, hoss, this is the choice you made all those times we told you to take your fingers out of your mouth and you refused. 

behold, I come as a thief

Yesterday after Grant and Ike got done with basketball and Emmett was done with piano we went to a water park in Salt Lake to hang out with our friends the McAllisters.  We had a lot of fun, but I don't want to talk about that right now.  I want to complain about how poorly run it is instead.  So, there is one drinking fountain in the entire park, and it was out of order.  You could stand in line to get cups and water from one of the coolers they had filled with warm water, but most of those were empty, so there wasn't much point.  So have fun being dehydrated, which is probably a good thing anyway, because of the eight or ten toilets in the only women's restroom, four were out of order, so at all times of the day there was a minimum ten-minute wait in the line to use the bathroom.  I mean, people pee in the pool even in optimal bathroom situations, what are they going to do when there's only one bathroom and it has a ten-minute wait?  Also it has been so long since the floor was mopped that there are layers of sedimentary filth deposits around the drains in the bathroom floor--grass, mud, ancient toilet paper, and unnameable mystery substances.  Then toward the end of the day someone stole our triple tube, which is angering since they cost so much money.  John went to the tube rental place to seek redress, both of us assuming there would not be any, but we enjoy participating in social experiments. 

John:  "Hi, my wife rented tubes, and somebody came and stole our triple tube, so we were wondering if you could give us a replacement." 
Tube Rental Person:  "No, sorry.  It's against company policy." 
John:  "It's against company policy to give somebody a replacement tube when theirs gets stolen?" 
TRP:  "Yeah, we can't do anything." 
John:  "But she already paid a lot of money for it, and now we can't use it because somebody took it, and you can't get us a new one?  There's like a half hour left before you close, and you can't just let us use a new tube?" 
TRP:  "No, it's company policy." 
John:  "But I just barely got here, and I want to go on the slides with my kids.  Can't you bend company policy at all?"
TRP:  "No, sorry." 
John:  "So we just don't get to go on the slides, because somebody came and took our tube.  That we already paid for." 
TRP:  "There's just nothing we can do." 
John:  "So what you're saying is that I'd be an idiot to rent tubes, because if we do, someone will just take them and you won't do anything to make it right, so we won't get to use them anyway.  So if we do want tubes we should just take somebody else's, because that way I get a tube for sure, and it doesn't cost me any money.  Then if somebody comes and steals that one, I just steal another one, because that's what everybody does, and there are no consequences if we do.  That's what you're saying.  That no one should rent tubes, we should steal them.  You realize that's the behavior you're encouraging." 
TRP:  "I don't know, we just can't do anything to help you." 
John:  "Okay, I guess we'll go steal a tube then." 
TRP:  shrugs

So we walked over to the lazy river and saw a triple tube leaning against a fence and Willa said, "Hey, we could use that tube!"  So, since it was all by itself with no stuff around it marking it at all (unlike ours, which had had towels draped over it and was sitting directly on our stuff) it seemed likely that it was one of the many that people leave lying around when they leave the park.  John grabbed it and even though we figured they'd let him ride with Willa on a triple instead of a double, we wanted to continue the experiment.  So he went back to the tube rental place and said, "Hi.  I have a triple tube that I want to exchange for a double and a single."  The guy he'd talked to was talking to some other employees, and when he turned around and saw John he started to laugh, turned his back and elbowed his friends, then started whispering and pointing at John.  I think he enjoyed John's moxie.  They exchanged our poached tube and John and Willa had a delightful time riding slides for the next twenty minutes until the park closed.  So it was a very fun day, but I do wish the park were managed and maintained better. 

I promise you babe I won't do you no harm

Big, big news:  Willa can ride a bike now.  We borrowed a balance bike from Matthew and Emily and all it took was a couple of days of riding around in the driveway and the church parking lot.  Balance bikes are a legitimate process improvement.  The person who invented training wheels probably meant well, but he's looking like a pretty big idiot next to the balance bike guy.  Boy, do you like how I just assumed that both inventors were men?  Gosh, is the Patriarchy ever going to cut us a break?  Actually, I wasn't assuming they were both men, I was just using default gendered speech, which is a whole different kind of casual sexism, ha ha!  Anyway, Willa is riding up and down and hither and yon, and once we get some new tires on Ike's old bike she is going to tear it up out there. 

Ike rode his bike barefoot to a birthday party because that's what we do when we have a bandaged puncture wound we're supposed to keep clean, right? 

Emmett exploded the tube inside one of his tires on his brand new bike, which has set his riding back a bit.  He says he was just pumping it up to the recommended psi, but I have my doubts.  We ordered some of those wonderful tubes with the green slime in them, because puncture weeds are about as thick as grass around here. 

The only news on Grant this week is that he says he's almost 5'8", but I think he's fudging. 

We went to a family reunion at Grandma Maxine's yesterday.  John couldn't come because he is on a business trip in Israel building relationships of trust or something.  Too bad for him, because the Wilkers are a highly entertaining group of people, and it's always nice to spend time at the I Lazy H. 

Justine had her baby this morning, hooray!  No name for the little one yet, so I guess we can just call her Baby.  It's got a nice ring to it. 

treacle from a treacle well

We bought Emmett a fancypants bike, because the one he had is basically a potato with wheels, and he rides it anyway.  He goes for long bicycle rides, powering through the heavy frame and clunky gears.  Let's all pause to wipe a tear about his bravery.  Anyway, we figured we spend money hand over fist on Grant, a.k.a. The Devourer, for all his basketball and soccer stuff and assorted begging, and Emmett never asks for anything, so it seemed right.  When he got on the new one (new to us--we bought it used and counted our blessings, because my word are bikes spendy) he got this cute little smile on his face and he just zoomed up and down the street. 

Ike stepped on a crowbar the other day and punctured his foot between his toes, so we rushed him over to Daniel and got stitches.  Ike was a giant worrywart about it, and I just think, for someone who doesn't like shots or pain he sure does a lot of risky/stupid things.  I knew from the time he was very small that he was going to be the child that we spent our time in the emergency room with, because he just is like that.  He is very exuberant and impetuous. 

Willa got a new rake in her mouth a while ago to have another try at not sucking her fingers, but of course it's not working, and she just jams her fingers in there anyway.  Then I made splints with popsicle sticks, and she still sucked on them.  So then I made a mitten and put it on with a zip tie so she couldn't get it off, and then Ike tightened the zip tie too tight because he loves to help, and before I could cut the zip tie Willa had grabbed some scissors and cut the mitten off.  So I got to make a new mitten, and I was quite angry about this, because I am really really sick and tired of Willa sucking her fingers and I have said all along we need to cast her arm, but nobody will listen to me because blah blah muscular atrophy blah blah.  I yelled at Willa very loudly when she cut off the mitten.  You've heard it said, probably about Professor Snape or something, that "his words dripped poison"?   That's where I was.  But all is well now, and her mitten is on good and tight, but not too tight, and she can wear it until school starts, and maybe, just maybe, we can break this awful habit so Willa doesn't grow up to have donkey teeth. 

Grant has been kind of a dynamo this summer.  Helping around the house, exercising, practicing his trumpet every day . . . it's been really nice. 

Claire and Nate are home from Australia, and yesterday we all went to the temple together, without John unfortunately, because John is in Israel right now for work, and we couldn't wait until he gets back because Justine is going to have her baby any day now.  We'll just have to do another big family group later.  Troy went through a month ago since she's going on a mission in September, and we didn't get to go since we were in Cedar City, and Claire was still in Australia, so it was really wonderful to be with my parents and all my sisters in such a beautiful place.  And then we went to Golden Spike for dinner and I got a gyro, so it was a pretty amazing day. 

kenny, that song sucks

We went to the Utah Summer Games so Grant could play in them with his soccer team.  It was a lot more fun and less hot than I feared it would be, and we ate some amazing food--my favorite was the pizza cart.  Pizza from a cart!  I love America.  Plus so much shaved ice.  Grant had a lot of fun, aside from the time when I guess his blood sugar was low or something because he called us from the opening ceremonies mad enough to spit nails, going on about how everyone on his team is mean to him and wouldn't share their pizza because they're mean to him ALL THE TIME and the music was too loud and it was boring and there was nothing to do and he just wanted to go get a shaved ice WHY CAN'T WE GO GET A SHAVED ICE etcetera, but we stayed and watched the fireworks and took him for shaved ice afterward like we'd already agreed, and within moments of getting that sweet nectar of life inside him he was happy and explaining how great he gets along with his team, and I just threw up my hands.  He likes things right now. 

Emmett and Ike and Willa are in swimming lessons and are little merpeople. 

We had a family reunion last weekend and it was great, even better because we weren't trapped in the same house with each other 24-7, because no matter how well you get along, and no matter how much we love Elizabeth's family's magical ranch, too much togetherness can be exhausting.  We went to Lagoon on Monday and it was lovely weather, and the kids bounced around like pinballs with their cousins. 

We're trying to think of a fun, cheap place to go for a family vacation this year, since we already spent a bunch of money going to Cedar City--we had a freeway miracle that saved our lives, but still cost 800 smackers give or take to replace our bald, metal-showing tires.  I'd like to go to a national park. 

do you even know about wearing a fur fox skin? I doubt it

Ah, the last days of the school year, the time when our morning arguments reach Intensity Level Orange.  I fought with Ike about how he was carrying his lunch to school (in his hand--to keep from dropping the orange and juice he just ate them, leaving himself with only a sandwich for lunch) and with Grant about how he was dressed (in basketball shorts--he refused to change until it was too late, so now I guess he'll get to stay home from basketball next Tuesday, since he can't tell which situations are appropriate for exercise-wear and which aren't).  Neither one of them responded verbally to my irritated "I LOVE YOU.  GO AWAY." as they moped out the door to catch the bus.  I fought with Emmett about his ingratitude for the field trip to a Bees baseball game ("It was so hot the sweat was dripping down my legs, and it was so loud I couldn't even talk to anybody, and as soon as I got on the bus the DS ran out of batteries . . . "), and with Willa about sucking her fingers and constantly sneaking over to the neighbors' house to eat shocking amounts of garbage food.  I don't know why I think it will solve my problems to have them home with me more, but it is what it is.  We all need a break. 

Yesterday the fifth grade had their Crystal Springs trip, when they ride their bikes to Crystal Springs and play there all day.  I was already at the school to drop off Emmett's bike and do Willa's kindergarten assessment--no worries, she passed--so I joined some of the other parents and helped the bike caravan on a couple of the tricky parts where they have to cross the highway.  When we got there one of the other moms said, "Aren't you staying?  You should stay!"  So I thought about it, and then called Troy and asked her if she wanted to go, then I called Aleece and asked if she wanted to go, so we all went to Crystal Springs and I didn't have to pay because I was there with the school, and I even went down the slide a few times, and I pretty much didn't see Willa all day she was having so much fun.  I haven't been there since we barely moved here, and the time before that I was in high school.  There are no stairs missing on the stairway to the slides anymore, so that's an improvement.  Oh, Crystal Springs, you crazy cat. 

Emmett had his first piano recital last night, the little buddy.  He did a good job, and was the only one whose piece was memorized.  He was frustrated that he made five mistakes.  I am so pleased with the progress he has made just since November.  It's almost like having a good teacher and practicing make a difference.  Afterward his teacher (who was my teacher and all my sisters' teacher, and she is the best teacher in the whole world) sent us all into the kitchen where she had an embarrassment of Idle Isle chocolates and little boxes to pack full of the chocolates.  She is the coolest. 

The boys are all at Fathers and Sons, and Willa and I hung out last night and partied like it was going out of style.  As soon as the boys left I asked Willa what she wanted to do, and she asked, "Can we go to the park?"  So we went to the playground at Bunderson, since we were already parked there for Emmett's recital.  Then she wanted to go to Adams Park, so we did.  Then she wanted to go to Horsley Park, so we did.  Then she wanted to go to Snow Park, so we were on our way, and she said, "Actually, can we go shopping instead of go to the park?"  I asked her where she wanted to go shopping, and she said Smith's.  So we went to Smith's, and I let her get one of those dumb little car carts that are such a pain to drive, and she pointed where to go, and we went all over the store, and I let her buy garbage food, since that is her love language.  We got Cheetos, some sucker/powder candy thing, Campbell's Disney Princess soup, baby Haagen Dazs ice creams, and we also got some healthy food (pickles for her and pitted Kalamata olives for me).  We also looked at the mylar balloons and went down the card aisle because she wanted to find one that made noise.  Then we came home and ate our stuff--soup for her and two Nathan's hot dogs in one bun for me because I LOVE THOSE HOT DOGS--then read a story and went to bed.  I bet it was the greatest day of her life.  I have to say, I love having a daughter.  She is a good little friend. 

if I ever see pepe le peu I am going to make him so sorry

Cool story, bro: 

The other day Grant was talking to John, and he said, "Hey dad, the best trumpet player in the school doesn't practice!"  John said, "Yeah?" kind of warily, because he thought that what was coming up was Grant saying he must not need to practice either, but instead Grant said, "So I'm going to be the best trumpet player in the school!  Because he doesn't know how to work, and I do." 

Oh, I could bust with parental pride and relief.  For their entire lives John and I have told our children over and over that the world is filled with talented nobodies.  We're concerned about them treading the same path of indolent merrymaking that we did, and have been very sensitive to their tendencies in that direction.  We've told them family stories about how school came so easily to their uncle David that he never had to study or do any homework, and he just left everybody in the dust, until one day in graduate school when he realized that he was no longer the smartest guy in the class, and all the "dumb kids" he'd thought he was so much smarter than were doing better than he was--because they had learned how to work.  We've told the story of how their uncle Daniel had a somewhat difficult time in school, and it was incredibly frustrating for him, because he saw his brothers just coasting by, while he sweated and slaved over his studies.  But just like David's classmates, eventually Daniel came out on top because he worked for everything he got, and by the way, he was the only student to ever get a perfect score on his practical exam in podiatry school.  Not to mention that when Daniel learns something, it's in the vault forever, not like some I could mention, *cough cough*.  So we've talked ourselves blue in the face about how hard work trumps uncultivated natural ability every time, using examples from their lives, and to hear Grant say something like that, that seems to indicate that he gets it, is so gratifying.  It makes me feel like there's at least one thing we're doing right. 

It's been a great week.  Everybody is having fun with soccer, they're all winning their games, we went to a Real Salt Lake game on Monday and nobody cried except Willa, because she wanted the $6 cotton candy.  They played out in the wheat field today and didn't even fight that much, and Grant is old enough now that he can babysit, so John and I are even going on dates now and then.  This is my favorite stage. 

the bunnies have ice in their fur

So Grant is as tall as I am now.  He's grown about . . . some inches.  Let me check.  Almost three inches since August.  It doesn't seem like much when you read it, but it feels like a lot, especially when you're buying pants and shoes.  It's the raw whole milk, you guys.  It's a health tonic!  We are reading The Fellowship of the Ring together, so that he can watch the movie.  Would you like to see some cool LOTR drawings we made in church? 

Sometimes I'm not super attentive in sacrament meeting.  I'm not a great example. 

Emmett is a joy and a pleasure to be with.  He's been in a phase the last two weeks where he works his fool head off, and it is delightful.  He cleaned out the chicken coop without even complaining, which is unlike him, and unlike any other child, because frankly it is a disgusting, difficult job that nobody likes.  He is at his fancy school today and I am going to try very hard not to forget him there, which I have done more times than I care to admit.  This is what happens when you mess with my routine. 

Ike is a pill and refuses to show his work when regrouping, which is how he keeps doing poorly on all his math assignments.  He is a grasshopper, like his parents.  He rode our neighbor's mini dirt bike the other day and took to it like a fish to water, of course.  He is the one who's going to be doing motocross or some other horrible EXTREME SPORT and I will cringe at all of it, in fear for his safety and his respectability. 

Willa is still sucking her fingers.  She is good at cleaning her room, sort of, because she pushes the piles to the perimeter of the room.  She wants to help me with everything, because she's still at that great age when other people's chores are exciting and fun.  I will cherish this time. 

Everybody is playing soccer, and Grant is playing on two teams, which I endorse, because a tired dog is a good dog, and he is unbearable when he doesn't get his wiggles out.  I realize I am creating my own downfall by helping him gain greater endurance and therefore greater capacity for mischief in downtime, but there are worse things.  John is coaching Emmett and Ike, because he is a wonderful person.  He doesn't have the time for this, you know, but he is a good dad.  I am planning the school's spring carnival and it is going to end me. 

a short conversation about lite brite

Layne:  "I was over at the neighbors' house today and Jay was there playing Lite-Brite with Hadley.  Cameron says they got the Lite Brite for a buck fifty at the D.I.  Cameron knows a different Lite-Brite song that's not the one I know and not the one you know!" 

John:  "What's the one you know again?" 

Layne:  (singing) "I'm making things with light, Lite-Brite makes them glow so bright." 
John:  "Oh yeah!" 

Layne:  "And the one you know is (singing) 'Lite-Brite, making things with light, making things with bright light." 

John:  "I'm so happy to have that confirmed by an outside source!" 

Layne:  "I'm not confirming it!  I've never heard that song, it's just the song you always sing." 

John:  "No, somebody else.  Was it Dave? (thinking)"

Layne:  "No, Dave's younger than me.  He wouldn't know it." 

John:  "No!  It was Jenny!  Remember?  She sang the song independently." 

Layne:  "Well she's younger than me too.  That's weird.  Anyway, Cameron knows a Lite-Brite song that is neither one of those." 

John:  "Whoa!" 

mad baggins

Grant started The Fellowship of the Ring the other day--I tried to encourage him to read it a while ago, but he was resistant.  I think he's jazzed about the story now since he's seen the first installment of The Hobbit, and I told him he could see each of the three movies once he read its corresponding book.  We went to Layton yesterday and he read aloud in the car, and now we're all enthralled and having little book clubby discussions about it.  It's been a few years since I read the books, and I'm really enjoying it.  I'm excited for Grant on his little journey of discovery.  He's also reading Tarzan of the Apes, and loving it, as I knew he would.  It's so fun when your children start reading cool books! 

Yesterday I helped with the kindergarten roundup.  Kindergarteners are pretty cute.  There were a few who look like they're not so much looking forward to school and are going to have a hard time the first day--they may need what the handout we gave them called "a reassurance from home."  My kids never needed any kind of security or comfort object; they were like "Smell you later" and out the door.  Probably because I withhold affection. 

I almost got into a fight with a child

I was out at the school this morning helping in Ike's class, and I was playing a spelling game with a little girl who lives up the street from us.  The word was "fawn," and I explained that it meant a baby deer, and a kid sitting at the table next to us horned in and said, "No, a baby deer is called a cow . . . alf."  I said, "A calf?" and he said yes, and I said, "No, that's a baby cow.  A baby deer is called a fawn."  Then he said, "My dad is forty-five, and he says it's called a calf."  And I, because I am twelve, said, "Then he's wrong."  I felt bad about it, because first of all, I'm guessing that his dad does know what a baby deer is called, and second, does it really matter, even if he does call it a calf?  Then I said, "A baby elk is called a calf--maybe that's what you're thinking of," and he said, "No, it's a baby deer.  My family goes hunting all the time.  We go every day and night."  I said "That sounds fun!" and refused to engage any more, which I think shows tremendous maturity, don't you? 

I just hate it when people are wilfully stupid, even children.  Children are sort of unteachable at times.  It's why when we are advised in the scriptures and other church situations to "become as a little child," I wonder what kind of child they're talking about. 

there they are a-standing in a row

I'm going to type this post all in one paragraph, because it enrages me how Chrome and Blogger interact and double space the first paragraph and single space the following paragraphs.  I will delineate paragraph breaks with asterisks.  ********  Oof, the setup for this story is disproportionately complicated for the payback, but I accept the challenge:  Our speakers on Sunday were a departing missionary and a husband and wife who have had one son serve a mission and another son who likely will be serving a mission as well.  The missionary is one of those young people you meet who make you feel a little bit embarrassed about how well they've got life figured out, compared to where you were at that age.  He's an incredible young man: hardworking, responsible, polite . . . I could go on.  I just admire the heck out of him.  Anyway, the husband of the couple converted to the church some time after they were married, and he was comparing himself to the missionary, and said, "My goals at that time of my life were so shallow," and John leaned over to me and whispered, "Boobs."  Because let's be real:  that's what many, I dare say most young men are preoccupied with at the age of 19, missionaries or not.  ********  Ike has a musical program at school today, and it promises to be a lot like Emmett's recent musical program, which is to say that Ike will only be participating begrudgingly, because he feels that the music and actions are demeaning to him or something.  He's in grade school; what kind of refined musical palate can he even have?  ********  Grant was tardy to one of his classes yesterday, which is one thing, but what I want to talk about is this:  his teacher doesn't allow backpacks in the classroom.  There are a few teachers like that at his school--why?  Why can't they have backpacks?  I do not understand.  Are they worried about theft of sticky notes and markers?  Are they worried about terrorism?  ********  I gave Willa a haircut and it wasn't a disaster.  ********  Emmett never has any homework, which makes me a little suspicious until I remember it's Emmett.  ********  We had our New Beginnings program on Sunday night, and my remarks were useless, but thankfully the bishop batted cleanup for me and said all the right things.  I think this calling is making me neurotic and unsure of myself.

where's the jolly jumbuck you've got in your tucker bag?

We spent the holiday weekend visiting family--my two remaining grandmas and John's parents.  It wasn't exactly a day of service, but it was still a good thing to do, we think.  Idaho is, as ever, entirely too cold.  I am amazed by my grandma, but I am thankful to not be a cattle rancher.  It is an unforgiving career. 

Grant's quest to fill every moment of his time (that he's not playing video games or teasing his siblings) with basketball and soccer continues apace.  I am trying to learn more about basketball so I can yell intelligent things at his games.  I now know what it means to set a pick, and can recognize when it is being done.  This is progress.  There is no mold growing on Grant's margarine and butter experiment, and we are feeling sad and disappointed. 

Emmett has discovered the Riordan universe and is happily plowing through them.  He loved the Benedict Society book I bought him for Christmas, and has tasked me (like that corporate-speak?) with reading it.  He loves piano and enjoys swimming, which we haven't paid for yet this month, so I guess we are squatters. 

Ike alternates between shaky compliance and sulky defiance.  He was sad the other day when he saw a picture of a wolf that had been hunted and killed, but what if the wolf had eaten one of his stuffed animals, maybe Sealie (a seal)?  What then? 

Willa is sucking her fingers again because I guess she wants buck teeth.  This makes me very angry. 

I wonder if the dog can tell where the goat has been

We had stake conference last week and got a new stake presidency.  I had to speak in the Saturday meeting.  All of the moisture left my mouth until I felt like a raisin, but thankfully I didn't make that smack-smack sound into the microphone.

John and I spent an hour sitting on couches until I remembered that in most cases I am morally opposed to buying new furniture.  

Grant's science experiment is to determine if margarine can support microbial life.  We don't think so, but so far neither does the butter.  

Emmett's science experiment is to determine if temperature affects a magnet's field of attraction.  I don't think so, but stranger things have happened.  

Ike wanted to do a science experiment to determine if glass cleaner or shower cleaner is better at cleaning.  

Willa is not doing any experiments, but she is playing school with her Rosie O'Donnell and Beach Glam Steven Barbies.  

every handout in every town

This is probably going to come out wrong, but:  sometimes my children are incredibly stupid.

They refuse to wear coats in even the coldest weather.  I bought Emmett a brand-new coat last night, and he made a big fuss about how comfortable it was, and then this morning he threw on his ratty old hoodie with the sleeves coming apart and trounced out in the single-digit temperatures.  He  won't wear the coat to wait for the bus because then he'll either have to cram the coat into his backpack, or leave it on and sweat.  Who can sweat in this weather?  I've been on buses, and toasty they ain't!

Similarly, Grant had plenty of time to put on his body spray/man perfume this morning, but not enough time to notice that he hadn't brought in his backpack from the car or to pack his lunch.  He left his lunch home yesterday, too.  Either he's embarrassed about the lunches or he's a space cadet.

I screamed something fierce at Ike this afternoon because there are only so many times you can be lied to about the rabbits being fed and watered when they really haven't before you sort of come . . . unglued . . . and there is yelling through gritted teeth and prophecies of blame, like such as the "Those bunnies are going to die, and when they die it's going to be your fault.  You are the one who will have killed them because you were too lazy to give them food and water."

Willa spends a lot of time in her room, waiting until she's ready to stop whining and talk like a normal person.