sha la la la la la, live for today

Grant turned 15 and we gave him a phone.  We haven't added it to our plan yet, so he can only really use it where there's wi-fi, which is not his favorite, but he's coping.  It was a difficult decision because we hate to cross that particular Rubicon, but we also don't want to give him the responsibility of a phone and a driver's license at the same time.  We're hoping he can establish some good habits now before he drives off by himself to do the stupid things that teenagers like to do.  I took him shopping on Saturday to spend his birthday money and the money my parents gave him for making the honor roll and he bought some clothes.  I feel like he is quite a natty dresser for a young man his age in this area, which is a fine thing except when you're late for something.  He is on the lacrosse team and two spring league basketball teams.  In the games I've watched so far they have gotten their butts handed to them.  He did honor band a few weeks ago and sounded great. 

Emmett is playing lacrosse and soccer.  He brought home some Bs on his last report card, shame on him.  He loves scouts and is approaching some rank that is supposedly good, according to people who know these types of things.  Star?  Something like that.  He refused to do honor band for some reason.  He is turning into a bit of a clothes horse himself and is eagerly anticipating Grant's hand-me-downs.  He has been slightly better about practicing his piano lately, perhaps because the spring recital is coming up and he doesn't want to be the doobus who isn't ready. 

Ike is only playing soccer, thank goodness, because he's one school year too young for lacrosse.  He plays goalie and had a few really terrific saves in their indoor game on Saturday.  Today he had to bring a recipe to school because his teacher makes a recipe book every year as part of their unit on fractions, which is a fun idea.  Ike wanted macaroni and cheese for his recipe, because he LOVES my macaroni and cheese, but I will confess to you that what he perceives as artistry is just me putting minced garlic in the melted butter and using a variety of cheeses.  You don't have to try very hard to make a pretty amazing macaroni and cheese.  The Mornay sauce is doing the heavy lifting here. 

Willa is home sick today because she spent yesterday throwing up, always a good time.  She is playing soccer.  She has gotten much better at doing her schoolwork with a good attitude and working carefully, thank goodness, because the first part of the year was unpleasant.  She finished her art class, which was a great experience for her.  She made some very nice little projects and it was good for her to have a chance to do something different. 

John and I spend most of our time driving our children to one thing or another, so when they grow up to be horrid little me-monsters you guys can all feel smug and point to this as exhibit A. 

We have set a goal to find some family history names and do their temple work, which I think will be a lot of fun.  We have also set a goal to take a trip to Hawaii before Grant leaves on his mission.  That is, if we aren't in debtors' prison from all the money we spent on sports equipment. 

their tops are made out of rubber, their bottoms are made out of springs

Currently in our lives:

John interviewed for a different job at work, but he doesn't think he'll get it, which is a shame.  Now he won't even have the opportunity to tell them never mind, he doesn't actually want the job after all, which is what he always does.  He's a crazy cat.  He is a gospel doctrine teacher in our ward and is very good at it. 

I have started learning a new skill that I suck super bad at, but I am getting less sucky as time passes.  Churchwise I am a primary teacher now, and I like it, even though I don't usually like children very much and the class is huge and there are a couple of quite naughty children in there.  But I do enjoy my class, and we are having a good time together.  The first week we worked out what the new treat situation would be, and they are taking to it like ducks to water.  I bring stuff like apples and clementines and cheese, and even though there were a couple of kids who said they didn't like this or that thing I'd brought, by the end of class everybody was munching happily.  They are fun and full of energy.

Grant is done with his school basketball season.  They lost every game but the last one, so it was nice to end on a high note of sorts.  It was a hard season with a lot of hurt feelings and frustration for pretty much every kid on the team, and we're happy it's over.  He started lacrosse two days ago and spent an unholy amount of money on gear last night.  He starts practicing for his spring basketball league on Thursday.  It's going to be interesting to see if he is able to pull off playing two sports at once.  He auditioned for honor band on the baritone, and they told him he was a sight-reading fiend.  Imagine how good he'd be if he practiced!  He got a 4.0 on his last report card and has been admitted into the Junior Honor Society. 

Emmett is doing a robotics class once a week after school and is digging it.  A couple of weeks ago the teacher told him and his partner that their robot was a poor design, and then it proceeded to destroy the other robots and not tip over or collapse or fall victim to any of the teacher's dire predictions.  So nyah, nyah to the teacher.  Emmett wishes desperately that he could be playing indoor soccer right now, but his team only does outdoor, so he has to wait.  He also wants to take up lacrosse.  We talked to him about practicing his piano for at least 30 minutes a day, which he agreed to do, and then he practiced about five minutes and called it a day.  He loves school and his teachers and has excellent grades. 

Ike is playing basketball and likes it more than he thought he would.  He's also playing indoor soccer and loves it.  He plays goalie for half the game, and he is not too shabby.  He got a goalie shirt and knee pads because in the first game he tore his knees and arms up on the gross artificial turf.  He also wants to start playing lacrosse.  He is doing great in school and his teacher said a lot of very nice things about him.

Willa is taking an art class once a week and learning a lot.  She is doing great in school too, and loves her teacher.  She has had a rough go of it with math for a little while, but she's pulling through and still says she loves math, which I think is great, even though it seems like a lie sometimes.  She also wants to play lacrosse, but there is not currently a girls' lacrosse program around here.

So either Grant is a huge influence on his siblings, or they all just like the idea of buying a bunch of new sports equipment.  Probably both. 

so if you've gotta go, you've gotta go through me

Last night we had our Evening of Excellence.  If I didn't have to do Evening of Excellence and New Beginnings my job would be so much easier.  But it was low-key and short, so not too bad I guess.  And it's good for the girls to take a minute and reflect on what they've been doing over the past year to improve themselves mentally, spiritually and physically.  Our theme was "Cultivating Personal Excellence," and each of the girls got up and took a couple of minutes telling us about something they're working on that is helping them cultivate personal excellence.  One of the Mia Maids ran the Wasatch Back, and one of my Laurels saved up enough money to go on a humanitarian aid trip to Peru.  I've got some pretty cool girls, I think.  We had dirt cakes for refreshments.  I am a huge fan of dirt cake.  It's just poor-man's trifle, really, but pudding is a glorious thing and I love it. 

Grant made the basketball team, yay!  So we will need to reschedule his ear surgery until after the season so he doesn't have to miss out on basketball or honor band.  Evidently they don't want you jumping around or blowing in a trumpet when you've got a patch on your eardrum.  FINE. 

Emmett has to come to choir now that he's 12, and he usually hates it, but last week he was actually excited about how he was starting to learn the parts, and he loves one of our Christmas songs.  There's hope for him yet!  All our kids are going to have to learn to sing, so they may as well get used to the idea. 

Ike keeps coming home and saying he has no homework, which makes me suspicious, but also his teacher is kind of an interesting lady we'll say, and so it is possible. 

Willa plays the knuckles song 24-7 and it's making me insane. 

John's knee has still not gotten better. 

fin

well there's no fire in the fireplace, there's no carpet on the floor

Ugh, kids learning to play an instrument are THE WORST.  Maybe I was just as bad when I started piano, but I don't remember resisting counting the music the way my kids all have.  They just plow doggedly ahead, playing it incorrectly, refusing any attempts at correction, and insisting that they are playing it the same way I am.  Spoiler:  THEY'RE NOT.  My experiences with Ike have set back my course for the celestial kingdom by a good five years.  There have been some regrettable words and actions concerning the counting.  Any piano folks out there:  how do you get them to count?  Without murdering them in the process?

Grant is playing early morning basketball at the high school gym three times a week (when he gets up), is doing one last basketball league before summer, and has started spring soccer.  He had to write three poems for his Language Arts class and he was a giant baby about it because he says he hates poetry.  Pfft, who doesn't?  That's rude--some poetry is very nice.  But just like owning a camera doesn't make you a photographer, knowing how to rhyme does not make you a poet.  He recently read the Maze Runner series, and now we're reading "The Jungle" together.  I have warned him that it's going to be a total downer, but he is going to thank me when he gets to a class that makes him read it.

Emmett got up last night to watch the lunar eclipse.  He says it was cool.  He has applied to be a Peer Sports Adviser at school, and we like to imagine that it's not only because he likes to have control over other people.  He loved P.E., except for the wrestling segment, because wrestling is weird.  Who wants to wear a swimsuit and roll around in somebody else's sweat?  Emmett is playing rec soccer and scored last week.  He is reading another of Carl Hiaasen's books--I got him "Hoot" for Christmas, and now he's reading "Chomp."  They seem like a lot of fun.

Ike has started playing comp soccer and wants to wear his uniform all day every day.  He loves school, loves his teacher, and loved taking his core test yesterday.  He wants to play the trombone.  He is a very passionate, tenderhearted and obstinate little fellow.  He likes things to go his way, but not in a spoiled way.  He just doesn't like change or uncertainty, and is very hard to talk down once he gets upset about something.  He is reading "Flush," another by Carl Hiaasen.

Willa is getting her tonsils out next week.  She got tonsillitis a couple of months ago, then got it again a few weeks later, and the swelling never really went down.  Her tonsils are so big I don't know how she eats or breathes.  We would have liked to keep them in, but when your tonsils are not performing their duty, and in fact are actively working against you, then it seems like maybe they should go.  I have had a number of older people say they wish they had gotten theirs out as children because they have so many problems with them now.  Willa, like Bill Cosby before her, is very excited about the popsicles and ice cream and pudding, but I'm sure she will suffer a similar disillusionment when she wakes up from the surgery and finds that the world is naught but misery and woe.  She is also playing rec soccer and scored last week.  I'm going to start her on piano lessons soon so she can eventually move up to the banjo, which is her new obsession after we went into KSM last week to buy guitar picks.  She said, "I can learn to play the song that Frog plays!"  Because she calls Kermit and Miss Piggy "Frog and Pig," which is awesome of her.  She is reading "Little Bear" by Maurice Sendak.  She wants a chapter book with no pictures, so we'll be on the lookout for that.  I don't know if she's ready to read "My Father's Dragon" by herself quite yet, but we could probably read it with her.

I am still practicing the guitar and learning Spanish and attempting to be a halfway decent Young Women's president.  Nothing else too exciting.

John is coaching Willa's soccer team and has grown some pointy sideburns that some people say make him look like he's in a play.  He is still the Primary chorister and still feels like it's the best job in the church.

Groceries keeps barfing on the floor, Rex keeps being good, the goats are pregnant, the chickens are not laying eggs, and the rabbits and bees are all still alive.

whoops there goes another rubber tree plant

John and the boys went to Mexico last week to build houses for a charity run by one of John's friends.  He takes a group of people, sometimes families, sometimes fathers-and-sons, sometimes corporate groups, down to Tijuana about nine or ten times a year and builds houses for people.  Nothing fancy, but with a cement floor, running water and electricity.  Emmett and Ike were not technically old enough to go, but they got permission and it turned out just fine.  Grant impressed everybody, and people were saying to John, "I can tell you guys live on a farm, because that boy can work."  Ha, not really.  There are some farm boys around here--the ones that live on real farms, not this loser of a fantasy farm experiment we're conducting--who would put Grant to shame in a big hurry.  One boy in particular who just left on his mission would be basically like having Thor help you build a house.  But if Grant can outwork a bunch of doughy subdivision boys then my mission is successful.  Emmett and Ike didn't quite blow everybody away with their sheer brute strength, but they were good, willing helpers, and I'm sure they'll come into their own.

Willa and I hung out here and didn't do anything too exciting.  We went to a toy store, got some horrible Chinese food, went to the Idle Isle candy store, helped my mom make 300+ cinnamon rolls for a wedding reception, and watched a fair amount of figure skating.  She and Ike have dreams of skating in the Olympics, which is neat.  They can put them on the dream shelf next to Grant's of playing in the NBA.  Emmett does not have any such pie-in-the-sky hopes, because he is eminently practical.

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.

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. 

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!" 

ate an a- a- apple, blew some b- b- bubbles

I guess I'd better check in and let the universe know how our family is doing.  WE'RE DOING FINE, UNIVERSE.  BUT I'D LIKE IT IF THE KIDS WOULD STOP FIGHTING.

We bought a Christmas tree this year, from the nursery, because my parents are going to be in Australia for half of December, and didn't want the hassle and mess, and we figured if they weren't going to harvest a tree, neither were we.  I didn't like paying almost fifty bucks for something I could have chopped down myself, but I did like not having to go into the woods and harvest it myself, because when you say, "Let's go cut down our Christmas tree," all I hear is "Let's go somewhere cold where there are no bathrooms."

John is wearing all nice clothes to work today because he's doing an interview with a DJ to get Voice Male's music on the Sunday program on her station.  He looks very nice when he dresses up.  I tease him, but I will say that he understands when he needs to look nice, so I don't really mind if he looks like a pig the rest of the time.  I look like a pig, why shouldn't he?  Tit for tat, as they say.

Grant is done with one league of basketball and about to start two more, as well as indoor soccer.  I didn't think this one through very clearly.  But a tired dog is a good dog, as they say.  I guess I can drive him all over creation if it keeps him out of mischief.  It's winter--what else am I going to do?  I HATE WINTER.

Emmett has started swim team and has his first meet on Saturday.  We bought him one of those fancy suits that look like compression shorts. He wore them to practice the other night and says he can tell he's much faster with them on.  He plays "The Little Drummer Boy" about a hundred times a day.

Ike is a full-fledged stuffed animal hoarder, and I am an enabler.  It makes gift-giving so easy!  He buried Willa's dead rabbit the other day, digging the hole all by himself.  Last night at our ward party he went up and sat down next to an older woman and had quite a lengthy conversation with her.  He is such an interesting child.

Willa had pinkeye and was a total pain in the butt about the eye drops.  She decorated most of the Christmas tree by herself, which made me happy and the boys angry.  She can finally give the proper answers to those brutal rhyming questions on her worksheets, and she can read a fair number of sight words.  When Grant was in kindergarten and I was even more of a parenting ignoramus than I am now, I was irritated that the learn-to-read books had pictures of the words they were learning.  "They'll just look at the picture and know that it says 'fox'!"  But now I think maybe they put the pictures there on purpose, so that in the future when the child encounters that assortment of letters they have a mental picture to refer to, and they will know, "Oh!  That assortment of letters means 'fox'."  I could be wrong.

I am going to bake twenty dozen ginger lemon sandwich cookies today.

they're first to see the sun, they must tell everyone

John was gone on a business trip all last week, and I came through it intact.  It wasn't nearly as terrible as it could have been, although my children did watch a lot more TV and play a lot more computer games than normal.  He was in Orlando for part of the time, and went to Islands of Adventure, where he discovered, on a ride he has already experienced, that he is a tiny bit arachnophobic.

I'm trying to write a novel in November.  It's going okay, but I'm only about 1/5 as far as I should be right now.  

Grant has been playing a lot of basketball lately, and he's quite good at practice or with our family, but once he gets on the court and people start really getting in his face he turns tentative and unsure of himself.  We keep telling him, "Mustache feeling!"  The Tick is such a good example of so many correct principles.  I appreciate him and the help he gives me in raising my children correctly.  

Emmett has started piano lessons with the same woman who taught me and all my sisters, and she is the best ever.  He came buzzing out of her house last week, jumped in the car and said, "SHE IS THE BEST PIANO TEACHER EVER."  He has gotten up early every day since then to practice the piano.  I know it won't last, but it sure is nice.  He wants to start doing swim team, which I think would be good for him.  He also had the best day ever at his program today, because they got  to pretend they were attending Hogwarts and had to buy all the stuff.  The only dark spot is that the rules of four-square are ever-changing, and vary from school to school, and he can hold forth at  prodigious length about the injustice and complexity of it all.  

Ike has started Cub Scouts, and he thinks it's the greatest thing ever.  He was tardy yesterday because he was talking to his first-grade teacher.  I guess it's probably time for him to start piano as well.  I don't see him as a long-term pianist.  Maybe a tuba player--tubist?  

Willa is progressing on those horrible yellow worksheets.  Having experienced the same kind of difficulty with two children now, I must conclude that the yellow worksheets are not a good fit for my children's learning style.  She throws a lot of tantrums, but she is also very sweet and kind and helpful, so I guess it's a wash.  

how dare you try to ruin my education? I am like the family's greatest athlete

Well, I am the new YW president in our ward.  I'm pretty excited about it, not even being sarcastic.  I really like our girls, and I want to indoctrinate them a little bit.  I want them to go out and grab the world by the . . . let's say "tail."  I want them to be smart, capable, confident girls who don't take crap from anybody.  I believe they are our future, and I want to show them the beauty they possess inside or some garbage.  I am going to need a time-turner for this next year, until I'm unshackled from PTA.  But I can do it; all I have to do is manage my time effectively, which is not even a problem for me.

Last Monday we took Grant to the earnosethroat doctor so they could remove his tubes and vacuum out his ears.  We had to give him the silly medicine or he would have fought us all to the death.  They sucked a bunch of pus out of his ear, which was awesomely gross, and he said a lot of stupid things while he was loopy, just like I hoped he would.

Emmett thinks he wants to be on the swim team this year.  I will have to think about it, just because this year is already going to be so hairy.  But he hates any other kind of physical exertion, so it would be good for him.    If I can get him a spot with my high school piano teacher I could kill two birds with one stone.

Ike is going to be baptized in time to go to the Brigham City temple dedication, which is cool.  Too bad Willa waited so long to be born, or she could be part of the fun too. We'll need to make sure we give Ike some good attention for his baptism, so he doesn't feel like the sad, forgotten third child.  I sometimes wonder if that's why he's so huggy.  Maybe he feels a little love-starved.

Willa has her rake in and doesn't suck her fingers, since she can't without getting metal spikes poked into her fingers.  So far she hasn't replaced finger-sucking with a different self-soothing behavior like pulling out her eyebrows, so that's good.  The rake makes her talk funny, like she's wearing a retainer.  "Slurp slurp, can I have some peaches, slurp slurp."  I think we'll leave it in until a while after school starts, so we can make sure that the new routine doesn't make her nervous and start her sucking again.

John and I have been married for almost fourteen years, and last weekend we did a celebratory overnighter in Salt Lake.  We took dancing lessons because we are festive and also sucky dancers.  Normally I try to lead, because I don't trust him, and then we just step all over each other.  We'll probably start competing any time now, and I'll get one of those dresses with the netting and strategically-placed sequins that make you look like you're naked.  Something real classy.

some must push and some must pull

Our ward and the other two wards in our town did a pioneer trek last week, and John and I were a Pa and Ma for it.  We did it once before when we lived in Lehi, and it was such tremendous fun that we jumped at the chance to do it again.  Plus I am descended on two sides from people who were in the rescue party that went after the Willie and Martin handcart companies, so it was a good chance for me to reflect on how I'm doing, and if I've lived my life such that I could be depended on to go after someone who's struggling.  Maybe not, because we got dynamite kids assigned to us.  Maybe Heavenly Father knew if I got weaklings I'd crush their tentative little testimonies.  There's nothing so bad that complaining won't make it worse, and I'd be all, "Here's how it's going to go down.  Shut up.  Stop being a baby.  Start pushing this handcart, or we're going to send you home."  I am not so much with the nurturing, and I cannot abide a whiner.  I mean, it's not like they're eating two ounces of flour and having their hair freeze to the ground or their frostbitten feet chopped off with a butcher knife.  Some idiot kid was prowling around every night throwing dirt clods at tents and stealing stuff (maxi pads, even--just stealing to steal, then, are we?) and of course there were people shouting and carrying on until late at night, and girls trying to sleep in the boys' tents (all of these in other people's families), but all in all we had very few problems.  We walked fifteen miles on the first day, seven miles on the second, and only three miles on the third so we could return the handcarts.  And I didn't die or get dehydrated or get blisters or NUTHIN.  Go me! 

I love treks because it's so interesting to see how adversity, even minimal, manufactured adversity, affects people.  Some people start out as pukes and reform, some start out awesome and turn into pukes, some are awesome from start to finish, and some go home the same puke they were when they left, only they've annoyed way more people than usual.  I was really pleased with our little trek family.  My favorite people in the world are the ones who just do what they're supposed to with a good attitude, and that's what they did.  They pushed the handcart all day long, and as they pushed they sang.

Grant went too, since he's over twelve now, and he seemed to enjoy himself.  Of course he's too young to really grasp what a feat the handcart migration was, but there were enough opportunities to think about why they did what they did, and the importance of eternal families, that maybe some of it sank in. 

it looks . . . not good

I had to give a talk in church today. I hate speaking in church, because most of the time my mind goes blank and I just spout off a bunch of nonsensical gibberish. But I was sweating about this all week, and I prepared the crap out of it. So it went much better than usual.

Tonight we had a priesthood preview meeting for Grant, since he'll be turning twelve next year. He is an incredible kid, and I wish I could freeze him right now. Smart, hard-working, largely obedient, eager to please . . . what an absolute joy to be around. I want to distil this time into a little vial, and then when he's sixteen and being all glum and sullen, lurking in the basement and refusing to talk to any of us I can uncap the vial and smell what life used to be like. He practices basketball every second he gets, he's reading The Book of Three, and my mom loves having him in her class.

Emmett is excelling in school. He enjoys the days he gets to go out to Garland for his gifted and talented program, and he likes to come home and give a full report. This month they had a mock legislature, and he was amazed by how few bills got passed during the session, "But the ones that passed were good bills." Ah, youth. He plays the piano obsessively. I know he should have a real teacher, because my total lack of theory instruction is holding him back. I hope that he can get a spot with my former piano teacher when school starts next year, because she's terrific and can do more to further his talent than I can. He's reading The Moral Compass, which is weird and gratifying.

I volunteer in Ike's class, which gives him an opportunity to hug me five or six times during the time I'm there. He really craves affection--it's a good thing that John's family taught me how to hug, because Ike is basically a puppy. Also I think he has pica, because he ate his reminder card that said he needs to say the scripture in Primary next week. But he's bright and happy and sweet and I guess a little wood pulp won't kill him. He must be deficient in some mineral. We're reading The Dragons of Blueland to him, and he just finished reading Frog and Toad are Friends.

Willa is such a dear little friend to me. We like going to the pet store together to watch the dogs get their haircuts. I will miss her when she goes to school every day. She loves school, loves playing outside, loves helping me, and loves playing with dolls. I brought her with me while I was up at the unpark helping assemble the new playground equipment, and she was so well-behaved and delightful she charmed all of the guys who were there working. She's reading the American Girl doll catalog.

John was elected to be on the city council next year. He is sort of ambivalent about it. He's glad he didn't lose, because that would be embarrassing, but he doesn't want another iron in the fire very much. He just finished reading Drive and has recommended it to me.

If anybody could tell me why Chrome and IE always make the first paragraph double spaced and the following paragraphs single spaced, or better yet, if they could stop Chrome and IE from doing that, it would be just peachy. Because I super duper hate how they format the text of my blog posts and I am ready to crack some heads.

a person bright and lovely is my mother dear

Emmett is home sick with croup today. Croup always sounds so impressive, it makes me feel better about keeping him home. Usually when you keep a child home from school they're at death's door until the bus leaves and fine the rest of the day. But Emmett is still barking like a sea lion, so good for him. He was able to blow out all of his candles in one breath yesterday, so it turns out being a constant talking windbag has a somewhat practical application. I'm just glad that he's able to communicate with those of us who are on a lower intellectual plane than he is. I think he might be able to bend bars with his mind.

The kids really outdid themselves for Mother's Day. Grant brought me breakfast in bed, which I dont' think I've ever had, and he did a fantastic job on the eggs. They were done perfectly and I was proud to know him. Emmett gave me a photo album and a recipe card holder which I used yesterday when I made his birthday cake. Ike made me a lot of cards with drawings of hearts on them. Willa came up on the stand and made me hold her while I was singing with the choir.

John bought me a new phone, since mine is possessed. I have loved it, but it has a mind of its own and I think it plots my destruction.

mud, mud, glorious mud

This past weekend we went to watch John be in The Music Man. He did an excellent job, of course, because I don't know if you knew this, but he is in a promising local band. The two leads were great, but in the kissing part they seemed really, really into it, if you know what I mean. Like, in a Not Acting kind of way. It was quite uncomfortable, and it just went on and on.

Emmett almost had to stay home from school today, because he didn't like how his yogurt looked. LOOKED, not tasted, because he refused to even try it. I gave him some chores to get started on, since he was choosing to stay home and be a servant rather than eat his breakfast and be educated, and he went downstairs and sulked for a while while he "cleaned" the bathroom. Then he came upstairs and respectfully asked for some fruit and yogurt without sucanat in it, so I gave him plain, unsweetened yogurt and fruit, which is of course healthier, and he pridefully pretended to like it better, but it was sour as can be and I know he was faking. But because he ate it he was able to go to school after all and not miss St. Valentine's Day.

just don't eat garbage

John and I were supposed to go to a class last night to learn how to be better teachers, but we decided not to go. They were probably just going to tell everybody not to use Spongebob to illustrate gospel principles, and since we didn't go, we'll still be sinning in ignorance. My mom was aghast that I talked about Spongebob in my YW lesson last week, and she probably thinks less of me . . . nah, probably not. It was just way appropo!

I'm going to put Pinga in the circus as a human truffle pig. She just found the Pez candies I had in my church bag and ate them all. She didn't see me put them in there, and my bag is hung up high in the closet. She also climbs on the stove to get candy she doesn't know about, and found some gum in John's top dresser drawer that he had hidden under some clothes, and then she hid it in the couch downstairs, where our boys found it and re-hid it somewhere else, where she found it again. She's freakishly good at smelling sugar or something.

it's a lovely eleven morning

A while ago I made up a genealogy game for our Lehi ward, and John is re-using it for work. He's copyrighting it for me, since it's some pretty great intellectual property, and he was wondering what to call it. He called it Family Connections, yawn, and I think--since it's a genealogy game and all--that it should be called Doing It. You know, like the song, "Genealogy, I am doing it, my genealogy . . ." John doesn't like that name, because he's a real stick in the mud. So we're naming it Aebleskiver Plunderschnecht.