triumph and survival

I have cleaned my room.  I am forty-one years-old, and this is a moment of personal triumph.

 As I think I have mentioned before, I have had this arrangement with God; I get my house in order and He will give me the password to move out of crisis mode. We came up with this plan as long ago as May of 2012, perhaps it was longer. God is more patient than I am.

It got worse before it got better, as things so often do. Over the previous months I had worked to contain the majority of the disorder to the top floor, specifically my bedroom and the girls' room.  In December I took my eyes off the prize. I believe they were reasonable distractions.  First--Christmas.  Second--Christmas carols.  December annually means I take another stab at playing the Christmas hymns with some degree of adequacy, and that takes time away from laundry.  And so the piles in my room grew, and when the girls needed to find just the perfect pair of pink stretch pants, rather than diving in, and risk getting lost in the piles themselves, they flung and flung, this way and that way, and soon the floor became a less than lovely collage called what-to-wear. And that's how things stayed, even though, as you know, guests arrived.  That welcomed chemical messenger, who creates just the right balance of warm hospitality and defensive pride-- that makes the need to clean just before guests arrive feel particularly urgent, stepped out the moment I stepped in my room. It was as if God needed the mess to be there a little longer.

If it is any consolation to my guests, the whole scene gave me nausea on a daily basis as well. And the worst of it, the little pests that torment  me even now-- since even though the crisis has passed the family still refuses to go naked, or even just barefoot--were the socks.  There were hundreds of them, white with green toes, white with blue toes, black, off black, Christmas socks, Halloween socks, even Easter socks, mismatched and scattered all about. At one point I had them basketed and earnestly anticipating some kind of reconciliation with their long estranged partners.  Then, one day, Sophie discovered the joy of recreational flinging, and like confetti they flew.

I think it was conquering those little socks that gave me the courage to finally overcome the mess, that and the grace of God.  After months of just feeling too depressed about the mess to even face it, we cleared one path and then another... me and the angels, and the Elmer chocolates in the little heart shaped boxes stashed way back in the corner of the top shelve in my bedroom closet. It was as if God had decided the time had come.

So January was folding socks and surviving this. Cold.  

And there were other triumphs.  Sam and Ben, and their friend Steven produced a short film for the LDS Film Festival twenty-four hour film contest.  I was proud of them for working together so well and creating a film in such a short period of time.  Sam also went to drama camp and enjoyed watching several plays at Westminster college in Salt Lake.

 Olivia and her friend Emma, and Mary and her friend Joey entered the school science fair.

 I was grateful to spend two Saturdays with our dear friends from Beijing, the Carrillo family. They invited us up to their new home in Draper for lunch one week and the next week the little kids and I enjoyed celebrating Diego's birthday at Chuck E. Cheese.

just ironic

During the month of March ISB hosted their annual visiting authors. This year they were poets. I was purposefully absent from the surrounding events, being afraid they would bring back awkward memories from our first year in Beijing...



I felt like a good mom when Grandma and I took Mary and Olivia,my then pre-schoolers, by taxi, over to the big kids'school just to take a picture of Sam with visiting celebrity Andy Griffiths. He's the Australian author of juvenille novels, The Day my Butt Went Psycho, Butt Wars-the Final Conflict, as well as his popular series of "Just" books, including Just Disgusting, Just Joking, Just Annoying.

When we walked into the room, the lecture was already in progress. Mary and Olivia settled down next to me.The librarian smiled. She'd said I could come.

We were quickly engaged, as Griffiths explained how he chose a butt as his protagonist. The children participated excitedly as he led them through his creative processes, and even allowed them to help him develop a new story line...the more absurd the better. It was a great discussion. I was impressed. When the lecture ended I took the picture of Sam and Andy Griffiths and ran home with the girls and Grandma.

All is well until Ben catches wind of the picture. He wants me to go back the next day to his lecture period with Andy Griffiths. Big problem, it's in the morning. No ayi (babysitter) for Caitlin and Grant. Second problem, could I possibly be wearing out my welcome with that librarian? Ben starts to cry.

"Okay," I say. "I'll see what I can manage."


The next day I walk in with Mary, Olivia, Caitlin, Grant, and Grandma. The lecture is already in progress. The librarian is wearing a big lobster hat, but she is not smiling. She's giving me a kind of a mix between an eyeroll and a smirk. Mary and Olivia aren't really settling down. The fourth graders are engaged in the same lively discussion as the fifth graders were the day before. Caitlin's little noises couldn't possibly be heard over their excited voices, but the librarian is distracted. I can feel her watching me but pretend not to notice.


I smile at Ben. He is happy we are there. I laugh at Griffiths' jar of homemade vomit. The librarian can't laugh at the vomit. Caitlin darts over to a window. I chase after her. Mary follows me. The librarian follows me. I sweep Caitlin up with one hand and grab Mary by the coat with the other. I'm trying to act graceful. Mary pulls away as I let go of the coat and she flies in to the wall. It is getting harder to look graceful, but I try to keep good posture and remind myself how much I enjoy public attention. The lobster is bobbing at me.


"I'm sorry this lecture is only for kids," the librarian says firmly.


"We are on our way out," I respond.


My face is as red as her lobster. I drag everyone out. Fortunately, I leave our 600 dollar camera on the floor so I have an excuse to go back. When the lecture ends I grab the camera and Ben's picture with Andy Griffiths.


That's all I needed.


I spend the day managing my embarrassment, until the morning's irony dawns on me. I may have been the first misbehaving parent to be kicked out of a lecture on runaway butts. Maybe I should feel proud.

no such thing as a free lunch

When we do leave Beijing.... time at school with the kids is what I'll miss the most. Back in the states will mean back to my back- to- school hauling a double stroller and trailing a toddler days. Not quite so relaxing as Friday's lunch with Bethany.

Notice my rather large salad? That's from the help-yourself bar, so I always try to get my money's worth. I have a little problem with Eurest and their overpriced lunches. Actually, Eurest is kind of a bad name in my house. They don't recognize a good customer when she walks in the cafeteria. So my kids are occasionally over-drawn? So at least one of my kids is overdrawn on any given day? For what we pay, when I do get in to pay it each month, I ought to have my name engraved on one of the tables, preferably near the salad dressing.

So the intelligent solution would be pack a lunch. Rob suggested that last time we talked about our budget. I said "Great idea. Will you be in charge of that?"

I have yet to see a packed lunch of Rob's making leave the house, so I am assuming that he values his fifteen minutes of free time in the evening as much as I do.

I just told Rob that our kuai envelope was empty because I had sent a bunch of money in to Eurest, so I thought I could hold my debt-free head high when I walked in to lunch this time. Not so. Some lady, who I didn't know, but who knew me, cornered me in the hall to tell me that Kyle's lunch card was overdrawn.

In fact, three ladies cornered me on my last visit to the school and only one wanted to tell me that she'd heard me sing on t.v. The other one, who's name I didn't even know, wanted to tell me to "please tell my children to use quieter voices on the bus." To which I could only respond with, "we're working on that in the kitchen too."

Next time I go into school I'll need to borrow the boys' You don't know me...I'm with the FBI Witness protection program t-shirt that we bought on a street corner in D.C.

So Friday I dropped off some chocolate chip cookies for Kyle to share with his class, in honor of his birthday, wandered around a bit, then met Bethany for lunch.

Next, I had an hour to drive over to Pinnacle plaza to do some last-minute grocery and present shopping for Kyle's birthday. I had to prepare the breakfast cereal buffet. Captain Crunch was "on promotion", 55 kuai for a small box. That's eight dollars! I can't believe I paid that (but felt justified when I saw Rob ate two bowls Saturday morning.)

Driving out of Pinnacle plaza I waved at a security guard, looking every bit the part in his impressive black and white uniform. I had to laugh though, when I noticed the smiling golden retriever in the role of his "vicious" guard dog. So much in China is form without content. At least they were both very pleasant.

After my shopping I ran back to ISB for the kindergartners' performance in the big theatre...jazzed up Mother Goose.

I took this one during a very lively version of Jack be Nimble, too lively for a good picture.