Kyle's birthday 2013

 

I don't think that I could ever believe in an indifferent universe.  I try not to use the word never because of the ironic effect it tends to have on my future, but even if I were ever to lose interest in the bells and whistles of religion, my heart is so regularly overwhelmed by the enormous meaning of things, particularly little things and little people, and overwhelmed with anxiety for the well-being of those little people and little things, it really feels like more than any one person should feel alone,  and so I try to communicate a lot with the Universe, sometimes God...to the extent that I think he wishes I would become Atheist, and other times to a kind of committee that I imagine, or to people who have passed on, who I hope might still remember me and be cheering me on.  I feel grateful for their help everyday. Sometimes I feel both grateful, and angry and frustrated, but I am sure that God understands complexity, because He created it.

In March we celebrated Kyle's thirteenth birthday.  I picked him up from school early and we went out to lunch to Burger Supreme. I hadn't eaten there for ever.  Kyle was envious of my gyros--as people always are.  Then we picked up Ben from school, and I took the boys on a field trip to Les Miserables-my third time. I didn't cry nearly as much, mostly because Kyle was making so many comments. Both boys had been wanting to see it. I was happy to spend that time together.  Kyle loves to make people laugh, and I am so grateful for that...even during Les Mis.  He is a wonderful big brother and  always helpful in many ways. Thank you, Kyle.

The following Saturday we went to Nickle City with a the siblings and a few of Kyle's friends.  This was the best picture I came home with. Sorry.

                     St.  Patrick's Day we had corned beef, Broonie bread, and shamrock shaped biscuits by Bethany.

The third weekend in March Bethany performed in a dance competition with the team. I think the eyelashes might have been her favorite part.

                                                            Great job Bethany!

Easter 2013

Easter felt blessed this year.

Saturday we had a cheerfully low-keyed egg dying. Judith and Granddad brought over a huge basket of jelly beans and edible Easter basket grass and special egg markers you can see below, and made the day feel festive.

                                                     Our friend Marie joined us.

Later the girls were invited over to my dear friend Carolyn's home for a hair-styling afternoon.  I felt very grateful for her offer because the girls had been exceptionally good sports when I suggested that we save money by skipping the new dress tradition this year.  There was great excitement about going to bed in curlers.

                                     Easter morning, I started lining up the girls for pictures and Kyle hid under the sofa.  I gave the boys a picture taking reprieve this year.

                                   Caitlin wore the very lovely dress she made at sewing class.

In the afternoon Bethany decorated the table with the decorations that Grandma Martha brought to share, and designed a bunny inspired salad.

The end of the basket hunt. The kids were also good sports about Easter bags this year.  Thank you kids. The baskets were stuck in storage and I couldn't find the key.

Easter egg hunt with the neighbors.  Staton was overheard telling his little sister "Come on... let's win this thing." We all had a laugh about that,  realizing how non-competitive we can be. I was just as glad to share the sugar.

pestilence, presidents, pie

Staring across the room from his perch on my bed, William my ever inquisitive four-year old asked, "Mom, why are there clothes in your closet?"

"Well son," I responded thoughtfully. "Ideally that's how it should happen."

So by Valentine's day laundry was an issue again.  This time I noticed a back log not only with the clean, but also with the wet and stinky.  I started a personal campaign against the towels.

"We're Democrats," I said to the kids.  "Democrats means reuse."

"But Mom, sharing towels can give you genital herpes."

"Really?" I asked.  "Spontaneously?"  And for the first time I wished I had let my seventh grade son ditch maturation day, as requested.

"Then you'd better not share with the rabbits," I said, remembering how lagomorph bath day had increased my work by a full load of extra large, super absorbent, navy blue bath towels covered in white fur.

"Mom, that's disgusting." He replied.

"Well you're the one who brought it up," I said. And that ended the discussion, but unfortunately, not the dirty towels.

President's Day weekend brought some progress. I had opportunity to ease the clean clothes pile growing up the side of my bedroom wall.  As is usually the case, Friday evening Sam and Ben insisted we go to the Orem Library--which has the world's best collection of movie rentals in its basement.  Sam picked out School of Rock, because I had been calling myself a Jack Black fan and hadn't seen it.  It was a movie that all ages were eager to watch. Even baby Sophie knows Jack Black by name. Everyone agreed to gather by the little T.V. in my bedroom so I could put away laundry as we watched. I took particular pleasure in watching Grant"s "gut busting" laughter at Jack Black's dance moves and facial expressions. School of Rock has become the next movie I can't get enough of, but if you decide to watch it with your family, don't blame me for the raunchy language, or get mad at me when your kids tell you to step off for the next week anytime you ask them to do something.  You can check IMBD for yourself.

Sunday was Stake conference--which Olivia referred to as "that thing we're always late to."  So remembering our 2010 experience. I suggested we pick up Grandma Martha and head out on another picnic and Temple Square trip. Sam agreed that could possibly be less stressful than chasing William around the Stake center.
As it turned out--it probably wasn't.  William terrorized the North visitors center at Temple Square, tearing up and down the ramp leading to the Cristus statue surrounded by planetarium, or Moon Jesus, as Sam called it when he was a toddler. I felt out of sorts and wondered how, after 15 years, I felt no more capable of achieving reverence at church sites than before--remembering the time we visited Palmyra, New York, and Sam and Ben ran around like wildlife in the Sacred Grove...or so it was called before we arrived.  Now in retrospect, chasing frogs in the woods seems like a perfectly reasonable activity for young boys...but parental angst and anxiety are so often self-inflicted.  I'm sure the the sister missionaries weren't really shooting poisonous darts at me with their eyes Sunday afternoon at Temple Square...but it kind of felt like it at the time.

On the happy side, I was grateful that the kids were all willing to spend the afternoon together.  Something about President's day makes me delusional and over-optimistic about eating outdoors.  Everyone was enthusiastic about returning to Grist Mill Park, the little strip of grass and stream in the city, where we had our picnic in fall of 2010, so we took a drive around the beautiful old homes in the Salt Lake City Avenues until I happened upon the familiar place.


  As we passed out the sandwiches, Bethany hijacked my phone for the purpose of taking pictures of people looking miserably cold, but insistent upon eating at the benches all but buried in snow.






  When the wind picked up and blew across the still very frozen ground all agreed we could eat in van. I felt grateful  for good sports, barring a minor scuffle over the bag of Chicken and Waffle flavored Ruffles.




Monday I made good on a promise to Caitlin and took the girls and youngest boys to Classic Skate.





In the evening, Kyle and Olivia spent time with their friends Nathan and Tracy, and I enjoyed time with their Mom, Cami, while I cleaned the kitchen and served up dinner.  We have somewhat of a traditional President's day meal-- in honor of Abraham Lincoln's favorite meal Chicken Fricassee, and in honor (loosely) of George Washington and his cherry tree--pie.  We skipped the chicken altogether in favor of beans and rice from the Mexican market, and Olivia helped me make a raspberry pie.


This was her first pie. She managed the crust all by herself, as I was distracted by another man-to-man with Kyle. Good job Olivia!

love boxes

Valentine's day the girls left for school smiling about their creations. 

Grandma Martha and I took Sophie and our little men out to lunch at Carl's, because Grant loves to jump through the shark's teeth in the playzone. Then I dropped the group off at home, and drove to the elementary school, marveling at the day's perfection.  

The grey skies had given way to brilliant blue and sun-- creating thin silver shadows on the crusty patches of snow, as the tree branches stretched out in proud, bare, elegance. I noticed that muddy brown earth was beginning to appear in odd shaped circles around the warmth of tree trunk and root, and the evidence of a hundred twisting paths and a thousand steps in January could be observed melting into too long ago to remember.

And while the teenagers had groused traditionally about Valentines--facing the prospect of the potential mentioning of the holiday at school with obligatory annoyance, the elementary school was all 1979 and I was eight again when I saw the parking lot filled with mini-vans and moms carrying sheets of cupcakes veiled in foil.

I had signed up to help in Mary's classroom.

As I have mentioned before, Mary and her teacher are both from Hong Kong. I had a happy Asian moment  when Mary's teacher asked me to serve the pizza--with a chopstick.  Caucasian means uncoordinated.

In the evening we made homemade heart-shaped pizza.  Sam's dough was especially delicious!

 For desert I passed out little heart shaped boxes of cheap chocolates filled with bright pink and orange flavored goo.  Grandma Martha said it was the most fun she'd ever had on Valentine's Day, and I agreed.

festiggiando

Festiggiando is one of my favorite words in Italian and my new word for the act of participating in local customs, or celebrating local holidays that the participant knows nothing about.  Festiggiando is one of the side effects of State Department life and it has persisted, even as we've return to normal life, as evidenced at our house in February.

We were happy to spend time in the kitchen with Aunt Courtney. She and the little cousins joined us for Super Bowl soup and bread bowls. This is her amazing cheese and broccoli soup.

As it turned out, Bethany and I were the only ones interested in the game, inspired by our east coast- west coast rivalry. Although Bethany should know, no true Mainer should be loyal to any team from south of Boston. She is obviously confused...our fault for moving her from Augusta.  Bethany mentioned half way through the half time show that her friends probably weren't allowed to watch it. I was too busy with my face two inches from the t.v. screen, jaw dropped in awe. I am praying to come back in the next life as Beyonce.

 The next weekend we took a trip down to my favorite Asian market on the corner of Fifth west and Center in downtown Provo.  It was unusually crowded with other howlies like us getting ready for Chinese New Year.

Caitlin is a native Hong Kong ren.

Sam chased Sophie around the store with a frozen fish.

 She was terrified.

Sunday evening I fried up the frozen dumplings. The girls ate them happily, but informed me that Dad fries them better than I do.  I agreed and decided not to take a picture.

February was a busy month for other reasons.  Bethany took part in the school spelling bee for the third year in a row. 

Olivia presented her Curious Cub project on violins to her class.

 Ben took part in the high school performance of  Shakespeare's As You Like It. Here we are in the post play hubbub.