This is what happens...

When you ask 9 and 11 year old boys to set up the Gingerbread Village for you. Instead of happy gingerbread families, you get Storm Troopers and Lego Warriors battling it out. Peace on Earth...

There's Disco in Vernal

We spent last week in Utah making arrangements for and attending Mark's brother's funeral. It was a wonderful celebration of his life.

We had a nice time visiting with all of Mark's siblings - including his brother who lives in Cambodia.

One of our nephews (who is like 4 years old) is probably going to be the new Weird Al Yankovic. He has some weird ability to connect music to EVERYTHING in his life. He connects it in hysterical ways.

For instance, he got a nose bleed at Stake Conference several months back and when his mother took him to the bathroom to clean him up, he started bellowing, "I KEEP BLEEDING! I KEEP, KEEP BLEEDING LOVE!" (by Leona Lewis). I wish I could remember more of the stories his parents tell us about him and music. Every time they tell us one, I always say, "I hope you're writing these down!"

It should be noted that this family lives in Roosevelt, UT - which isn't too far from Vernal. Well, recently, they were cruising along in the family mini van and this little tot says he wants to go to Vernal to the Disco. And, his father says, "DISCO? How do you even know that word? And why do you say you want to go to Vernal?"

So, the kid broke out into song to explain his desire to go to Vernal to the Disco...

"Burn, baby, burn, there's a Disco in Vernal!"

Now you'll never be able to hear that song again without hearing these lyrics!

The Gassy Elephant and the Dying Cat

So, N started middle school this year and that means BAND! He has taken piano since he was 6 and we swapped piano lessons for 6th grade band this year. So, after three days of "evaluation", the band teacher recommended he play one of three instruments - Trombone, French Horn and TUBA! So, guess which one my smallish child selected? Why, the one most impossible for him to carry - THE TUBA! I figure the band teacher has it out for me - even though he doesn't know me. He happily sent a tuba home for the family to enjoy.

So, the day he brought it home, his friend across the street also brought home his instrument of choice - the clarinet. They went out in the front yard and gave the neighborhood a concert - the best concert a couple of 6th grade boys with all of three days of band class under their belts could give. And, it was a perfect interpretation of a very gassy elephant a cat dying a horrible death.

Tell me it can only get better...

NEVER Pray for Patience

I'm a firm believe in never praying for patience. I learned the hard way that Heavenly Father has a sense of humor...

Case in point; a few days ago, in our prayer, Mark prayed that I might have patience the next day. Oh, one would think that they next day would be a breeze - me being blessed with patience and all. But, noooooooooooo!!! That's not what happened. And, at the end of that day, I told Mark I would poke my finger in his eye socket DURING the prayer if he EVER did that to me again.

So, what happened that day to try my patience? Well, it was what I call "Tune-up Tuesday". N and D had their annual physicals in the morning and then eye doctor appointments in the afternoon. It was a "getting ready for school" kind of thing.

So, we're at the doctor and everything is going along just fine until the nurse blurts out, "So, I see that they both need their Chicken Pox boosters and their Hep B immunizations. Do you want to go ahead and get those today?" Oh, no, don't make it sound like an option, lady!!!! Under my breath I whispered, "yes", hoping the children hadn't heard a word she said.

Too late! The minute she left the room, N, who is old enough to suck it up and take his shots like a man, started SCREAMING at me hysterically. Here we are sitting in room with the door closed and my child is screaming, "PLEASE MOM, NO!" over and over and over - I can't imagine what everyone in the hall is thinking. In between he's doing what we call his "Moo-cry" where he literally sounds like a distressed moo-ing cow. Oh, and on top of that, just for good measure, he stiffens his limbs out at the top of the cry and jerks his body causing the table he's sitting on to SLAM into the wall. Over and over he's begging me to tell her "Not today". He's willing to make a deal with the Devil if I'll JUST tell her we are going to wait (what, until he's 40?).

So, I'm in his face trying to whisper some reason into his head. I'm telling him he's embarrassing himself and me. He screams, "I DON'T CARE!" I'm telling him he's going to lose Wii for a month and he just jerks and screams louder. It goes on for TWENTY-FIVE MINUTES while we waited for the doctor. Meanwhile, his younger brother is sitting on the other end of the table reading "Green Eggs and Ham" going, "Shots hurt. So what. Whatever..."

The doctor comes in and it CONTINUES all through D's exam. I don't think the doctor could even hear D's heart beat. N is just sitting there blubbering and moo-ing like a dying cow. I was HORRIFIED!

Finally, the doctor gets to him to do his physical and gets him calmed down (give that man a raise!).

Then he says the same nurse who suggested we get the shots is going to come give them and SHE'S GOOD! So, he leaves and she comes in. She swabs off D's arms with alcohol and pops a needle in each arm while he sits on my lap. He was like, "Did you even give them to me?"

Then it's N's turn. The moo-ing starts ramping up again and he starts to go "animal" on me. The begging starts again - I'm the meanest mom in the world because I said, "Yes". He's trying to get out of the room. I get him on my lap and literally hog-tie his arms with my hands. She pops a needle in each arm and he relaxes, jumps off my lap and says, "Hey, you're right, D, that didn't hurt at all"...

If I could have crawled out the window to get to my car, I would have.

Patience! DO NOT EVER PRAY FOR IT and DON'T LET YOUR HUSBAND DO THAT TO YOU! The price of patience is too high. How about we pray I just get through the day unscathed?

2 Fishies and a Castle - A Love Story

We bought N a fish tank for his birthday a few years ago and immediately killed the fish with Ick. So, I kept making excuses after that as to why it just wasn't the right time to get more fish. The tank essentially sat empty after that until this year. N's teacher wanted a tank in his room and N offered ours. I was thrilled to haul it over to the school where the 5th grade class set it up and filled it with little fish and snails. Well, my evil plan was to GIVE it to the teacher, but he had other plans. He asked N if he wanted to take the fish home with the tank at the end of the school year (drats - foiled!). N has a parakeet he got last year so he decided to let D have the tank with the fish and so I was found carefully wheeling a half-full tank of fish to my van and driving it home the day before school got out this spring.

Well, we had 3 fish and a boat-load of snails. One fish immediately kicked the bucket so I assumed the others would too. But they didn't. And the snails were multiplying at something more than a snail's pace. We had to learn about snail reproduction to answer the question of why more snails kept appearing.

Suddenly, a few weeks ago, the other two fish disappeared. We kept looking for their bodies at the top of the tank. Then I started moving the castle around to see if their bodies were trapped in there. Once in a while they would dart out and swim like crazed, caged beasts before retreating back into the castle. I thought maybe the snails were threatening to beat them up or something as the snails far out-numbered the two small fish.

D was totally distraught that his fish were going to die. It was bizarre that they suddenly wanted to be inside that small red castle night and day.

And then.... one morning I turned on the tank light to look again for the fish and I saw tiny movement in the rocks at the bottom of the tank. Upon further inspection, I saw that it was tiny little fish. Suddenly, I started seeing movement everywhere. And then I understood! The fish were on their Honeymoon in the big red castle. How romantic.... Now, D is the proud new grandpa of about 2 dozen little fishies. He couldn't be happier.

We always have "THE TALK" with our kids when they turn 8 and the fish family gave us another opportunity to talk about that again. I'm not sure HOW the baby fishies happened (especially since these were two different types of fish) , but we had to explain a LITTLE bit about it. Of course it started out with "a girl fish and a boy fish fell in love and got married..."

We assume one of the snails officiated...

The Iwon Wad...

Years ago when we were first married, there was a family in our ward with three little boys. It's a wonder those boys actually grew up - they spent their days trying to figure out how to kill one another. For example, the family was remodeling their old home and the dad had cut a big hole in the floor in the living room to access the crawl space. So, the oldest two put the toddler on a TV cart with wheels and wheeled him across the room into the hole where he plunged down into the crawl space and broke his leg. When asked why they did it, they said, "We wanted to know if the TV cart would fit in the hole." Okay, fine, but did you need to see if your brother would fit, too?

Anyway, I digress. One of the boys had a rather pronounced speech impediment. Mark had the same one when he was small. It was the dreaded "Elmer Fudd" pwoblem. He couldn't say his "R's". And, if you'd like to read this blog entry in "Elmer Fudd-Speak" just for fun, you can translate it HERE. Just pull down Elmer Fudd and put the domain of this blog in the box.

Again, I digress. Really, I have a point - and a spiritual thought, so stay with me! One Sunday, we were sitting in front of this family and the closing song was "The Iron Rod". The son with the speech problem was BELTING it out like Ethel Merman. Only it was coming out like this:

"Hold to the wod, the iwon wod
it's stwong and bwight and twue
The iwon wod is the wooowd of God
Twill safewy guide us thwooo!"

We got the giggles and could hardly finish singing. To this day, we can hardly sing that song without thinking of this little boy. He's like 24 now and I assume, like Mark, he is good with the R sound now.

So, a few months ago, at a stake meeting, our wonderful stake president decided to talk about that 1 Nephi Chapter 8 - Lehi's Dream. I am still thinking about his words - they made a profound impression on me.

There are three groups in the dream -

1. Those who held to the rod until the mist of darkness came. Then they fell away and were lost - they let go willingly. They never even got to the tree of life to taste the fruit.
   
2. Those who held to the rod until the mist of darkness came and then they pressed on CLINGING to the rod. They then partook of the fruit but then looked around ashamedly, as if they didn't REALLY believe in what was happening. Then, when others mocked them for doing that, they ditched it all and ran.
   
3. Those who held to the rod DESPITE the fact that people made fun of them for doing so. They just carried on and ignored the mockers and pointers - "they heeded them not". They just grabbed hold and kept going.
   

The group he talked most about was group 2. He said that those people were fine until they faced opposition in the mist of darkness. Then, they had to CLING to the rod. They could no longer merely hold on. They held on for dear life.

Think of someone CLINGING to a rope or ledge. The mental picture of CLINGING is someone desperately trying not to lose hold. Or, you cling to something because you are unsure of the path you are taking. He said you would think that by CLINGING to the rod that that group had the surest grip on it, but they were actually the weakest of those still holding to the rod. They were fragile and knew that if they didn't cling, they would let go.

Look what happened, they made it only to be ashamed and embarrassed to even be associated with the group of fruit eaters. Then, when times got tough and the others made fun of them for being with the fruit eaters, they bolted. "Hey, dude, what a LOSER. Nobody wants to hang out with a FRUIT EATER!"

For some reason, I had never thought about that middle group. I, probably along with most others, assumed that their clinging didn't really mean much except they were just trying really hard to get through the mist of darkness.

So, what areas do I "cling"? It has caused me reflect a lot on times when I cling and times when I just hold steady. Our testimonies are fragile things - especially in this world where us "fruit eaters" look like freaks at times to those in the great and spacious building. I see people around me clinging and some of them are holding on by their fingernails. My prayer is that I can help them lesson their grip but keep it strong that they will be happy to be known as a "Fruit Eater" when the world mocks them for it.

Swearing...

It's everywhere. My kids started to have to deal with it in about first grade when ANOTHER first grader on the bus used the Queen Mother of All Swear Words. How does a 6 year old pick up that word unless it's liberally used at home? And why would a parent use that word at all, let alone in front of their kids. I was walking through Target one day and a man was on his cell phone dropping the "S" word over and over and over while his 9 month old (looked about that old) daughter sat in the cart. I thought, "Wow, I bet that will be her first word!"

My boys are FANTASTIC Swear Busters! We are so proud of them. How many adults would be this bold? My husband is and I guess that while that 6 year old was learning the F (dash, dash, dash) word at HIS house, my boys were learning to "stand for truth and righteousness" at ours.

So, a few weeks ago, some new boys moved into the neighborhood. They have the "skateborder dude" look - long hair, baggy pants, stocking cap, etc. They decided to impress all the other "kids in the 'hood" with their exceptional knowledge of a variety of profane words.

About 15 minutes after meeting them, my boys came in the house. I asked them what they were doing and they said, "We met some new kids and thought they were REALLY nice, but all they do is swear so we told them we didn't want to play with them and came in." So, we had a little talk about what they COULD do instead of just running in the house. I suggested that they go back out and tell them that they needed to stop swearing if they wanted to play. So, guess what they did? They went back out and did just that.

The new boys, while not totally "angelic" in their behavior since then, have pretty much cleaned up their "potty mouths" for the most part. And, when they DO slip, they apologize to my boys.

Everyone in our neighborhood knows that the rule at our house is that if you swear, you go home. I usually warn them once but the second time, they're out the door. I know it annoys some mothers. But, then, they don't stop their kids from coming back the next day.

It's amazing how mindlessly people spew profanity most of the time. But, it's also amazing at how they at least attempt to clean up their act when asked to please not do it in your presence.

Try it sometime. It works!

The Laws of Physics

Let me preface this by saying that N is a highly capable child. I say this not to brag, but to add insult to injury in the story I'm about to tell.

We have a small trampoline in our back yard (as many LDS families do). Our boys have almost outgrown it but they can jump on it one at a time. D came running in the house one day to tell me that his brother was hurt "really bad". I ran outside (okay, I walked - "really bad" often means nothing) to find N laying on the ground holding his head. Beside him is a rather large flat boulder (not a rock, but a boulder). I said, "What happened?!" Through tears he said, "I was jumping on the trampoline holding the rock over my head and it hit me on the head." It took me a few seconds to compose myself enough to say, "Oh, how bad are you hurt." I'm glad he was still lying on the ground holding his head and couldn't see me struggling not to burst out laughing. When I determined he would live and that the top of his head wasn't as flat as the boulder, I bolted for the back door and burst into laughter the minute I got in the house.

Gravity... it will get you every time.

Later, I let Mark explain how holding a heavy rock over your head while jumping on the trampoline was not a good idea. Isaac Newton would have laughed, too.