December 25

So I was born on Christmas Day. Along with Annie Lennox, Sissy Spacek and Jimmy Buffett. And my sister in law. And Jesus. But this season I was reminded of another wonderful Christmas story.

December 23, 1776 Thomas Paine wrote these words: THESE are the times that try men's souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country; but he that stands by it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly: it is dearness only that gives every thing its value. Heaven knows how to put a proper price upon its goods; and it would be strange indeed if so celestial an article as FREEDOM should not be highly rated. Britain, with an army to enforce her tyranny, has declared that she has a right (not only to TAX) but "to BIND us in ALL CASES WHATSOEVER" and if being bound in that manner, is not slavery, then is there not such a thing as slavery upon earth. Even the expression is impious; for so unlimited a power can belong only to God.

George Washington with his small leftovers of an army was sitting in Valley Forge when Thomas Paine came to see the soldiers. The British should’ve come and decimated the sickly army in Valley Forge but they didn’t. They knew that all of the soldier’s drafts ended on December 31st so they thought they would wait it out. Instead Washington was inspired by Paine’s words to cross the Delaware on December 25th and defeat the Hessian troops residing in Trenton. During this battle, Washington did not lose one man.

I LOVE THIS. I love the words that Thomas Paine wrote. I love how they can bring a lump to one’s throat. I love that words can inspire. I love that Thomas Paine and George Washington were men of God. I love that God was completely involved in our war for freedom. I love that I was reminded of how cherished our freedom is and should be. I love that the reminder came on Christmas. It was the best present I received.

The Attitude started early

Ryan is 12 now. And already she is a black belt in eye rolling. She knows just how to make the most of the silent burn that starts as I watch her eyeballs roll away from their optical windows and laugh at me behind the still open lids.

When Ryan was 2, Bart started a 7 day on and 7 day off job. He began to share in the primary caregiving. Cough. Cough. Promptly Ryan figured out that Daddy had no problem giving out candy instead of meals. Daddy had no problem watching Lion King ALL day long instead of limiting it to one viewing and then going outside or setting up a play date. Daddy was the smack! Daddy didn’t blow noses with a tissue. He used a shirt sleeve.
Being a new mother, I did not appreciate Bart’s usurping the of the mother/child bond. (By the third child, I made sure that Bart’s side of the bed is the closest to the door.) I was miffed at the “misplaced” affection that Ryan had for Bart. One day we were all headed out the door for somewhere and the dialogue went exactly like this:
“Ryan, are you Daddy’s girl?” Bart is a rub in your face kind of guy.
“Yes, Daddy.”
Ryan, are you Mommy’s girl?” I asked.
“No.”
“You know, you could be both a Mommy AND Daddy’s girl. Can you be a Mommy AND Daddy’s girl?”
“I can.........…..but I am NOT!”
Bart kept us apart for days after.

Merry Birthday and Happy Christmas

My coworker's birthday was yesterday. Do you think anyone remembered? Hell, no. It is December.
My sister's birthday is today. Happy sweet 35, sis! I mean, 29!
My brother in law's birthday is December 23rd. Husband to above sister.
My birthday AND my sister in law's birthday is December 25th. Yes, THE DAY OF. I have gone through my whole life sharing it with Jesus and then I have to marry into a family where the spoiled baby girl has to share my birthday as well. And now as I get older and wiser and wrinklier I don't want to even think about it but we must celebrate her birthday so we must acknowledge Kim's birthday as well.

This is how much I don't think about my birthday. Probably one of the best birthdays I have had was a surprise. My mother called and PRE planned a Christmas shopping trip about 2 years ago. I thought she was being quite on the ball. She came and picked me up and we proceeded down to Gardner's Village. A place where you don't shop with children. My sister on foot met the car in the parking lot which I thought was odd but oh well. (She was the lookout for all of you that are as naive as I) She vanished while we were parking our car. We then proceeded into the main store there at the Old Mill. I was astonished to see one of my good friends there shopping.
"Carol! What are you doing here?!? Are you Christmas shopping too?"
We chatted for a few minutes and then I was ready to head off with my mom who I had made plans with. Carol just sortof followed me to the next area of the store where I saw another one of my good friends.
"Michelle! Ohmigosh! I can't believe it! What are you doing here? This is Carol, a friend I just bumped into to as well. This is crazy!" I was still oblivious to the plan until yet another friend popped up on the horizon.
I, of course, could not have made myself look any stupider or put on a better show.
"Heidi! How can this be!!!! How can you all be here at the same time? Mom, look at this. Look who is here?!?!"
By now they are just all looking at me with sympathetic grins on their face that this poor woman that they call friend cannot figure out a simple little surprise birthday dinner get together for her. But it was a surprise. And it was fun. And secretly I wish they would do it again for me..........Or maybe I will do it for Bart for his birthday this next year.

Concerts, part 2

I really have had some swinging times, I promise. Here is the working list of concerts that I have attended that I can remember:
Fine Young Cannibals Hey, they are really good despite their name.
Madonna Borderline
Madonna Like a Virgin
Sting Dream of the Blue Turtles
Sting Fields of Gold
The Cure Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me
The Cure Boys Don’t Cry
UB40
Gene Loves Jezebel
Echo and the Bunnymen
Beautiful South
Bryan Adams Cuts Like a Knife
Beach Boys 4th of July Washington DC Mall Free Concert
Foreigner Agent Provocateur
Chicago Chicago 17
Howard Jones Acoustic
Howard Jones What is Love?
B-52s
Air Supply
Barry Manilow
Depeche Mode Black Celebration
Dead or Alive
Hall and Oates
Edie Brickell and the Bohemians Shooting Rubberbands at the Stars

I am going home to open my journals because I have kept a lot of ticket stubs to these events and I am sure I am missing some. I know that I have an unused ticket to The Cars which is devastating to me. However, if I had to choose one concert to go to in the whole world it would be the Police. One of the top regrets of my life is that I missed one of their shows.

Past 10 year concerts
Kurt Bestor
Toby Keith
Brooks and Dunn
U2

My Apologies, O Concert God

This year I have gone to see Toby Keith, Brooks and Dunn and U2 in concert. Yes, tonight I went to see Bono in action. It was sheer luck. Sheer good luck. My friend, Shalene, works in a neurosurgeon’s office. One of the 5 neurosurgeons is a major concert goer. He was on the front row but he raffled off two pairs of additional tickets to U2 for the office staff. Pretty impressive when the concert tickets went on sale 9 months ago AND sold out in 40 minutes AND were priced starting at $100 a seat. Shalene did not win them but the woman that did had a migraine and so could not go. Shalene’s husband was working and could not go so hence, I was the stand in date.

I have been to quite a few concerts in my life and I am well versed in concert etiquette. The first and most important rule is that you must know all of the songs of the artist that you are going to see. At least of the album that they are touring for. You must spend at least as many hours as dollars paid for the ticket to research and learn lyrics and melodies and names. It is only then that you get the most out of the night of revelry and music making. I was not able to follow this rule for U2. I didn’t even have enough time to listen to one rehearsal song on Saturday. And I feel really bad. I could tell that I could have had a little better time had I known all the lyrics and was able to sing along to every last little song. I could tell that I could have had a little better time if I had some concert clothes hanging up in my closet that I could have pulled out to make me feel a little more “with it.” I told Shalene I wanted something with sequins but she said I was too young and I needed to be more like 50 to wear sequins. Is that true? With Toby and Brooks and Dunn, I wore my cowboy boots and belt buckle so I felt dressed to go out and a little sassy. (Can you tell most of my wardrobe is: sensible, designed for warmth and hiding garments and an occasional fat roll, boring?)

Bono was very cute. He looked like Captain Jack Sparrow and he danced like Willy Wonka. And do you know what? I would pay more than $100 to see Johnny Depp. A lot more.

It's really the hibernating part

It is so cold and I wish that I was a bear so I could
1) already be deep in hibernation or
2) just settling down for a long winter's nap
3) own a fur coat without all the hoopla about animal rights and all
4) not have one iota of an idea about Christmas and presents and wrapping paper
5) have a friend named BooBoo
6) have even a little tiny chance of being able to bite a hunter in the ass
7) never have to pay for a Yellowstone Park entrance pass again

Right in time for Christmas

The Beast is back. I have been putting off this post since Saturday. Sometimes I feel like this is my true inner self. The part of me that I hide from everybody because it is just for me. But then I think I don’t want this to be the part of me I keep just for myself. But I recognize this place that I am. It actually feels comfortable because it has been here and creeping around my edges for so long. The terror that is associated with it comes only when trying to figure out how long it will stay this time. I was nearly hysterical Saturday and Sunday. I have since calmed down somewhat but the blah remains.
Rationally I am fascinated with it. I recognize (mostly with hindsight) triggers and spirals. Like this weekend, we actually had an unstructured Saturday with nothing planned. It should have been nice. We had had something every single night of the week. However, no structure “frightens” me. I can’t handle it. Maybe because you want to lay down and go to sleep but that wouldn’t be appropriate and you can’t make your whole family lay down with you so it you can’t relax while you lay down anyhow but yet you have nothing you have to do and you can’t make yourself start another project. Hmmmm……obviously I don’t know yet what exactly about no structure time frightens me but it is a big trigger. It is a consistent trigger. I hate that it happens on weekends when you should be able to savor the unstructured of life.

I feel a little like the encephalitis patients in Oliver Sacks’ book called Awakenings. Remember the movie with Robin Williams. The patients would remain in a trance until a ball was thrown at them. The object caused them to reach out of their “state” and catch it in midair. As long as balls are being thrown at me I catch them and throw them back. I “borrow” their energy to do something. When the ball is no longer being thrown to me, I will enter my state and remain immobile and useless…..and joyless. I am dependent on that ball. And I am not in control of that ball. And that causes great terror and anxiety. The Beast.

Brrring!

I have 3 messages on my cell phone I need to listen to. I abhor the cell phone. I abhor mine. I abhor Bart's two cell phones. That is right, folks. My man cannot get by on 3000 minutes a month and so must have two cell phones with 3000 minutes each to live 30 days. I do have to admit that my phone is the one charging next to our bed in our bedroom turned on for nighttime emergencies. But his is the one that consistently goes off between 6 and 7 am in the morning to start the day. Who needs an alarm clock?
Chase's newest hobby is changing my ring tone. I will be sitting in a meeting or in a store talking with someone completely oblivious to my phone ringing simply because that is not the ring that I installed two weeks ago. It is an entirely new one. Thank goodness he or I do not know how to download rings as of yet. Give him time. He is only 10.
I have found one awesome use for my phone in the past few months though. We had a short little power shortage at our house the other day. Does it surprise you that there were no working flashlights to be found? Or was it just that all the batteries had been used in remotes, game boys, etc? Anyways, the light from our 3 cell phones worked incredibly well to get around in our dark house. They are bright! In fact, I have been using it when I walk through the house at night after all the kids are in bed and I don't want to turn on any lights. A new something to add to the 72 hour kits.

A picture is worth 1000 words so this is a long post

The zoo was real fun this year. It was beautiful weather and the baby orangutang was out in the yard playing with her surrogate mothers. She made me want to have another baby she was SO cute.
These are the last pictures I downloaded off my camera before it was declared officially missing. I can't decide whether to be devastated (I lost the last football game pictures) or excited about getting a new upgraded one for Christmas.

Peterson's 15 seconds of fame

Several years ago when Ryan was 10 years old we enrolled her in a summer acting class at the Hale Centre Theatre. She went every day from 8 to 5 for a couple of weeks. They worked on singing, presentation, acting, and I am sure all sorts of girl giggling as well. She had a really good time. One day I picked her up and she had a “big secret” grin on her face.
“Guess who I talked to on the phone today?!?”
“Who?” I ask without any thought as to who it could be.
“Orlando Bloom!”

I was reduced to a blithering idiot. My voice came out in a strangled rush. “WHAT?!?! What are you talking about? WHAT?" I found I couldn't really remember any other words. "What?!? Do you even know who Orlando Bloom is?”
“Sure, the guy who is in Pirates of the Carribean.”
“How did you talk to him? WHAT?”

It turns out that her teacher was something of a behind the scenes/makeup guru who had worked in Hollywood off and on during the years. She had many friends who were up and coming actors—not to mention hunks of big melting manmeat. She had arranged for Orlando to call her during one of the afternoon sessions for Ryan’s class so they could each have a little telephone treat.

“So what did you say? What did you say to him?”
“Hi.”
“OK, what else did you say? How did the conversation go?”
“He said, Hi.” I said “Hi.”
“OK, what else?”
“He said ‘What is your name?’”
“And you said……?”
“Hi. And then he said ‘Do you like acting class?’”
“And you said……?”
“Hi.”

Soon after that there was talk of Orlando Bloom hooking up with many starry eyed starlets. Needless to say, he was just not wowed enough by Ryan Ali Peterson that he wanted to hold out for her. Almost......not quite. Darn.

Another Cooper and Bart moment

Another store has banned us from their premises. And again it would be because of Cooper, Bart’s child.
Last week my parents went to Korea to interact with their other child, my sister and her kids. Karlee, my sister and her husband went on a trip to China so they paid my mother’s ticket fare to have her come over and babysit while they were away. My father was not about to sit home during that trip so they both flew over there for 2 weeks. I was a LITTLE jealous of the international diversion in their life (see previous Life Changes post) and I was also a little envious that they got to see Jasper, who is Cooper’s counterpart in the Zollinger family. His smile just makes everybody laugh.
I had several weeks of vacation time left so I decided to take a week while they were gone and spend the time with Cooper. I truly have no delusions about the hardest job in the world: Staying at home with beloved children. I bow to all mothers that stay at home.

Cooper and I were getting along fine as long as I followed his schedule. I do realize it was a big change for him to stay home rather than break the day up by going to Grandma’s. Since we were home I was able to spend some wonderful quality time with him and the Lego Star Wars on Playstation II. (I challenge any mom out there to level 2.)
I finally got him to go out shopping with me one day.
“Cooper, we are going to look for Christmas decorations and Clorox bleach and floaties for the pool.”
“OK, I’ll go to the store with you because I want to get something for me too.”
“What do you need?”
“A new toy or something.”
“What new toy?”
“I don’t know. I’ll just look around.”
Red alert! Bart alert! Bart has gotten to this kid. He is going to LOOK AROUND to see if there is ANYTHING he can buy. I try to counteract the spoilage going on all in one day. I drag him through three stores telling him we don’t just buy something at every store we go to. I endure the kicking and screaming and the fake tears. I can’t believe that I actually stop in at Target telling myself this is the last store.
This time he wants to get in the cart. We are walking down the office supply aisles looking for crafts or something. I don’t remember. I don’t remember much of anything except the next few moments of the day.
My blonde, blue eyed, exceptionally cute child morphed into something very much like the adult baby monster from the Quizno’s sandwich commercials. His face puckered up and the light went out his eyes and he said “Mom, if you don’t buy me a toy, I am going to kick-your-ass!”

Neither of us got a toy at the store. But I did look at the other mother's cute 4 year old son and wonder if he was for sale.

Thanks is not enough

Over the past week Saving Private Ryan has been on TNT or something like that where they repeat the same movies every night. We are busy until about 8:30 and then the TV pops on and Bart hits the couch. Walking in and out I have watched the last hour of the movie about three times now this month.
I am not sure if there is truly anybody out there that has not watched this movie at least once. I am a die hard Tom Hanks fan. I was in the theatre to watch this movie the first weekend it came out. It was a little too graphic for me but of course, I had to have it for my complete Tom Hanks collection. However, I don’t think I have voluntarily pulled it out of it’s case to watch at my house. I cried too much the first time and still have shed a tear or two every time it is on television. Bart is a die hard war fan. So we do watch it every time it is on television.
The last hour is quite heart wrenching. As is the first hour that depicts the beaches of Normandy. I am grateful for those soldiers. I am grateful for those mothers that taught their boys to be strong and brave and proud of their country and then let them go. I am grateful I cannot see into the future and have to KNOW that someday it might be my children. Anyways, back to the last hour. They find the last Ryan boy and explain his brothers are dead. He is already worth something when he does not shirk from the fight at hand and does not want to leave his company.
Chase watches with us as he is a big fan of whatever Bart does. He asks why Private Ryan doesn’t want to go home. Bart explains to my innocent little 10 year old who is just on the verge of becoming something more than a child that it is “better to die doing something great than to die of old age.” I understand my husband’s sentiment. I think I do.
We continue to watch and see that Tom Hanks meets his fatal bullet right at the end of the battle but he grabs Private Ryan and tells him to “Earn this. Earn this.” Earn the deaths of the people who came to find you and bring you back alive. Earn the lives that were sacrificed for you to come back and live a life. Bart served in the National Guard until several years after we were married. Currently his old Richfield unit is serving overseas. Several times Bart has mentioned to me how bad he feels that he is not serving his country. That some young 18 year old is standing out there on the front line in his place. Where does he get off sitting here on his ass when others are out dying for our freedom?
You then see Private Ryan, an old man now come with his family to Arlington cemetery. He has found Tom Hanks headstone and he whispers to him “I tried to be the best man I could be. I hope if you are looking down you will think that it was enough to earn what you have done for me.” And it is over for me. I am a-bawling. No, Bart does not cry but he certainly watches the movie the next night.
How come that movie evokes so much emotion? How come Tom Hanks makes me, Private Ryan, certainly Bart and probably the rest of the world feel indebted for sacrificing his life when Jesus Christ did that already for all of us? And we forget that all the time? I can just feel my own horror at having to live up to Tom Hanks saying that to my face. I know Bart takes that to heart. Bart would never ever allow somebody to give his life for him and Bart not make good on trying to repay him.
More and more, I believe that Christ had a wife and a family and so much more of a rich life than the scriptures portray. It just makes sense. He came to earth to live and be one of us. He had to have an intimate relationship in order to understand all that we go through. It makes me more horrified to think he had to give all that up…for me. For all of us. And yet he did. And I cry for Tom Hanks. I hope that at some time I can have the courage to come before my Savior and lay my life down before him for him to see and judge. I hope. I hope that He will then call my life good enough to sacrifice His for. I hope.

Diesel $2.77

I look around as the gas prices are coming down hand over fist day after day. All since the front cover of USA TODAY explained that the top 5 largest oil and gas companies had posted 500% over expected third quarter profits. And that the government was calling them in for an investigation.

I just keep thinking about all of this as I am filling up my gas tank and Diesel is still $2.77 at most places. It did get up to $3.47 just last month so it has come down quite a bit. Unleaded is under $2.00 for the first time in at least 6 months. I feel that something has gone a bit awry when gas prices can dramatically FALL down like this over a period of almost hours. It makes me think that Katrina and all these other excuses are no longer the reason that the prices are so astronomical. I think about the billions of people that are dependent on gasoline to make their $8.50 an hour living. I think about every single gas station that has gone to prepay because so many people were stealing gas. Giving up their integrity for $40. I think about how proud I am that I am an American. And how proud I am of this country for making a cliche out of the words "the American dream." I am a believer in capitalism. I like that the supply and demand theory is so logical and works. I like to be able to think that if you work hard and endure, you will make money or be successful. However, I guess I am learning that I am more a believer in another old adage of Socrates "Moderation in all things." Somehow I think that making $16 billion dollars is and should be enough. I don't care that you can (and did apparently) gouge $160 billion dollars out of the working public I don't think you should. At least don't blame it on some weather catastrophe and make it sound like we are all in this together. I know that goes against my self stated belief in capitalism. And I know that we here in America get some of the cheapest gas prices in the world. And people kept driving which according the the law of supply and demand means that the price should continue to go up. I think I just really see greed as one of the main roots of evil. And I see greed in this equation. Greed that is just like a 4 year old that cannot stop eating the candy even if he has a stomachache until his mother comes and takes the bowl away from him. Even then he throws a fit.

Tsk. Tsk.

Harry Potter #4 movie debuted last night at Midnight. I did not go. And we are going to St. George this weekend so I still don't know if we will make it. Can you ever forgive us, Ron and Hermoine and Harry?

Tradition be damned!

Fluffy mashed potatoes with garlic and butter. Dripping gravy over a big turkey bird. Stuffing WITHOUT celery pieces. Personally I prefer Stove Top but my mother in law insists on homemade with celery. Gigantic vegetable plate with dip. Homemade rolls with jam or preserves. Mounds of buttered corn and broccoli. There may be yams covered with marshmallows but they must be on the other side of the table. Pumpkin pie with whipping cream and ice cream. Of course, pecan pie heated with ice cream on the side.

Mmmmm. Mmmmm. This is Thanksgiving to me. After the trip to the zoo. Ever since I was young and living in Illinois our family has taken a family outing to the zoo on Thanksgiving day. “Because we are thankful for the animals too.” Technically I think it is because we have always lived away from both parental families and so had to come up with something to do. (Translation: My Dad does not watch football.) Soon we had several families that also could not go over the river and through the woods for the day who would accompany us on our annual zoo outing. It was always a fun time. Now that we live in SLC the home of all mormon parental units including Bart, mine, my mothers, and my fathers it has been a little harder to push this family tradition. (Translation: My husband does watch football.) Mostly through stubbornness on the Solomon children’s part, we have managed to have a lot of “thankful” gatherings right there at the Hogle Zoo. Rain or shine. Snow or sleet. Construction or not.

This year we are going to the zoo. But it is a weird year. For several years we have had Thanksgiving at my house with Bart’s family. This year Karlee and the Zollingers are in Korea and my parents will just be getting back from Korea the day before the bird day. We are combining the two families giving us a healthy number of 17 eaters. We (that means the women who do all the kitchen work) decided to have Thanksgiving at a restaurant. There have been many mutinous stares and murmurings from the men but it is just one year and if it doesn’t seem right and thankful enough we will have another dinner on Saturday. Yes, I know we will not use our little pilgrim place settings and we will not be able to have the homemade stuffing with celery but I promise all who read this that I will still buy a Costco pumpkin and pecan pie and stock up on whipping cream and ice cream……so let the thankfulness begin!

Mastercard for where you want to go

CD playing in my car CD player: Wicked, the musical

Book I am reading: Wicked by Gregory McQuire

Song that is constantly running through my mind: Dancing through Life from Wicked, the musical

Amount needed to get me and the kids to Broadway to see the musical:$1790

Nocturnal meanderings

Well, Larae moved in on Saturday. She has already acquired two jobs and is gone from 7 am to 11 pm Monday through Saturday afternoon. Since I am running the open route I am never awake at 11 pm and so have not seen her since Saturday. I am gone from 2 am to 5 am. Sometimes I will cross paths with Carla as she leaves for work between 4:3o am and 5 am. I will just make it home and get nestled in bad when the alarm clock for Bart's workout goes off. He leaves the house for the gym at 5:30 am.
It is amazing that my children sleep through all of this moonlighting going on. On the other hand, it shouldn't be amazing. We bought our house with an existing alarm system. It makes a little "beep beep beep" whenever a window or door is opened or shut. It was a lovely feature when Cooper was 2 and could open the door and toodle out. We now pretty much ignore it. So when all the goings on go on during the night we all don't pay any attention. Every now and then Carla will open her window at 2 am and it will give Bart and I pause upstairs in our bedroom. We might go check on it or we may just talk about the fact that Ryan will hate that alarm when she gets older and tries to sneak out. I can't even imagine what would have happened had my mother had those kind of tools on her side during my teenage years. I started sneaking out in 6th grade.
Several months ago our fire alarm which is connected to this internal house alarm went off in the middle of the night. It was simply a battery malfunction but Bart and I were hard pressed to try and find the actual fire alarm that was causing the alarm. Scurrying was occurring hoping that the children would not wake up. I thought maybe I could shut it down via the main alarm unit on the wall. Bad idea. All of the sudden there was double and triple the alarms going off. It was so loud I had to go outside. I felt like our whole house was a big blinking red light in the middle of our quiet neighborhood. I started freaking out that the neighbors would start waking up. Here Bart was running around in his underwear with brooms trying to get to the vaulted ceiling alarms and the neighbors would be calling the police about noise infractions. The children were all but forgotten. Especially because they were still nestled in their beds with visions of flaming sugarplums dancing in their heads. Bart finally brought in a ladder and ripped the misbehaving alarm out of it's case. The silence was deafening. That was when Chase sleepily walked out of his room and asked what was going on. Ryan and Cooper never woke up.
I think we may be ready to add a puppy that whines all night long right into the mix. What do you think?

Weather or not

Whenever I am reading a book and the author begins a paragraph describing the weather it is an immediate blinking light for me to start skimming. I hate descriptions of weather and rather think it is a waste of paper. I can barely get through Walden or Carson where it seems sometimes that the whole book is about weather. Some authors are very pithy about their weather descriptions. I don’t remember skimming too much in any Ayn Rand book. I don’t mind descriptions of Dagny’s dresses. Or Hank Reardon’s chiseled features. I will admit that sometimes I will have to go back to find pertinent info about whether it was snowing when Harry had his last quidditch match and that was why Hermoine had to put a defogging spell on his glasses. I do pay a little more attention to weather in the Outlander series simply because sometimes it is life and death there in colonial America.

However, weather is such an amazing factor in our lives. I am not even going to bring up the major disasters that it has brought on our country currently. That will only make for a “The end of the world is coming” chant. And who wants that no matter how timely it would be? I am just going to stick to my little corner of the world. Yesterday it was mild and warm for a November Sunday and so my little family went out and worked on the fence and planted some trees. The weather was a gift as it enabled us to get in a little unplanned family activity. My glam job allowed me to go out and do a paper route this morning at 2 am but again, the weather was warm and windy and I caught myself enjoying the alone time in the dark. Pleasant is the word that comes to mind. Finally this morning as Cooper and I were driving up to Grandma’s the clouds were breaking over the mountains and the blue sky was making a glorious appearance promising a good day.

Especially with my “fragile” mentality I am a sun worshipper. I no longer make it to the beach……well, ever but I drink in the sun whenever I can. Especially in the winter. I open every single one of the blinds in our house every single day. Yes, I may not be there while the sun is coming in the window but I can know that the sun did come in the window while I was away and the imprint of the rays are still there on the counter, couch, floor. My in-laws believe in and live by the whole “sun fades things” theory. True enough but no sun fades my soul.

Christmas is around the corner and there is nothing more warming than a beautiful snowstorm. I went to High School in Maryland. Not a whole lot of snow every year but a lot of ice. EVERY morning we would wake up and listen to the radio for the inevitable announcement of 1 to 2 hour delay from school. When I was a senior we were off of school for an entire 2 weeks. I still feel the joy of watching the snow stack up on the sidewalk thinking of the glee we all felt and lived in those unplanned days of sledding, skiing and sleeping in. Now living in Utah I don’t think my kids will ever see a day off of school for weather and my job keeps me wishing for mild winters for my night time driving carriers, however, there is still something magical about waking up to a Jack Frost job well done snowstorm.

So, I am going to try and stop skimming so much as I am reading by my window soaking up the sun and looking out on the last leaves of the aspens blowing in the wind. And I might just look into a job as a meteorologist.

Life changes are going on all around me. My good friend’s husband just got laid off. You can look at that as an opportunity. He was at least sitting at home watching 24 with his wife while I was at my office slogging away today. Ryan got her period today. Maybe not life changing but maybe more seeing a landmark in life occurring for her. I really don’t wish it on anyone but it had to happen and she is one of the last ones in her little group. I just got a birth announcement from a good friend who I didn’t even know was pregnant. Not only that. It was mailed from their new home in a different state. Now that is life changing. Another friend just jetted down to South America for a two week vacation. Without her kids or her husband. I haven’t been out of this country since my mission. My neighbor who quit her job at the beginning of this year just got back from South America as well. She hadn’t even unpacked her bag from her trip to Italy just the month before. I am just plain straight up, green as a lima bean, jealous. My mother and pop are going over to Korea for 2 weeks this month to tend my sister’s kids while she goes on a trip to China. Krissy, my youngest sister, is working up to getting engaged. Making fun decisions like going to the Peace Corp and whether she will ever wear a bra again. (Isn’t that one of the requirements?)
I have to admit that the end of soccer and football season is sortof life changing. We only had practice 2 times this week and I……..you see, I am pathetic. I am trying to put football and soccer FOR MY KIDS in the same category as the above. Kill me now.

High Fructose Corn Syrup

Even though I regard the old adage “You are what you eat” as true, I don’t always treat my body the right way. Well, define the right way. I don’t monitor what I put into my body. I don’t stick with the proteins and the fruits and vegetables. I don’t always stop myself from being swayed by the sugar powered carbohydrates or the brightly colored fats that show up on my kitchen counters. I have, however, stopped drinking soda completely. I have been soda free for the past 3, almost 4 months. Yea for me! I think that my body has been more excited about this than most anything else that I have ever done. I feel less tired. I have lost weight. AND I have stopped having cravings for sugary things at night. Wow! I feel like a testimonial infomercial.
Cravings are evil things. Cravings are illogical, irrational and above all utterly impossible to ignore in most cases. My boss is always lecturing us on the evils of high fructose corn syrup. It is literally in every single thing made by Kraft, Nabisco, Breyers and General Mills. Apparently it contains ingredients that make you feel hungrier (for mostly sugar) than what you really are. And so I have come to believe this due to what is happening in my body. Sugar begets sugar.

Halloween candy and Bart are other evil things. He bought about 7 big bags of candy and they are slowly becoming just big empty bags. Last night I had my first craving for Dairy Queen or soda at about 9 pm that I have had in a long time. I know it is because of the candy bars that I have been partaking in. But do I stop eating the candy? I think you all know the answer.

Help! I am stumped

I am assistant coach for Ryan's soccer team. Her team consists of 16 girls that are 10 to 12 years old. Yesturday I had to coach the practice. I am constantly amazed at how catty and spoiled girls actually can be. And yet I remember my childhood. I have no problem admitting that my gender is the most ugly and the most petty. Yuch! I hated most girls.

And now I get to relive that through my daughter. I may be biased or she may have already been affected living with me and my calling her out on all that bullshit but she is less catty than some OR just less verbal about her cattiness. Thank goodness. But that does not help my relationships with the other girls. I have been primary teacher for the 11/12 year olds for 3 years now and have struggled. Now I have another 16 girls that just make my toes curl sometimes.

"You just took me out because you hate me." (This one just renders me utterly speechless.)

"We have to be on the same team! You have to put us together! We will not separate! Oh, we don't want Jennie on our team. Let her be blue."

"Coach, can I go in now? I will sub in for any player. Please!"
"Ok, go in for Kelsey. She is right back (defense)" "No, I don't want to go in on defense. I won't go in."

And just general talking amongst themselves while Jon (real coach) or I am talking to them. How rude!

Life is just not long enough for all the insignificant traumas that girls make up to make a scene about. However, I know I have 8 more years of this so help me! What should be ignored, what should be absolutely not tolerated and what should be laughed at?

I was talking to this woman at the soccer park who coaches girls volleyball for our High School. She said that she spent more time coaching them how to be friends than how to play the game. And that she actually had parents call her and tell her that she couldn't be mean to their daughters while they were having PMS. She is now coaching boys and she says she will never go back to the dark side.

My weekend

Friday: Did a route in the morning. Arose before the sun and coached the third of Ryan's tournament soccer game at 8 am. Went to work for a couple of hours. (It was my day off.) Chase's Football practice, Bart left for hunting trip, Cooper, Ryan and I went and rented movies Clueless and Batman Begins, watched Clueless with Ryan and Sabina and realized-with horror-that there is a drug scene in the movie where Alicia Silverstone makes it not a big deal to light one up at a Friday night party. Started working on Ryan's integer game for her Algebra class. Theme of the game: Sisterhood of the traveling pants.

Saturday: Arose after the sun. Went to the 4th tournament soccer game. We proceeded to lose the 4th of the four games. Happy days! It is interesting that our girls don't really get bummed out about losing. They just want to play the game. John and I can't decide if this is a good or bad thing. I would like to see a little more intensity about wanting to win but I see so much from parents that I have to be grateful that John is so calm and the girls follow suit. Both Grandmas, Amra, Larae, Lily showed up and then we all drove like the wind to Chase's football game. It was a beautiful day to spend out watching games. The Peterson clan--Ryan, Chase, Cooper and I then went to Chili's for lunch/dinner. Back at home Carla and Larae had set up shop so we watched Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. Cooper's favorite book at this time is "There is the Monster at the End of this Book" Every night we read it. And every night he almost keels over laughing so hard at Grover. (I may have a chance with him liking to read. I can feel it. Fingers crossed.) Bart called and said he had gotten a deer with his big bad black gun so he could come home now.

Sunday: Went to church. Came home and piled all the kids in the car to do a little route collecting from the USA TODAY boxes. Quality time. Cough, cough. We then came back home and had all the Petersons over for making Halloween sugar cookies. Dozens and dozens of black cats, witch's hats, brooms, acorns and yummy tombstones. We got some pretty good frosting colors this year and had a good time decorating. Cooper, of course, decorated his 10 cookies with orange frosting and then completely covered them in a thick layer of orange sugar sprinkles. "Because orange is the favorite color." Every cookie? Every cookie. Singlemindedness to the point of recklessness=Cooper. Had tasty chicken chili. Bart came home. Watched Batman Begin. Liked it a lot.

Ready for the week. Not.

If I get called "dear" one more time by this coworker of mine, I swear I will probably grow fur and sprout horns.

And in the middle of hunting season too. Sheesh!

His and Hers

Well, we did it. I say we because apparently the organ in question is truly the property of us both. I never recieved the certificate of title of the aforementioned organ when I first married the man but at least in the state of Utah I am the property owner. So I don't know what the big deal was with Lorena Bobbitt, that's for sure.

The urologist was very cool. He came in and asked how we were. "Are you ready for this?"

Bart replied quickly, "Oh yes. It's time."

Dr Gange looked at me. "And you?"

"Well, I am here, aren't I?" I had already starting seeping out my eyes in the waiting room. I didn't want to start again. I wasn't quite sure why I was seeping. I think it was finality of it all more than wanting to have another baby.

"Does that mean that you are 100% ready for Bart to do this? Because until you say that to me I won't do the surgery. I can turn around and walk right out of this room and it won't bother me a bit."

"Well, I have 20 more ejaculations to figure out if I want another baby." I explain as he looks at me straight on.

"Not good enough. You two shouldn't be here if there is any chance that you want another baby. I've walked out of the room before. The couple wasn't ready to make this decision and so we didn't do it. It's no big deal."

Bart pipes up, "We already have 3 wonderful and healthy children. We're good."

"The couple that I walked out on had 6 kids already."

I guess I was waiting for lightning to strike, an angel to appear, me to throw up with the anxiety of the decision but nothing happened. Nothing. I was not even seeping. I looked at Bart and knew he had thought this through. Nobody shaves their pubic area without thinking it through beforehand. Oh, the itching. Seriously, I saw no indecision in his eyes. And he is half of this partnership. And for all my rational and logical thinking I know deep in my heart I still have 20 ejaculations left. It has only taken one every other time. IF there is another one that is supposed to come down to our family there is still that opportunity.

So I had to say "No, I am good with this decision. Let's do it."

And then I had to sign the paper with the doctor as a witness stating that I was "allowing" Bart to cut and cauterize the ends of "our" vas deferens. BTW, Bart had to sign it as well.

Strife and Sorrow in the left basement bedroom

I have Bart’s sister in law that lives with us. She has lived with us for 3+ years. In exchange for lodging she tends my children from the time she gets home from her job (2:30 pm) till whenever Bart or I make it home. This year she picks up Cooper from preschool and brings him home and sometimes she drives Chase to karate. Very rarely she will babysit on a weekend but I always ask and it is never an expectation of any sort.
I have no problem with her living at our house. I rather enjoy her. Even though she has made me more tolerant of Bart’s messiness simply by the fact that I can see it is inherent in their family background. Sometimes I am amazed at how few problems we have had. Especially because I am still living with a brother/sister relationship that sometimes regresses.
This last week she came to us and asked if Bart’s cousin who lives up in Moses Lake Washington could come and live with us for the next two month to work and save money. Recently she lost her job and she has not been able to find anything permanent. She is 30+. I have met her several times and really like her. She is just as strong willed as Carla, Bart’s sister, and myself.
I don’t really care. My house is full but hell, “the more, the merrier,” right? And it is family. There is something in me that believes in taking care of family. My only stipulation is that she does limit her stay to 2 months and I am counting on the fact that she will get 1 for sure and possibly 2 jobs to save money and not be around most of the time. You know me, always want to hope for the best.
Bart has decided to have an issue with this proposal. And he has every right. He part owns the house. He lives in the house. He pays the utilities. He has every right. His issues are not mine but they are valid. He is worried about friends, about parties, about what happens in his house when we are all gone. He says he is worried about the extra work that could come about. He just doesn’t want to deal with it.
So he told Carla. He told Carla no, Larae could not live with us for 2 months. Sorry. Here are the reasons and no thanks. That was 6 days ago. Carla has still not talked to either of us since then.

Let me rephrase that. She has not voluntarily spoken to either of us in 6 days. When Bart tried to talk to her about this she yelled at him and hung up on him. They were talking on the phone from one house line to another. I have not talked to her. But this is crazy! So now Larae is still coming and she is going to stay at Carla’s mother’s house where Amra the brain tumor has to move in since she can no longer drive a car and Dacia, the youngest sister and her 4 year old daughter permanently live. Oh, and did I mention that Carla and Bart’s mother lives with somebody for free in exchange for tending their children. So it is not their house either.
I have entered the world of Jerry Springer land……….in my own family. Bart is freaking out and calls me 4 times a day to give me frightful updates. Amra crying into the phone begging him to have Larae live with us instead of her because they hate each other. Promising us her first child. Bart screaming at his mother for not having a backbone and telling Larae she can’t come because her daughter just had brain surgery and needs to come live with her and receive a little special attention for at least 3 more months. Bart threatening to kick Carla out of our house not really understanding (as a man) how much Carla does for our family running my kids around and such. I think Larae will make it into town tomorrow.
Oh, I do not see Thanksgiving as going well this year.

The Book Break is Over

Well, I have returned. Returned from the book break. I finished A Breath of Snow and Ashes last night. And enjoyed it immensely. I sobbed and sobbed and even this morning cried a little. It really isn't that sad. I think that I am just sad that the book is finished. It is her second to last book in the series. You can tell. A lot of loose ends are being tied up. A lot of questions got answered. I just love these people in the book. How pathetic that I love fake people.
I have one more sequel to come out this year. The very last book in the Mitford series is coming out in November. This has been a good year for books! However, it is the last book and I know it will break my heart.
I am still in Pocatello Idaho. And my cell phone bill is gonna be a big one!!

Feast or famine

I am in Pocatello Idaho tonight posting this blog. Remember the staff meeting thought of the day. I was so very right and my Montana coworker is no longer with the company. (And then there were just 5.) Hence, I am working in her old district for the week. (And I think mayhaps there will soon only be 4.)
I have checked myself into the nicest hotel here in Pocatello. Holiday Inn. It has an indoor pool and a 24 hour exercise room. I brought my own body pillow and am still regretting not bringing my flannel sheets, however, I will survive. Friday night I actually went to the store at 11:30 pm just to do something alone for a second. I don't think I have been alone for 3 or 4 weeks with Amra, Carla being on vacation for a week, work and football and soccer going on. Now I am faced with the prospects of a whole week with no family. Hmmmm.........

Always something to pray for

Well, Amra, Bart's sister is doing really well! She is still in the hospital but is out of ICU and is the rehabiliatation unit. They are working on getting all her movement back on her left side. She has gained a lot of more movement in her left arm but her hand is still giving her trouble.
The "experts" still maintain that the stroke came from a combination of factors including her birth control pills that she has been on for about 10 years, dehydration and heredity. Several people have had strokes in Bart's family but most were very much older. Bart's grandfather was one of the ones that was not very old. He had several strokes until he was pretty much paralyzed on one side and he decided to take his own life. Not very surprising if you know the Peterson men. They are doers, not sitters. Not talkers, not thinkers. Doers. It wasn't until just a few years ago that we found out about the suicide. Just our little family and Bart's dad was at the cemetary on Memorial Day and Bart's dad just started talking. He is the 2nd youngest in the family and was only 9 or 10 when it happened. He told us that there was a gun that resided in the basement of their house that anybody could use to shoot rabbits or birds, etc. but the one rule was that it must be cleaned and put away afterward. Nolan had used the gun and I guess while he was out that day his father killed himself down in the basement. Nolan told us he opened the basement door to return the gun when he was almost physically stopped from going down the stairs. He tried again because he knew he had to get that gun to it's original resting place. The same thing happened again. He said he sat there for half hour before finally laying the gun on the top step and closing the door. His mother eventually was the one who found his father. I don't know if I was more amazed that his father told us that story or that it happened.
However, I digress. Amra is doing better but she does have another blood clot/residue of the first blood clot showing up in the post surgery MRI. They are hoping to dissolve it with blood thinners rather than another surgery. Any prayers are appreciated.

My thought for the day during staff meeting

Incompetence is the ugliest, nastiest thing right next to the smell of the desperation and fear coming from the clawing and scrabbling around to make sure nobody finds out what didn't get done or get done right.

Feelings aside.......

FACT 1: Bart has decided to get a vasectomy. He has actually scheduled his surgery for Friday. This Friday. 3 days from today Friday. 72 hours from now Friday. He has been talking about getting this done for a couple of years now. One of his very good friends bit the bullet and had it done and survived so Bart decided it was an option in his life. I have encouraged him that he should share in the burden of child related pain, however, I secretly smiled as the months waxed and waned and there were no further steps taken.

FACT 2: Cooper is now 4 years old. He is no longer a baby. He will be 5 years old in June. He will be going to kindergarten next September. I have made it. I will have survived the pre-school years 3 times over. Where is my trophy?

FACT 3: Some part of me wants another baby. What percentage of me, you ask, wants another baby? I don’t know. I have been a mother for so long and used them for an excuse not to be a real person for so long I don’t know. I know that will not change with a new baby. I will go right back into my mothering mode. I also know that I LOVED being pregnant with Cooper, I LOVED having an infant, I LOVED spending money on baby things, I LOVED having a 2 year old. I LOVED having a soul around that I could shower unconditional love on. I am still biased towards my older kids but it is no longer unconditional.

FACT 4: Bart and I get pregnant with a sidelong glance. We have glasses with plastic siders to prevent such a thing from happening too often. Hee-hee. I have been living on this knowledge thinking that if I decide I have to have a baby I can get it to happen in just one occurrence. Why do I think this? Ryan was a condom baby, Chase was a birth control baby and Cooper was a first-time-we-decided-to-try-and-have-a-baby baby.

FACT 5: A man must have at least 20+ ejaculations after the vasectomy in order to remove all sperm from his testes. Most doctors will not even see you for a “sampling” for at least 8 to 12 weeks after the surgery.

FACT 6, 7 and 8: I still work full time. Ryan is 12 years old already. If it isn’t already obvious with the scheduled surgery, Bart would rather I not have another child.

FACT 9: I have to make a decision before it is made for me.

A Million Miles an Hour

Whew! Whew! Whew!

Thursday night we got a call from Bart’s mom saying that Bart’s sister, Amra, had had a seizure and was up at LDS hospital with a brain tumor. Yup, that is right. I have almost survived a full week of work Ready to see the end of the tunnel and launch myself into the weekend and did we hear you right?!!? Amra is 25 years old. She has had somewhat of a chemically dependent life but still……nobody really expects a call like this. You can’t live a life expecting to get a call like this.
We proceeded to farm our kids out and go up to the hospital. I have to “give props” to LDS hospital. It truly is a nice hospital. It feels……hopeful. It feels…..pulsing with energy. That is a good feeling when you are facing death. Amra was very, very sedated and we learned that she had complained to her boyfriend that her left hand was numb and she couldn’t move it and then she had collapsed into a seizure. After having a similar reaction at being alone with a seizure victim, Jim, her boyfriend, called 911 and got her taken up to the hospital. She then proceeded to have several more seizures in the hospital before they got her medicated. The MRI revealed that she had a mass in her brain. The doctor wanted to get another doctor’s assessment before they removed the mass. Waiting. Waiting until Friday. Friday morning brought more waiting. The doctors both decided that her brain was too traumatized, too nutritionally starved to do invasive surgery. It could wait for a couple of weeks until her brain returned to a more normal state. I didn’t envy her having to think about brain surgery for a week or two.
However, that was not to be. Amra had lost the use and feeling of her left arm and some of her left leg from the seizure. This was according to the doctors. When she did not start regaining that usage back they became more concerned and did another MRI. Friday afternoon after Ryan’s soccer game, we were informed that Amra was in emergency surgery. Her mass was hemorrhaging. They could not afford to wait.
2 a.m. Saturday morning the surgery was finished. Now we were informed that there had been no mass. She had had a blood vessel closure in her brain. They now called it a hemorrhaging stroke. The surgery alleviated the pressure and resumed blood flow but some brain tissue had already died. Those dead tissues would be irrevocably dead. Whatever motor skills, feelings, nerve endings those tissues were attached to would not come back to Amra.
So we are waiting again. To see what comes back on her left side. She is walking now. (Yea!) And also to see what the doctors can do to make sure this doesn’t happen again. They are blaming it on her birth control medicine and dehydration. That makes all us women sit up and pay attention, doesn’t it? Remember all of those little fine print side effects that nobody pays attention to?
During the “oh-she-has-a-mass” diagnosis period of the weekend, I thought I was going to spend this week fighting with my primary care physician to get MRIs for all my children. Now I am just making sure that all my children drink 8 glasses of water each day and getting rid of all medications in our house. We will be using herbs and nature derived potions from now on.

Trixie Belden

When Ryan was born, I had visions of my offspring dancing around my head with books. Books, books, books. I was so excited to share my love of books with my children. I have several of my most favorite childhood books that I still read almost every year. Miss Jellytot’s Visit, The Ghosts who went to School, The Haunted House, Mrs. Mike, Trixie Belden Mysteries. Sigh. Trixie Belden.
When Ryan was 2 years old, I decided there was no time to waste. I needed to have the entire 39 book series of Trixie Belden books for her. I was a SAHM at the time and we didn’t have a lot of money. I put the word out to my father and my mother in law who are both used book shoppers. Soon books came trickling in. #4, #9, #15, another #4. I reread them all and it only increased my zeal.
I had to have the entire series. I called a book dealer and asked for the entire set up to 35. Now these books were written between 1946 and 1986. They went out of print until 2003 when they reprinted books 1 through 4. I can’t remember how much I paid for them. They went straight on the credit card and a word was never spoken to my husband. I remember opening the box in the kitchen and looking at the pictures as though they were portraits of real people that had lived before. That summer I read Trixie until I was deliciously sick to death of her.
I started reading #1 The Secret of the Mansion to Ryan when she was 5 years old. I knew it was not going to work but I tried. I thought I could instill a love in her for the books before she could even read. Nope.
It turns out that I turned her off to books completely. My first two children—the ones I stayed home with and read at least 5 books to every day---do not like to read at all. My very biggest failure as a mother…….at least up to now.
So those books have stayed buried in her closet despite my attempts to resuscitate the Trixie Belden love. Finally just a month ago I pulled them out of Ryan’s closet and brought them upstairs to my bedroom. I have two bookshelves in my room. They are laden with my very best friends, my most fervent lovers, my guiding lights and my private secret shames. Trixie belongs here. I didn't know I was missing her but I have never slept better in my life.

Now leaving the land of the living......for a book break

I just got home from the bookstore where I bought the 6th book in Diana Gabaldon's Jamie and Claire series. A Breath of Snow and Ashes. It has a total of 980 pages. I give myself.......oh, 5 days.

Pleasantville

Once upon a time there was a prince and a princess that lived in the land of Utah. They had three children and many friends that lived in neighboring castles in the land of Utah. They were very happy. There was many good relation building banquets and feasts held and friendships were strengthened. They went on trips and outings and everything was happily ever after.
But as the princess became better friends with her neighbors she found she did not like the other princes so much. She found that the other princesses sometimes did not like the other princes so much either. There was whisperings of princes shacking up with maids in waiting and princes using royal jewels to buy silly things like additional carriages or crowns. There was much agitation and grief that overcame the land. The princess got so caught up in all the going ons that she started getting bogged down inside. All her royal rage wanted to make things right. Things should be right, shouldn’t they? The princess definitely lived in a castle away from the real world. No, she hid in the castle. She loved the castle and loved the world that she created inside the castle. She wanted to believe that all people were good and that all marriages were positive and ever after. She wanted to believe that she could shame princes into doing what she thought was right. She wanted to believe so much………that when it didn’t happen she turned into a fire breathing dragon! Her wrath was great and frightening. Everyone cowered before her. Everyone except her prince. He knew he could kill the beast. He looked at the princess and said, “I’m listening.” And the dragon/princess ranted and raved, breathing her fiery breath, singeing the prince’s eyebrows until her tears put the fire out and slowly she regained herself.
Next the princess announced that she hereby decreed that her royal family would move away from the land of Utah to “Pleasantville.” She stamped her feet and decreed and decreed and decreed. Where there was no agitation. No weeping and wailing. No natural disasters. And especially no rumours or murmurings of divorce.
However, the prince was a little less emotional (notice, I didn’t say smarter) than the princess and he held both of her hands in his and said
“There is no true Pleasantville. It is a fairy tale. For as soon as you got to know the new people and were involved in their lives you would see that there are problems all over.”
And the princess knew this to be true. She also knew that the dragon would come back but with the help of her dear prince she could again rid herself of the beast and that, my friends, is living happily ever after in the real world.

Grease

For Ryan’s 12th birthday we got her a pink mini ipod. (It was what she wanted.) She is really into music and listens to it all the time. I don’t mind saying that I am still completely biased in the music department. I think a lot of new stuff is stupid and just plain deafening. As a teenager I was definitely a music snob and liked only what we call alternative music and classic rock. I have come around a large corner and now listen mostly to country. Country is way more family oriented and more upbeat than anything pop culture has put out. (Yes, I am old.) However, I still want Ryan to gain an appreciation for all of the REALLY good stuff that is out there. The Police, The Cars, The Hooters, Billy Bragg, David Bowie, Devo, Prince, The Boomtown Rats…….Sigh!....so many perfectly perfect songs.
Anyways, I was downloading some songs onto her ipod for her and I put the Grease soundtrack on it which led to us renting the movie to watch. Grease. When I was in 4th grade my mother would not let us listen to the soundtrack because of the word “shit” in the song “Greased Lightning.” I don’t remember exactly when I got to actually see the movie but it must have been sometime during Jr High. I remember watching it over at my friend Jill’s house. Her mother drove me home that night. We were talking about the movie. I was saying how I didn’t think the movie was so bad. Alice said she thought it was a sad movie because eventually Sandy was turned into a “bad” girl and that was portrayed as the “cool” way. Kids all over were watching the movie and seeing that to be “cool” you had to be dumb and barely graduate high school with no further plans, you had to sleep around, you had to smoke and be disrespectful to teachers. I was the only one in the car with my friend’s mother and so I was really listening to her and I remember this like a ton of bricks. I didn’t want her to be right but I knew she was.
So now in this day and age Grease is PG. And yet it was with great consternation that I rented this video for my 12 year old daughter to watch. I have morphed from a young woman that firmly and staunchly believed in “Live and let live” to an older woman that believes in “Live and let live…….but don’t do it around my children.” I knew that the transformation was eminent. I did. I never wanted the throne of motherhood because I knew that it changed a person. I knew you became a figurehead for the family, no longer yourself. I have no problem with watching Grease myself but to rent it for some little innocent soul…… Damn. I am a prude. But I did let her watch it. And she will never have a hang up about this movie like I did. She will probably not even remember it as a good movie. But she will know who Frankie Avalon is and that he sang “Beauty School Dropout.”

Two sides of Me

Who would ever think that a life that is so busy could be boring? But bored I am. Or maybe that is just what the beast is telling me. Or maybe I don’t have those emotional connections that I need/want to make sure that this life is worthwhile. I don’t know. I am so pissed at the beast right now. Right now I am not really feeling the anxiety but it was in the driver’s seat for most of the weekend and the beginning of this week. It steals days from me.
At the beginning of the weekend, I was pondering as to how to know what feelings were truly mine and what were created/overshadowed/brought out by the beast. FOR EXAMPLE: I have a real strong desire to go find a women’s soccer league and join it. I love playing soccer. I love watching my daughter play soccer. I feel the joy of it when I am outside and on the field. I love team sports and the synergy that comes from being part of a team. This feeling I think is truly from myself. However, I get blindsided every time I actually try to actualize this feeling. My anxiety often shows itself when I have to go and play with my daughter’s team. Imagine how I would feel out on the field with many ladies. So my joy is tempered by the fight that must go on in my body to get me to go out and play. My joy is squashed as I continue to feel the anxiety while I am out on the field. My love does not stop the beast from playing along. In the past, I have pushed myself to enroll or sign up for something like this. I then spend the rest of the commitment dreading the thing that I wanted to do in the first place. The beast truly knows my weakness. It plays with my anticipatory feelings. Dread is such a horrible feeling. Do you know the Sesame Street book “There is a monster at the end of this book starring Grover?” I live that every day. And it KILLS me because I get to the “dreaded” activity and most of the time I have a perfectly good time. Or I spend the whole time letting the beast play me for a fool. So would somebody please sign me up for soccer and also pick me up for practice and find a babysitter?

How we deal with drugs at our house

We were sitting around the table eating dinner on a normal Tuesday night. I think we were almost done and by that I mean Chase was finished and itching to get away from the table. Bart decides to have a heart to heart talk with the kids about drugs. I know that he has had heard a truly rough story today and that this is fueling his actions.
"What do you know about drugs?" "Do you know anybody that does drugs?"
Hopefully I am right in saying that my children are still a little too young for a lot of interfacing with drugs. That may have been the reason for the blank faces. The uninterested stares. The tapping foot. The finger tracing the salad dressing that had fallen on the table.
They sat up a little straighter as Bart says "You know, drugs are illegal. You can get arrested and get in trouble with the police."
I sat up a little straighter as he continued, "....but you don't have to be afraid of the police. You have to be afraid of me. Because I will kick your ass if I ever find out that you are doing drugs."
I now go behind the kid's backs and start making frantic waving motions at this father. He ignores me.
"You will not be allowed in our house. I will kick your asses. I will make sure that you will hurt so bad you won't ever want to take drugs again." Chase may have let a snicker escape his lips. My husband is not an angry man. He does not threaten and he barely spanks. My kids have no reason to think that this threat is real. He notices the slip, "Look at me. Do I look like I am kidding to you? I am telling you right now so there are no mistakes. I promise I will kick your ass if I find out you have been doing drugs, if you have been involved in drugs in any way."
I see that he is winding down a bit. There is no way for me to go back on this promise that he has so emotionally made. The best I can do is temper it.
"Kids, you must believe that your father is saying this to you because he really and truly loves you."

Follow up/Wrap up

Bart's friend moved out of our house and back in well, now his house. He came and picked up all his stuff on Sunday and brought her to my house. After all this drama what was I supposed to do?!?! I could barely even look at her but managed a few strangled words. Definately not my best show. And Bart tells me that his friend told him that she cried the whole way back home and kept saying "What did you tell them about me?" "You're lying if you say you didn't tell them anything!" So for the time being, the drama, drama, drama has moved out of my house. Between you and me, I will keep the bed made up for him.

A MOMENT

I look at my 4 year old sleeping next to me in my bed on Sunday morning. I can't stop touching his little hands and face. His hair is so blonde and spread hither thither across his forehead hiding all his little scars that show he has had a full and busy life thus far. His lips are still so red and childlike with no imperfections. His skin is beautiful and he is at peace. I am filled with love. I am so full that my eyes let it seep out and gather on my pillow. I want to be the first thing he sees when he wakes. I want that smile to be for me. And it is. He is silly and he has a good morning in front of him. My eyes can't stop following him. He seems to glow today. His smiles are so true and inviting and contagious. He is growing up so fast. I can have a conversation with him that is logical, silly or even full of memories that we both share. I am sitting on the couch drinking in his little body that is in constant movement even while he is talking to me. The colors in his clothes-the orange, blue, red stripes seem to be "tide bright." His eyes sparkle and I can almost see his brain working as we talk. And then he romps away to be with his brother and I am left with more seepage and a picture of love that is tatooed on my heart.

A good way to end the night

CIGARETTES AND TAMPONS
A man walks into a pharmacy and wanders up and downthe aisles. The sales girl notices him and asks him if she canhelp him. He answers that he is looking for a box oftampons for his wife. She directs him down the correctaisle. A few minutes later, he deposits a huge bag of cottonballs and a ball of string on the counter.She says, confused, "Sir, I thought you were looking forsome tampons for your wife? He answers, " You see, it's like this,yesterday,I sent my wife to the store to get me a carton of cigarettes,and she came back with a tin of tobacco and some rollingpapers; cause it's sooo-ooo--oo-ooo much cheaper.So, I figure if I have to roll my own........... so does she.

End of Day blog

It is 10:09 pm and I am finally getting 5 minutes of uninterrupted "me" time for the day. The kids and Bart are all in bed and I have finished all my tasks--that I am going to get done--for the day. I can unwind a bit.
Today was a little crazy and the weekend looks more of the same. Bart is going hunting again which is a mixed blessing. I do enjoy not having to work around/with/over/along with his schedule on the weekend. However, this weekend I could do with some adult help. I have two soccer games, a football practice and a game, a yard sale fundraiser and Cooper.
I finished Eragon and Eldest so I don't have a book to read and snatch little enjoyable moments between all these other activities. (Here is my recommendation: Not books you have to own but a good read.) Although I did find out that the last book in the Mitford series comes out in November. What a year! J. K. Rowling, Diane Gabaldon and Jan Karon. Wow!
I haven't had a Coke in almost a month but I may have to resort to that treat this weekend.
I hope it is a good weekend. It sure sucks to get through the whole week just to have a bad weekend.
Good night.

Heraldo's corner---Drama, drama, drama!

Bart has a friend that has had some serious relationship nasties. He has been divorced….I think it was 6 months after he got married. He then spent several years as the single guy who tried out internet dating, bar dating, not dating and set ups. He may know every single woman living in our town.
Honestly he is not a bad guy. He is so anal---girls, that means he is clean and likes things a certain way. (If you know my slob of a husband, I will admit sometimes he is a little more handsome to me when I see him packing up his perfectly aligned camping bag that he takes on our camping trips.) He is…….cute. Not extremely handsome but definitely not ugly. Certainly takes care of himself. And he is tall and likes nice clothes. He is not losing his hair and he calls his grandma every week or so.
Lately he has been with this woman we will call Tiffany….which is her real name. I have no desire to protect the guilty. The best story about them is during one of the first overnight dates Tiffany found out she was allergic to one of the plastics that some companies make their condoms with. This entailed a trip to the emergency room. Can you even imagine?!?
She is a mortgage broker which means she gets paid on commission of loans. If there are no loans, there is no money. She does have 2 kids so she does get paid child support from two different men. While our friend and Tiffany have been dating she has had months where she had no income so he has had to pay for everything. For the house payment, the new car he bought her (I didn’t say he wasn’t stupid) and groceries. He also was maintaining his apartment as he didn’t want to commit entirely too soon. (I didn’t say he was braindead.)
To make a long story short, they just signed a loan where our friend took the house and all the debt in his name on Friday morning. Friday afternoon they were supposed to make the annual Labor Day Boulder Mountain trip with us and only our friend showed up. And now our friend is living at my house.
He is calling it a strained relationship. I call it a DEAD relationship. Tell me am I right or is he right? Because I am going to be killed and made into strained peas if Bart or our friend ever find out that I posted this!

What I did Labor Day weekend

Friday: Worked, released the Playstation for the weekend, got Ryan ready for Cami's birthday party, packed and drove up to Heber to sleep over at the cabin. Talked to Pam and Bob at the cabin and planned a Maryland party here in Utah. Could there really be that many of us that have migrated?

Saturday: Woke up at 5 am to get Bart over to Midway to register for his 10K race that started at 7 am. Cheered Bart on to the end of the race and then went over to Swiss Days and bought stained glass and clay ornaments. Drove home, unpacked and packed for the Boulder Mountain. Went over and watched Chase's first football game of the season (21-0. We are the latter.) Got in the car and drove 5 hours to the most beautiful place on earth, Boulder Mountain.

Sunday: Found out that the other girl did not show up for the campout so Ryan was the only girl there with 7 other boys. Conducted therapy session. Fourwheeled, fourwheeled and fourwheeled. Bart made bows out the branches and string for all the boys and they must have shot arrows at the target (and sometimes at each other) for hours.

Monday: Fourwheeled some more. Got sunburned on the lower lip (sign of a good fourwheeling ride) Drove home. Found out a 4th adult will be living at my house.

It was a pretty good weekend but it seemed like 40 days instead of just 4. I need another vacation.

Our new pet peeve

Remember in the movie Mr. Mom when Michael Keaton drives his kids to school the first day of his unemployed life and the lady screams at him for entering in the exit lane at the school? Anybody remember her name?

Chase is in 5th grade and we live quite a few busy streets away from the elementary school. We were bus kids until last year when they took our neighborhood and quite a few others out of the budget. Last year Ryan was still going to that same school so I reasoned that they could stay together and bike to school. This year Chase has nobody to bike with. Hence, I started to participate in a carpool. I drive Chase along with three blonde 5th graders. I feel like Charlie and the Angel's chauffeur.

Anyhow, the reason for this post is finally coming. I can't believe how bad mothers drive! I will be forced into swearing, cussing and maybe getting out of my car and making hand gestures before the end of the year and I just drive T-W-TH mornings. There are two lanes that follow a fairly large half circle on the school property. You would think the one next to the curb would be for unloading and the outside lane would be for getting the hell out. No, I have watched parents stop in the middle of both lanes and then get out to get their child's scooter out the back of the car. I have seen mothers pull up in the middle of the half circle and get out and GO IN THE SCHOOL! I have watched parents in the outside lane pull in front of me as I have very nicely waited in the unloading zone for other cars to leave. Don't pull into the outside lane until you have dropped your child off. It is a getting out lane, not a butting in line lane. Unfortunately I seem to be the only one who knows that.

Bart is in charge of the jr high carpool. They have to be at school by 7:15 am. He drives W-TH-F mornings. Bart called me today and said "I have two things for you. One, I don't think I will be able to drive the 7th graders to school any longer."
"Why not?"
"Because nobody can drive worth a shit over there! I have been cut off and the lady pulls in at a 45 degree angle to let the kids out! What the hell is that about?!"
"I know. I see the same thing at the Elementary school. The same exact thing. It is probably the same mothers."
"I am going to buy $300 worth of orange cones and I will even volunteer to set them up at 6:30 am every morning so that people know you only drop off in the unloading lane. When is the next PTA meeting. I am going to be there."

So, here it is. The warning not to move to Utah if you have kids. Or at least move onto the bus routes because carpooling is for the birds!

Nintendo update

3 days and it has been so pleasant! After the 4 year old cried like his heart was breaking for 15 minutes on Monday afternoon there has not been one reference to the missing video games. I had almost talked myself out of the strict weekends only rule and thought I could do a 4 to 6 pm Nintendo break every day but apparently they don't need it. Maybe in the winter they will. We will see. How nice to have options. :)

One of the reasons that your children have friends is for you to be reminded how bad your kids COULD be or how good your kids actually are. Chase is really a good kid! And he has a cute nose as well. I am excited to watch him play football.

More thoughts on blogging

There is definitely a difference between a journal and a column. I am thinking about Keri’s column in Sex in the City. Every segment was witty, fully developed, seemingly had a plot line and for sure had no grammatical errors. So far my blog has basically been a column about my life. I have not whined or bitched…….at least not without wit or mirth. There have been no sentences that just drift into nothingness even though that is a lot of my sentences to my husband. I used to keep a written journal during my teenage and college years. I tend to become more formal in my writings when I type for some reason. When I see my handwriting change, when I scribble something out, when my mind goes faster or slower than my pen it tends to become more stream of consciousness. After telling you the day to day state of my mind, you will know that nobody wants to hear or read my stream of consciousness. Talk about William Faulkner. Oh how I hated his books.

But I am finding blogging addicting. It helps me to focus on a main idea for the day or the hour. And since I don't want to be bitching and moaning and I certainly don't want to be documented that way in internet eternity I am directing my thoughts on other things beside my own inner misery. Free therapy.

Die video games! Die!

Well, the battle has already been in a fevered pitch for many years at my house but it has accelerated into the next World War.

First, Bart and I agreed not to get a nintendo/playstation thing until Chase was older because we didn't like how bewitched he was at Grandma's house. We loved that he got to play and learn over at Grandma's house because it was sporadic and infrequent enough that we didn't have to set limitations. When he became 8 (which is still quite young) we gave in, researched and bought the Nintendo Game cube for the boy. Every single one of his friends already had one of the blasted boxes at their house and if we wanted to ever see our boy or have any say in what games he played we decided that we had to make the option available at our house, under our roof, within our earshot. We decided on the Game Cube because it was a little more kid oriented. Playstation has many too many mature games for adults and we didn't want that. Also Game cube allows 4 little 8 year old boys to sit around simultaneously with purple, black and blue paddles and save the world.

Chase is now a big little boy of 10. We are the Kool Aid house when it comes to the video gaming. I know what game the boys are playing and I know where he is and who he is with. I have considered that a good thing and since he mostly gets good grades have been fairly lenient on any time restrictions.

However, this the year of the coming of Nintendo age for Cooper. He is 4. (Too young.) He is addicted as bad as the older one. I don't necessarily mind that he plays the games but I do mind the horrific moaning and gasping when I have to turn the game off.......for whatever reason. It is almost like they are fish and they can only come out of the water for 2 minutes and if they are not reattached to the paddle in that short time span they die. Thank heavens most bathroom breaks can be accomplished in this time frame! Whew!

Well, school has now started for both the older ones. Cooper will start preschool after Labor Day. I say this like I planned this coup for this time frame but really it was the morning that Cooper got up out of his bed and instead of coming into my room to see me, he went directly into Chase's room and attached himself to the paddle.

(in whispers) This morning the video game box went bye bye until Friday afternoon at 2 pm when Chase gets home from school.......and it will come to pass that there will be a great weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth in the land of the Petersons.

I am still the mother and I will prevail for a little longer.

Harry Potter alert!!!

I think that I am totally right and I do have other crazies out there that think the same.

www.dumbledoreisnotdead.com

Today

Wow! Jen totally revamped this page and it is beautiful! I love the colors! Thanks Jen!

Ryan went off to 7th grade orientation this morning. I drove her and her 3 friends to school and dropped them off to start a whole new life. I have been trying to figure out all day if I am sad because I want to go back to junior high myself
I want to be that young again
I want to LOOK that young again
I want to be that innocent again or
I don't want my 12 year old baby girl to be that old
I don't want my baby to LOOK that old
I am scared for the amount of homework I have coming my way.

Maybe all the above.

.....and don't think I am freaking out about posting this

I had lived with myself for 35 years before I figured this out. I always knew that there was something. I had even tried to do something about it. I knew my catch phrase to combat it all these years—“Shyness is not a good enough reason not to do something”. I wasn’t sure if I knew just how different I was from others. Especially with my wrong self diagnosis. And even with all my background in Psychology I was so very wrong.

You see, all these 35 years I had diagnosed myself with depression. I could see it from almost the beginning of my memories. I had to allow myself to change the diagnosis to manic depressive order since during my teen years there was lots of mania. Lots and lots. (And I thank Heavenly Father for all of those fun manic times.)

However, nowadays I am definitely not depressed. I know that. I know I have a good life. I can even admit that maybe I don’t want to do that thing with the kids even though I am their mother. And that does not make me depressed or even psychologically unbalanced. Again, thank the Lord, because I still do have an emotional problem that has not been taken care of.

I really feel sure of the diagnosis this time. It fits everything and every symptom. I feel sure that I have a lifetime (well so far) anxiety disorder. It makes me not want to do anything new because I am filled with fear and consternation. It makes me not want to go anywhere because I feel afraid and stifled. And just planning on going somewhere gives me the same feelings. It makes me not want to see anybody because I feel very uncomfortable and sometimes nauseous. Always. Everyday. I understand that sometimes these feelings are real and accurate. Sometimes would be the key word in that sentence. Every minute of the day –except going to bed – would be how to describe when these feelings come into play during my life.

I have long since created my own “logical” reasons for all these feelings so I have been able to live with this disorder and live an outwardly relatively normal life. I WANT to write that I suppose that I have a less severe anxiety disorder because I have been able to lead a normal life. On the other hand, I want to scream that I do not have a normal life and that I have had to fight-- fight all by myself and with myself—for every stinking normal minute in my life. I do want to allow myself some pity because for 35 stinking years I have had to push and shove myself to do all these things and then talk myself into it all over every day and not know why. I just couldn’t experience having a first boyfriend. I had to throw up all over him because it was so stressful. I couldn’t enjoy college life because everyday was filled with so many people and so many new and different choices that I was “mind fucked” every day all day long. Even when there was a small part of me that wanted to try and learn and excel in say, photography, field hockey, writing there was this other monster part that was freaking out and I had to spend so much time calming that monster part that I couldn’t focus on the other interests. Had to? Have to.

Having said all that and still not quite finished with the tears, I have to immediately follow all that up with my thankfulness to all the people in my life that stuck with me and even when we both didn’t understand my behavior they loved me. I have had choice friends over the years: Robyn, Becky, John H., Dan S., Jill, Russ and Rich, Joanna and Lee, Jen, Raq, Criger and Carol. Even Brian Fisher and Trish. I constantly relied on Heavenly Father for 25 years and received countless small miracles to remain “normal”. I have had many unbelievable and extraordinary experiences that have shaped and molded me.

And then I am forced to admit that for the past 12 years I haven’t really done anything extraordinary. I have fought the beast—not knowing really what it was but doing my best – and remained somewhat “normal.” I have been able to raise my kids but for the most part I was not able to enjoy it. I was not able to put my heart into it. I pushed and shoved and fought to do my duty. Don’t get me wrong. I think I remained true to my REAL self and the vision that I have of what a mother is supposed to be and was as much a mother as I could be to the kids but I could’ve ENJOYED it. I could’ve done a couple of other things for myself, for Ryan and Chase, for another little spirit, for a ward, for a neighborhood but I was tied up fighting the beast. And fighting the beast is so tiring. I have been exhausted, beat, wiped out, dog tired, done in for the past 12 years. AND NOT KNOWN WHY.

Now I know why. And that does make a difference. For 7 or 8 years of my marriage I blamed a lot of the beast on my husband. I thought he would make me happy. Now I know that sometimes there is nothing in the world that can make ME happy. Including me. Not blaming him for that helps our marriage. For 15 years I have blamed Salt Lake and Utah Mormons for the feelings that I have going to church or trying to participate with Relief Society women. Now I know better. That helps me see my true core beliefs and my personal commitment to God and know that it is still there with or without the church. And I am able to not blame the church for all my “beastly” feelings. For 25 years I have felt like being wrong or sinning was the worst thing in the world but it isn’t being wrong, it is the anxiety that I have made logical by partnering it with a perceived wrong choice.

Because I am always filled with “beastly” feelings, I have had to ignore my emotions in any decision I make. I would always choose to stay in bed in the morning so those feelings don’t get to be part of the equation. I would always choose not to talk to a neighbor or go visiting teaching so my feelings are ignored. I know they are not my true feelings. And if I do throw in the towel and go with the beast then I have guilt and loneliness and uselessness feelings. So I really can’t win with my feelings. I have to operate under the logical, the responsible, and the sensible. I have allowed the commandments and some of the rules of the LDS church to influence my paradigm to be sure. Mostly I see that it is a good set of rules to pattern off of. And the “mostly” is definitely in that sentence for a reason and that is a totally different story.

Just a follow up.......

So, I did some research on which way I should be encouraging my children and I think it is evident from these following two statistics that Ryan will be joining the football league as soon as I can get her some shoulder pads. I would like to retire early and football may very well be my ticket.

2004 SOCCER SALARIES

"The following is a list of MLS player compensation figures for 2004 being circulated by the players' union and obtained by Soccer America.
The figures include base salary and guaranteed salaries. See explanation below.
These numbers are not the same as those calculated by the clubs for salary-cap purposes. Salary-cap figures are topped by a $280,000 maximum and include achievable bonuses as well as surcharges tacked on for licensing agreements." --as printed in Soccer America Magazine

2004 FOOTBALL MEDIAN SCORES

Pittsburgh Steelers
$ 895,716
Detroit Lions
$ 790,600
Kansas City Chiefs
$ 788,700
New Orleans Saints
$ 762,800
Carolina Panthers
$ 756,250
Atlanta Falcons
$ 723,700
New York Giants
$ 708,100
Tampa Bay Buccaneers
$ 688,900
Miami Dolphins
$ 669,000
New York Jets
$ 663,800
New England Patriots
$ 660,300
Philadelphia Eagles
$ 653,900
Minnesota Vikings
$ 642,000
Cincinnati Bengals
$ 636,000
Seattle Seahawks
$ 632,000
Baltimore Ravens
$ 631,850
Houston Texans
$ 631,500
Dallas Cowboys
$ 626,234
Arizona Cardinals
$ 621,424
Buffalo Bills
$ 617,650
Green Bay Packers
$ 614,700
Chicago Bears
$ 592,200
Denver Broncos
$ 581,750
Jacksonville Jaguars
$ 575,000
San Francisco 49ers
$ 562,000
Oakland Raiders
$ 560,600
Washington Redskins
$ 539,300
Tennessee Titans
$ 538,000
St. Louis Rams
$ 537,350
Indianapolis Colts
$ 536,800
Cleveland Browns
$ 522,000
San Diego Chargers
$ 453,800

----as printed in USATODAY.COM