Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Sweet Success

You know those moments when  you realize that all the work, grief, tears, arguments and money have been worth it?
Abby took a handful of fiddle lessons this summer, we hired a guitarist, and had so much fun at the Wasatch County Talent Competition last night!

She came away with 3rd Prize, $50, and a huge smile on her face.

Way to go, Abby! We're so proud of you!

Monday, July 30, 2012

General Conference, here we come!

It's a bit of a rite of passage when you're a Mormon and you move into a new ward (congregation): the new families always get pegged to speak in sacrament meeting.

I don't mind speaking in church. It doesn't make me terribly nervous, and I enjoy the in-depth study time I get about a gospel topic. And being asked to also play my violin yesterday didn't phase me either.

You know what does phase me? What does make me shake in my boots a bit? When I'm getting my violin out and ready and Ashlynn comes up to me and says "Mom! Mom! Isn't that Elder Holland?"

When I looked up to see Elder Jeffrey R. Holland walking up to the stand, my heart jumped into my throat. I was going to be speaking and playing the violin in sacrament meeting with a member of the Quorum of the Twelve sitting directly behind me.  I don't remember the last time I was nervous to speak or play my violin, but this time, I was more than a little intimidated.

(For those unfamiliar- the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles and the First Presidency make up the governing body of the Mormon church. They preside over all the affairs of the church, speak in General Conference, and we sustain them as being prophets of God. Elder Holland also happens to be one of my husband and my favorite speakers to listen to because of his eloquence and the spirit that he brings with him.)

My heart was pounding and my palms were sweating. I wasn't sure if I wanted to laugh because of the absurdity of the situation or bolt out of the meeting before anyone noticed us.

In the end, of course, it all worked out. Going into the meeting, I was pleased with how my talk turned out, my girls wrote fantastic little talks themselves, my husband was prepared, the music was ready, so we just stood up and did it. The girls were pros, I didn't trip going up the stairs to the podium, and my husband was brilliant. (If I do say so myself.)

And when it was all over, Elder and Sister Holland were incredibly warm, complimentary, and gracious. Elder Holland praised the talks and the music, then chuckled as he also said how impressed he was with our kids-wrangling ability. (Ian was rather, um, vocal about his parents being up at the podium speaking.) He joked about how we gave him ideas for his next conference talk, and I have to admit to getting a rather big head when someone told us that Elder Holland was taking notes during my talk. And I would sit down with Sister Holland any day of the week- what a fabulous, loving woman!

Tom and I spent the rest of the day grinning at each other. Church with little ones isn't always easy, memorable, or pleasant. But yesterday was certainly a Sunday to go down in the history books.

Wednesday, July 18, 2012

A pox on your house!

Chicken pox, that is.

You want an example of how things work in our lives?

Last Wednesday, I was sitting in the backyard with a friend, and we started chatting about vaccines. For many reasons I won't go into here, the girls have been partially vaccinated, and the boys haven't had any. So we were chatting about various vaccines and I told her that we had basically made up our minds that if the girls hadn't had the chicken pox by the time they were twelve, I'd probably just vaccinate them so that they weren't completely miserable when they got it.

The next morning, Abby came into my room. "Mom, I think I have the chicken pox."

Bleary-eyed, I answered, "You don't have the chicken pox, Abby. You didn't have a fever. Chicken pox always starts with a fever." (In my defense, it was first thing in the morning. I could hardly remember my own name, let alone diagnose an illness.) "You have some red bumps, You're probably allergic to something. Here's some benadryl."

Later that day, after rounds of claritin and benadryl didn't help, the spots kept spreading, and I was forced to turn to Dr. Google.

Sure enough, those spots looked suspiciously like chicken pox.

I started laughing. Because what else was I going to do?

Then I called Morgan, to tell her that my children had exposed her children to chicken pox, and beg her to still be my friend even though if her kids contracted chicken pox it would be when she was approximately 38 weeks pregnant. (So far, she's still talking to me. But we haven't passed the 2-week incubation period yet.)

Then I emailed photos to Abby's pediatrician after speaking to them and having them tell me, in no uncertain terms, that they were NOT interested in seeing her in the office.

Sure enough, my family somehow, somewhere managed to contract chicken pox.

Ashlynn started with the spots that night. As far as two cases of chicken pox go, they were both very mild. They took a few baths, itched for a while, and complained about being cooped up in the house without friends.

Now the girls have recovered, and there's no sign of spots on the boys. Which is super weird, because if there's a virus, a bug, a sniffle, they're going to catch it, love it, make it their own. So we're waiting for another set of itchy, red spots on another set of kidlets. 

Figures that since we haven't seen the pediatrician since February that it would be something big, rare and obnoxious.

Tuesday, July 3, 2012

Recipe for summer fun

Add Friends, the sun, a hose, water and sand,
(make sure to mix the sand thoroughly in your hair for optimal shine...)
Apply the hose liberally to the nether-regions,
Add three cute boys, and three cute plumber butts,
Sprinkle in just a touch more water,
And don't forget to sample the hose water, just to make sure it tastes ok.
Then, after the battle for faucet supremacy is won,
Make sure you get extra, extra dirty,
Then add an ice cream sandwich to finish the perfect afternoon.
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