Pins and Needles

Sorry to have left anyone hanging on that. Seriously, the computer has been a real blogging downer. I'm so glad to have a working computer now. And mad at my dad for leaving me without a computer repair man.

Anyway, the pins and needles were for a business that we started. We opened up a kiosk in the mall selling hair products for the holidays. It has been a great learning experience, we hired employees, and I have managed this little store. It was a ton of work to get started, but hasn't been bad once it got going. Unfortunately it hasn't been that great financially, and I don't know if we'll do it again next year. But don't worry, I'm married to Dave Low the idea man. He'll have a new idea and a new business by the new year. You can count on it.

Baby sister

I just wanted to quickly write about my baby sister. Why? Well, it's probably overdue, she's been living by me for 5 months now. But the big, fun thing was that she brought a boy over to my house for Sunday dinner. This is something I have never experienced, as my older sisters didn't date. It was so fun.

Little Lauren (actually taller than me, but still my little Lauren) has matured into a beautiful young woman. She makes me so proud. She is doing well in school, working at 2 jobs, and trying out new recipes that she shares with others all the time. She is happy and sweet.

I hardly ever see her, even though she lives 10 minutes away. She is too busy living up her college experience. But when I see her I remember how proud I am of her. It is wonderful to have my family so close to me now.

G. funnies

Broken computer= No posts.

New laptop= Hopefully diving back into the blogging world?

I have to post some of my little G baby's funnies. He is hilarious. A lot calmer than he used to be, but so funny.

He still wants to be read to all the time. He brings books to you and says, "READIT!" I've never had a baby so interested in books. He hardly ever watches tv. My mom says that's how I was. I wonder if he'll read early?

In church on Sunday we were flipping through the gospel art book. That usually buys us a good 15 minutes with G. He is really getting better in church....phew. In the middle of the quiet Sacrament, he was looking at Harry Andersons picture with Christ on the cross. A beautiful, sacred picture, right? Well G. notices everything. He would be really good at "where's waldo." See that guy with the white beard on the bottom left? He points to him and says, "Ho, ho ho." And I started laughing during the Sacrament. Then he sees the Roman Soldier with his helmet. He says, "hike. hike. hike!" While looking at the Nativity picture, he says, "Night night."


This baby's speech is really remarkable. He not only has quite a large vocabulary for his age, but he says things very clearly. He doesn't say "baba," he says, "Bot-tle, bot-tle" in a sing-songy way.

A few weeks ago I heard him saying Bapi over and over. I thought he was just talking jibberish. Henry talked jibberish for a really long time, and would tell long stories without more than 1 or 2 real words in them. But I realized that G., for the most part, only talks with a purpose. He was trying to say, "diapie" and tell me to change his diaper. Now I know that Bapi means diaper and he wants it changed. I do appreciate him telling me!

We always have like the play the "me" game in our family. We say, "Who wants pizza?" And wait for the kids to say "ME!" G. has caught on to this, and he says it with such urgency, like he really wants to be chosen. We ask him all kinds of things..... "Who wants to eat frog legs? "MEEEEEEE!" he says. The best was when Dawson asked, "Who wants to eat a fence?" G. responded, "Meeeee! Me do it!"

G. is blessed with a very easy name to say. He could say it quite early on. When he wants to claim something, he will point to it and say, "It's G., It's G." I rarely hear the word mine, he would rather claim it with his name.

This little guy is really special. He is a huge person in a really tiny body. I knew it the first time I held him in the NICU and I told him, you are a special little guy. In the first few months of his life I told him that all the time. He always keeps me on my toes, from being born in the car, to now when he dumps out cups of milk on the floor and finds all kinds of creative ways to get in trouble.

The cute and the not so cute.

This is my G. man. Or G. Monkey, G. Chunkey, G. Chubber, pretty much anything you can put after "G." I do. He is so cute to me. So delicious. I nearly kissed a hole in his cheeks this morning. He has the most beautiful, huge, blue eyes with SUPER long lashes, that bunch up when he smiles (as pictured above) he has small dimples in his cheeks and a huge one in his chin that pop when he smiles. He is just adorable...............

But he's so much trouble. Definitely my busiest baby ever. And really, really smart. Smart is a great thing, but it's not helpful when you're 1. It just gets you into trouble. He uses his intellect to say super cute things that a lot of babies his age never say, that's cute. But he uses it to come up with the messiest, most ridiculous activities that I can hardly keep up with. I have spent most of the last month cleaning up after him hence the lack of blogging. He is so naughty. He learned how to climb up my bar stools, and sometimes he turns the faucet away from the sink and then turns in on. It's only through constant vigilance that our house hasn't flooded....yet. He empties out the box of Marshmallow Mates (curses to that stupid cereal) and then he picks out the marshmallows. He mixes my buckets of flour and sugar, even when I think the lids are on tight. He turns on the bathwater and you can fill in the many blanks of things you can do with large amounts of running water when you are a baby. He eats cereal very nicely with a spoon, as well as yogurt, but you can never tell when he's going to decide he's done and dump it off the side of his high chair. 2 Seconds of fun for him, 20 minutes of cleaning for me.

As I mentioned, he speaks well for a child that age. He had a huge explosion of words a few months ago, now he hasn't learned a ton of new words, but he echos phrases he hears and it makes me laugh. Some of the cuter things he says are:

Hot Chocolate (Very clearly, there is no mistaking what he wants)
I got it!
ISAAC!
I want a bot-tle!
I want my boot (ahwanmaboooooot)
He very cheerfully shouts "Night night" when I put him to bed at night

I can feel the beginning of a new stage with him, the very early buds of some focus out of him. Two miraculous things have happened just in the last week or two.

1. He has sat down to watch a TINY bit of TV. He hasn't even looked at the TV since he was in an infant seat. He's been way too busy. A little bit of tv every day would give me some relief from him.

2. He is incredibly fascinated by books. He would probably sit all day and read books with me. We have a basket of Christmas books and he goes to the basket and picks his books and brings them back to read. Reading would be a good outlet for that creative brain of his.

And the great miracle I should mention is that he hasn't even touched the Christmas tree. I thought it would be toast within hours, but he just isn't that interested in it. Phew.

These pictures were taken because I gave him a faux hock? and we both thought it was hilarious.

Happy Halloween

We had a lovely Halloween. I don't like Halloween. I wish it would go away. But my kids love it, so I endure it. I am thrilled when it's over though. I didn't even take any pictures of their costumes. It was a busy, busy day, and I just didn't care that much. Our ward had a trunk or treat, and then it rained so we went to Dave's parent's house and enjoyed some good food and company.

Isaac was a Ninja (handmedown), Dawson was a cowboy (scrounged up from stuff we had), G. Jesse was Nemo (Henry's costume from last year), and Henry was Indiana Jones/Batman/Cowboy (I thought only girls meshed multiple characters together like FairyPrincessBalerina. Yep I was one of those once.) But Henry just couldn't decide, no matter how many times I told him that Batman didn't wear cowboy boots or hats. Dave dressed up as a BYU fan (scary costume!) and I didn't dress up (unless you count Desperate Housewife, jk.) I just couldn't bring myself to do it.

I had a big day in other areas, so I barely even focused on Halloween yesterday, which is okay. I didn't even eat one piece of candy.

Dawson's best line of the night came at the beginning of the trunk or treat when a couple asked him if he wanted some candy and he said, "No, I don't have any money." I love that kid. He might be the sweetest 4 year old I have ever met. He really is, I'm so grateful for his sweet nature. He got the hang of free candy pretty quickly though, and had a great time.

This picture at the end is not what you might think it is. It IS a garbage can. It DOES have candy wrappers in it, but it ALSO has uneaten candy of all varieties (including SNICKERS). Why? Mean mom? Fears of obese children?

NO! I'm not that mean. My 6 year old, Isaac decided to throw out his candy. Didn't feel like it was healthy to keep eating candy, says it gave him a headache. I have a 6 year old with incredible self control. I can't quite believe it. The icing on the cake? I fished them out of the garbage and ate them myself, and I didn't even have to steal them when he wasn't looking.



To my friends outside of Utah- Happy Halloween, hope it's a great day!
To those of us who are done with Halloween.......Phew, it's over! On to my favorite Holidays!!!!!!

Pins and Needles

I'm on pins and needles right now. We're working on something pretty big. For us anyway. It'll be big for sure. It could just be a lot of work. It could be awesome. It could be not that great. It's taking every ounce of courage we have. Which leaves me no courage to share it with you right now. Sorry. But that is where my mind is instead of my blog (explaining the lack of posts). No I'm not pregnant. (Thank heavens, or I wouldn't be able to do anything else) And hopefully, I will be up to sharing more in a week or two. Stay posted, and pray for us. Thanks!

ps I do miss my dad if you were wondering

Henry George

This little guy is having a birthday tomorrow. The world's sweetest baby has changed a lot in the last 3 years. He is still quite charming, and FULLLLLLLLLL of personality, but kind of sassy. The last two mornings I had to wake him up to go somewhere. He came out of him room and just chewed me out! "Don't you EVER wake me up again. You WAKE ME UP MOMMY! That's not nice. Don't do it again!" The next morning when I woke him up again he came out just indignant. "You wake me up AGAIN??????!!!!!! Mom! You wake me up AGAIN????!!!!"

He thinks he owns the place, and in some ways he does. I NEVER know what to expect from him. More on him tomorrow I guess.

Family Pictures

Our wonderful friend Gena came over and took some family pictures for us in the field behind us. We got some pretty awesome pictures. More to come.

USU vs BYU

Let's kick their trash Aggies.

3 years and Happy Birthday

Happy Birthday dear Aimee. It would be 36. Sometimes I spend a few minutes pretending like she's here and I go through in my mind giving her a gift and chatting with her for her birthday. I give her a hug and then hand her a present. The room is quiet with anticipation as she unwraps it carefully. A tiny gasp as she sees what it is and she's so excited. "I love it Erica!" she says and we both smile at each other. "Happy Birthday!" I say, "Thanks for being the best big sister ever." Then we tease each other with some inside jokes, and I tell her all the funny things about my boys.

• Today, right as I stepped out of the shower (always a little nerve wracking to shower and have no clue what your boys are up to), my boys ran in and asked if I knew the "two guys." "Are they at our house?" I ask. "Yes." they say. I comb through my brain trying to figure out who the two guys are. Missionaries? I RUSH to get dressed "You know the one guy with the glasses?" Do I? "Are they INSIDE our house?" "Yeah, I took the one guy to my room." "The guys are in your room?" I start getting panicky.
  
  The whole conversation was about LEGO guys. One with glasses. At our house. Inside our house. In Dawson's room. Not creepy anymore when I know it's LEGO guys.

Then Aimee and I laugh together about my crazy adventures with little boys. And she tells me she just wants one girl. And I tell her that someone better have some girls in this family, because it doesn't seem to be me!

Then we walk into the other room where there is a fantastic dinner there prepared by my dad. And the dinner table is overflowing with plates and folding chairs. And we eat until we're stuffed but somehow make room for cheesecake afterward.

Then I drive my kids home without a care in the world (This is a daydream of course). I'm not worried about my mom or siblings.

When I come to I realize that nothing like this will happen in this lifetime. But I realize that there are wonderful things in our future still, even without those three family members. And I just can't wait to have my mom move up here so I won't worry about her as much... in just three weeks. (Sorry to Mindy, whose brother is moving out of his house to let my mom move in)

Yesterday was the 3 year mark of Jessica's passing. Wow.

A couple recently told us that all 5 of their children are married. They had planned their whole life to say a certain thing to them all when they had finally all gathered together in the Temple. "No empty chairs." When they got there, he was so happy he couldn't even say it through his tears. His wife had to say it.

To be honest, I thought it was kind of a goofy thing to plan to say. But the more I thought about it, the more I loved it. If we gather the Biada family together now, we can all fit at the table. We may even need a folding chair or two. But it's not that overflowing, squished together, turn your shoulders to the side before you scoot in kind of full. Sometimes, it will feel like there are lots of empty chairs even when the table is full. "No empty chairs in the eternities." seems so much more crucial when you get a little taste of what it would be like through this experience on Earth. It's not good. It's just not. It is sad. It feels unfair sometimes. But at least it's only temporary. And because of that I pray with all my heart that there are no empty chairs in the eternities. I pray that each of my siblings, and all of my children, and all of my loved ones make the choice to be worthy and sealed in the temple. And then when we get to the other side we can gather together for birthdays and family parties at an overflowing table again and make up for lost time.

Potty training boys

Negative x Negative = Positive

Now apply that formula to two bed wetters getting married and multiplying and replenishing the Earth, and so far, it seems that 3/3 potty trained children are night trained right away. That HAS to be genetic. It can't be our awesome potty training skills because, well we don't have awesome potty training skills. But how do they have early night-training genes, when their parents were both bed wetters? It must be like math. I think I wet the bed until I was 5 or maybe even 6. Dave...... I can't write his age on here, he was too old to admit on here.

A little potty training recap for those who don't remember.

Isaac: My first time. I tried potty training him and suddenly understood how child abusers felt. I was so angry with him, I wanted to beat him. Watching your child hide behind something so they can poop in their underwear makes you pretty mad. If they know enough to hide, they know enough to go in the potty! (Just to let you know, I didn't beat him) I was sure it was linked to his gender and when I found out Henry was a boy (I was pregnant at the time) I cried and cried thinking that I would have to potty train 3 boys. I flew out to Maine for my grandmother's funeral, and Dave potty trained him in one day. He was a little over 3 years old at the time. He was instantly night trained, and after a week he slept in underwear.

Dawson: A few months shy of 3. I had just given birth to the fourth boy who sent me on a tailspin. I was so overwhelmed, and having 3 kids in diapers? Yikes. So I started putting him in underwear. A few hours a day. I think I let him have 2 accidents per day and then gave up and put on a diaper. Within a week or two he was trained. Again, he was night trained immediately.


Potty training Henry. Oh boy. If you've seen Henry with a naked bum..... Cancel that. If you HAVEN'T seen Henry with a naked bum in the last month I would be surprised. A lady from Holland once told me that was how they potty trained their kids in her country. So I tried it. Of course I couldn't take him places like that, so he just got a few hours most days with a naked bum. He had NO accidents like that, so I would start thinking we were there, but he treated underpants like diapers. Yeah, we lost a few pairs of underpants to the unfortunate numero dos. I just threw those away. Yesterday he spent the entire day in underwear and had no accidents, and when I put him to bed he refused a diaper. (For those who know Henry, you know how hard it is to argue with him. He is SO strong willed) So I figured it was worth a try. Since Isaac and Dawson did so well I thought there was a good chance. He woke up dry this morning. He came and laid in bed with me, and then after a few minutes, he got up and went potty. I'm so proud! He is a month away from being 3. But I don't dare declare that he is potty trained. He's Henry, he throws curve balls frequently.

Some friends told us a few years back, that boys shouldn't potty train until they are 3. That they have more accidents if they potty train earlier. And my boys have all potty trained around that age and never really had accidents after that.

Wish me luck! And dryness.

You wouldn't believe

how often we get our kids names mixed up. And that sometimes, we even confuse who they are. For example, I just heard noises like Henry was playing with his guys on the windowsill and in the blinds. So I yelled over to him, "Henry, Dorothy is tired. Look, she fell asleep." (I'm trying to convince him that Wizard of Oz is cool, and I'm losing) But as I turned my head back I made eye contact with him, about 2 feet away from me. I tilted my head to the side thoughtfully and realized that the body I yelled at was G. Jesse. Whoops. But don't worry, G. is done playing in the blinds, now he has the phone off the hook, and is having a fabulous jibberish conversation with the dial tone. They are telling each other really funny jokes, because every few seconds he laughs, and then he starts talking again. It's amazing how many different ways he can say "da-da" to formulate a conversation.

Back on topic, we frequently go through the list, "Isaac, Da-Henry." And Dave just flat out calls them the wrong name and doesn't even notice it. Did you change Daws? No Dave, Dawson has been potty trained for 18 months now.

I was just trying to hang up the boys' winter clothes. I had a really hard time deciding which clothes go to which boy. They are just so close in age/size. I love it though!

On random news....

Henry is potty trained, only with a naked bum. With underpants on he has accidents, naked he is 100%. Any advice on how to transition that?

G. Jesse learned how to say "nana" and demands bananas all day long. He gets really angry if I don't have any.

I got sick, my throat has never really stopped hurting from the surgery, so I'm in a lot of pain right now.

My mom is under contract to buy a house up here, which means she may be moving up here within just a few weeks. Woohooo!

We bought season tickets to Aggie football this year, and have been having a blast going to the games with Trisha and her kids.

My baby sister moved up here to go to school, and I love having her around. She is doing so well, and I'm so proud of her. I wish her the greatest success, and I'm thrilled to spend time with her.

Pickleville Christmas Show

Tickets are for sale. Please come with us. We think it will be such a fun tradition. Call 435-755-0968 for tickets. We are going November 26th. Call today so you can get good seats. That includes you, Mom.

Random Thoughts

There is nothing that will make you stress over every sore or bump you have in your mouth quite like having a sister die of oral cancer. I'm always sure I've got it.

My baby has been trying to cut his molars since June. I think he might win the "longest teether" award.

Henry is tiny.

I've been doing a diaper survey where they gave me free diapers and then pay me $10 to complete a survey on them. No problem.

My cell phone corrects my text for me, for example, if I type "u" it puts in "you." I sometimes forget my computer doesn't do that.

I'm having a major laundry crisis, and it's completely my fault. Maybe I should go work on it instead of blogging.

Isaac grows too fast. I bought him all the wrong size of jeans this year, which isn't terrible because they will get used by another Low boy before too long, but means I need to buy him new jeans for Christmas or something.

I have a wish list that is too long.

I brought my dad's convertible up here to sell, and Dave fell in love with it. Soooooo, he is doing everything in his power to buy it.

Anyone want to buy our boat? http://www.ksl.com/index.php?nid=218&ad=12412537&cat=147
334 people have looked at that ad in the last 12 hours. I think the boat will sell, and Dave will buy his Camaro

We will be using my mom's boat now, she is going to park it at our house and let us use it as long as we take her boating regularly. I think we can handle that.

What's with me and cats?

I was laying on the couch playing a game with Dawson and I heard a meow. I told Isaac I thought I heard a cat. He went and got G. Jesse out of his crib. Last I checked G. didn't sound like a cat. So they went to the backdoor and didn't see a cat. I went to the front door and opened it only a crack and a cat ran in. The cat made itself comfortable, wandering around. It was weird. But I was scared because my neighbor got bit by one of the siblings of the kitten I rescued. So I jumped on the couch and started screaming/crying. With the door open, so all my neighbors could hear. I should add that Henry had JUST gotten out of the bath and was naked. I told Isaac to run and get my neighbor, and naturally Dawson followed as well as naked Henry. The neighbor came back and picked up the cat for me (I'm NOT an animal person). It was very friendly, obviously someone's house cat. But we have no idea whose? It's still a pretty small kitten, a little bigger than the siblings the one I gave away.

Why do these things happen to me? I don't know anyone else who has cat experiences quite like mine. It's very strange.

Isaac

Isaac is one amazing child. He really is. I think he just came that way. He has a very strong spirit. However, when we have our moments with him, we really have our moments. Last night he chose to (as my dad would say) "Go down with his ship." He wasn't going to give up. Even when we gave him opportunities to have a second chance he wouldn't take them because "Mom already told me to go to my room." So in the midst of his "moment" last night, he was grounded from the computer for 3 days. Isaac always wakes up before me, and entertains himself until I get up. But do you think I remembered in my groggy state this morning that he was grounded? I didn't.

But HE DID. And he put in a DVD to watch on the tv when he woke up. I came out here wanting to squish him, I was so proud. He really is a good kid. I love him SO much.

He is loving 1st grade, and so am I. The homework so far has been way easier than Kindergarten. The all day thing hasn't been too hard for either of us yet. Yesterday ,when I brought Dawson home from preschool, I expected Isaac to be home like last year. I was sad for a minute. But really, it's been great. Dawson and Henry have played together all day, which is fun.

Have I ever mentioned that I love having four boys super close? They are best friends, they seriously don't ever need playdates. They play together all the time, and 90% of the time they play great, the other 10% they fight like crazy. Last year I was pulling out my hair, wondering what I had done having these kids so close. But this year I am having a blast with these boys being so close.

Last week Dawson asked me if I was sick again. I asked him if he was sick of me getting sick. He didn't seem to care. I told the boys that some day (WAAAAAAAAYYYYYYY off in the future) I would get another baby in my tummy and they make me sick for a super long time. (Seriously, I'm not pregnant even though I do look it, I promise it's just called over-eating) They all got excited thinking I was pregnant now. I told them not for awhile, but they all can't wait for another baby.

Isaac (Mr. Philosopher) says, "So what if you get a girl baby?" I turned around and looked at him with a disgusted face and said, "Ugggh what would we do with a girl?" He says, "I know, I don't want to have like makeup and stuff in my house." (Forget the fact that I am a girl and have makeup in his house) I said, "Yeah and where would we put all the barbies and dolls and stuff?"

The boys all agreed that we should stay a boy family, and I must admit I am just fine with that. I cried my eyes out with G. but I'm thrilled with the thought of 6 boys now. But I am still not ready for another baby. I'm enjoying my life right now so much.

One last thing about Isaac. He is gone for so much of the day, and there are already many messes when he shows up after school. He knows it, it's pretty tough to trick Isaac. But he helps clean up all the messes before bedtime, even though he knows that he barely contributed to the messes. I didn't say he does it cheerfully every day, some days he complains like crazy, but I'm proud of him for doing it.

I think Isaac will turn out to be an amazing person when he grows up.

First day again

Crush: Oh, it's awesome, Jellyman. The little dudes are just eggs, we leave 'em on a beach to hatch, and then, coo-coo-cachoo, they find their way back to the big ol' blue.

I felt like it was best described by Crush. Okay, maybe not. But I guess I'm putting them on the beach to hatch, and they always find their way home. I like the idea of them hatching. It's fun to have them learning and coming out of their shells. For example. Last year, first day of preschool, Dawson FREAKED OUT. And kind of for a month or two, and every once in awhile for the rest of the year. :) Today he got in the car of a woman he's not even sure who she is, with a little girl he knows only from church, and he was just fine. It seems to me that a year of preschool really helped him hatch. I can't wait to see his progress this year.

Have I mentioned how cute and sweet this boy is? He really is.


Here he is in the car with his new school friend Taylor. And those little brown eyes peeking out next to Taylor's head belong to the little boy who was born 45 minutes before G. Jesse. Maybe they'll go to preschool together too!


Have a great day at school Dawson! LOVE YOU!

Christmas Show

This is an invite to anyone reading this:

We had so much fun at the Pickleville Playhouse shows this summer! Dave took the boys again last night. It takes a lot to captivate my young boys, but they LOVE these shows. They think it is so funny, and it's nice having the close feeling of a small audience. One of the amazing things about Pickleville is the Davis family. The whole family has incredible musical talent! Kinda like the Von Trapp family or something. They are extremely entertaining to watch. It makes me jealous, I want my boys to be talented like that! T.J. Davis is the writer of Bandito. Did you know that they have a Christmas show? It's up at Utah State, so you don't have to drive Logan canyon in the winter. T.J. is also the writer of the Christmas show. He is so gifted. We literally were laughing until our guts hurt during Bandito, it is so clever, and the music is fabulous. Dave and I are not really theatrical people, but this is enjoyable for anyone.

So to kick off the Christmas season, we are taking our family to the Pickleville Christmas show, the day after Thanksgiving. You know, the day everyone is bored. Do you want to come with us? I PROMISE you will be entertained. And laugh a lot.

The tickets aren't for sale yet. But I wanted to plant the idea so that if you want to come you can buy your tickets and get good seats by us.

After the show you can come to our house and have hot chocolate. It will be fun.

I'll keep you posted, and when the tickets go on sale hopefully we'll have a fun little group together to get tickets.

One thing I love about the Pickleville shows is the first come first serve ticketing. That means that for the same price, you can get awesome seats if you buy your tickets early.

Dave says: It says in the last Article of Faith that if "there is anything that is virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy, we seek after these things." TJ's plays are all of the above! When there is entertainment that meets those criteria, we should "seek after" it. Thanks Davis Family and Pickleville Family for providing "praiseworthy" entertainment worthy of "seeking after."



Also, there are a few more showings of Bandito this summer if you want to catch it, you won't be sorry. Check out www.picklevilleplayhouse.com

Sometimes it's like getting kicked in the stomach by a horse

There, I've done it. You see this happened to me about a week before my dad died. I was downstairs working in my basement, and it was like my breath was taken away. I doubled over, cringed my face and then the tears began. I sobbed. For a few minutes. Then I pulled myself together, stood back up, wiped off my face, and went back to work. I had no idea what brought that on. It's almost as if your brain spends a lot of energy blocking out the knowledge that you don't have your loved one with you, and every once in awhile it needs a break. And while the blocking out feature is busy re-booting, you are left with pain. Intense pain. My mom says it's called a grief burst. And we all have them. Always at different times.

My computer isn't working. It completely freezes up, sometimes after only a few minutes of using it, sometimes only once a day. I'm pretty sure it's a simple fix. But my daddy is gone. So he can't fix it for me. It's like this constant reminder to me that he's not here. It's not fair. I'm gonna buy a mac.

I was thinking the other day that there are so many good, old people. Who are so sick, and could accomplish so much more on the other side. I just wish the Lord would have taken one of them, instead of my healthy dad, who is so needed here, and who was still accomplishing so much on this side. I still would like to dispute the death. Submit the paperwork, and see if they could find that it really wasn't fair. I'd go to court. I'd hire a really expensive attorney, and spend weeks in court with witnesses and flowcharts and spreadsheets, and I'd prove that we really need him here. Or that we really want him here. That he has a wife and 5 kids here, and two kids still living at home who need a dad. I bet I would win.

It's been a harder week for my mom and Kate too. We need to be closer. Will someone please buy my mom's house?

Every time my mom calls, her facebook profile picture of her and my dad pops up. And I want to ask her if he's still gone. If it really happened. But I don't have to, because I know.

I will NEVER forget that phone call. I was sitting at my kitchen table with Dave. We were putting together the mount for our projector downstairs. It was tricky. I almost called my dad to ask him a question about it. He ALWAYS answered. My cell phone was in the car. So my landline rang. Caller ID said "BIADA, LAUREN." But when I answered it, a man said "Hello." Which was strange. He said, "Erica, this is Ken Romney. I think you know who I am, right?"

Of course I do. Then he said those words. The words that you never want to hear over the phone. Those words that cannot be reversed. The words that are so final, you never get to hope, or pray, or exercise faith to change them. You cannot give a priesthood blessing, nor can you consult with doctors on what your options are. It's too late.

"I just spoke with the Wyoming State Coroner's Office and they confirmed that your dad passed away today."

And just like that, your life is forever changed.

And now I look at family pictures and see three people who aren't here anymore. And I look at pictures from when I was little, ones that my mom took of my dad and my sisters and I. I'm the only one left.

And I'm sorry, but that is just not normal.

And if given the chance, I would give back all the blessings and miracles that have/will happened because of this trial if I could have them back and healthy.

But since that isn't an option, I'm VERY grateful for the blessings and miracles that we have been given to help us through, because I do recognize that we cannot make it through this alone.

So most of the time I am really happy. I am usually very thankful to not have other people's trials, I see that lots of other people have much harder things in life. Every once in awhile I'm mad at him for leaving us, and I glare at him when I see his picture. And then very rarely, out of the blue, it's like getting kicked in the stomach by a horse. Thank Heavens that doesn't happen often.



(The picture that pops up when my mom calls)

Suppress

To Suppress means to forcibly put an end to. There is a certain blog post. That I really want to do. I almost wrote the post a few days before my dad died. I started to write the post once. And now, for some strange reason, I realize I have been trying to suppress this urge to write this blog post for awhile. I don't know why I don't want to write it. Maybe because I feel like I should be sick of being a "tragic" person as my sisters call it. But I'm not sick of that. I talked to my mom today. We are all kind of on the same page. The post is called "Sometimes it's like being kicked in the stomach by a horse." Maybe that's why I've never written it. It sounds a little bit dramatic. But it's true. And if you've lost someone close to you, you know I'm right, don't you? Maybe I'll write the post tomorrow. And try to keep it not too dramatic or tragic. I like to be happy.

G. Jesse

He is really cute. And really big. But he is in a C-R-A-Z-Y stage. He is rivaling my Isaac at that age who was really crazy too. It's hard to compare them because Isaac didn't have anyone else to play with, so really I'm leaning towards G. baby being the crazier.

Whatever the case is, he makes a lot of mischief. He takes advantage of any opportunity to get into the dishwasher, the garbage, the toilet, out the door, or spilling/throwing any type of food or drink. A few weeks ago he was so easy. Not anymore.

When G. Jesse was born (in the car) my friend told me that her children were like their deliveries. I've heard other people say that. Well, it's hard for a newborn to seem like they are in a hurry. But it's quite easy for an 18 month old. So I would definitely say that he is matching up to his delivery now! This kid is always in a hurry to get to the next bit of trouble. He would just like everyone to get out of the way so he can just do his thing.

He has a little bit of an evil side to him. The other day I was mopping my floor and all my boys know they have to stay off the floor when I mop. So naturally that is where G. gravitates to. So he came over and was stomping/dancing on the wet part with this evil little grin on him and his nose all crinkled up. He thought it was hilarious. Then he slipped and fell on his bottom and I didn't feel sorry for him one bit! Naughty boy.

I still love my G. man, but I'm wishing away the next few months so we can hopefully get through this crazy stage!

Strange Trimester

The strange thing about this trimester is that Dave is teaching early morning (a bad idea, he is always so tired when he teaches early morning) so he can come home between 2:30 and 3:30 and that Isaac gets home at 3:45 off the bus. So my husband gets home before my son. Weird. Yesterday was the first day ever that Dave saw Isaac come home from school. Although I like having Dave home early, and I like having him here when Isaac gets home, I'd rather him not teach early morning seminary next tri.

Whatever the case. I'd like to announce to the world that I adore my boys. I have a great husband, and four ridiculously cute boys. I'm amazed with them every day. They are so fun.

The end.

My favorite short story for my friend Mindy- (I want 400 gold stars for this one)

I love this story. This story makes me want to be a better person. It makes me want people to think of me as a "Rowan." And it kind of makes me want to name my next boy Rowan.

In all this Cuban business there is one man stands out on the horizon of my memory like Mars at perihelion. When war broke out between Spain & the United States, it was very necessary to communicate quickly with the leader of the Insurgents. Garcia was somewhere in the mountain vastness of Cuba- no one knew where. No mail nor telegraph message could reach him. The President must secure his cooperation, and quickly.

What to do!

Some one said to the President, "There’s a fellow by the name of Rowan will find Garcia for you, if anybody can."

Rowan was sent for and given a letter to be delivered to Garcia. How "the fellow by the name of Rowan" took the letter, sealed it up in an oil-skin pouch, strapped it over his heart, in four days landed by night off the coast of Cuba from an open boat, disappeared into the jungle, & in three weeks came out on the other side of the Island, having traversed a hostile country on foot, and delivered his letter to Garcia, are things I have no special desire now to tell in detail.

The point I wish to make is this: McKinley gave Rowan a letter to be delivered to Garcia; Rowan took the letter and did not ask, "Where is he at?" By the Eternal! there is a man whose form should be cast in deathless bronze and the statue placed in every college of the land. It is not book-learning young men need, nor instruction about this and that, but a stiffening of the vertebrae which will cause them to be loyal to a trust, to act promptly, concentrate their energies: do the thing- "Carry a message to Garcia!"

General Garcia is dead now, but there are other Garcias.

No man, who has endeavored to carry out an enterprise where many hands were needed, but has been well nigh appalled at times by the imbecility of the average man- the inability or unwillingness to concentrate on a thing and do it. Slip-shod assistance, foolish inattention, dowdy indifference, & half-hearted work seem the rule; and no man succeeds, unless by hook or crook, or threat, he forces or bribes other men to assist him; or mayhap, God in His goodness performs a miracle, & sends him an Angel of Light for an assistant. You, reader, put this matter to a test: You are sitting now in your office- six clerks are within call.

Summon any one and make this request: "Please look in the encyclopedia and make a brief memorandum for me concerning the life of Correggio".

Will the clerk quietly say, "Yes, sir," and go do the task?

On your life, he will not. He will look at you out of a fishy eye and ask one or more of the following questions:

Who was he?

Which encyclopedia?

Where is the encyclopedia?

Was I hired for that?

Don’t you mean Bismarck?

What’s the matter with Charlie doing it?

Is he dead?

Is there any hurry?

Shan’t I bring you the book and let you look it up yourself?

What do you want to know for?

And I will lay you ten to one that after you have answered the questions, and explained how to find the information, and why you want it, the clerk will go off and get one of the other clerks to help him try to find Garcia- and then come back and tell you there is no such man. Of course I may lose my bet, but according to the Law of Average, I will not.

Now if you are wise you will not bother to explain to your "assistant" that Correggio is indexed under the C’s, not in the K’s, but you will smile sweetly and say, "Never mind," and go look it up yourself.

And this incapacity for independent action, this moral stupidity, this infirmity of the will, this unwillingness to cheerfully catch hold and lift, are the things that put pure Socialism so far into the future. If men will not act for themselves, what will they do when the benefit of their effort is for all? A first-mate with knotted club seems necessary; and the dread of getting "the bounce" Saturday night, holds many a worker to his place.

Advertise for a stenographer, and nine out of ten who apply, can neither spell nor punctuate- and do not think it necessary to.

Can such a one write a letter to Garcia?

"You see that bookkeeper," said the foreman to me in a large factory.

"Yes, what about him?"

"Well he’s a fine accountant, but if I’d send him up town on an errand, he might accomplish the errand all right, and on the other hand, might stop at four saloons on the way, and when he got to Main Street, would forget what he had been sent for."

Can such a man be entrusted to carry a message to Garcia?

We have recently been hearing much maudlin sympathy expressed for the "downtrodden denizen of the sweat-shop" and the "homeless wanderer searching for honest employment," & with it all often go many hard words for the men in power.

Nothing is said about the employer who grows old before his time in a vain attempt to get frowsy ne’er-do-wells to do intelligent work; and his long patient striving with "help" that does nothing but loaf when his back is turned. In every store and factory there is a constant weeding-out process going on. The employer is constantly sending away "help" that have shown their incapacity to further the interests of the business, and others are being taken on. No matter how good times are, this sorting continues, only if times are hard and work is scarce, the sorting is done finer- but out and forever out, the incompetent and unworthy go.

It is the survival of the fittest. Self-interest prompts every employer to keep the best- those who can carry a message to Garcia.

I know one man of really brilliant parts who has not the ability to manage a business of his own, and yet who is absolutely worthless to any one else, because he carries with him constantly the insane suspicion that his employer is oppressing, or intending to oppress him. He cannot give orders; and he will not receive them. Should a message be given him to take to Garcia, his answer would probably be, "Take it yourself."

Tonight this man walks the streets looking for work, the wind whistling through his threadbare coat. No one who knows him dare employ him, for he is a regular fire-brand of discontent. He is impervious to reason, and the only thing that can impress him is the toe of a thick-soled No. 9 boot.

Of course I know that one so morally deformed is no less to be pitied than a physical cripple; but in our pitying, let us drop a tear, too, for the men who are striving to carry on a great enterprise, whose working hours are not limited by the whistle, and whose hair is fast turning white through the struggle to hold in line dowdy indifference, slip-shod imbecility, and the heartless ingratitude, which, but for their enterprise, would be both hungry & homeless.

Have I put the matter too strongly? Possibly I have; but when all the world has gone a-slumming I wish to speak a word of sympathy for the man who succeeds- the man who, against great odds has directed the efforts of others, and having succeeded, finds there’s nothing in it: nothing but bare board and clothes.

I have carried a dinner pail & worked for day’s wages, and I have also been an employer of labor, and I know there is something to be said on both sides. There is no excellence, per se, in poverty; rags are no recommendation; & all employers are not rapacious and high-handed, any more than all poor men are virtuous.

My heart goes out to the man who does his work when the "boss" is away, as well as when he is at home. And the man who, when given a letter for Garcia, quietly take the missive, without asking any idiotic questions, and with no lurking intention of chucking it into the nearest sewer, or of doing aught else but deliver it, never gets "laid off," nor has to go on a strike for higher wages. Civilization is one long anxious search for just such individuals. Anything such a man asks shall be granted; his kind is so rare that no employer can afford to let him go. He is wanted in every city, town and village- in every office, shop, store and factory. The world cries out for such: he is needed, & needed badly- the man who can carry a message to Garcia.

Weekender

My hubby whisked me away for a long, scandalous date at the lake this weekend. He has been planning it for quite some time now, typing up itineraries, tweaking itineraries.... you know, doing the Dave Low thing.

My wonderful mother, sister, and brother stayed at our house and took care of our boys. The boys were in heaven.

When I was in California, Dave took my boys to the Pickleville Playhouse to see Bandito Rides Again. My boys loved it. The couldn't stop talking about it, and Isaac practically memorized the play. I've never been to the Pickleville Playhouse before. Dave taught some of the children of the owners, and most of the cast. So it was especially fun for him.

So when he planned this date, he got tickets for both Bandito (the melodrama) and Crazy for You. They were both fabulous, and extremely entertaining. We laughed almost the whole time. I had no idea I was missing out all these years at Bear Lake by not going to Pickleville.

Friday night we arrived in Garden City and ate at Cafe Sabor. It's one of my favorite restaurants ever. Then we went to the play. It was fabulous.

We slept at the Low Family Cabin (really a house) and in the morning we went Four Wheeling and Jetskiing. Unfortunately it was pretty windy and I hated the jetskiing. It's funny now, looking back, my ears hurt, I was cold and wet, and we hit a big wave. Water filled up my eye and bent back my eyelid. I started sobbing. Like a baby. Dave started laughing. Promising me we were almost back, but laughing. I couldn't stop crying and he couldn't stop laughing. It was pretty funny. I was so happy to be back. We packed up and left, and got in the hot tub at the cabin, and I was much happier. We cleaned up, ate dinner, and went to Bandito. It was a lot of fun. We grabbed a raspberry shake and drove home.

I love my sweet husband for planning this fun little getaway for me. Thanks Dave! And Mom!

Californ-I-A

After Aimee died we started planning the Aimee life celebration trip. It was wonderful. In pretty much every way. We had something to look forward to while we planned it. We got a fantastic trip. We spent time together without distractions. We did things together that we had never done before. And we made memories that will last forever. We gave all the credit to Aimee. It was completely her idea. And she paid for it.

Well, this time there was absolutely no warning of death. No one has ever been more sure they would live. My dad had relatively nothing in place in case he died. He KNEW he would outlive my mom. So naturally, there was no plan for what to do when he died.

But come on. We're educated. We're travel saavy. We can come up with our own trip. And after those few months of death, and birth, and spending every waking moment picking up the pieces that my dad left behind, there was NO ONE ON EARTH who needed a trip more than my mom. She had been through so much, I can barely comprehend it looking back. Notwithstanding the fact that our other family members were experiencing much along with her. And I was trying to raise four young boys, finish a basement almost singlehandedly (Dave did help, but he is always so busy it's hard to find time with him), and coach my mom through a large percentage of figuring out her new life. I spent 1-2 days a week in Bountiful helping her clean out her house, figure out finances, paint, plan, and just keep going. I was so proud of her, she worked so hard. And she would sit down and rest sometimes while I worked and then she would get back up and keep going when I told her not to. While I did coach her through lots of things, she spent a lot of hours figuring out things herself, which she had NEVER, EVER done before.

So amidst all the working we began to plan our relief vacation. Of course, while Dad didn't plan the vacation for us, we used his hard earned Marriott points and his hard earned money to pay for it. We enjoyed planning the vacation. We felt a small bit of relief amidst the craziness when we remembered we had it ahead of us. And when it came........ It.was.awesome!

Mari wanted to go to Phoenix for a few weeks to visit her friends, so she wasn't there. Josh went to visit his teacher who moved to St. George, and had a wonderful time, they spoiled him rotten. And we went to Californ-I-A.

Although we have lived in the West for 18 years, for some reason the Biada family still thinks they are East Coasters. The Biada family has never taken a trip to Disneyland. They always went to Disneyworld even when they lived in Utah. Our beach trips have always been tropical or Maine. We've never been on a California beach trip. Until now.

We packed up the Ford Taurus (still haven't sold Jessica's car :). We got in the Taurus with minimal belongings and drove to California. We enjoyed the drive so much. We could have driven there and back and had quite a nice trip just from the drive. We loved being together and talking and singing Indigo Girls.

We stopped half way, in Mesquite, NV. Lauren, showing off her fancy GPS, spoke to it and asked it to take us to the Virgin River. We started driving and within a few miles we really felt like we were headed to the middle of nowhere. We learned that Miss-Fancy-Pants-GPS was actually taking us to the river, you must specify the Virgin River HOTEL. We stayed at the world's BIGGEST dive there at the Virgin River Hotel for $24.99 a night. The tap was hot. Realllllllllly hot. There was no cold water option. So we brushed our teeth with hot water. Yuck. But we slept, woke, and drove on.

We got to our destination in Fountain Valley (Close to Huntington Beach) and went inside to check in. We had accidentally walked into the Courtyard Marriott instead of the Residence Inn. We drove next door to the Residence Inn and went to check in. Our reservation wasn't until the next night. Somehow my mom had gotten the dates wrong, which no one seemed to care about, we were just happy to be there. So we drove back over to the Courtyard Marriott, since it was cheaper. But after having gone in there already, we were a little embarrassed to go back in.

So I did what anyone would do, I disguised myself. I put on Lauren's big, thick, black glasses, put a cardigan over my shirt, pulled my hair up and put a big flower on the side, and walked slowly back in (Yeah, the glasses made me a little dizzy). We got ourselves a room, went to dinner at Macaroni Grill, (MMmmmmmm) and headed over to the beach.

We got in the hot tub that night where we learned that the next day was the first day of a HUGE surfing competition at Huntington Beach. So we drove up to Sunset Beach the next day, and had a wonderful time at the beach. It was beautiful, we jumped in the waves, buried our legs in the sand, and then got absolutely mesmerized by the ocean and lay there in a half-sleeping stupor while we all sunburned various parts of our body (except Lauren, her face was burned, but not real bad...... NOT FAIR). I had sunscreen on, but I failed to properly apply it to the back of my knees and a 1" strip of skin on my back that hung out where my shirt and my shorts gapped. Yeah, it hurt.

On Sunday we went to church and then Lauren, Kate and I drove out to see the Hollywood sign. After our lesson on the GPS, we just told the GPS to take us to the Hollywood sign and it did it. That place is crazy. I thought we lived on the bench here in Utah. They live on a cliff with narrow, winding roads that can barely fit 2 cars. It's a death wish. We went and explored Hollywood BLVD a little bit and learned it's pretty much a trash hole. Every third store front is a tattoo shop. Who on Earth is getting all those tattoos? The two stores in between the tattoo shops most likely sell Hookah or trashy lingerie. I was appalled. But there were some awesome malls, so we decided to go back the next day.

I found the perfect dress for me. I ABSOLUTELY LOVE IT, IS THAT CLEAR? Seriously, so I bought it and another awesome dress which I am saving for the cold weather. We did some other shopping around and then Lauren googled some places to go eat. She thought maybe there was a Serendipity in Los Angeles, so she asked her GPS to find Serendipity and was thrilled that there was one! We drove out to a rather odd location in the city, and tried to park. Most of the meters were broken, so I dropped them off and went all over the place looking for a working meter. I finally found one and made the long walk back to my family and we walked back to Serendipity. Yeah, well apparently "Serendipity" in Los Angeles is a drug store. Yeah. It was pretty funny. So we drove to the other mall we were planning to shop at and ate at the Cheesecake Factory, and how can you go wrong with that?

I was thinking that was pretty much the end of our story. We packed up and left the next day. The drive home was fairly uneventful.......

Um, not really. It was smooth sailing until we hit Provo. One minor detail about the Taurus. You see it is a 1999, but only has 60,000 miles on it. So it's quite a reliable car, but it is old enough to not have much value anymore. The gas gauge sensor is broken. So you never know how much gas you have in the Taurus. You can fill it up and the gas light will turn on. So we just filled up with gas approximately every 300 miles. We stopped about 100 miles South of Provo to fill up and we were hit with a ridiculous downpour/hail. No one dared get out of the car, so I braved the storm and filled up the car with gas. It was painful at first when it was hailing, but when I went out to put the cap back on, I got completely soaked in the quick run to throw the cap on, slam the little door and run back. I mean completely soaked, almost like I had jumped into a pool. I told my family not to expect the a/c on for the rest of the trip because I was cold, and if they wanted to be cool, they better hop out of the car for a second and join me in wetness. They didn't do it. I think it was a poor choice. They were probably pretty hot for awhile.

On the Freeway in Provo, in the midst of some nasty construction, the Taurus died. I was in the left lane, but even as I moved over to the right lane, there was no shoulder. Just barricades. Really close together barricades. The kind that tell you that they REALLY don't want you to ignore the barricades. As we approached to exit, we slowed down to 40 mph, and I knew I had no choice but to make my own shoulder. The barricades thinned out a bit by the exit and I pulled in between them. I was extremely blessed to notice the fact that the reason for the barricades was a 6 foot drop off, where the shoulder ought to have been. Yeah, not a hill. A perpendicular drop off. A 90 degree angle down. My front right tire was about 2 feet away from dropping off. We would have rolled.

We called a tow truck and found out very quickly that all rental car companies in Provo close at 6:00 pm. We were stranded. We called our friend Nathan Herbert, and he was so UNBELIEVABLY kind to pick us up and take us to West Bountiful.

We got a phone call the next day telling us that the Taurus ran out of gas. Yup. I guess in my rain-bucket-dodging haste I failed to notice that the gas turned off prematurely and we didn't get very much gas. The hail probably hit it and turned it off. All that trauma for nothing.

So that, my friends, is the end of the story. It was a wonderful trip, we loved it all, we got away from life, we were together. And here are the pictures:










At Grauman's Theatre



Our "breakdown" scene


If you click on this picture you can kinda see the dropoff. See that barricade under the cliff? Yup, it's straight down.

I sent my child away for approximately 7 hours

5 days a week. Until June. Not counting Holidays.

My mother bear instincts kicked in. I almost ran onto the bus, chomped my teeth onto his neck and dragged him home. Okay, not quite, but I did change my mind. I wanted him to come back. I mouthed I.Love.You. to him on the bus and he nodded his head as if to say, "I know." And then as they drove away he waved to me, for a long time. It was sweet. And now he's gone.

I don't feel good about this. This is way too long. He will come home, do his homework, eat dinner and go to bed. No more fun in life. I don't have the heart to tell him that, but he will figure it out soon. My baby. They want to keep him from me all day.

Where did Kindergarten go? Kindergarten was so perfect. They took him on a bus for me, fed him lunch, and brought him home. We had the rest of the day together.

I am reminded of a letter I read when I was pregnant with Isaac. It is a letter written on the night before delivery by Vanessa Sands to her unborn child. She says this:

"Now starts the first, most heartbreaking lesson of parenting, learned anew with every newborn child: to love completely, we must first let go."

I guess it's a lesson I have learned before. Every time I deliver a baby I reluctantly give up the one and only thing that I enjoy about pregnancy: that no one else has ever held my baby. No other human has ever touched that baby. My baby. And once he comes out, a countless number of people will hold, talk to, and impact that child for the rest of his life.

To love completely we must first let go. And so we ship our children off on a big, yellow school bus and give them the opportunity to be impacted, whether it be for good or bad. And we can't control it once they're there. But we do it so they can grow, and learn, and progress in life. Which ultimately makes us burst with pride as parents. So I guess it all comes back to selfish motives.

So happy first day of first grade Isaac. And YES, it will be hard. YES, I remember how hard first grade was. YES, the day will be long. YES, you will come home better and smarter than you left that morning. And YES, I will burst with pride as I see your progress.

Isaac seeing his desk for the first time.


Isaac's teacher Mrs. Miller. She is wonderful. I've heard only the best things about her. She is happy and sweet and Isaac will love her guts. Isaac has some of the very best behaved children in his class from our neighborhood, I think Mrs. Miller will have a great class this year. I'm happy for her! And thrilled that Isaac is in this class. Today he is sitting next to his long time friend Reese, they've been friends since they were babies. I hope he behaves well.




Stopping to say hi to the neighbor girls.


At the bus stop


Isn't he big??????!!!!!!


Running to get on the bus




Come back Isaac!!!!! Let's homeschool!

Only a child could

Come crawl in your bed at 7:00 am...... Fall out of your bed at 7:20 am...... And sleep right there on the floor through your 7:30 am alarm even when you run into the room and turn off the alarm.

I'ts 7:34 am and Henry George is STILL asleep on my floor.

Eyes that Glow

There are a select few of you out there who know why I named this post the way I did. The rest of you can take it literally because these boys' eyes really do glow. These are completely unedited shots of my boys that I got today. If you click on the pictures to make them bigger you will see how piercing blue their eyes are. Which means that 50% of my mission was accomplished. The other 50% was to get them brown hair. Darn. But at least they have their daddy's eyes.