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.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
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.
Monday, August 30, 2010
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!
Friday, August 27, 2010
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.
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.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
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!
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.
I'ts 7:34 am and Henry George is STILL asleep on my floor.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
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.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
The cutest you'll ever look while pooping your pants
That's what the commercial says. So at EFY the BCs and Coordinators bought baby G. the new Huggies Denim Diapers. And I had to take pictures of him in his cute diapers.
My baby G.
This little baby is so sweet. He sleeps most of the time. Seriously, he does. It's a good thing though, because he is a lot of trouble when he is awake. He is probably the chubbiest one year old I have had, and he takes eating very seriously. It is the first thing he does when he wakes up. He wakes ups, points to things, and goes straight to his high chair.
He is so cute, I munch of these cheeks all the time but.......
Every meal time results in this. Which gets really old!
He is so cute, I munch of these cheeks all the time but.......
Every meal time results in this. Which gets really old!
Rock Stars
This is the new cool thing at my house. Dress up like rock stars and jam to the music. Even G. gets into it. These boys actually have some pretty good moves some times. And they LOVE performing.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Tonsillectomies
On Sunday I felt the beginning stages of Strep coming. I started right onto antibiotics.
On Monday I had a yearly checkup. (I've never had one of those before, I've always been pregnant) My doctor looked at my tonsils and recommended getting them out soon, especially before I think about getting pregnant again.
On Tuesday we took the whole crew to the ENT and he looked at my tonsils. Said they need to come out. Looked at Dave's tonsils, cringed and said they need to come out. Looked at Dawson, said his face was developing flat because he didn't breathe through his nose and that he needed them out. Looked at Dawson's tonsils and cringed again. Heard Dawson talk and said that his speech would be greatly improved without those tonsils. (Note, Dawson had absolutely no space between his tonsils, his entire throat was filled with them, and he wasn't even sick). Looked at Henry for good measure and recommended his come out too. Scheduled Dave and Dawson for the very next day so that Dave would be fully recovered when school started.
Tuesday afternoon I called Dave extremely annoyed that I left that office without an appointment. I told him there was no time for me to get mine out then. He can take off work for his tonsils, but he won't take it off for MINE! So he called and asked if we could switch. They said yes. He called me, and I told him no. I changed my mind, I was never getting them out. He gave me five minutes to make my decision, but strongly encouraged me to do it. I called a friend and she told me to do it.
Wednesday we went to the hospital and they took Dawson back first. I got REALLY scared. It seems like a stupid idea to get surgery when you feel healthy. It's like how so many people are scared of epidurals until they are in pain, and then they don't care how big the needle is. I wasn't feeling pain, why would I voluntarily walk into an OR and come back out in pain. Seemed like a dumb thing to do.
Dave spent the 25 minutes we waited making me laugh. Until I cried. Seriously, he was being so funny. He was over-dramatizing the tonsillectomy procedure, improving it each time he did it. Then he was making armpit noises with his shoe and pretending it was his armpit when the anesthesiologist walked in. It was pretty funny. I'm glad he was there to take my mind off of things.
I walked into the OR and they started making me feel good. I like the feeling when they put you to sleep.
When I woke up I started to cry. The nurse asked me what was wrong. I told her I wanted my dad to come back. I couldn't stop crying. I don't remember my dad being there. I don't remember dreaming about him. I just remember the feeling that he left me. I heard the nurse tell someone what I said, so I told her that he died 3 months ago. I wish I could remember in what capacity he was there. But I'm glad I spent a few minutes with him regardless of how I did it.
They wheeled me back in with Dawson and he was sleeping. Dave seemed happy to see me. He crawled in bed with me and I was so happy. I was surprised by how good I felt. Just really sleepy.
Everyone told me that kids bounce back way quicker than adults. That Dawson would do so much better than me. They just don't know Dawson. He is so sensitive. He has had a really rough time. He is in way more pain than I am.
I am doing great. I ate a grilled cheese sandwich last night. I am talking fine and eating fine. I can go without the pain meds, but have decided I am more comfortable with them. I am just impressed that it is do-able without the narcotics. I can't believe how good I feel, and I hope it doesn't get worse.
Dawson's legs were suddenly "tired" when it came time to walk into the hospital. Poor baby, it's a good thing I know you really need your tonsils out, or I wouldn't do this to you.
This poor guy had to fast all day. He was starving and really impatient for the doctor to come. Coloring kept his mind off his hunger for awhile.
This is a series of his complaining faces. He was REALLY sick of waiting
As they walked him to the OR he was naming all the colors of Popsicles he was going to eat when he was done.
This was me trying to hide so they didn't come to get me. Shortly after this photograph the stand up comedy began and I was better off.
Dawson right after he was done. He drank a TON, then fell asleep.
This is me an hour after surgery. Not too bad, right?
They brought us an oversized wheelchair so we could share.
On Monday I had a yearly checkup. (I've never had one of those before, I've always been pregnant) My doctor looked at my tonsils and recommended getting them out soon, especially before I think about getting pregnant again.
On Tuesday we took the whole crew to the ENT and he looked at my tonsils. Said they need to come out. Looked at Dave's tonsils, cringed and said they need to come out. Looked at Dawson, said his face was developing flat because he didn't breathe through his nose and that he needed them out. Looked at Dawson's tonsils and cringed again. Heard Dawson talk and said that his speech would be greatly improved without those tonsils. (Note, Dawson had absolutely no space between his tonsils, his entire throat was filled with them, and he wasn't even sick). Looked at Henry for good measure and recommended his come out too. Scheduled Dave and Dawson for the very next day so that Dave would be fully recovered when school started.
Tuesday afternoon I called Dave extremely annoyed that I left that office without an appointment. I told him there was no time for me to get mine out then. He can take off work for his tonsils, but he won't take it off for MINE! So he called and asked if we could switch. They said yes. He called me, and I told him no. I changed my mind, I was never getting them out. He gave me five minutes to make my decision, but strongly encouraged me to do it. I called a friend and she told me to do it.
Wednesday we went to the hospital and they took Dawson back first. I got REALLY scared. It seems like a stupid idea to get surgery when you feel healthy. It's like how so many people are scared of epidurals until they are in pain, and then they don't care how big the needle is. I wasn't feeling pain, why would I voluntarily walk into an OR and come back out in pain. Seemed like a dumb thing to do.
Dave spent the 25 minutes we waited making me laugh. Until I cried. Seriously, he was being so funny. He was over-dramatizing the tonsillectomy procedure, improving it each time he did it. Then he was making armpit noises with his shoe and pretending it was his armpit when the anesthesiologist walked in. It was pretty funny. I'm glad he was there to take my mind off of things.
I walked into the OR and they started making me feel good. I like the feeling when they put you to sleep.
When I woke up I started to cry. The nurse asked me what was wrong. I told her I wanted my dad to come back. I couldn't stop crying. I don't remember my dad being there. I don't remember dreaming about him. I just remember the feeling that he left me. I heard the nurse tell someone what I said, so I told her that he died 3 months ago. I wish I could remember in what capacity he was there. But I'm glad I spent a few minutes with him regardless of how I did it.
They wheeled me back in with Dawson and he was sleeping. Dave seemed happy to see me. He crawled in bed with me and I was so happy. I was surprised by how good I felt. Just really sleepy.
Everyone told me that kids bounce back way quicker than adults. That Dawson would do so much better than me. They just don't know Dawson. He is so sensitive. He has had a really rough time. He is in way more pain than I am.
I am doing great. I ate a grilled cheese sandwich last night. I am talking fine and eating fine. I can go without the pain meds, but have decided I am more comfortable with them. I am just impressed that it is do-able without the narcotics. I can't believe how good I feel, and I hope it doesn't get worse.
Dawson's legs were suddenly "tired" when it came time to walk into the hospital. Poor baby, it's a good thing I know you really need your tonsils out, or I wouldn't do this to you.
This poor guy had to fast all day. He was starving and really impatient for the doctor to come. Coloring kept his mind off his hunger for awhile.
This is a series of his complaining faces. He was REALLY sick of waiting
As they walked him to the OR he was naming all the colors of Popsicles he was going to eat when he was done.
This was me trying to hide so they didn't come to get me. Shortly after this photograph the stand up comedy began and I was better off.
Dawson right after he was done. He drank a TON, then fell asleep.
This is me an hour after surgery. Not too bad, right?
They brought us an oversized wheelchair so we could share.
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