At bedtime my two youngest always ask for a story about when I was little. It seems I struggle a bit more these days than I used to in recalling stories from my past. They try to jog my memory by saying, "Remember the story when you hit that girl?" I tell them adamantly that I did not hit a girl. "I have never hit another human being, ever. I chucked a snowball at her face, yes, and I was mad at her, but I didn't hit her hit her. And she would've killed me had she gotten a hold of me. Luckily we became friends and laughed about it years later."

Then they go on, "Remember when you fell off your horse and landed on your back on a cow pie?"
"Yep, I remember that clearly. There was a big splat." I say as I bring the covers up and tuck them around their shoulders.
"Or how about the time you were in a greased pig contest?"
"I told you that one? Yeah, I almost had him. I doubt if we'd do that today. Probably not nice for the pigs."
"Or when you use to go haying with your dad and get a milkshake and sit on the hay bales on the truck?"
"I like the one about the goat trying to eat your name tag on your first grade field trip, when the name tag was still around your neck and your mom got into a tug of war with him."

That memory made me laugh out loud. I could still see my mom's face as she wrestled with the goat to get the name tag out of his mouth. She said to me, "Goats like to chew on anything!" as I was becoming nose-to-nose with him.

And that's where they got me to tell another story, drudged up from the vault of memories.

Moments like this remind me that putting down the fairy tale book in favor of a story about when you were young can make for some great storytelling. And I like to think that my kids can more easily envision me when I was like them.

All five of my lovelies with me and Jon in the background talking with Belén's grandpa-in-law

Gathering for autumn displays - Union Mill Acres

When I was young we were forever going somewhere, anywhere, to just get out and explore. Even if my mom was just going to the corner store, we all darted out to the car as if we'd been cooped up for months and this was our only escape. Even now I tell my kids, 'Please, act like you've been in public before" because they are loud and crazy and act like they're limited in outings of any kind. When they hear the sound of me taking the keys off the hook, they come running to see where I am going, every one of them. I guess it's in their nature.

I still like to go and see what's around and this time of year I can always find something that will make us happy. For us it's festivals, craft fairs, walking trails, farms, football games, pumpkin patches, hay rides; anything Autumn.

We went to a little place in the country (which is pretty much any direction you go here) and stocked up on gourds, pumpkins and mums. Union Mill Acres was adorable and the people were friendly and helpful. There was a great assortment of everything you need for fall displays and the prices were the best around unless you go to the auction directly.

What a great place. Just see for yourself...



A barn with more things for sale. This would be my dream, having a barn on property to have a little shop!

Blair picking out a pumpkin

A topiary of gourds and pumpkins, good price too.

Cinderella pumpkins - my favorite

Gourd crazy

Trae pulling the mums for me until he discovered the sand box (upper right corner)



Handsome hubby carrying Blair's pick

So clever. I have never seen this before.






I hope you are enjoying this season as much as I am - hopefully even more!

xo

Laura




I lie to my children

The snowball tree grew in such a way that it created what looked like an igloo. When I was little I would play inside with my dolls and make fairy furniture for the fairies that I thought lived there. Those were magical moments for me.

While I was on a walk with Blair she asked, "Do you believe in fairies?" and even before I could say, "Of course." she said, " 'Cause I do!"

I'm not one to spoil any thoughts about what is "magical" for my kids. Sure, I will even lie about it when they ask if something is real, like fairies or Santa.

I'm guessing it may not be the "right" thing to do by some standards but the day will soon come when the truth is out and I don't think it will be a mind blowing, earth shattering, negative experience for anyone. It will just be what it is -a natural progression of learning. If my kids ever see a therapist it won't be because I told them Santa was real. There are plenty of other ways I have screwed them up I'm sure.

Sometime last year, I found salt all over Reese's windowsill. When I asked him why, he said it was to keep the Sprites away from the Fairies but that he needed more salt. So I bought him a supply, keeping the magic alive one more day. He eventually went on to discover other things and left behind his salty windowsill. Natural progression.

So it was to my delight over the weekend when I saw Charley teaching Blair how to make a fairy house in our backyard just like I had taught her some years before.

I ventured over to have a look and stood back to admire the house's construction. Then I lifted off the bark roof to peek inside.

Yep, it's pretty magical.

See for yourself...

Large pieces of bark and twigs bound together to look like a stump, complete with flag.

Peeking through the top

Fairy dust glistening on the leaf and roof

A peek at the pretty buttons and a trophy cup from a recent birthday party.

What do you/did you tell your childen?

Gotta fight for your rights - a story

Trae and Blair enjoying their lunch alfresco.

The other day someone said to me that they couldn't see me getting mad.

Well, I do. And I have plenty of times. Mainly they are just irritations and I hate to yell but I do occasionally, on too many occasions I am sure.
But no, I haven't really, really been mad in a long time - the kind of mad where I wanted to hit someone. That kind of mad.

I have never hit anyone by the way.
The closest I got was throwing a snowball at the face of a neighbor girl when she came up to sled down my driveway.

And now the rest of the story...

We lived out in the country on the side of a hill overlooking a valley. Having the longest hill to use for sledding invited everyone to come up especially when it was icy. You could really get in a nice run under those conditions. It was like our personal bobsled course.

After I put on all of my snow gear, I excitedly went outside because this girl was sledding in my yard after all. I had a silver aluminum saucer that was super fast and I was ready to go.

When I got out there she said I wasn't invited to sled with her. I was so surprised I couldn't even fathom the thought of not being invited to play, especially on my own property.

So I told her to get off of my land, then. She yelled, "No!" and tried to intimidate me with a stern look. She could have knocked me out in one punch too. I told her again that if she was going to sled in my yard and driveway, then I could too. Seemed fair to me.

She, again, said no and this time pushed me out of the way. I was really mad at the injustice of that moment so all I could think of doing was pack a big icy snowball and chuck it at her. So I did and it was a perfect aim, hitting her smack dab in the middle of the forehead. The snowball broke apart and chunks of snow landed in her eyebrows and eyelashes. I was really surprised at myself and then had an "Uh oh!" moment.

She couldn't decide if she was going to let go of the sled and send her brother down the icy slope off our hillside or kill me.

She chose to kill me. I chose to run.
Do you know it's really hard to run in 2 feet of snow??

Meanwhile, her little brother went sailing down the hill and crashed into a bank.

So I was panting and trying to high step it. I could see my breath as I began to breathe hard. I kept looking back to see if she was coming and kept slipping on the ice underneath the layer of snow. She was gaining on me and I knew for sure I was going to get beat up. Her brother finally made it back up the hill dragging the sled behind him. She yelled at him to go back and get their dad.
I wondered why she was asking that. Did she need help hiding my body??

Just then I heard my brother's voice yell from a window of our house. I was saved, I thought and stopped running. I was so happy for being the youngest.
Brett, being 6 years older than me, could handle my tormentor so he came outside and marched to where we were.

With a commanding stance and a challenging voice, he said, "Oh yeah? Go ahead and get your dad. I'll go get my mom...and she can yell louder than anyone!"

They quickly left and we felt triumphant in defending our rights and strangely proud of my mother's ability to yell.

Some things are better left unsaid

A few days ago, Jon was met with two kids on the couch fighting to be the Emperor of TV Remote Kingdom when he came home from work.

They were jumping on the couch while one was trying to grab it from the other as arms were raised to keep it away. Meanwhile all sorts of buttons on the remote were being pressed, not to mention Jon's after he repeatedly told them to stop.

Hearing the disruption and ready to put an end to it, he walked into the living room to take control. Just as he stood in front of the kids to snatch the remote, he saw the TV screen go to black after the "OK" button had been pressed to accept movie charges.

"Hey!!" he said, and held out his hand for the remote. Then he looked toward the TV and the screen went on pause and then from black right into a movie. There was no intro, no music, no "What's new on demand" features, just straight into the first scene.

In an instant Jon flung himself toward the TV, as if he were saving someone from a barrage of bullets from the war enemy, like in WWII movies. With a wide stance and his back to the kids, he wrapped himself around the TV and quickly shut it off. He turned around to the kids and said, "I have to go talk to your mother about this!!"

He bounded down the stairs and came to where I was working and pointed up to the ceiling saying, "The 5 year-old. The 5 year-old just ordered a movie. I want you to know that it wasn't me. When the bill comes and you see an ADULT FILM on there, it was not, I repeat, NOT me. Just wanted you to know." We both cracked up.

We were supposed to be on our way to get some Chinese take-out but I told Jon I needed to call Comcast first to have the movie removed. He said to do that on the way but I couldn't get through since his dumb phone is well, so dumb. Its touch screen won't allow you to press any numbers when prompted to do so by an automated voice. I don't know why those automated services can't accept both dial and voice commands.

"21st century, my foot!" I yelled at the phone.

So I had to wait until we returned. "Great!" I complained. "It'll be noted in the system that it was ordered a half an hour ago so they'll wonder why it took so long to cancel."

"Boom chicka woww wowww..." said Jon.

I finally was able to call and explained to customer service that my 5 and 9 year old, in their struggle for TV remote power, ordered a dirty movie. She laughed and asked if I remembered the name of the movie.

"Uh, no, (insert nervous laughter because of a total lie. I'm a firm believer that some things are just better left unsaid...) I don't, but it'll be the only adult film on our bill. Ever."

So last night, as we were discussing this series of events over sushi, Jon was recounting what had happened and I was laughing. I said, "Well, at least the kids didn't see anything."

"Not much" he said.

"What do you mean not much??!"

"Well it went right into the movie without any warning."

"You mean, (with my arms making music gestures) no da da daa daaa...Time Warner television presents, no lion roar or anything?"

"Nope."

I just stared blankly at Jon and said, "You mean??..."

"Yep."

"What did you say?" I asked.

"I just told them we weren't going to watch wrestling." and just then he dropped a large piece of sushi from his chopsticks right into the soy sauce dish causing a big splash on the table.

And we lost it after that.

"Hold on, I gotta get a picture of this"

is a familiar phrase that the kids hear me say.
When I asked Blair to get ready for the day, she raced to her room and came out donning this outfit. I can always count on her to dress to the nines. I called her look "Office Manager Chic."

Trae, on the other hand, was jumping on my bed with a diaper on his head. It's not uncommon for him to try to take off his pants when he goes outside. I asked if he was going to wear that when we go to the store and he said, "No mommy, I wear pants. Pants manger sheet." (Pants Manager chic)

So now he is the Pants Manager, thank goodness.

Our neighbors will be so happy that his streaking season is over.

The jig is up

As I was walking up the stairs to the living room I heard a little voice say "NUH-SING!"

("Nothing" in Trae-speak)

I thought that was funny because I hadn't asked what was happening nor did I see anything yet. I walked around the corner with my curiosity at its peak and found Trae standing there smiling, holding out an unopened package of super glue for me. I told him thank you and he, being happy with himself, said "You're welcome MOM!" yelling the last word as he went hopping down the hall.

Interesting that even at 2 years-old they know when the jig is up, isn't it?

Names. We all have them.

This photo is from a recent family session.

When I was in 6Th grade I wanted to be known as Dallas. I wished my parents had named me that. Never mind that it sounded pole dancer-ish (no offense) I went about signing my name that way, even on school papers.

I got over that phase when my mom gave me a silver ring that was a circle of laurel leaves. My name derives from the Latin name Laurus, which meant "laurel." The leaves of the Laurel tree were used to create victors' garlands in ancient Rome. So the meaning of my name evolved into "Victory." I liked that but then I thought they should have just named me Laurel since that sounded way cooler than Laura.
I was sure I couldn't find the name Laurel on a pencil.

By the time I was in 7Th grade, I had a list of names for my future children. On my list were Ashley, Emma, Brianne, Caroline, Sunnie, Jesse, Courtland, Eugenie, Carmen and Jacqueline. I ended up not using any of them.
For boys I just had Joseph, Shane and John. I wanted to name a boy John so I could call him "John John" just like Jackie Kennedy. I ended up marrying a boy named Jon whose mom did call him "Jon-Jon." Trae's middle name is Jonathon so that's as close as I got.

When naming our children, we didn't want to go too far into nut-case land but wanted to have something unique and couldn't be found on that pencil in a souvenir shop. Well, maybe that was just me. So far no one has found their name, which has backfired a few times. Do you know how much extra you have to pay to have something personalized? Except for Reese, when he wants something with his name on it, he heads straight for a Reese's peanut butter cup and I'm only out 79 cents.

Have you ever wanted a different name? Do you like your name?

While I wasn't looking - Part two

With a lot of work to do I let "Umizoomi" babysit and this is what happened...

Can you guess the culprit?

Yup. That little one right there trying to look innocent.

I took a picture this time, just for you Tauna,

since you asked if I had taken one of the red pen incident!

Let's hope he gives me better photo ops in the future.

Ignoring you - my bad

Mom working on the computer.


One red marker.


A two year-old boy.


A blank canvas of a couch.


Ouch.

Frightful candies and Halloween memories

Trae's not Halloween mask. He just wears it when the mood strikes.


I was just reading about the 5 worst Halloween candies. One for example is the fun-size Butterfinger. It boasts 100 calories per bar and 4 grams of fat. Luckily, I don't eat those. It's replacement it says should be the fun-size Three Musketeers bar. Eating three of them is only 63 calories and 2 grams of fat. I do like those. So that seems like a no-brainer.

I remember as a kid going trick-or-treating. We lived out in the country so we would drive to all of our "neighbors" in the valley, which numbered about 10 of us total. Our neighbors dotted the sides of the hills and down into the valley. Walking to each house would take all night so we drove. And it usually rained too so trick-or-treating by car was the best method.

Everyone gave out large candy bars because each family only got about 8 trick-or-treaters total and 4 of them were from my family.

Then we'd drive over to my Aunt's and to some of my parents' friends houses to show off our costumes. Again, it was always the big candy bar give-a-way. By now we had about 15 large candy bars. We thought it was great but we wanted a whole bag of goods. It was like me explaining to my toddlers now that a dime is worth more but they insist on the penny because it's bigger.

After that we'd finally get into town and hit some real housing developments where we would get the chance to score lots of candy. And later we'd dump it all out on the living room floor and assess our loot, wincing at the Pears and Sucrets that some people gave.

I liked pears but they had to be crunchy. And the Sucrets were always cherry which I didn't like but they were better than the Hall's Mentholatum that we got too. Some grandmas were just trying to make sure that we stayed healthy I guess.

I still look forward to Halloween. It's fun but what a weird holiday though - sending our kids out in costumes and begging for candy, right? They always say "trick or treat" but no one has ever requested a trick from them. I guess in some parts that would mean something different but I'm talking about a prank, an optical illusion - something of that sort! I guess I should teach them a card trick just in case they are finally asked...

So if you participate, what is your favorite item to hand out?

I actually wouldn't mind getting Sucrets or Hall's this year. There's a cold coming on...

While mom is asleep

While not normally a complainer, let me tell you that yesterday threw me the worst migraine I have had in recent memory. It was the kind that kept me in bed all day with a bag of frozen edamame strategically placed right over my eyes and on top of my head.
I kept the kids in my room and turned on the t.v. so I could somewhat keep my eye on them, even if my eyes were shut.

I must have dozed off because I awoke to a little boy who looked like he had been dipped in a bin of flour. I wanted to take a picture of him but I could barely open my eyes. I wasn't worried, I knew Trae would give me more opportunities to document his messes. So I followed the perfectly white, powdery footprints which led me to a HUGE mound of powdered sugar in the middle of the kitchen floor. The girls cleaned it up for me when they got home from school and I went back to bed.

Then Jon got home and came in to the bedroom wearing hilarious glasses which caused me to laugh and made my head hurt worse. He was asked at work if he had to mug a 90 year-old person to get those things. After walking out in to the kitchen, he promptly returned to the room, grabbed my camera and came back with this photo.

I knew there would be other moments and Trae didn't disappoint.

Luckily the headache is gone and I even got in a brisk walk this morning, so I am ready for this 2 year-old.

Hardly laborious

Labor Day signals the end of summer and the ushering in of what I describe as one of the most breathtaking of all seasons. I loved the lazy days of summer but I look forward to seeing the leaves change colors, warming up the house with fall decorations, the smell of pumpkins and hearty soups on the stove.

Summer was great though but it's time for a change.

Growing up we always celebrated this changing of time on Labor Day with a family picnic. Two of my dad's sisters lived nearby so we always got together with them. There was always badminton, horseshoes, making hay mazes in the barn and my Aunt Janet's killer potato salad. As everyone got older, left home, got married and had kids, these mini-reunions just didn't happen like they used to.

And that's okay because new traditions are made.

So without our extended families around us, we just play together on Labor Day. After hamburgers, we went to the playground at Reese's elementary school because we love that it's tucked away from everything...and we played until the sun went down.

What did you do for Labor Day? I hope it was great!

Hugs,

Laura

Just enough for Four

The little girl could barely touch the ground with her big toe while sitting on the edge of the merry-go-round. She stretched her foot as far as she could and was able to gently push herself around. The ride crept along at a snail's pace.

She hopped off and with her hands securely on the bars, she leaned into the metal structure and pushed. She pushed and ran as fast as she could, trying not to let her legs fall under. In one motion, she jumped back onto the bar and in a cradle position, leaned back and looked up at the trees. Spinning on the merry-go-round while looking up made her dizzy and caused her to giggle. She did this over and over until she realized that the park had gone quiet.

Remembering that her shoes were placed next to her mom on the bleachers, she back to see if they were there. The shoes were gone and so was everyone else.

Panic struck and she quickly moved her head around to see if anyone was in view. The only people were those that were closing up the concession stand so she ran over and timidly asked if she could use the phone. 834-3149 was a number that she could remember easily, even at 5 years old.

Her heart sank as she listened to all of the rings. No one was home and no one was here, she thought. How could they have forgotten her?

She did not like to cry in front of people. So she waited until she got back to the playground before shedding a tear. Her mom would come back but it was getting a little dark under the shady trees and cloud cover. Waiting seemed to take forever. Her feet were dusty but the powdery dirt felt good so she drew pictures with the big toe that barely touched the ground. She sang, "Lambert, the sheepish lion" to herself to pass the time and gently pushed herself again. Finally she folded her arms on the bar in front of her and rested her head, letting her legs dangle through the bars.

The people from the concession stand came by to tell her they were leaving and asked if she'd be all right. That almost got her crying again but she said, "My mom should be here any minute."

Now she was really all alone.

Just then she looked up and saw the familiar family car pull to a stop in front of her. The windows of the car were rolled down and everyone was calling her name. Happily, she jumped off of the merry-go-round and bounded for the car. Her happiness was short-lived when she saw that everyone had a famous Top-Burger Blackberry shake in hand as well as burgers and french fries with special seasonings.

Teasing older brothers were waving shakes in front of her. She assumed that they would stop to get her something but she watched the Top Burger restaurant fade in the distance as they headed for home.

Turning toward her mother she asked how she could forget her. Her mom said, "Sorry, I counted heads and there were four." Every one giggled. Her sister's friend, Sheila, was the fourth that day. "Sheila? You counted Sheila? She has blond hair. You didn't notice that it wasn't me?" she asked.

"Sorry" her mother said. "I was in a hurry and forgot."

"And I don't get any Top Burger?"

"Sorry, I don't have any money left. I had just enough for four."

All the way home she had to endure the noises of her siblings sucking the last bit of shake through their straws and the "Ahhh.." her brothers said along with an exaggerated, "that was good." Her jaw dropped in amazement not believing this cruelty. Lisa, her sister, and Sheila gobbled up their french fries. She stoically ignored them and went into the house still in disbelief that she had been forgotten.

So do you think I am still scarred by this event??

My mom and I laughed about this for years.

I remember thinking then that I would never forget my kids and I haven't. Lost them in a store maybe, but forgetting them and DRIVING ALL THE WAY HOME? That hasn't happened yet, sheesh!

A surprise awakening

I woke up and stumbled out of bed. My lower back ached from being sandwiched between a two year-old boy and a 6 year-old dog that likes to curl up behind the bend of my knee. My hands were sore from weeding the flower bed and overgrown garden the day before. A stretch of my fingers pointing upward felt so good. After I stretched my sore muscles, I quietly slipped into the hall. The morning welcomed me and the sunlight beckoned me to the front room.

Then I walked down the hall and happened upon this sight...

A four year-old and an eight year-old were asleep on the couch. One had their foot on the other's head. After scooping them up and taking them to their beds, I surveyed the damage:
Cheerios and tortilla chip crumbs were everywhere. Toothpaste was smeared on the arm of the couch. A wet towel was on the floor; evidence of an attempt to clean. "High school musical" sheet music was thrown about, Nerf dart gun bullets had been shot and papers from the previous night's game of Charades had been used for confetti.

Apparently, they partied it up long after we went to sleep.

I hope this isn't a sign of things to come.

Linking to Design it chic

Guest post - a Northwest author's short story

My brother, Blair Dobson, is an author of several short stories and human interest articles. His work has been published in Northwest lifestyle magazines and for the past few years he has been researching material for his books. This short story, The Cherry Tree, was written for a church publication. While most of his stories are better suited for a book, I thought this was the perfect piece for Sunday afternoon blog reading.

Blair and his wife Tami have four children and enjoy residing near the coast of the Pacific Northwest.

Enjoy!

"The Cherry Tree"

I completed my service as a missionary in the spring of 1982 having represented my church within the boundaries of Seville, Spain. I spent the last night in the Province of Andalucía and the final evening at the mission home. After my final interview with my mission president, I retreated to the very room where twenty-two months earlier I had spent my first night as a green missionary.

The time had moved by as fast as the winds carried clouds off over the coastal regions. People back home said I would miss it when it all ended. They were right!

I remember leaning against my bunk and staring at the moon while listening to my fellow companions. They talked about the people they would miss and the impact that this country had on their hearts. They were not alone for I, too, felt the very same way. It challenged me to continue my missionary efforts back home. However, during all my months of service in Spain, something else had an impact upon my heart; a recurring dream that always seemed to get the better of me.

I was raised in the outlying countryside of a small township in the state of Washington. We lived near a place called Prune Hill, which was part of a larger area named Grass Valley. At five years of age, I, along with my younger brother, would run and play the summer away, roaming through hay fields behind our home. Within the valley stood old fruit orchards with several small stands of trees; apple, pear, and cherry but Prune was the most common.

On one occasion, we met two neighbor girls our age and found ourselves swinging under the limbs of a cherry tree. An old tire swing that someone’s father put up kept us entertained. What a thrill it was to have formed a bond and friendship with our new friends, even if they were girls.

We spent long summer days playing in the acreage of tall grass, away from worrisome parents. For several seasons this continued, until one day the family of these two girls packed up their belongings and left without notice. I only knew them by nicknames we gave each other and did not recall their full names.

The remembrance of playful kindred spirits left a huge mark in my life. So large was this impact that I often dreamt of this pair of sisters. As I grew from grade school, the faces of my two friends were hazy and I felt they were somewhat hidden from me. I always assumed the reason for this was that I was very young and thus unable to recognize and identify them as something other than a cherished childhood memory.

The dream itself was very detailed and rarely ever changed. I saw beautiful white blossoms attracting honeybees atop the tree with an old rope and tire swinging under its main branch. Our meeting place would always be under its canopy.

This dream accompanied me through all my years of school, seemingly on a monthly basis and also followed me on my journey an ocean away, with never a hint of change to its state or impression.

During my first year of missionary service, I had this dream several times a month. However, as I progressed toward the final months of my experience in Europe, the dreams for some reason dissipated and images were less clear until almost void. I believed I would never know the identity of my two friends.

Morning had come at the mission home and the time for final good-byes took place. Upon arriving in Madrid, we soon boarded our jet that would carry us back across the Atlantic. We were excited and began to speak English again; more than we thought possible.

As the Elders began to make plans for their personal arrivals and stories of future girl friends falling at their feet were thrown about, I sat quietly allowing the plane to lift me into the air.

We were silent as the plane rose off the ground and headed West. I remember closing my eyes and relaxing my body, leaning back into my seat. The mixture of air hissing through the cabin and the drone of jet engines were the only sounds I heard.

Thoughts eagerly entered my mind. I wanted to continue missionary work at home and I began to ponder with whom I could share this message.
Without warning, a snapshot popped in my mind as if thrown there instantly. What came to my soul was an overwhelming feeling that I was to visit a friend from my teen-age years. Her name was Bonnie and she would be baptized if I shared the Joseph Smith story with her. Never in all my time teaching about Jesus Christ to the citizens of Spain, had I received such powerful inspiration as to the direction and teaching of a particular person.

Within three weeks, I located where Bonnie lived and she grabbed a hold of the church’s teachings quickly and without hesitation. She attended church, young single adult dances, firesides, and various activities. She was excited about her faith.

The spirit throughout the Gospel discussions was stronger than I had ever felt. Bonnie soon became a member of my church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day-Saints. After her baptism, we celebrated by visiting some local sites of beauty and just enjoyed the evening talking about our blessings.
The night grew late and it came time to take her home. On the drive home, Bonnie had curled up on the seat next to me and drifted off to sleep. This had been her big day. I humbled myself by whispering a quiet prayer, thanking my Savior for his infinite wisdom and granting me the opportunity of this blessing. I had been guided to Bonnie. He kept alive in me the spirit of missionary work a bit longer.

As I pulled my pick-up truck to a stop, Bonnie began to awake. In her eyes there was gratitude and before I had a chance to open her door, she turned toward me and asked,

“You don’t remember me, do you Blair”? I knew I held a puzzled look to my face.

“You know", she said, "the girl by the cherry tree…”

"Not my child"

Have you ever heard that from someone? Or maybe said it yourself?

As I was picking up my second grader from school, she entered the car with a pair of glasses in her hand. I looked at them and asked whose they were and wondered why we had them. I was told a friend let her borrow them because she did poorly on an eye test. I confiscated the glasses and set them aside, forgetting about them amidst the flurry of activity.

As soon as we returned home, my child went to take a nap which wasn't uncommon. She called me to her room and said that she "had a bad feeling in her chest." I was concerned because we had some prior medical issues with her heart but the check-ups always turned out fine. Then the phone rang and it was the school nurse telling me that my child was seen at the nurse's office. The same complaints were heard and she told me that feelings of anxiety and impending doom can be common with heart patients. It's often right before something happens, like a sixth sense.. And then she went on to tell me that she flunked her eye test and was moved to the front of the class because she was having a hard time seeing the board.

Strange I thought, she had never exhibited difficulties in seeing before. So I called the eye Dr. and they could see her that day. During all of this, she became more worried and felt sick. She kept complaining of a stomach ache and that bad feeling in her chest wasn't going way.

She said she felt bad but didn't want to talk about it yet.

I was beginning to put some things together and thought I had better call the teacher. Just as I was about to call her, she called me and asked if my child had worn prescription glasses. I told her that strangely enough we were going to the eye Dr. because of this failed eye test. She proceeded to tell me that my child stole some one's glasses and was wearing them in class. I couldn't believe what I was hearing but I said it all made sense now. After we laughed about a few things, I assured her I was going to handle it. Insert evil laughter.

On the way to the eye doc, I said that now was the time to be honest. This lesson was going to cost me 50.00 dollars. Impending doom on its way. But the anticipation of having her very own glasses was too exciting for her and maybe, just maybe, this was working out! .

So we got the eye test done and my child was beaming. There was nothing of concern about her eyes except for the fact that she was in need of some attention. I felt bad about that part. It did seem like she always got the short end of the stick and I would change that and make things better but not before dealing with the lying and stealing.

The Dr. asked if I wanted to do a further test. It wasn't covered under insurance but it would be a thorough exam. He reminded me that her eyes would be sensitive and she'd have to wear these glasses for a few hours, holding them up for us to see.

Yes! That's just what I needed to teach this lesson. I love being a parent! Mwah haha...

My child said no. I said "Let's do it." Again, insert evil laughter here.

So we did and she came out of the exam room looking all goofy, in her roll-up temporary "glasses." She was so cute though, you almost felt sorry for her. She saw me and started to take them off.

I said, "No, you'll hurt your eyes!"

She was trying to keep from crying. I was trying to keep from laughing.

I "suddenly" remembered that I had errands to run that day so we made a stop to Target. She insisted she was going to stay in the car. At 100 degrees outside I told her she'd burn up so she had to come inside. She started to remove the glasses but I reminded her that the light would hurt her eyes so she had to keep them on. Reluctantly, she came inside and I paraded her all over with those things. The next stops were to Ross and Michael's, making it a point to wave to all of the people we saw from school. We wouldn't want anyone thinking we're anti-social now, would we?

After that, the letter to her teacher, the girl and her parents wasn't such a difficult thing to do.

Last night, I found those glasses in a box and had Blair put them on and walk into the next room to show everyone. We all laughed and the guilty party just shook her head. Jon and I cracked up at reliving the lesson learned and how I took her all over town. More evil laughter. Payback hurts.

And then Jon reminded that when I am old and need my diaper changed, she won't be willing to do it. She shook her head in agreement.

Payback hurts.

Those eyes - a photo session

When I think of childhood, I like to see it in hazy images and sun beams, with a blurred quality that gives an etherealness to memories.
About a month ago, I took some photographs of a little girl and my goal was to translate some of those feelings onto her pictures while still capturing her personality, of course.
She was a fun little one to follow around. I am always amazed to see our surroundings from a child's perspective and finding out what grabs their attention.

Here are a few images from the day that make me smile.

The cure-all

When in Japan and a monsoon was approaching, we would wait in our apartment and watch the debris whip passed our window. When the winds subsided or we felt they were not so strong as to knock us off our bikes, we would venture out into the crowded streets. Sometimes we were out and about when a monsoon kicked up so we would find some other place to take shelter and wring out our hair. I thought that no one would want to hear a message about God and His love from girls that looked liked they had just stepped out of a shower fully dressed. Looking so pathetic caused us to double over and hug our stomachs from the aches of laughter.

I love laughing like that.

This morning there was a chance of a monsoon. I don't have too many mornings like that, then again I haven't had a 2 year-old boy in a while. Luckily it was more like a tropical storm. All morning you could hear me say, "Holy cow, Trae man!" as I surveyed the debris left behind every where he went. Blair and I were laughing.

So after cleaning up 3 of his messes, one of which caused a leak into the laundry area, I feel the winds have subsided and the house is clean enough. It can wait.

Time to venture out and Hershey's Chocolate World is on the map.

Did I mention they give you free chocolate?? Today's cure for monsoons and tropical storms...

Pick-up lines

Even C Dog sports the Silly Bandz

What's your sign?

Do you have a map because I get lost in your eyes.

Aside from being beautiful, what do you do for a living?

Are you from Tennessee because you're the only ten I see.

Do you believe in love at first sight or should I walk by again?

These and other cheesy pick-up lines may be heard across the country in bars, on college campuses; work even. I don't know why guys resort to these. As ice breakers I guess - a way to bring in humor because no one can possibly take these seriously and think they will work, do they?

I kinda liked the normal approach, "Hi, my name is___." Or "Would you like to dance?" although I guess that would have been weird had we not been at a nightclub... In college it was, "Are you in on or off-campus housing?" or "Where are you from?" or "My roommate wants to know if you'd go out with him."

In my high school there were never any situations that involved cheesy lines. I met my husband in high school and I think it was an innocent, "Would you like to come over and have dinner with my family?" question that cemented our acquaintance to a real friendship. I did have dinner with them and we all played Trivial Pursuit afterward. I felt stupid for answering the Disney and pop culture questions correctly while they answered all of the smart questions correctly. You could tell who watched PBS and who didn't. But I liked them right away and have had many dinners there since.

And I like PBS now. Oh, and I'm better at Trivial Pursuit.

So, the other day as Jon was going through the check-out at our locally owned supermarket, Reese, our 8 year old, noticed the pretty, teen-aged employee.

Jon had to laugh when he heard Reese ask her,

"So what kinds of Silly Bandz do you have?"

Welcome the new Elementary School ice breaker...