It Went Too Fast!

The big reunion week we have been looking forward to all summer, came and went in an instant. My family all came to stay with us and we played and played and played. I made a sort of itinerary so that the “I don’t know, what do you want to do?” conversations would be kept to a minimum and we could squeeze as much  as possible in 6 days. We planned about one event each day because there were lots of little ones that needed naps and cousin play time. Erica, Jed, Owen, Davis, and Kate came from Oregon; Matt and Ashley came from Idaho; Chris, Tracy, Adriene, and Honor came from Texas; and Nana and Papa came from the homestead.

There were 19 of us! Seventeen slept at our house while Nana and Papa escaped at night to a nearby hotel and spent the days with the grandkids. My kids were thrilled with the full house because it meant our family slept in the tent in the backyard. (Yes, we decided to go for it after putting a padlock on the fence.) This way we weren’t tripping over pillows and air mattresses in the living room all week, and we could claim a camping experience for the summer.  It was so much fun having all of the cousins, siblings, and parents together.  With all of us living in different states, it doesn’t happen very often. I hope this becomes a summer tradition!

Monday

Everyone arrived

Dessert at Yogurtland

Tuesday

Guys went to Boomers

Kids and Ladies went to Castle Park

Wednesday

Disneyland and California Adventure

Thursday

Disneyland and California Adventure

Friday

Ladies had a Manicure and Pedicure and Smoothies

Guys and Kids played Wii games

Big kids and Guys went to Walking With Dinosaurs

Ladies put little ones to bed, talked and watched a girlie flick

Chris’ family did day 3 at Disneyland

Saturday

Corona Del Mar Beach

Sunday

Everyone left for home

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So Fashion

When Emma was little she came to me once all dressed up and cute and said, “Mommy, I’m so fashion!”  I loved the phrase and still use it with the kids.  Sabrina has taken to changing her outfits multiple times a day, mostly revolving around (of all things) her favorite pajamas. She has a “snail shirt” and “stripey pants” that she thinks she should be able to wear anywhere.  A couple of weeks ago she brought them with her into the church nursery because we wouldn’t let her wear them and compromised on letting her hold them if she put on a dress. It wasn’t long ago that she would refuse to wear anything but a flower dress, so maybe next will be jeans and a t-shirt. Here are her outfit changes from today:

Outfit #1 Snail Shirt and Red Skirt

Outfit #2 Purple Swimsuit and Stripey Pants

Outfit #3 Snail Shirt and Stripey Pants

Outfit #4 Flower Dress

Outfit #5 Blue Flower Dress

Outfit #6 Snail Shirt and Stripey Pants

And finally, it was bedtime!  She happened to have on the pajamas at the right time!  Wish me luck tomorrow as I pry them off of her and throw them in the washer.  She will follow me around saying, “my snail shirt clean Mommy? My stripey pants clean Mommy?” until they make it through the dryer.

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Scary

It was 12:40 am, Sunday morning.  I fell asleep watching the Olympics and had just been woken by my husband’s voice saying, “Amy, it’s time for bed.”  He was closing windows and locking doors as I headed up the stairs to do my nighttime ritual.  I saw that the lights were all turned off in the kids rooms and knew that Rob had just checked in on them.  They like to fall asleep reading books, so the dim lights stay on in their rooms until we turn them off and head to bed ourselves. I decided to take a little peek in on them anyway.  First I poked my head in the door of the girls room and could hear them breathing quietly, then a took a step into Hunter’s room and saw him comfortably snuggled up as well.  Just then, I heard a Boom, Boom, Boom, BOOM, ring, ring and a man shouting. It took me a second to register that the noise was coming from my front door.  My heart seemed to slow down rather than speed up as I would have expected it to.  I started walking deliberately down the hall towards our room calling out in a worried, almost questioning voice, “Rob?….Someone’s knocking on our door…?”  Before I finish the sentence I heard Rob heading toward me.

We look at each other, bewildered, as I freeze at the top of the stairs and Rob bellows out, “Who is it? What do you need?”  I hear the man outside call back “It’s an emergency, I’m hurt.” Rob calls up to me, “get my baseball bat.” and turns on the porch light.  I head into the bedroom and grab the baseball bat we keep there for just-in-case-middle-of-the-night-crazies-come moments like this. The blinds are closed turning upwards on the long skinny windows by the front door, so I can see the guy pretty well from the stairs.  He looks to be somewhere between 17 and 20 with dark blonde hair that is matted against his head with sweat. He has on a white t-shirt and shorts and is saying things like, “please, help me” as he turns in circles and sounds like he’s in pain and scared.  My instinct is to open the door and see what’s wrong with him, but Rob’s instincts prevail.  He says he will not open the door, and we both stand behind our closed front door as Rob calls out questions to the guy.

“How are you hurt?”

“My arm! I think it’s broken.” He walks a few steps away from the door and heaves. “I was fighting with some guys in a car.  I punched through the window and they started chasing me with beer bottles.  Please help me.”

“Stay there. I’ll call someone for you.” Rob walks to get the phone and dials 911.

The guy on the porch yells out, “No don’t call the police.  It can’t be the police. Please, I’ll sit down.  My hands are up.”

I watch through the blinds as he sits with his back to the door and sways from front to back and side to side.  He makes more heaving sounds and I say to Rob, “He’s puking!” I look to see if his arm looks bloody, but it doesn’t. His skin is pink all over from running, but there doesn’t seem to be any sign of broken glass or cuts on his arm.

Rob explains the situation to the dispatcher on the phone and asks more questions, “Where did this happen?”

“On the street.”

“Where are you hurt?”

“My arm.” He lifts his right arm and looks at the back of his forearm. We could both see him clearly, and there was still no sign of blood or injury.

“What’s your name?”

“Max”

“Matt or Max?”

“Max”

Rob is telling the dispatcher our address and tells her he doesn’t want to open the door because he’s got a wife and four kids in the house.

“I’m leaving, I’m walking.” The guy calls out.

I don’t want him to leave, not knowing what may be waiting for him back on the street, and I don’t want to open our family up to possible danger, but I also can’t bear to see and hear the guy in pain. There’s no way I will open the door though, especially because his story doesn’t make much sense. If he punched through a window shouldn’t he be complaining more about his hand? and wouldn’t his hand or arm look cut, bloody, or at the very least bright red? …And a guy who just got his car window punched in gets out of the car and chases him with a beer bottle? Why not use the car he’s sitting in?… And why does the guy come to our house? We’re towards the end of a cul-de-sac and our house was totally dark. I never heard a car or anything else outside…

“Don’t go.  An ambulance is coming, not the police.” Rob calls out.

The guy still has his back to the door and is walking around our small porch all jumpy as if deciding what to do.

“I’m walking.” The guy says in agitation and he starts walking away.

“No, wait there!”

But the guy heads down the sidewalk and from our front window we watch him walk quickly down the middle of the road toward our main cross street.

Rob tells the dispatcher “He’s leaving,” and the direction the guy is heading. The dispatcher says an officer will come by and check with us.  We wait in the dark by the front window and watch for the officer.  It seems like it’s taking forever for the officer to appear. Rob stands by the window and I sit in a chair, still holding the baseball bat I had grabbed earlier by my fingertips and bouncing it on the floor. Maybe they were checking the streets first to see if they could spot the guy.  We waited to hear sirens, but then thought maybe they didn’t want to scare the guy off. Finally, we saw a police car pull up quietly in front of our house.

We meet him at the front door.  He greets us with a smile, and says, “Some excitement for you tonight?”  He looked at me standing in the doorway, took a step back and said, “Don’t answer the door with a baseball bat!” I think he was trying to ease the tension. I laugh and set the bat down on the floor. We then retell what happened, and look around for the places the guy had vomited.  To our surprise, there was nothing.  He had either been dry heaving or making some pretty convincing sound effects. There were other police officers out looking for him, but no sign of him by the time we had finished our conversation. So we said good-bye and the officer made a joke again about the baseball bat not being necessary since he had his awesome Batman belt.

We closed the door and went upstairs to lay in bed for awhile waiting for our adrenaline to work itself back down again.  After reviewing it all together we decide that the guy may have been pulling a scam but more likely was drunk or high and hallucinating. Either way, I’m glad we didn’t open the door.

Now, here’s my question to you… I have family coming to visit this week and my kids are planning to sleep in a tent in the backyard.  What should I do about that?

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I’ve Added a New Page

In the right hand column under “Blog Pages” I added a new page called, “Vote Yes on Prop 8.” Listed on this page are some posts and articles that illustrate why I feel it is important for every California voter to vote Yes on Prop 8 this November. Obviously I feel very strongly about this issue and will even venture out of my comfort zone knocking doors or making phone calls to help educate my neighbors. If you have any interesting articles to add, let me know.  Thanks!

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To Be A Daughter of God

Today I gave a talk in sacrament meeting at church.  The topic I was given was “Daughters of God,” and I spent a lot of time thinking about what I should say to the congregation.  It was difficult for me to approach a subject on a specific group of people so that it would hold the interest of everyone.  I was so nervous, literally shaking as I spoke and afterwards it took almost an hour to calm down from the knots I had twisting in my stomach, but I think it went well, and I’m happy with it. Here it is:

Last fast Sunday I didn’t really feel strongly about anything I should fast and pray about, so I asked Heavenly Father to tell me what I should be thinking and praying about.  After church I got a phone call asking me to talk in sacrament meeting and knew that Heavenly Father had answered my prayer.  When I was told that the topic for my talk today was Elder Ballard’s talk from conference “Daughters of God,” I felt relieved because I love this talk.  I even did a series of posts quoting it on my blog.  Preparing for today has given me the chance to gain a stronger testimony of this topic. I will also be referencing Elder Ballard’s address “Women of Righteousness” given at BYU in 2001.  Elder Ballard has five daughters and 22 granddaughters, and has some wonderful things to say about women, so I will be quoting him a lot. President Hinckley gave a talk, “The Women in Our Lives” shortly after the passing of his wife, so he had some touching things to say as well. I prepared this talk to apply to us all, so don’t tune out quite yet brothers…

As a teenager I thought that my mother’s attempts at teaching me homemaking skills were silly.  I didn’t really want to know how to cook, garden, clean, sew, or babysit.  I did some babysitting to earn money, and I liked little kids well enough, but didn’t flock to the new babies in the ward like some of the other young women.  I fought to be free from a future stereotypical “Mormon Mom” role.

As I ventured off to college I was grateful for the cooking lessons and for the chores I had been given so that my adjustment to life on my own wasn’t quite so traumatic.  I knew I wanted to get married and have children, but didn’t really know all that much about what it would mean.  When I was at BYU I met and married my awesome husband Rob. Two years after we married, Hunter was born and I jumped into the full-time world of mother.  I still cringed when we bought our mini-van, seeing it as a symbol of my mom-ness, and although I have come to enjoy some crafting and sewing, I don’t think I will ever enjoy cooking.  But let me share with you some things I have learned about my role as a daughter of God:

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