Forget Reality TV - This Is My Life!

Some days, when I need a little bit of extra motivation to get a task done, I pretend I am a cocky contestant on a reality TV show called CLEAN! THAT! HOUSE!

Here's the latest episode...

VIMB*: GERB! We're so excited to have you back here on CLEAN! THAT! HOUSE!

Me: Happy to be here, VIMB.

VIMB: Are you ready for today's challenge?

Me: Bring it on, pal.

VIMB: Today you will be bringing order to the chaos that you call YOUR PANTRY! Let's take a look...


Me: No problem.

VIMB: Oh, but WAIT! You will only have 40 minutes to complete this task before you have to pick your kids up from school.

Me: Psh. I thought this was a challenge.

VIMB: AND! You must complete this task while attending to one crying baby and two rambunctious toddlers!

Me: Child's play, VIMB. I've got this one.

VIMB: We'll see about that! Ready aaaaaaaaaaand... GO!

(40 minutes later we have a full kitchen trash can, a sleeping baby, 2 toddlers enjoying a snack, a load of clean laundry in the dryer and this...)

VIMB: Amazing, Gerb. Simply amazing. How DO you do it?

Me: Determination, VIMB. Pure and simple.

VIMB: Tune in next time when Gerb faces her walk-in closet!

Me: Wait... what did I win?

VIMB: (chuckles) How could I forget? You get to use the bathroom WITHOUT INTERRUPTION for FOUR whole minutes!

Me: This is a reality show, VIMB. Don't toy with me.

VIMB: All right, all right. How about half of a Toblerone all for yourself? You can lock yourself in the closet while Curly and Little O finish their snack.

Me: Done.




*VIMB= Voice In My Brain

Seasons

Lately I've been thinking.

I've been thinking about a lot of things.

I've been thinking about being pregnant for the last time and trying to think of a way to express my feelings over the matter. Words fail me.

I have realized that as Curly passes through each stage and age it is the last time I will be experiencing it with a little girl. Why is this difficult?

I have wondered what it will be like to have my children leave for college and life beyond our home. Are they ready?

I have been noticing the unique and shared traits of each of my children and how some of them are distinctly from me and others are definitely from their dad. This makes me happy.

I have even thought about my blog - how I wish that when I started posting over 3 years ago I had taken more time to thoughtfully choose a blog name and address. (Gerb in the 'Burbs is so much more catchy than the boring Life As I Know It.)

I have thought of various things I could write about or take pictures of.

I think about relationships with family and friends. I wish I could choose a different person to visit with every single day. I wish I had more time for others.

I think much of who I have become in the last 20 years. I have not changed a whole lot in appearance but the core of who I am and what I think has gone through a complete transformation. And yet - I am really pretty much the same person I have always been. This confuses me.

I wonder if I will ever go to New York or Australia. I wonder if I will be disappointed with either if I do.

Like a child on the night before her first trip to Disneyland, I am filled with anticipation, nervousness and excitement over our plans for Halloween.

I understand that I am an introvert a great deal of the time and an extrovert the rest of the time. I do not understand what brings out either end of this personality spectrum. I wish I knew.

I cannot fathom our home ever being diaper-free. I wonder if I'm ready for that time.

I wonder if I have my priorities arranged correctly.

I realize that I love music, but because of this love for music I often cannot listen to it. Every song, every word that holds a memory for a time or situation in my life inspires some sort of emotion. There are certain emotions that are best left alone.

I keep trying to think of ideas of things to write on my kids' lunchbags each day. After 5 years of writing jokes, I ran out. I started writing inspirational thoughts but these do not go over as well.

I think about others often. Are they happy? Are they well? Are they eating something delicious and not telling me about it?

I worry that I am selfish. I worry that I am lacking. I worry that I worry too much.

I love that we get new family pictures every year. I have been wondering what colors and themes we should try for this time around.

I think about life, I think about death. I find beauty and sadness in both.

I have been watching the clouds and the mountains as the seasons change.

I suppose that what I am trying to say is that I have been doing a whole lot of thinking - and not much writing. I am hoping to turn this around soon, to transform this jumble of thoughts into words...

I figured this was the best way to start.

Counting Down

I haven't been online much this past month. Have you noticed? Life has been so full!


We had our #1 favorite family reunion with Allen's parents & siblings.

We have been invited to TWO family weddings.


Coolister, ElemenoB and Thumbelina went off to do some service projects and then river rafting at Youth Conference for THREE days.

(No official photos yet... they get back today.) photo from griffithexp.com

FOUR princesses accompanied me to the local Princess Festival.


I basked in Girl's Camp for my FIFTH year as a leader.

I enjoyed a lovely backyard tea party with SIX wonderful ladies.


We found out that our sweet aunt Marie returned to heaven SEVEN days ago. Her funeral is today.


EIGHT of my kids slept...

while Princess made a card...

to go with our traditional Father's Day breakfast in bed.


Allen and the oldest two kids ran NINE legs for their team in the 188 mile Ragnar Relay.


And Little O is finally able to wear this shirt that I bought for him almost a year ago. I was worried it wouldn't fit...

...but it does! (This means that number TEN's arrival in '11 will make us a family of TWELVE.)

In short, life is good.

So, so, so wonderfully, happily, crazy-in-the-best-way, marvelously good.

Summing Up

There are so many things that I am behind on! Like telling you about everything my kids have been up to.

If you don't like those braggy-momma kind of posts, you had best just leave.



Seriously, this is your last chance.



If you enjoy reading about how awesome my kids are, go make yourself a sandwich and then read on:

Coolister went to Prom. The theme was "Forever Young" so the guys planned a day-date of just being kids. They picked up their dates, made blanket forts and ate sack lunches while watching a Disney movie then drove to a park and played on the playground. When it was time for the evening-date they took the girls for a nice dinner on the roof of the school (one of the guys in their group has access through his dad). After the dance they went and had homemade eclairs. What a great group of kids! Most recently his life has been consumed with getting ready for the 3 AP tests he is taking this week. Also, his foot is healing nicely...
Thanks for asking. The doctors have been amazed by how quickly he is healing. So have we! He only wears a brace when needed. Coolister also got his ACT scores back. He did AWESOME but I know he isn't happy with his score and plans to take the test again (perfectionist!) so I'm not going to post the numbers here unless he gives me permission. He continues to be an all-around good and happy kid with a contagious laugh.



ElemenoB beat her fastest time in the mile for track. She loves music and books. She has been experimenting a lot with her camera and is becoming quite the photographer! She stores her pictures on my computer which makes it easy for me to enjoy them. I saw this one and thought it was beautiful:

(Just Dandy by ElemenoB)

I didn't even realize it was a dandelion. She knows how to capture things from a great perspective. She sees the beauty where we don't. Funny thing is, I see the beauty in her that I don't think she even begins to see. Inside and out. ElemenoB still loves baking and has transitioned from baking cookies all the time to baking brownies all the time. She loves reading home design magazines and dreaming of how she'll decorate her future home. She told me that she wants to take some sports medicine classes. Maybe she'll serve brownies to the patients who come into her meticulously decorated office someday.

Thumbelina has been working hard to finish this dress which she started making last year. And finally... success! She wanted to make a dress with a modest length and sleeves - something unheard of in the clothing industry these days - and I think it turned out beautifully. She tried out for The Taming of the Shrew at her school and got a minor role so between the play, her choir performances and homework she stays pretty busy. Thumbelina has also taken to her camera and has a knack for capturing light and darkness, especially in the sky. (April Sky by Thumbelina)

Thumbelina is the one we love to have tend the little kids for us because we know it means we will come home to happy kids AND a clean house when we return. She knows how to bring happiness to others and loves doing it. She's a generous gift-giver when it comes to birthdays and other special occasions. What a sweet girl.



All-a-Boy turned 11 last month! He celebrated by working like crazy to pass off the requirements for his Cub Scout Arrow of Light. We let him camp in a tent in the backyard (requirement!) on a school night. We let him cook hotdogs on the grill for everyone (requirement!) and took him to Comedy Sportz (fun!). For once, All-a-Boy created his own car (with a little help from Coolister) for the Pinewood Derby. This vehicle defied every rule but met his personal specifications perfectly.
The wings were so large that they would catch on the bar above the finish line and flip the car every time. Whenever we can't find this kid it usually turns out he was hiding away to digest his latest book series or create something amazing with his Legos. He is very patient with Hubba, who idolizes his every move and laughs at every joke he makes. All-a-Boy is a smarty pants who constantly amazes me with the things his brain can process.



Cowgirl's Spock bangs don't look quite so Spock-ish with this cute new short 'do that cousin Raylene fixed her up with. If she's not busy drawing pictures or writing plays, she's singing a happy tune in the backyard while creating homes for fairies. Cowgirl does not understand why I will not allow her to bring home one of the neighbor's kitties at the amazing price of FREE. We sure do love this tender-hearted kid. She and Princess have been getting a lot out of our morning scripture reading time lately...
And speaking of Princess,
...she leads the happiest life of anyone I know. She is as busy as any 7-year-old, I suppose, but mostly I think she just loves being a ray of sunshine who literally lights up a room with her smile. I told her I didn't have many recent pictures of her and she was more than happy to come up with a few poses for the above photo shoot. This girl is the sugar in our family recipe. Unless you make her mad... then she's quite spicy.



Here's Hubba after telling us his face was all clean from drinking a smoothie. He had an eye exam when we went for kindergarten registration. They told me that, based on his results, his vision would be 20/60 in one eye and 20/40 in the other. When the nurse asked him if she was pointing at an apple, a house or an umbrella he rolled his eyes, told her to hold her horses and then turned to me and whispered, "Which one is it?" I am pretty sure he was just bored and didn't want to play the 'name the picture' game, but we are taking him in to have his eyes checked as soon as a pediatric ophthalmologist is available. (The middle of July. Apparently lots of kids have eye problems around these parts.) He lives for Legos, Lego Star Wars on the Wii and Lego dot com. He is my first kid to refuse to learn to write his name before kindergarten. Two words which describe him well are: precocious and spirited.

In case you were unaware, the last 4 kids mentioned make up our resident ninja force. I captured them in an attempt to stealthily move in on some freshly baked brownies 2 weeks ago:Fear them.



Is it any wonder why this little doll has us wrapped around her finger? Look at those puppy dog eyes. Want to know what Curly does besides just being adorable? Mostly this...
Everyday.
For a good part of the day. She is the most artsy kid we have had. Want to be her best friend? Give her a new box of crayons and some paper. Actually, Hubba already holds the 'best fwend' title. They get into all sorts of mischief together. Curly has more hair than any 3-year-old I know. She has been to cousin Raylene at the hair salon a handful of times already in an attempt to manage her tresses - and she loves it. She just asked me the other day, "Will you take me to see my girl so my hair can get short?" My girl. I love it.



Speaking of Curly, check out Little O's hair! He's the curliest one we've had yet. And once Curly goes to see her my girl he'll likely be the reigning curly one.
I know, it's kind of long-ish. If it was straight, he'd totally be sporting a mullet. But I can't bear to cut the curls off. Little O's favorite phrase right now is "LET GO!" It means anything from put me down to I don't want to wear my pajamas right now to give me that sipper cup right now, lady! He's getting much too independent for my liking. But he's still a thumb-sucker...
...so he's still my baby. Even if he did just turn TWO on May 1st. I shouldn't encourage it, but he's so dang cute I can hardly help myself.

Whew! If you're still reading at this point you deserve a nice pat on the back. Or maybe a fancy cupcake. Choose the one you prefer, and go treat yourself.

Happy May!

Oh, To Be Like A Child!

I recognized the sound right off; it was one of those cries that meant pain.

Curly ran to me, sobbing, and grabbed my leg in a hug.

I knelt down to embrace her and, rubbing her back, asked, "What happened, love?"

When she was finally able to control her breathing enough to speak, she simply said, "Hubba hurted me."

"Hurt you where?" I asked, but she didn't answer.

I pointed to the typical hurt places while asking repeatedly, "Does it hurt here?"

Finally, Curly stopped me and said, "Not on my outside. He hurted me in my heart."

The worst, most painful kind of hurt. Hurt feelings, broken hearts, mental anguish. Hurt brought on by words and actions.

Hubba slowly approached from the other room, looking at Curly and I with apprehension. He went to his little sister, and while wrapping his arms around her, said, "I'm sorry, Curly. I didn't mean to hurt your fee-o-lings."

And then she brought a happy ache to my own heart as she wiped her tears away and uttered these words as she hugged him back, "It's okay. I already forgived-ed you, Hubba."

Already. Before he had even told her he was sorry, Curly had forgiven him.

I recognized that I was being taught something.

Earlier this morning Coolister and I were arguing. I felt that he was being disrespectful and I, in frustration, was yelling at him. I finally ordered him to his room as a way to end the disagreement. All morning I fretted and stewed over the exchange, wondering where I had gone wrong in my parenting and why he couldn't just listen and try to see things my way. When the time came for Coolister to leave for church (he helps with the services at a rest home near our house an hour before our own meetings begin) he acted as if nothing had happened. "I'm leaving, Mom!" he called as he walked out the door. And then added, "I love you!"

It was all just water under the bridge for him. Coolister had moved past the mornings' argument. He had already forgiven me.

I am not proud to admit that I am the kind of person who tends to hold a grudge. If I am offended or have my feelings hurt by someone, I am not so quick to forgive. Instead I let the feeling fester and grow inside of me until it fills a part of me with frustration, anger and hatred. This does nothing to anyone but myself - I am the only one who is harmed by the monster inside as I continue to feed it with resentment and loathing.

I want to be more forgiving and loving. I want to be more like my kids.

And so it goes. I, as a mother, think I am teaching my children all about life. Yet, in reality, they are the ones teaching me what life is really all about.

Life Is A Highway

Yesterday we made the long trip back home from our annual visit to sunny southern California. As we drove and the scenery changed from the Joshua Trees of the high desert to the bright lights of Las Vegas; from the crimson cliffs of southern Utah to the snow-covered mountains closer to home, I realized that these road trips are a lot like life.

Sometimes the roads are free and clear with no obstacles or distractions, but other times we get mired in traffic and chaos and we have to make a choice. We can patient and wait until we pass through it all or we can become angry and frustrated about the surrounding chaos - even though it is something beyond our control.

Often we will notice that the traffic is stopped on the other side of the road. This makes us thankful that we are traveling in a different direction just then.

There are times where we may become lost and unsure of where to go. We can choose to stop and ask for directions or try to make our own path to our destination but either way we are usually able to eventually get to where we are going. Some paths are more difficult to travel but offer a much better view while other times the road will be easy to navigate.

We may encounter ground-shaking storms or patches of ice which require us to slow down for a bit or maybe even to stop altogether in search of shelter. Other times we will enjoy perfect weather; sunshine with just enough cloud-cover to offer warmth and protection at the same time and road conditions which are near perfect.

When we start to run out of gas it is an opportunity to pull over, stretch our weary bodies and fill up our tanks again. The road is always there, but we don't have to rush to get back to it; we can take our sweet time, take pictures, and resume our road-trip when we feel ready.

Some journeys are long and seem almost never-ending, other trips are much too short, but the excursion is always worthwhile for the people we meet, the experiences we gain, the memories we make and the beautiful scenery we take in along the way.

And regardless of the length of our drive or the things we encounter, the journey is all worth it when we reach our destination in the end.

Life, Love And Learning

The best and most beautiful things in this world cannot be seen or even heard, but must be felt with the heart. - Helen Keller

I am not sure I can adequately express what I want to, but I am going to try.

The children at church took a walk across the street with their teachers today to sing some songs for the residents of the rest home there. First we walked the halls, holding hands and singing a few familiar favorites, bringing some residents to their doorways to share a smile or offer a wave as we passed by.

We continued to the main gathering room where we congregated on a stage to present a few more numbers. As we stood there singing, I looked out over the crowd. The faces I saw were happy, almost lit up with joy. And why? Because some children that they didn't even know were there to sing some songs for them.

My heart ached for these people, despite their currently pleasant demeanor. Thoughts raced through my mind. Why were they here? Did they have family? If so, did they come to visit? Were they lonely? Hurting? Sad? Scared? Where would I be when I reached that stage of my life? I continued to stand there, mouthing the words to each song along with the crowd of kids, but not actually singing for fear that my emotions would come to the surface. I am not sure how to describe what was going on inside of me except to say that I felt a great deal of love towards our audience.

When we were finished with our music we turned to exit the room. Residents of the home waved farewell, smiling, some calling out things like, "Such beautiful children!" and "Come again!"

I wanted to take the time to hug each person there, to tell them that they were loved and important. But I didn't. Not only for fear that I would become emotional but also because it was time to get back - time to sit in my classroom with the sweet 5-year-olds who I have stewardship over each week. Time to teach the lesson that I had prepared.

As we gathered back at the church and settled down for class I had a similar emotion overtake me, only this time it was one of love and appreciation for each of the kids in my class. I am uncomfortable crying in front of others and welcomed the distraction of Little O being brought to me right then as I don't think I would have been able to hold back what was threatening to emerge.

As I walked through the halls of the church, my little boy in my arms, I continued to think over the things I had felt. And I realized something. At the rest home as well as in my classroom, I was not edifying them. They were edifying me, offering me a glimpse of things that I needed to see and feel.

In reality, they were the ones teaching me the lessons today.

Lessons about the power of music and the love of mankind and the ties that bind us all together.

Remembering to count my blessings.

And none of that even comes close to sharing what I really feel.

Reflections of November

Today I pulled out my old journals and was rifling through them, enjoying some memories and cringing at others. Here are a few excerpts from this very month over the years...

November 1980
"I have a very nice substitute teacher who seems to notice me. I like being at school when she is my teacher."

November 1981
"I am happy because it is raining and I love the smell and sight of it."

November 1985
"I am starting to wear a thing called a head-gear. When I wear it I look like a nerd and mom even says I have to wear it to school. She says I look fine in it so I think she must have problems with her eyes because everyone can see that it makes me look like a dork. I only wear it until I cross the street in the mornings and then put it in my backpack until I get home after school. That way we are both happy."

November 1986
"I feel like a total loser. You know why? Because I am one." (Ah, those wonderful teenage years!)

November 1987
"Being 15 years old is the worst. I bet there is no one in the whole history of the universe who liked being 15 years old except for maybe Ricky Schroeder."

November 1988
"Trish and I took a bunch of pictures today. I hope they turn out good 'cuz it's expensive black and white film and the developing costs like $11.00. We went to the dance in P.V. and they played Def Leppard! Trish asked me, "How is anyone supposed to dance to this?" So I showed her some of my headbanger moves. She was embarrassed but I had a lot of fun. Def Leppard's music is amazing and they make me wish I could play the guitar."

November 1989
"I spent the entire day at the kick-back cliffs with friends today. We brought a picnic and just talked about everything imaginable. When it started to get close to dark almost everyone left but I stayed to watch the sunset. I can't believe they were all right there with prime seats for the sun's big finale and they missed their chance. I sat beneath my favorite tree and stayed until there was not one flicker of light remaining. It was an amazing show."

November 1990
"I can never get enough of Ben and Jerry's ice cream. Cherry Garcia and Chunky Monkey would have to be among my two favorites. I go into the shop so often that the workers know me by name. Whenever I walk in they yell out, 'Gerby! What's it gonna be?'"

November 1991
"Today I certified as a Level 2 Interpreter for the Deaf. That means I'm up to $10/hour! Not even half of what I made in California a year ago, but I'll take it. You know what I miss most about California, though? Weather that makes sense. Around here it changes about every two minutes: from a clear, cloudless day to dark, stormy skies with a promise of rain or snow. And, for the record, I'll almost always take the rain over anything else."

November 1997
"Today Coolister (age 4) asked, "Mom, why does God put mistakes in our skin?" I asked if he was talking about things like birthmarks but he said, "No, I mean mistakes INSIDE our skin - in our bodies. Like when you want to hit someone or take a fish out of a fishbowl." I started to explain free agency to him but he stopped me and said, "Wait, I know this already. Because there's always good and bad, but WE have to choose." He is such a smarty pants."

(I had to add another one from 1997...)
"Coolister, in his most serious manner, told me today that when he grows up he wants to be a farmer, a cowboy or a doctor. He then asked, "Which is better?" I told him he could be anything he wanted so he asked, "Could I be ALL three?" I told him that he can do anything he sets his mind to. ElemenoB (age 3) had been listening in on the whole conversation and piped in with this: "I just want to be a dog when I get big. A little one." I guess it's a step up from her just wanting to be pretty when she grows up!"

November 1998
"I want to be someone who brings light into dark places. I'm not sure how to go about doing this exactly, but it is something I feel passionate about today."


Any other entries are still a bit too recent to be included... but if you come back in another 10 years or so I may have some new material to share.

( Today I am thankful that I kept journals in my younger years - even though I often debate creating a bonfire with them.)

Forever Is A Mighty Long Time

Some days I miss my dad a lot.

Some days, for no particular reason, I will have him on my mind all day long.

Other days something will trigger that place in my brain where all of my 'dad-memories' are stored.

In either case there is nothing much to do about it... except to remember.

When you lose someone you love to death, there is no describing the range of emotions experienced. I'm not sure I can speak for anyone else, but for me it has not gotten any easier as the years have passed. There will always be that void that only a father can fill. I will always love him and miss his physical presence in my life.

On days where I am particularly besieged with these thoughts and memories, I like to go visit his grave. There is some solace in being able to just sit there and sign to him, tell him my thoughts and feelings, disappointments and dreams. I am sure I appear to be something of a mad-woman, hands waving about in rushed thought and frenzied words as I sit at his graveside there in the cemetery, but it is my way of working through things.

When I have these days, I talk and cry and laugh and even scream until I have said my piece. And when I am done, I look down at his grave and see this:
And I am comforted. I find peace. I am so thankful to know that I will see him again someday.

I am thankful for the knowledge that death is only a temporary situation.

I am thankful that my family is a forever family.

Longing For Home

(That's me at my dad's knee. They called me the milkman's daughter.)

I watched parts of the movie Tarzan with my littlest kids today. I didn't intend to but I found myself strangely entranced. (I need to get out more, I know.) I wasn't sure what it was about the movie that caught my attention and had me transfixed until it came to the segment where the background music is the song "Strangers Like Me" by Phil Collins. That was when I realized what was so fascinating about it all: I am Tarzan, someone who is stuck between two worlds.

Most of you who read here know that I come from a family where both parents were Deaf. I was raised in what is known as 'Deaf culture', a whole separate world from the world of those who can hear. And I LOVED it. For me, this largely unknown Deaf world has always been the place where I feel most at home and this movie somehow got me feeling homesick again.

Words truly escape me when attempting to describe the love I have for the world of the Deaf. The people, the culture, the language... these are all ingrained in me. I embrace them and sometimes fear I will lose them completely. I never want that to happen - it would be like losing a part of my soul.

In my moments of greatest emotion the most frustrating thing remains to be the fact that I can not express myself in spoken words as well as I can in sign language. The difficult part is that the English language often does not translate the passion and depth of meaning behind the words in sign. This is why I love words. The more words I know, the more I have in my arsenal when trying to accurately express myself.

And the more I am able to integrate myself into this world of the hearing which still often feels like a new pair of shoes that are not quite broken in yet.

The Old Barn

It doesn't look like much from far away. The aging, dilapidated barn sits nestled among green fields and small creeks and ponds with only horses and mosquitoes for company. At first glance it appears to be a ramshackle sort of place with broken windows and cobwebbed beams.


Yet, for my mother-in-law, it stores a wealth of memories and stories from her childhood years. This place is all that is left of the dairy farm where she grew up in Afton, Wyoming.


As we wandered through the old barn, listening to mom's recollections of years past, I felt a melancholy kind of sadness come over me. I could picture the barn as it had been back in its prime and wondered how it had come to be the way it was now, broken and in disrepair. It got me thinking about people.


Like the barn, we all start off sturdy and clean with a new coat of paint. As we face life's storms the paint slowly peels and cracks. Windows break. Grime accumulates. Beams and boards warp. And before we know it we are only a shell of our former selves, something that no sandpaper or even a fresh coat of paint can repair.

When others look at us, do they see what's really still there?


Do they look for the story behind each bent nail and loose floorboard or do they only notice the wear and tear, not realizing that it is simply evidence of something more?

Do others notice the beauty of the places where the cracks in the walls and shattered windows have allowed light to shine through?


If we could, what would we choose? To look as striking and solid as we did in our prime, never having to endure any of the pounding hail or lightning strikes that life throws at us - or to tolerate various storms and allow some of life's experience to show through in these bodies that house the person who we truly have become through it all?


At the end of my life I hope I'm like the run-down old barn. Perhaps weather beaten and warped, but well loved because of the experiences and interactions that have made me that way.


And every last measure of who I am bursting with stories of a life lived to the fullest.