The Big FOUR-OH!

I have been looking forward to telling you everything that I am thankful for today. This one's easy... I am thankful for this guy.


Today Allen celebrates his 40th birthday. So first off, let's give credit where credit is due: I am thankful to my sweet mother-in-law for getting him here. And for raising him the way that she did so that I could have such a great man for my husband.

I won't get into too much detail here, but let me tell you a few reasons why I am thankful for this man of mine.

I am thankful that he is service-minded. He is always going out of his way to do kind things for others, even when he doesn't always have the time to do so.

I am thankful for his ability to make or fix or build or do ANYTHING he sets his mind to. If he doesn't know how to do something, he's not afraid to learn.

I am thankful that he loves kids as much as I do.

I am thankful that he has such an amazing family which I have called my own from the start. I have the best in-laws on this planet!

I am thankful that he works hard and takes pride in a job well done.

I am thankful that he knows when to be serious... and when to be silly. It is so fun to have a spouse who laughs at my jokes and makes me laugh as well.

I am thankful he is mine.

Happy Birthday, Allen! Here's to many, many more years to celebrate together.

Creative Genius

On Sunday our family enjoyed dinner with cousins Glen and Jeannette. It is not often that our large family is invited over for dinner - and understandably so. However, Glen and Allen were born less than a week apart from each other and grew up more as brothers than cousins, so we were invited over and enjoyed celebrating their birthdays together.

Cousin Glen (pronounced Guh-Len, in case you wanted to know) was thoughtful enough to get Allen a gift in celebration of his upcoming big 4-0. The difficult part of wrapping a gift from one manly-man to another is that whole cutesy factor. I mean, they don't exactly make gift bags and tissue paper with ATVs and mud and guns plastered all over them. Well, with a little tape and creative genius, cousin Glen solved that problem.


One word: Awesome.

p.s. Today I am thankful for cold cereal and warm socks... and cousin Glen's creative genius.

Autumn Leaves

Today I am thankful for kids who love autumn as much as I do.

In Utah autumn is just a blink between summer and winter so we try to enjoy it fully while it's here. We play in the leaves, bake up pumpkin-infused treats and eat them until we almost turn orange, and marvel over the brilliance of the changing colors on the mountains that surround us.

The photo above is by Thumbelina, taken a couple of weeks ago just down the road from where we live. It is our favorite local tree, towering over a vacant field. In the autumn it transforms from green to the brightest of yellows and then slowly creates a blanket of leaves at its base until the winter winds have blown every last one away. The day Thumbelina took this picture she was admiring the sunset and suggested we see how it looked behind this tree. The word breathtaking comes to mind.

And then this morning I found a little orange booklet on the table, a Halloween book which All-a-Boy has been working on in his class at school, containing the following poem which he authored:

Leaves jump from the trees,
Diving into a suicidal fall,
Autumn has arrived.
Autumn brought its cold winds,
Autumn has brought its gray skies.
I hear the wind knocking at my door,
Like an anonymous guest,
Waiting to be let in.
Clouds hang overhead,
Threatening me with their ice and snow.
I smile.
Autumn is amazing.

Amazing, indeed.

Giving Thanks

I'm jumping on the bandwagon and posting every day for the month of November. I will post about something I am thankful for everyday until Thanksgiving... but for the days after Thanksgiving, it's free game.

Actually, the whole month is free game, but I promise to try. If I post everyday, I am going to give myself some sort of award or something because frankly, I'll deserve it.

Today I want to tell you how thankful I am for unintended humor. It's something that happens a lot in our home, and today was no exception.

I went downstairs to get the kids up from their Sunday nap so we could head over to dinner with some cousins. All-a-Boy was wearing shorts so I reminded him that it was no longer summer and told him that he needed to get some pants on. He grumbled and griped because his one pair of favorite jeans without holes were grass-stained. I pulled out a brand new, never worn pair of khakis from his drawer and told him to wear those. He grumbled and groaned and pulled them on to just below his buttocks and proclaimed that they were too big. I made him pull them up... a perfect fit! He then admitted that he hated khakis and would never have let me buy them when we were school shopping except that he just wanted to make me happy. I told him that if he just wanted to make me happy then he needed to wear the pants to dinner.

In true All-a-Boy fashion he rolled his eyes, gave an exasperated sigh, and asked, "What, am I going to see the President of the United States or something?"

"Yeah, All-a-Boy," I answered. "All 10-year-old boys in their t-shirts and khakis are ready for a formal evening with the president." Then I could no longer contain my laughter over his remark... and he rolled his eyes and tried to hide that he realized how silly it was, too.

In the end, he wore the khaki pants to dinner. If the President decided to show up, I'm sure he would have been pleased.

Spooky

(And that's all I'm going to say about that...)

Happy Halloween, everyone!

cartoon from inkygirl.com

Defining Moments

As I opened the book which held the poetry I wrote as a teenager, pages which I had painstakingly typed out over and over on my mother's typewriter until they were devoid of misspellings, the title page I had placed in the front brought back a very distinct memory of a defining moment in my life.

My English teacher, Mr. Spade, presented us with an assignment. We were to find a classic book by an American author to read and present to the class. I groaned. I despised reading for any reason apart from my own enjoyment and was not looking forward to the project. I walked to the city library and asked for some recommendations. The first book out of the librarian's mouth was "Thoreau's Walden" so I checked it out, brought it home and set it on my dresser, never even cracking the cover to read a word until almost 2 weeks later when I was given the date for my presentation.

I remember sitting in the small alcove beneath the stairs across from our apartment, my own quiet place for reading and writing, and beginning to read Thoreau's words. Initially I was frustrated because the words did not flow in a way I was accustomed to, the language required more thinking on my part. But as I progressed through the story of this man's escape from civilization, I became fascinated. And when I read these lines, something in me changed:

I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach,
and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.

I read over these words countless times, each time realizing that I wanted to do more. I wanted to be more. I wanted not only to live, but to "live deep and suck out all the marrow of life" as Thoreau had described.

I began to search out those around me who seemed to live life to the fullest - happy people who lived with determination and purpose - people who I wanted to emulate. I would question whether my actions were truly a reflection of myself or of just trying to fit in. I eventually learned to do and be and live in a way that I was comfortable with myself and the things that made me who I was. I learned to let go of many inhibitions which kept me in a shell and became a happy, passionate, more outgoing young woman.

Most people who know me today do not know the quiet, shy young girl that I used to be. They are often surprised when I even speak of times when I was awkward and introverted. To me, this is a measure of my success.

So, thank you Mr. Spade.

Thank you Miss Librarian.

And thank you Thoreau.

I am glad to report that I am still living.

The Spooky Side of Halloween

This is how we usually decorate our house for Halloween each year.


But for this year... nothing.

We decided to use the time required for set-up towards installing a fence instead - something we've wanted for 12 years. So to make it up to our kids we've done a few other things to keep the Halloween spirit alive this year; one of these things was promising the 4 oldest kids a trip to the Haunted Forest. Allen and the 3 oldest kids had gone last year and came back with stories using the phrases 'totally freaked me out' and 'scared me half to death' which pretty much cemented in my brain that I would never have any desire to see it for myself. I mean, seriously, who PAYS for fear? Not me.

Until this year.

After numerous pleadings that I HAD to come and how it would be SO much more fun to go with someone who had never been, I caved. I live to please.

I had been to Knott's Scary Farm in California enough times as a teenager to know that the spooks and creepers can see fear in your face and that's when they target you. So my plan was to never look them in the eye.

Plan: FAILED.

Every creeper in that blasted Haunted Forest swarmed around me like I was the last piece of chocolate in a bowl of Halloween candy. And I didn't have to look at them... they would just breathe on the back of my head and I'd get the shivers and then they'd smell the fear oozing out of every inch of my body and follow me around relentlessly.

Can you say FREAKED. ME. OUT?!

Did it matter that I knew it was just a bunch of teenage boys for hire under those masks and cloaks? No. There is something about the whole atmosphere of a place that can dispel any words I had used to convince myself I could handle this.

Big 9 foot tall masked oxen? Gave me goosebumps. (made me scream) Freaky cloaked ax-bearer? Stalked me. Twice. (made me scream) Creepy clowns? Made me jump. (made me scream) White-masked chainsaw-wielders? MADE. ME. SCREAM. And that's the embarrassing part. I could not stop screaming! I would tell myself how ridiculous it was for a 37-year-old woman to be screaming at every turn in this blasted forest and to STOP IT RIGHT NOW but I couldn't listen to myself! Those stupid creepers made every last bit of common sense just disappear from my brain and I could not help being petrified.

When we finally escaped the maze I was exhausted. Every inch of my frame had been tensed up for the better part of an hour and I just needed to sleep. The next day I was aching as if I had done some strenuous sort of exercise the night before. But I will admit - in a strange way, it was a great time. Because who pays for fear? Me. And everything that was endured at night always looks better when you analyze it in the light of day.

For those of you who enjoy our home each Halloween, don't despair... next year we're going all out with some new features you haven't seen before - as well as a full-blown spook alley. And the best thing? At our house, no one pays for fear.

We give it to you for FREE.

Pick The Winner

(Note: To protect the children in the following story, I will give them non-gender names. They are referred to as Kid 1 and Kid 2.)

Yesterday was our church's Primary Program, which is the day when all of the kids pretty much take over the main meeting (under the direction of a few adults) with songs and talks. Needless to say, it's pretty much my favorite day at church of the entire year.

My cute class had seats right smack in the front of the congregation so that everyone could enjoy their 5-year-old antics, but I don't think anyone enjoyed them as much as I did.

As the whole group began to sing the first song, I sang along with exaggerated mouth movements in an attempt to help my class remember the words. This only resulted in their making exaggerated mouth movements as well, which made me laugh. And then they laughed. So I stopped doing it, because I am the mature adult here.

During one of the longer talks that was given, one of my little students began to pick their nose. I would shake my head and give Kid 1 disapproving looks and Kid 1 would simply avoid eye contact and continue to dig. One of my other students noticed my expression and looked over to see what was happening just as Kid 1 examined the treasure on the end of his/her finger, deemed it good enough and inserted it into his/her mouth. "Gwoss!" Kid 2 said, chastising Kid 1. The nose-picker simply shrugged, unfazed.

At one point, Kid 2 began to grow restless. Kid 2 tried sitting on his/her hands and playing with his/her neighbor's clothing before settling on feeling around beneath his/her chair. I saw what was happening but could do nothing about it. Kid 2 began to pull some gum off of the bottom of the chair. I looked at Kid 2 and mouthed, "YUCK" and "NO" but he/she had already worked the gum free and was showing it to me. "This was un-doe my chay-o!" he/she whispered, showing me a sticky greenish-blue blob. "Put it back," I responded quietly, and then turned my attention to the song being sung. When I looked at Kid 2 again, he/she was happily chewing something. Something sticky. Something greenish-blue.

Who is the 'gwoss' one now? I wondered silently, smiling.

So besides the uplift I received from the musical numbers and words spoken, my class had provided me with an unexpected bit of comic relief as well.

And really, does it get any better?

photo from parentsconnect.com

Signs

I spotted this sign in W-Mart this week:


...and I couldn't help but think, really? Is that sign seriously necessary?

I mean, I'll be the first to admit that we live in a conservative state. And I know that I live in a city where the local university is constantly recognized for their squeaky clean image.

But, really?

I tried to imagine what would necessitate posting such a sign, and here is the story that grew in my head...

Two roommates from the local squeaky-clean university have been asked to bring something to drink to a dorm party. The theme for the party is: Autumn. The roommates run into W-Mart and peruse the drink aisle for something autumnish, to no avail. And then, behold! At the end of the carbonated beverages aisle there is an end-cap filled with pretty yellow drinks called: C0r0na Extra.

One roomie says to the other: "Oh, my heck! These drinks are so perfect! The yellow color of them totally makes me think of autumn stuff! And bottles are so much cooler than cans! What do you think?" Then roomie number two says: "Heck-to-the-yes! We are so totally buying these pretty yellow drinks with the name C0r0na Extra! It sounds way exotic and plus it says Extra and that is my favorite kind of gum!"

So the roommates show up at the dorm party and arrange their pretty autumn-yellow colored drinks in a huge tub full of ice and everyone says, "NO WAY! How did you find drinks that are totally the color of yellow autumn leaves?! On a scale of 1 to 10 these drinks rank like a 34 for our autumn theme!"

And then the Dorm Mom walks in and says, "OH MY GOSH WHO BROUGHT ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES TO THE DORM PARTY?!" And the room is suddenly silent.

When Dorm Mom finds out where the drinks were purchased she calls W-Mart to give them the what-for and she is convincing enough that they post a sign.

But you know what? I would LOVE to hear what you think happened.

What's your take on the sign?

Making Dreams Come True

Roughly 70 years ago my Grandma and Grandpa met. My grandmother was a single mother, raising her children (including my dad) during the Great Depression when she and Grandpa fell in love. Not only did he fall in love with Grandma, he fell in love with her children. So he did what came naturally - he adopted them and they became his children as well.

Almost 40 years ago my parents met. My mom was a single mother, raising 2 kids on her own. She and my dad met and fell in love. Not only did Dad fall in love with Mom, but he often told us of how he instantly fell in love with her two children. So he did what made them all happy - he married mom and adopted my older brother and sister.

Over six years ago my brother Chip and his wife, who were not able to have kids on their own, opened their hearts to the sweetest little boy with the biggest chocolate brown eyes as his foster parents. In December of 2003 he became their son through adoption. In subsequent years they were able to adopt 3 beautiful little girls who were initially placed with them through foster care.

Four years ago, two of my favorite people got married. My brother-in-law, Daren and his wife, Shannon were the first to declare that they wanted to have more children than my mother-in-law's 16. After a few years they discovered that they could not have children on their own. They were heartbroken, but turned to adoption. And yesterday, they posted this:


And so, this post may not be what I had planned to write for today, and it may not be what you would expect to read here, but I can think of nothing else. I am filled to the brim with an awesome sense of happiness, love, excitement and hope.

I am overwhelmingly thankful for the opportunities available through adoption in my past, present and future.

They are opportunities which have helped to make dreams come true.

What NOT To Wear

Yes, my pal Debi & I are goofing off, but we actually dressed like this for a trip to the mall.
I wish I was kidding.

Awhile back a friend of mine posted a letter to her 16-year-old self. I have debated since then what I would write in a letter to my teenage self. Once I get past the advice on 'there's more to life than boys' and 'put a little more effort in at school', all that is left is fashion advice. And OH MY LANDS did I need it at times.

Dearest Teenage Gerb,

Hey there. It's me, 37 year-old Gerb, and I've got something to say, so I'm just going to say it. Some of your clothing choices scare me a little. Don't get me wrong, I still admire your love for finding unique thrift store items and wearing them proudly. But honestly, Gerb, some of your match-ups are frightening. I think it may have started with what you wore your first day of high school. We both know that was not your fault, that you were simply following the advice of someone you trusted, but those Levis should have been washed at least 20 times before you actually wore them in public... and that white t-shirt with the huge, puffy, green Gumby on it? It still makes me shudder.

I'm fairly certain that that was the day you decided not to care what anyone else thought about your clothes. It was easier to pretend you didn't care than to be visibly hurt by the pointing fingers and barely stifled giggles of the girls who enjoyed hurting others to somehow elevate their own self-esteem. This is when you were struck with the fact that you didn't seem to fit in anywhere. And so you came back with a vengeance, deciding to mock the cookie-cutter girls with your outlandishly unique looks.

As much as I admire you for dressing in one-of-a-kind styles, there are a few things that I would advise against ever wearing again. For example, long underwear knee-length cut-offs beneath short skirts just look kind of trashy. And cut-off shorts with thigh-high lace nylons are definitely not the right look for you. They portray the wrong message... and that message is not "I am unique".

Eventually you will tone down some and take your fashion in another direction. I'm not sure what to call the days when you would wear the clothes that the boys you were interested in were wearing, but again I need to say that this is really not you. Besides that - they are boy's clothes and you are a girl. Wearing the same brands as the surfer boys won't make them notice you. Being yourself will. Don't be afraid to be feminine. Remember that sort of psychadelic 60's dress you found at Goodwill, the one you pictured yourself wearing with lime green tights and your white suede slouch boots? The one you didn't buy because it wasn't baggy enough to hide your lack of shape? You are going to remember that dress for the rest of your life because you didn't buy it. That dress was unique, tasteful and feminine. It was a perfect expression of YOU.

I also remember a dress that you did buy, another that you will always remember. It's a hideous, white, sleeveless thing, all covered in frilly lace. You will buy it because of peer pressure and at FULL price. I know, you can't believe such a thing, but it's true. You will buy it because it is just the dress that the friend you will be shopping with would want and she will convince you that it's perfect for you so that she can later borrow it. And you'll look at pictures of yourself in that dress for years to come and wonder what possessed you to ever buy such a silly thing. At full price. Don't wear things that you know in your gut do not portray who you are or what you like.

The good news is that eventually you will come to a point where you embrace your uniqueness and, at the same time, not be afraid to conform to what others like when it is something that you are also fond of. You will learn to find balance. You will become comfortable with who you are and what you wear.

And don't worry, we'll have a talk about boys later.

With love and admiration,

Your 37-year-old Self

Sibling Revelry

Chip and I, circa 1980.

I have been blessed with many super, great, amazing, wonderful (insert every happy adjective here) friends in my life, but over time I have realized that the best of them all is the one my parents gave me when I was 19 months old... my little brother.

Growing up, people were constantly amazed that we got along so well. Some even asked if we were twins because we shared a special sibling bond. It didn't matter if I had hair like a boy or teeth like Laura Ingalls Wilder, he was always right there by my side, a friend through it all.

When I spend time with Chip, I can totally be myself at a completely different comfort level than I can be at with anyone else. There are no secrets, nothing to hide - because he already knows it all. I can bring up topics from kids to food to education to poverty to shopping and he takes it all in with complete interest. I never have to watch what I say or worry about offending him. If he or I bring up a topic that the other doesn't care to discuss, we can say so and move on with no hurt feelings.

Because we were raised in the same environment, the same culture, we agree on most things. And who doesn't like someone who agrees with them most of the time?

Chip is also one of the only people I am comfortable crying in front of. He's seen my ugly, scrunched up, blotchy red crying face and it doesn't faze him one iota.

We laugh, we cry, we sing, we dance. We get animated and talk with our hands when we're passionate about something. We know the words to every theme song and commercial jingle from the late 70's and early 80's and feel perfectly justified in random acts of performing them for and with each other.

Best of all, I can let out a nice belch after downing a carbonated beverage and he doesn't even blink. I mean, we used to have contests in that regard when growing up, so big whoop if one slips out in the middle of a conversation. If it's a really spectacular one, I may even be complimented with a casual, "Nice one!" before the banter continues.

(Not that I ever burp anymore. But if I did, that's how it would probably be...)

Regardless of any of that, the point of all this was simply to say that I could not ask for a better brother and friend.


And for that, I count myself as lucky.

Happy birthday, little brother. I have always been proud to be known as "Chip's Sister."

Minute Mysteries

Have you heard of minute mysteries? My kids go through stages where they love these things. I pretty much always think they're ridiculous because they are so open-ended that anything could be the answer.

Here's an example of a minute-mystery conversation in our house:

Kids: Hey, mom... Bob is a delivery man who is in a hurry. He's coming up on a railroad crossing as the barriers start lowering. He won't make it past before they close, but he doesn't have time to stop. What does he do?

Me: He crashes through the barriers.

Kids: Nope.

Me: How do you know? Were you there?

Kids: That's just not the right answer, mom.

Me: Why not? It makes sense.

Kids: Just keep asking questions and you'll get it.

Me: (exasperated sigh) Does he hit the train?

Kids: No.

Me: See? He crashes through the barriers without hitting the train. I win.

Kids: (rolling eyes) Whatever, mom.

Actually, today I have a few minute mysteries of my own to stump my kids with...

1. As some kids are leaving for school their mother asks them, "Did you make your beds?" "YES!" they all shout in unison, but when the mother goes to check, the beds are unmade. How is this so?

2. A woman puts a load of laundry into the washing machine, carefully checking that all socks have a match before putting them inside. By the time she carries the basket full of clean laundry upstairs, 3 socks are missing. Where are the missing socks?

3. The basement of a family's home has pictures drawn in Sharpie or crayon on every wall. When the parents ask who made these drawings every child responds with, "Not me." There is no one named Not Me living in the house. Who drew on the walls?

4. When a mother asks her kids if they would like a cookie, they all respond immediately. But when she asks if they have finished their homework or if they could help her with the dishes, no one seems to hear her. What is the cause of this phenomenon?

5. While searching for missing car keys beneath her couch cushions, a woman finds a candy bar wrapper, 4 popsicle sticks and some popcorn. No one is allowed to eat in the room where the couch is, so where did these items come from?

I can't wait to hear their answers.

And in case you were still trying to figure it out, Bob was the train driver.

Playing Catch Up

Well, I am home. Back to the land of crisp autumn weather, a colorful landscape and every child in my home infected with the cursed Swine Flu. (I wish I was kidding.)