Dreams

I've always had crazy dreams. Always. I honestly wonder if it's hereditary because my mother has had some really crazy ones. One of which is infamous in our family, but if I told you about it she just might kill me.

Not only are my dreams crazy, but I occasionally wake myself up laughing, crying, or talking. The times I wake myself up laughing are really entertaining, although I usually don't remember what was so darn funny.

Last night I had a weird dream. Not so much weird as annoying, I guess. I dreamed I was heading to play pickleball. I went inside the gym as usual, and the nets were up, but there were unfamiliar people in the gym. I set my bag down on the bleachers and decided to have a look outside to see if anyone was out there. The regular pickleball crew was outside playing, so I went back in to grab my bag, only to find out the gym was full of students. And although the nets were still up, the students were not playing pickleball. They were watching a movie! And I couldn't find my bag I left there, and my bag had my pickleball paddle inside!

Feeling frustrated I decided to go outside and borrow a paddle from some of the kids out there. As I was leaving the gym, a girl who is in the handbell choir with me shows up with her baby (a baby she doesn't yet have, by the way) and asks me to watch her for a little while. I tell her no problem and take the baby, and it's then I remember that Sandy (a pickleball friend/coach) gave me a check and some papers to take downstairs to the basement offices. As far as I know, there are no basement offices in the SUU P.E. building, but in my dream there were. I get downstairs, and no one knows who I need to give the check to. I ask several people, but no one knows because there is no name on the check. I tuck the check and the papers into a manila folder, (who knows where that came from?), and head back upstairs. I bump into the mom of the baby I've been holding, and she takes him. Only at this point the baby looks totally different than before. Before he was older, blonde, with a funny, toothy grin. Now he's younger, with dark, dark hair, and deep blue eyes. She's totally fine with the fact that her baby isn't the same, so I hand him over.

This whole time I've been dying to get outside and play pickleball, so once I pass off the little baby, I dash outside. Looks like I'll have to wait, because now the pickleball nets are gone from the outside courts!

I woke up at this part. I lay there thinking about the dream, and remembered a few weird details. One of the girls I play pickleball with was wearing a bright green shirt with a white shamrock on the front. The other detail is that the nameless check was for $75.00.

Dreams are fascinating. I honestly know that sometimes dreams are visions from heaven. They're meant to help us out, tell us something, comfort us. I just don't think this was one of those dreams. I'm pretty sure I'm just anxious to play pickleball and nervous to go to handbell choir.

But I'm telling you, if those pickeball nets are gone today or there are students watching a movie in the gym, I'm going to have the heebie jeebies.

My Goal...For the Next Few Years

I'm not a big fan of New Year's Resolutions. I've never seriously made any. I might have thought about changing some things, but the thoughts usually came while I was washing my hair. Or vacuuming. Or brushing my teeth.

This year is a little bit different. When Melanie turned 12 last year and entered the Young Women program, it took me for a little stroll down nostalgia lane. For most people, that little journey is usually a pleasant one. But when I think of my time in the Young Women program, I do not remember it with fondness. I HATED being in there. I really did. My family wasn't active in the Church, I was struggling to get there each week, let alone for Mutual activities. I got along better with the boys in the ward than I did with the girls--the product of having three older brothers and no sisters. I also had a horrible relationship with my mom. Seriously, when I think about what I was like to her, and how much fighting and contention there was between us, it makes me shiver. Thank goodness we're all patched up now.

I never did receive my Young Womanhood Recognition award. At the time, I couldn't have cared less about it. But that was then. Now is different. I'm different, and thank goodness for that!

Melanie and I have decided to earn our Young Womanhood Recognition Awards together. It's going to be a lot of work, I know, but it really is something I want to accomplish. Melanie and I are both really excited to do this together. What a fantastic way for both our testimonies to grow and brighten, and for our relationship to do the same.

So yesterday I went to Desert Book and purchased my own Personal Progress booklet. Wow. They're a lot smaller than when I was in Young Women! But the work is the same. Only now, I get to work on these things with my daughter. What a blessing! There is a quote in the booklet I want to share with you. It filled me with hope and the Spirit when I read it.

"Give me a young woman who loves home and family, who reads and ponders the scriptures daily, who has a burning testimony of the Book of Mormon. Give me a young women who faithfully attends her church meetings, who is a seminary graduate, who has earned her Young Womanhood Recognition Award and wears it with pride! Give me a young woman who is virtuous and who has maintained her personal purity, who will not settle for less than a temple marriage, and I will give you a young woman who will perform miracles for the Lord now and throughout eternity." ~President Ezra Taft Benson

What woman wouldn't want that for their daughter? Or themselves?

No, I Did Not Fall Off the Face of the Planet

It's been so long since I've posted, I feel like my blog is something from my distant past. Well, as distant past as a 33-year-old can have.

This month was really crazy. With parties, concerts, and plain ol' celebrating, December normally gets that way, but my family had other interesting plans to throw in the mix.

My grandpa passed away this month. It was sad to think about him not being with us, but it's been 26 years this month (my grandma also passed away in December) since he's been without my grandma. And they were as tight as two peas in a pod could be. One of my cousins who spoke at the funeral mentioned how we always said, "Grommie and Gromps," (my oldest brother was their first grandchild, and he couldn't say grandma or grandpa, so they were christened with those two terms of endearment). And my cousin was right; it was never one without the other. I will miss him, but I am so happy he is reunited with my grandma. And I'll see them both again. ;)

Unfortunately, the other family news was not good. Did anyone happen to see on the news the house that burned down on the 21st of December, over on 100 East? Well, that was my grandpa's house. And it burned down the day before his funeral. My niece was living there and her friend was living in the basement. They all got out fine but the house is a total loss. They were able to salvage a few things. She had her phone with her, her guitar was a little smoked and needs new strings, and miraculously her laptop (with all of her beautiful photography and music on it) opened up bright and cheerful with 95% battery power! My niece hasn't had the easiest life, and that's putting it mildly, but I am constantly amazed at her strength and her shining resilience through adversity. She is such a good example to me.

There's always a silver lining to a cloud, though. It was inspiring to see the love, support, and assistance given to my niece. Food, clothes, towels, blankets, crafts, money, gifts. All these things came pouring into her life from sweet friends, neighbors, and strangers whose hearts were full of giving. I'm sure they felt peace and joy as they willing gave to one who was without. I know they felt the love of our Savior through their service. Thank you to all who helped and are still helping her get where she needs to be. You are constant in my thoughts and prayers.

You'd think that would be enough going on in my life, but you'd be wrong. What time wasn't spent seeing family for the funeral and helping my niece sort some things out was spent down on my knees in prayer. Not that that was a bad thing! It was just a different thing. The week before my grandpa passed away I was called to be the Primary President. I'm very humbled to think Heavenly Father has faith in me to fulfill this calling and serve those Primary children. Thus, the plentiful time spent in prayer. It has been an anxious, nervous, and exciting time. I love teaching and doing sharing time. It's my most favorite part of the calling. Those kids are so anxious to share their testimonies and what they know about the gospel and about Jesus that you can't help but catch their excitement. It's wonderful! The hardest part for me, and I knew it would be from the moment my bishop called me to this calling, is being patient in listening to the Holy Ghost. It has always been a struggle for me. But I have made some changes in my life and my heart that I hope and pray will make room for the Holy Ghost.

I hope all of you had a Merry Christmas and plan on having a Happy New Year!

Comic Relief for Lauren...and Anyone Else Who Needs It

Today I was talking with my friend Lauren, who just happens to be funny, smart, and beautiful. (If you know any nice, handsome, respectable, single men, let me know.) I was telling her what a crack-up Riley has been this week, and I told her I'd post all the nutty things he's said in the past few days. So if you're in need of a laugh, giggle, or even a chuckle, then read on.



For those of you familiar with our family, you'll know that Ben is the guy who frequently says "Are you going to finish that?" when someone is done eating but has left food on their plate. The other night I cooked pasta Alfredo and served it with a side of broccoli. (Sometimes when I'm really in a crazy mood, I'll just throw my broccoli on top of the pasta, covering it all in fattening, cholesterol-rich, lip-smacking delicious Alfredo sauce. But that's not what I'm here to tell you about.) Riley made quick work of his pasta, but left a couple of broccoli florets on his plate. He got out of his chair, picked up his fork and his plate containing the broccoli, and walked over to the cupboard under the sink to put the broccoli in the garbage. He slowly opened the cupboard with one hand and leaned his plate into the garbage. But then he paused. With his fork on his plate, almost ready to send the broccoli into the trash, he looked over at Ben and asked, "Do you want my broccoli, Dad?"

"No thanks, Riley," replied Ben.

And with a little shoulder shrug and a tilted head, Riley said, "OK. Suit yourself," and scraped his broccoli in the trash.



I have a loud voice. Always have had. It's genetic and environmental. That's what happens when you grow up in a house where your parents communicate through yelling loudly. I really try not to yell at my kids. Some days I'm more successful than others in my attempts to keep my voice down. One technique that has helped me is funny singing. Sometimes when the kids are being disobedient but not necessarily naughty, I sing a loud, funny, and terrible version of an opera singer. Just one big note with as much vibrato, however horrible it may be, as I can.

A few nights ago was one of those nights where Riley was in monkey-mode. Lots of noise and bad manners and swinging. He was supposed to be sitting in his chair, eating dinner. He was hanging by the edge of the table and swinging under it. And giggling of course. I didn't want to yell, so I belted out a fat, old note, exhaling as much tension as I could muster. Riley continued to giggle. I then said to him, "Riley, it's not funny," meaning the behavior he was exhibiting.

"It's funny when you scream like that!" he giggled back at me. Ben was having such a hard time not laughing with his mouth full of food, I thought the food might just spew forth from his nose.



Riley wasn't feeling his best on Sunday, but seeing as how both Ben and I were teaching, we just had to suck it up and go. Riley was a trooper. For a while there we wondered if he'd ever manage to stick out Sacrament meeting, but he's done remarkably well with the strategies we've added to help him out. Because he wasn't feeling well, we let him take Blue Blankie to church with us. Blue Blankie is his blanket he's had since he was a baby. And, well, it's blue.

Riley was snuggling with me for a while, then hopped off my lap to go draw with Ben. When he got off my lap, he turned around to face me, and with very serious eyes and much brow furrowing, he handed me Blue Blankie and said, "Use it well." Then he turned and went to Ben.



I don't know if these things are as funny to you as they are to me. Maybe these moments are those you-had-to-be-there kind of things. And witnessing these funny things in person is so much better because Riley has such an expressive face. It just seems nice that we're doing more laughing and smiling than yelling and time-outs. I just hope it keeps going in that direction.

Better Five Years Late Than Never

If you walked into my house and gazed at the pictures on the wall, you'd notice there is something, or someone, missing. And I could kick myself for it.

I am the youngest of my siblings, the baby of the family. My parents did what most parents do and took tons of pictures of their oldest child, my brother Todd. There are some really great black-and-white photos of him as a little fellow in the great outdoors, usually sporting a pair of cowboy boots. But, like most parents, with each child the selection and quantity of photographs diminishes. Which leaves me with very few childhood pictures of myself.

It's not a really big deal. There are enough pictures to satisfy my nostalgia and my children's curiosity of what I looked like when I was a kid. My little munchkins were highly entertained when my brother, who was visiting from West Virginia, and I went through my mom and dad's old box of photographs. I had some seriously awesome hair in elementary school! But my stylish 80s hairdos are not what I'm rambling about. What I'm rambling about is the fact that I did the same things as my parents and took less photographs with each kid.

In all honesty, I didn't do so bad. There are still lots of photographs of my kids when they were young; there are just more of Melanie. And more tangible photos of her. When Carter was born and into his infant/toddler stage was when digital cameras really arrived on the scene. I have one photo/scrapbook album of Carter, whereas I have four of Melanie. And I think the reason for this is that most of Carter's pictures are on the computer, where they and other photos provide a slideshow for a screen saver. It's actually quite nice, and Ben and I often find ourselves just watching the screen and remembering funny times with our kiddos.

So, even though I still have photos, I've been terrible at displaying them nicely framed on my wall for all to see. Right now I have a picture of Melanie from 4th grade; she's now in 7th. Her photo isn't too bad, because she still really looks like herself. On the other hand, Carter's photo is from when he was about two years old. Seriously, the boy is eight now! And Riley? Do you remember the something, or someone, missing from the beginning of this post? Well, that'd be my youngest, who is now five, who doesn't even have a picture on our wall...until now!

My amazing friend, Teona, took pictures of my kids last week. Granted, with my kids as subjects she has some beautiful material to work with, but she also did a fantastic job with the photos.

It was really hard selecting which ones to develop. As I'm typing this I realize I should have posted a bunch and had you all who read this vote on your favorites. But I would have picked what I wanted in the end anyway. ;) That's just my mother's prerogative.

We took these just up Cedar Canyon, where the bridge is by the Canyon Park trail. Riley's we took a few days earlier, and didn't make it up in time to keep the sun out of the photo. Carter and Melanie's were done early enough that we caught the shade, and they look wonderful! The contrast between the light and dark in the pictures is something I worry about when they're all on the wall, but it's better than what's there now!

I'm pretty lucky, don't you think?

My Love-Hate Relationship with the Harry Potter Series

With summer bringing a little less structure and a little more relaxation (I love being married to a teacher for that reason), we settled down as a family and watched the Harry Potter movies. We started with Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix and then moved on to Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, eventually jumping to the earlier movies. These two movies, which I love, got me all wound up for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, which comes out in November...well the first half anyway.

Of course, next I went online to watch the Trailer for HP7. I get the tinglies every time I watch it. And, yes, I'm a total nerd, I've watched it several times. I then decided I still needed more Harry Potter and decided to read the series over again.

I'm the kind of person who can read a book over and over again and still enjoy it. I don't remember all the details, just the main ideas and whether or not I liked the book. I used to hate that I couldn't remember what I read, especially when it came to testing in school, when my reading comprehension was tested. But now when I read it's for pure enjoyment and I don't have to remember everything. This lack of memory is what enables me to continue enjoying books I've previously read.

I first read Harry Potter in the summer of 2000. Our family was living in Vancouver, WA at the time, and Melanie and I had traveled down to Cedar City for my best friend's wedding. After enjoying visiting my friend and attending her wedding, I headed home, and my mother-in-law, Jeanne, was kind enough to drive home with Melanie and me.

I had heard about the Harry Potter series from several people, and they all said the same thing: Harry Potter is amazing, awesome, great, etc. I wasn't a big fan of fantasy books. I can count on my left hand the number of fantasy books I had read, and I remember thinking, "What is the big deal about a book about an 11-year-old boy wizard?" So on the way back to Vancouver, Jeanne handed me Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. "Read it," she said. Not one to argue, but to please, I didn't object when she climbed into the driver's seat. I settled in the back, next to a 20-month-old Melanie, (still bald, but very cute), and cracked open the beginning of Harry's story.

I could tell you how I couldn't put it down, but as we were in a car and there wasn't much else to do that statement wouldn't hold as much weight as it usually does. I'll just say I don't remember much of the drive because I was at Hogwarts with Harry, finding my way in the wizarding world, making friends, and helping Harry stop Voldemort from obtaining the Sorcerer's Stone. Needless to say, I was hooked. Here's where the love part of the relationship began.

At that time, the first three books were out, and Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire was to come out soon. I devoured the second and third books and impatiently waited for the fourth. What torture!

Little did I know there would be continual bouts of torture from the lovely J.K. Rowling. After each book came out, I would immerse myself in Harry's world with the same appetite as I did with the first book, only it intensified with each new book, as Harry and his world become more complex. I felt Harry's elation when he found Sirius and learned who his godfather truly was. I struggled along with him as he competed in the Triwizard Tournament, fought and made up with Ron, and battled and beat Voldemort yet again. I felt his frustration at being treated like a kid when he'd been through much more than most adults, especially when he lost Sirius. My stomach had sympathy butterflies every time Harry thought of Ginny and when he FINALLY kissed her. My heart stopped (and my hand flew to my mouth) when Harry watched Snape use the Killing Curse that caused Dumbledore to sail over the edge of the Astronomy tower and fall from its lofty height.

Then along came Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Hallows versus Horcruxes; Harry, Hermione, and Ron constantly on the run and narrowly escaping capture; taking Hogwarts back from the evil deisigns of the Carrows and Snape. Snape. I loathe him, and I didn't feel too badly when he met his rather sticky end. I really have trouble getting other things done when I'm in that book. Dishes don't get washed as quickly, laundry stays unfolded and slightly wrinkled in the laundry basket, and peanut butter sandwiches are usually what gets served for lunch...and dinner. How am I supposed to get those things done when I'm helping Harry, Hermione, and Ron find and destroy Horcruxes, not to mention rid the wizarding world of Voldemort?!

So what could I possibly hate about Harry Potter? Nothing. Nothing, except for the fact that I hate when it's over. I don't want to read anything else. I have Hunger Games, Catching Fire, and Mockingjay sitting on my shelf, waiting to be read, and I have no desire to read them. Ben told me I'll love those books, and I believe him, but all I want to do is go back to Hogwarts and stay there. I want Hogwarts to be real.

Pegasus

As many of you know, Riley is quite the chatterbox. (I seriously have no idea where he gets it from. You know, because my father and I are so very, very quiet, shy people.)

The other day our family was all riding together in the van, and Riley was telling everyone about his scary dream he had the night before. Apparently, Curious George screamed at a clown, who then ran away. I'd be scared, too, if Curious George started screaming. Ben started to tell him how he had scary dreams all the time growing up, which usually involved Ben being saved by a wizard, who helped him escape on the back of a Pegasus. Don't ask. Just don't ask.

This didn't sit well with Riley, who turned to Ben and in an embarrassed, hiding his face and hunkering down his shoulders kind of way said, "Um, Dad. Pegasus are kind of girlie."