27 things that made yesterday amazing.

1. It was my birthday.

2. Kicking P90x trash at 6:00am

3. Eating the husband’s delectable pancake breakfast.

4. Hearing my mom’s voice on the other end of the line, bright and early, wishing me a happy day.

5. Seeing the “it’s your birthday” grin pasted across Atrain’s face all day long, and relishing Jdog’s oblivious happiness.

6. My new blue nail polish selected by my boys.

7. Lingering a little longer in the shower while the husband did the dishes.

8. Blow drying my hair with my new, digital ion explosion dryer. I’ve always wondered how many watts of power are shooting at my stubborn strands.

9. Receiving cheery bday messages from friends.

10. Wearing the shirt I bought myself last weekend.

11. Taking off to shop for new running shoes with Atrain while Jdog slept with the husband.

12. Getting my battery booted for free by the campus police.

13. Trying on the five finger (toe) running shoes and igniting a new sporting desire.

14. Getting my battery booted (again) by the kind man who heard me trying to talk the Jiffy Lube guys into reviving my dead battery to make one last trip to the repair shop.

15. Making my fifth call to my father to inquire about my minor car emergency, and knowing by the unconditional delight in his voice how much he loves me (even though he was yet to wish me happy birthday).

16. How the husband was so happy to drop everything and accompany me to the mechanic, and then to a clothing store, and then to the D.I.

17. Snagging (not steeling) a sweet brass stag statue from the D.I. “collectibles” department.

18. Catching a “Whinney the Pooh” matinee with the boys and giggling at Atrain who was giggling his way through the opening scenes.

19. Taking a wiggly Jdog out of the theater to wander around the Sugarland strip mall. I scored a couple dirt cheap sale basketball outfits for the boys, and a couple new necklaces for myself.

20. When my phone rang and I heard my father in law and my father on the other end, singing me “happy birthday.” My dad had gone in for an appointment at the Doc’s (father in law’s) office. Hearing their voices made me laugh, and smile, and wonder why I’ve been so blessed by such great examples in my life.

21. Feeling completely and totally pampered at home. The husband and the boys fixed dinner and cleaned up afterwards while I did whatever I wanted without feeling even a bit guilty.

22. Eating my third helping of my birthday “cake,” the husband’s incredible Mango sticky rice dish. Mmmmm. I couldn’t stop. Not today.

23. Putting the boys in bed and hearing Atrain’s sweet “It was such a beautiful day today,” wishes.

24. Sitting next to the husband to watch my new HD video camera in action on youtube and dreaming about the day when we’ll take it snorkeling on some incredible stretch of shore.

25. Thanking the husband for the generous gift of time he’s promised—three weeks of writing time, to be exact. That’s a lot. I let him know that if it doesn’t work out, it will be ok. But, he’s determined. And, I’m thrilled beyond measure. I doubt I’ll knock out a book in three weeks, but maybe I’ll get a good start on my novel dreams.

26. Snuggling with my man on the couch and having free reign of the remotes. I chose to watch a few more episodes of Friday Night Lights. So good.

27. Sitting down to write about the year, reflect on my goals and read a few scriptures. I realized again—just like I do whenever I sit to write—how much God is guiding my life.

Happy Birthday to Me

This was a big day—the day I became a 27 year old. Twenty six was a good year. I became a mother of two. I potty trained my toddler. I ran a half marathon. I fell in love with sweet baby J. I swam in the Gulf Coast with my three boys. I made a goal to translate my muddled mind on this blog every day of the year, and in some decent percentage, I’ve succeeded. I struggled. I rejoiced. I cried. I laughed. I sought answers. I found some. And I decided to make my next year better than the last.

I think that acceptance will help me on this quest. I'm going to accept myself, my life, my ups and downs for what they are, and then I'm going to move forward. I'm banishing my days of festering about the messes I've made--and I make a lot of them...with help. I'm doing away with the my worries about people caring whether or not the contents of my cupboards are strewn across my counter because one of my little cabinets decided to divorce itself from the wall. Nope. Not this year. That was so immature.

This year there will be less "expectance" and more acceptance. Less muddling and more puddling. And, maybe a few more pictures to go along with it all. Happy birthday, MJ. This will be a great year.

I've Earned It.

I cried within an hour of waking up today. I've felt a little lousy lately: expecting much more of myself and missing most of my marks. The husband suggested that I ease up, and he's probably right. So, I let go of a little expectation for the day, even though it's hard to forget how far behind I feel. I'm glad I put it aside and went to work. I don't think that's the best cure for the "lousy lately" blues, but it does help.

Last weekend was wonderful. The husband and I rented the Schwinn Tango, a tandem bike, and rode it around town (thank you Milly for taking the kids and making our bike date possible). Some people call tandem bikes "divorcycles," but I'm happy to say we are still married. We were a perfectly nerdy pair as we cruised into the annual medical school BBQ on the tandem. I love the husband's unabashed approach to my ideas. He dives in, 100%, unquestioning. We had a good time--especially as we huffed back up the hills to our home. He somehow made me feel like I was pulling my own weight too. I don't want to own a tandem, but I do look forward to biking by the husband's side some day.

Tomorrow is my birthday. Tonight at my staff meeting one of my coworkers asked how old I am going to be. "Twenty seven," I said with confidence, just before someone said how rude it is to ask a girl her age. "It's ok," I said, "I'm turning twenty seven and I've earned it." Tomorrow will be a great day.

Congratulations

I just wanted to take this opportunity to congratulate the husband, who is the proud new owner of a sweet second-hand Cervelo bike frame. You waited long and hard for this moment in your life to arrive and I'm so privileged to be a part of it. I really can't wait to ride beside you on my new-to-me-hand-me-down Bottechia frame. Please don't leave me in the dust.

I would also like to announce that I drove my first successful stint on a motorcycle tonight. I won't go into all of the details of my first unsuccessful moment on a motor-bike. But, it was in front of my future husband and I did break the mirror off of my dad's vintage bike. Oops. Tonight's ride was much, much better than that one. This must mean I'm becoming more controlled and balanced in my old age. Yes, I'm sure that's what it means.

To Dine For.

I ate out three times today. It was spectacular.

Meal #1: The husband and I took our rented tandem bike up the canyon to Ruth's diner for brunch. Famous mile high biscuits always taste like heaven, but this morning they were especially celestial as I sat beside my love. We listened to the running brook outback and wondered what our lives will be like in another year. He even switched me plates--strait up--when he noticed how much I was eyeing his order. The two best things about getting older are: having an occasion to justify restaurant patronage, and knowing that I'm getting older with my man.

Meal #2: Did I mention that Milly took the boys last night? She is a saint. Whenever I ask her how the boys were she always says, "they were perfect," and nothing more, even though it wasn't long after I picked up the boys that I discovered Atrain's urine scented PJs in his bag, and possibly another pair of pants as well. But, I guess he is perfectly par for the three year old course. Once we reunited with the husband, we headed to our church group's pool party, where Atrain took the biggest dare of his life. After careful analysis of the large, steep water slide, he boarded it by himself and catapulted down into the husband's arms. But, it wasn't before he braced his arms and legs against either side of the slide and warped his face into a mean interpretation of "the scream." Surprisingly, he wasn't too shaken by the crash at the bottom. After I helped him regain his courage, he continued to dunk the husband repeatedly from the diving board. And then I ate the best meat balls I've ever had, courtesy of our high councilman, who also sells salsa at Cosco. MMmmmm.

Meal #3: My third dining experience was with my sisters--all four of them. Oh wait, one of them is actually my mom, but no one is ever able to tell. She loves it. I would too. The company made the food delectable. I simply can't understand why the husband hates sharing restaurant dishes. Food is so much better when you can try a little bit of everything. With five girls around a table, our forks are constantly tasting and trading through everyone else's order. I love our conversations even more than our annoying dinner habits. We refreshed Allerina on all of our "good old" stores: about how Bambie pretended she was in a gang, and how I had a sixth sense about whether or not someone had set foot in my room, and how Katydid once painted her entire bathroom in baby blue clouds--window sill and all. And, of course, about how we have wonderful concerned parents who read our journals to spy on us (actually, that was really just Bambie's journal because my life wasn't "interesting enough" to have to check up on it...I still can't decide whether or not that was a compliment). However, I'm sure she wishes she could read them now.

First Draft

We finally finished the first draft of the husband's personal statement for his residency application tonight. Phew. Now we just have to finish the second and third and fourth...It's hard to believe we're actually here again. But, I have to admit that it feels a lot better to be writing, "I want to become a radiation oncologist because...." rather than "I want to become a medical student because..." Not that I'm actually doing either. It's a WE thing. Just like we are writing his personal statement. Wow. We are almost done.

Blankey Boy

Our little baby J is changing every day. He wakes up with bright eyes and a happy heart, pointing his little chubby finger at everything--ready to show us his new tricks. If I only had a dollar for every time the husband says, "That little Jdog is such a good baby," then we could pay off our student loans. Almost.

Little J has always been a texture guy. He loves to feel things--scratching walls, furniture, carpet, my face (ouch), and he loves to try to pick apart anything that is crocheted. Since birth whenever he eats he's so interested in scratching me that it is rather painful, so I always tried to keep a blanket nearby to keep his hand occupied. And, he's developed an attachment. And it's adorable.

He doesn't show a preference for any particular blanket yet. He has a few favorites--the soft ones. He grabs a wad of the furry fabric with both hands and stuffs it into his mouth and smiles. The other day at the grocery store I had him in a frenzy of giggles as I let him stuff his blanket into my mouth. This kid is too cute.

Today when he awoke I heard him jabbering in his playpen. I sat there listening his his amazing little noises for a few minutes before I went in to get him. It's still sort of crazy to me that his favorite sound is "sssss." It's just so effortless. When I opened the door he crawled over to the crib side, stood up and reached for me. Then, I asked him, "Where's you're blankey baby?" He immediately dropped down, crawled over to his fuzzy green comfort cloth, and clenched onto it with both hands. I picked him and the blanket up and he was as happy as a baby could be.

That is, until, Atrain began experimenting with Jdog's tolerance. Atrain grabbed the blanket from him and then gave it back, and then repeated the teasing until baby J had had enough. He crawled right over to big brother and lunged for the blankey. I was like watching a a baby seal belly flop onto a slab of ice. Atrain was a little surprised by Jdog's sudden surge of confidence. So was I. We all laughed a little before I parted the two boys and congratulated Jdog on winning moves. He smiled as he snuggled his face right into his blanket. It's so sweet to have a little blankey boy.

Camp Out

The husband and Atrain are sleeping under the stars tonight. I guess, that is, if you count camping in the back of a pick up truck with a hard top "sleeping under the stars." I can't even imagine how much fun they're having. They left with a pile of blankets, a bumble bee lantern, a jumbo bag of monster marshmallows and the "Fox in Socks" book. It's always a riot to listen to the husband read that book. He's so judicious in his account of the tweetle beetle battles in a bottle on a poodle eating noodles.

Atrain loves his daddy so much. Tonight while I was trying to clean up I found the husband's Family Home Evening card name tag hanging next to Atrain's tag on the hooks in his room. I wonder when Atrain sneaked them in there. This has been a fun week for my boys. They spent a lot of time catching up on playing catch, going to the D.I., crashing at family members' homes and chasing me down at work events. I smile wider than the Grand Canyon when I see my boys strolling down the sidewalk to me.

Training is over, which means back to the routine. I do enjoy my routine. Maybe a bit too much. Tonight I tried and tried to talk myself into loading myself, baby J, and the port-a-crib into the back of the truck to rough it in the woods. I was really even ready--bags packed, baby food stocked, blankets gathered. But, when Jdog showed signs of resistance, I bailed. Maybe I should push myself a little more...take a few more risks. I used to be so good at that. I hope someday I'll recover my lost sense of spontaneity. But not tonight. Instead, I'll be content cuddling my pillow with the window cracked open, letting a lonely cricket lull me to sleep while I wonder what the boys are up to.

PS: I Love You.

I bet I rolled close to 500 pieces of tape today. Residence halls are opening tomorrow and it is not an event to be taken lightly. And then there is the Relief Society bread making activity, and the Medical Student Alliance opening social, and my little missionary brother's birthday. I haven't even emailed him a letter. It's hard not to feel like a hysterical, horrible old hag right now. And, oh yes--I forgot to mention the husband's residency applications that hinge on my help. But how, when I haven't a second to stand still? I'm not complaining. Even though I feel like a hag, I do try to enjoy it--I just wish this hag had more time to fit everything in.

Hopefully the waters will settle soon so I can send Elder JD the suspenders I bought him for his birthday, play with my kids, buy groceries, clean the toilet, go running, and write something that will help my husband get a job (in no particular order). The husband has been doing such a fabulous job holding down the fort while I'm at work. I hope we can continue work on his stuff soon. Gotta go. Jdog has awaken for his midnight feast.

Eyes, Ears, Mouth and Nose

Today was a good day--such a good day. I love my family. I love getting my boys all dressed up for church (even though our version of dressing up isn't as polished as it could be) they always look so nice walking together in white(ish) shirts. The husband played the organ and spoke in church. I love hearing him do both. Members of our congregation always comment on his enthusiastic version of the hymns. He has this way with music. It's hard to explain. But, when you hear him behind an instrument it's as if you're hearing sunshine. I sure love that man.

I also love my two little men. Atrain is at the top of his nursery class. Having been his nursery leader for a year, I never imagined the day when he would be the best behaved boy in the group. It's not that he's bad--no he's a very good boy. He's also always been a very sensitive, defensive and determined little boy. And sometimes that made nursery a little challenging. However, today his teachers were singing his praise. She said, "He was just so good--shared with all of the kids, and he was so helpful..." It was sweet music in my ears.

And, last, but not least, sweet baby J began pointing on cue. He's been waving for a few weeks now, but he's now added "where's my facial feature" tricks to his repertoire. Between the nose and the eyes, he's pretty accurate. I loved watching him study my face today. I wonder what he thinks of me when his big silvery-blue ringed eyes linger on my features. His perspective isn't exactly flattering. He spends the majority of his time staring up my nose (he loves to try to put his finger up my nostrils all of the time too). But, he loves me anyway: big nostrils and all. How flattering. How did I get to be such a lucky momma.

A Dalliwag Day

Today was Dalliwag's birthday. He's 13 on the 13th, and such a sweet teenager. He even invited me to his party, and even though I was unable to attend, I felt pretty special that my little bro still wants to spend time with me. When I called to sing to him on the phone I could hear him smile as I over-sang a sappy version of "Happy Birthday." And when I finished he sincerely informed me that I was the first person to ever sing "Happy Birthday" to him on the phone. Awe. I'm not sure if this information is true or not, but I am sure that I have one of the sweetest little teenage brothers in the world. Happy Bday, Dal.

On Top of the World

Tonight my work training schedule took my team to a team building camp. The bonding exercises the camp directors make us do are rather cheesy, but somewhat relevant. Outdoor time together=team building, no matter the agenda. We had the Sherpa walk, the low ropes course, the sequential tarp game, the zoom puzzle, etc. I like all of the silly exercises--all except for the dreaded human puzzle they like to call "traffic jam." I hate that one.

This year the camp directors threw in a special new obstacle: the world ball. It's a giant ball, probably 8 feet tall, and your objective is to kneel on top of it and roll it across a field toward a goal. Your team mates get to be your spotters and every member of the team takes their turn trying to maneuver the globe to the goal line.

I was so excited for my turn. I felt like I was on the TV show "Wipe out," thought there was no wall of punching fists throwing jabs at my chin. I climbed aboard the big bouncy ball, and to my surprise, I was really good at it. Maybe even the best in the group. I was so proud of myself. Sometimes it's hard for me not to feel old while I'm at training: old and odd--especially when the eighteen year old first year RAs ask me if I'm an AREC (a supervisor), but I'm not. My response is usually something like, "Nope, but I'm old enough to be one." Because, I am. Admitting it usually makes me feel a little silly, but not this afternoon. As I boarded the big bouncy world ball and successfully crawled it over 20 feet without falling off, I felt pretty good about myself--maybe even proud that this 'ol mama still has a few sweet tricks up here sleeve.

The Wedge

Tonight the husband, Bananza, Atrain and I were watching the finale of "the dancing show" before Atrain's bedtime. Atrain cleaned up all of his toys by himself to earn such a late night privilege--not to mention that I am super lenient after a long day without him. When I return home from training I feel like building train tracks and reading books with my boys all night long. But that wouldn't bode well for the babysitters the next day. So, we opted for a short dancing show party, and Atrain brought his A-game.

It was hilarious to watch this little man twist, boogie, jump off walls, roll on the ground and strike all sorts of copy-cat poses. He looked like a little kung-fu warrior, that is until the warrior got a wedgie. His fury of movement extinguished as he stood in the middle of the living room, reaching behind his back to unbend the undies that had worked their way between his little bum cheeks. And all of the sudden the dancing show was eclipsed by Atrain's eternal dig.

The husband, Bonanza and I sat on the perimeter of the room, wondering when the poor little boy would find relief. By the fourth unsuccessful attempt to remove the wedge, we were all giggling uncontrollably. Atrain's quest for comfort reached its pinnacle when he dropped his pajama pants, clenched onto a wrinkle in his undies and pulled. Finally, the boy found freedom from the worst wedgie we had ever witnessed.

Full Heart; Happy Home

Tonight Atrain said the dinner prayer. The food wasn't much to be excited about--my table is a little sloppily spread through training week, but Atrain's doesn't mind. He said, "Dear Heavenly Father, thank you for this day. Thank you to this food. Thank you that momma is with us home from training. And to dada. And to my baby. Amen." I love that little boy. Why I ever thought my heartaches would end after marriage, I'm not sure. My boys can make me melt on que. It hurts to be away from them. Coming home to hear Atrain thank God I am there is something I never want to forget.

Family for Now and Forever

Allerina is here--bless her sweet little soul. She is the best littlest sister around and I love how my boys love her. And why wouldn't they? She builds forts with them, cuddles with them on cue, loads up the double bob and pushes them to and from every neighborhood park. She even cleans up with them. I'm so thankful the babysitting cycle has swung this way, and can't wait for the day when it will swing back. Watching her little ones will be a blast some day.

And, a special thanks to Milly, who took my beloved boys for their first brother sleep over last night at her home. They just love her. I would be lying, however, if I wasn't relieved to hear that they missed me. Sweet Atrain began his sleepover begging Milly to stay at her house forever and ever. I'm glad that for some unknown reason he changed his mind the following day. I guess I must be doing something right.

I love family. I don't know what I would do without them. I guess I should start saying that I don't know what I will do without them. The husband and I are writing his personal statement for residencies right now. That day is coming. It's not too far in the future when we will pack up our little med school apartment and part for some undetermined destination. It makes me sad, but the thought also thrills me. I am getting old, you know. At the end of this month, to be more precise. It will feel nice to be nearer to a real job and a home of our own. But not nearly as nice as it feels to be near to family.

How to Train your Dragmom

No, I didn't dress in drag today. But I did do a lot of training: inventories, lock outs, check ins, door decs, building meetings, ice breakers, organizational values, duty schedules, etc. It was a big day. I met a lot of new people--young people, good people. They make me feel simultaneously old and energized. I really do like my job.

But what I loved most was coming home to my kiddos, who had been happily playing with Allerina all afternoon. I don't know how I'd survive without my littlest sis, or any of my sisters for that matter. When I got home, the boys tackled me--both of them. And they were both whimpering, and then crying, and then competing for a place in my arms. It felt so good.

You Didn't Just Say That

The husband said something tonight that will not be repeated. It wasn't mean. It was actually supposed to be a compliment. But it wasn't. It was just a stupid, blubbering mistake. His timing was off and his delivery was thoughtless. Poor guy. He's a genius, but needs to take a few tact lessons. It may take me a few days to stop reminding him about it, but I definitely won't write it down. That way it just might slip into my memory's cracks.

Completely Uncool

I watched the Hawaina boys today: the four sons of my cousin Kanada. I adore them. They are so full of fun, ideas, energy, and desire. Atrain looks forwards to every opportunity to be with them; he watches them so closely and wants so much to be a full fledged member of their inner circle whenever we are there. The Hawaina boys are good boys--worthy of his adoration. Whenever we are there the boys always make Atrain feel like the coolest cousin around.

But today a very uncool moment made me swell with angst and anger. It wasn't the boys' fault. It was a nosy little neighbor girl that made me feel like a roaring, mean mother bear. After lunch I let the boys open the front door and ride their scooters around the sidewalk circle while I washed off a few dishes. It didn't take me long--maybe three minutes before I joined them. But, the moment I walked through the door I regretted every minute: there was Atrain, standing still on his scooter, looking down at the sidewalk while a nine(ish) year old girl examined his implants while cousin Gav stood nearby.

"Hey!" I shouted, with probably a little more force than necessary. Immediately the two older kids looked my way and guilt swept over their faces. They took their hands off Atrain's cochlears and my little man rode away. But, I pursued the situation, trying to control fire burning in my mind. "What are you doing, guys?" I said, with a contrived calm tone. "She asked, 'what are those things,' so I told her about his cochlears," said eight year old Gav. I looked at the little girl and said curtly, "Did you ask Atrain for permission to touch him?" She gave me a sheepish smile and said, "No." I responded with a blunt, angry tone, "You never do that. It's really rude to touch anyone's cochlears without asking. It's like me sticking my finger in your ear without permission--and still I would never do that."

She looked a little sorry, but something in me mead me want to grab her elbow and stomp her over to her front door to let her mother know what had just happened. But I held back on account of her being just a curious kid; but as I write this I'm wondering if I should have pounded on her front door and congratulated her mother for raising such a rude child. But I didn't know her mother, and I didn't want Atrain to see me making even more of a scene. Further embarrassment on his part was unnecessary. And I could tell by the way he rode his scooter away from the scene of the crime that he was unsure of what to think about what had just happened, and needed a good, loving conversation about saying "no" when others touch us in unwarranted ways.

So, I said to the little girl, "Please don't ever do that again, to anyone whose body looks a little different than yours." And then she responded with the absolute worst phrase a sorry little girl could have muttered, "He has a hearing problem, right? That poor little boy." I was astonished. "What?!" I said, confused and surprised again by her stupid remark. "Did you even talk to him? Probably not, because if you did you would have noticed that he can talk and hear as well as you." And then I stopped myself, realizing that I was taking the whole thing a little too personally.

But how could I not? I hate moments like that. I hate knowing that there will be more of them--especially more when I will not be there to scold the ignorant little gremlins. I know it's rude for me to speak that way about another child, but I don't care right now. Every chance I get when Atrain and I are asked questions about his cochelars, I try to defer the answer to him with hopes that it will help build his confidence to respond to curious kids in the future. But I guess we need to revise our game plan to screen for the inevitable impolite, improper and downright rude comments and gestures. Too bad I can't screen him from everything forever.

The husband swore when I told him what happened, and then agreed that we need a family home evening lesson next week about self respect, and what to do when others don't respect your self. I need some good resources. I'm looking forward to it.

Family Home Evening

Every now and then our little family gets together for a family night. You would think that every night was family night, seeing as how we spend most every evening together. But family home evenings are different. We plan, and play and try to teach each other a few things. Last night I had a few items on our FHE agenda, but just to humor myself, asked the boys "who would like to teach the lesson," thinking the husband would step up. But, instead, if was Atrain who said, "I will!" and took the reins.

We gathered together in the living room, sang the opening song (with random kitchen utensils used to conduct--a tradition taken from my family), had an opening prayer, and then turned the time over to Atrain for his lesson. I handed him his "sacrament meeting" book, just in case he wanted a few visual props to help him teach. He opened the book, and the first page there is an illustration of a girl who has her hands askew on her lap, looking wiggly. The book then supposedly proceeds to discuss how we should act and what we should think about when taking the sacrament at church. We have read it a number of times, but it was enlightening and super entertaining to hear Atrain's take on the story.

Atrain began with a serious expression and somber tone, "And in church, when we has to go potty...(page turn)...we think of the sacrament...(pg t)...and the little boy saying the prayer...(pg t)...and the doggie who got hurt...(pg t)...and the girl said to the boy "it's ok, don't be sad"...(pg t)...and how Jesus loves us...(pg turn to the end that again, portrays the girl with her hands in her lap)...and that we still needs to go potty.

It was actually a super accurate appraisal of our time in sacrament meeting at church. It was desperately difficult to push back my giggles. And even though I let a few out, he read the book undaunted by my irreverence. I should let him teach the lesson more often. I love that little boy. We finished out the evening with a few rounds of "hot potato" (another Ike fam FHE favorite) and ice cream cones. I do love family night.

Missionary Monday

Hello sweet JD,

I miss your kind smile. I miss your honest voice. I miss your quirky moves. I miss you. But that's not why I'm writing this letter. I'm writing to tell you how proud I am of you, and how much I love you. I love that you are on a mission. I love that you are working so hard to help others feel the light and love of Christ in their lives. I love that you have this opportunity, and I am so proud of you. I'm sorry that I've been MIA for a couple of weeks. To be honest, because of the 24th holiday last week I plum forgot that it was writing day. The husband and I spent a couple of nights in Spork, in your old room in fact. Your "true religion" body wash is still in the shower, and I had to giggle as I thought of you in Texas preaching about the true religion. I don't know why it seemed kind of funny and ironic at the time.

The weekend at home with the family was a lot of fun. We helped Bambi's family move, BBQd, laughed and played cards with the family, sang with Allerina in church, cried when the parents gave their talks in church, took naps, took Atrain for a ride in the beamer to watch fireworks, chided dad for buying Allerina a motorcycle, and shot guns. Yes, that's right, dad took me shooting. I expressed an interest when the Hawaina family was over and we were talking about concealed weapons permits. As you know, I've always been somewhat scared of guns. I don't really like them, and holding the power to kill in the palm of my hand just doesn't settle well with me. But, that also may be just because I don't know how to handle a gun. When you don't know a lot about something (or someone for that matter) it's easy to be afraid. So, dad suggested that we go out to Goshen to shoot. And, shoot we did. I wasn't a bad aim, either. It was an educational experience, and somewhat thrilling. I can see why people like to "go shooting." But I think it will take a lot more practice for me to be comfortable handling such a powerful weapon. That's probably a good thing.

A super funny thing happened when we were playing outside in the water with the kiddos on Saturday night. Allerina and I got into a water brawl. That is to say, she wrestled me into a kiddie pool of water--right after she squirted poor Atrain right up the nose with the hose--directly following my immediate warning not to listen to our little devil of a dad tempting her to do it--but not before I dunked her sorry face in the pool first--all the while dad leaned back into his comping chair chuckling at the scnene he had orchestrated. And, then there was poor Atrain, who misinterpreted our sissy screams and giggling grunts as a real live family feud. He stood in the adjacent pool with tears streaming down his face, squiring the hose at Allerina and Amber (who had joined in) with all his might. I probably did more damage to the kid trying to defend him than Allerina did squirting him in the face int he first place. As soon as I saw his dismay the ruckus came to a screeching halt and we all cracked into a thunder of laughs. After a few explanations and a salty cookie trick to get back at mean Allerina, Atrain was as good as new. If only Allerina were still the small, brave little girl who used to run away from home in her pooh suit. Then again, I guess not much has changed--expect that now she drives a motorcycle.

Well, I'm preparing for my lesson next Sunday. Thank you so much for your input. I'm really excited about the member missionary topic and focusing on coming up with a plan to answer questions about the gospel. Because of things said in my patriarchal blessing I was always under the impression that I would serve a mission. I know that I still will, but I want to be doing all that I can now to be a good missionary. I'm excited about the mormon profile suggestion you gave me. And, I contacted the sister missionaries serving in our stake so that I can meet with them and get their input. I think I will also hand out a book of mormon to all of the sisters and challenge them to give it to someone in their lives. But first, I am going to do that this week. I can't preach missionary work if I don't practice it. It is a hard thing for me because I have so much respect for the friends that I have that are not members. I don't want them to get the impression that I think they are sinners, or whatever. Some of the most incredible people I associate with are not members. And I have a great desire to share the thing in my life that is most special, most sacred--that saves me from my own sins and sorrows: the gospel of Jesus Christ. Pray to help me have the courage to invite others to the true gospel of Jesus Christ. I'll pray for you to do the same. Don't be shy to share your talents on the doorstep, brother. It may seem silly, but a guitar may help you open a few more doors and hearts that would otherwise be closed. :)

I sure love you and am proud of you. I'm excited about your 20th birthday. I hope you like the gift I'm sending your way.

Love always,

MJ

PS> Atrain called me to repentance yesterday. Not kidding. After church we were sitting in his room and he looked me strait in the eye and said, "You need to repent." I was a little astonished, and then tried to hold back my laughter as I queried, "Why do I need to repent?" He wore a serious expression and said in a somber tone, "Because of when you did this with winked eyes." He then proceeded to glare at me and shake his finger. I did my best to take the situation seriously. I assumed that he was referring to the moment when he was in the bathtub, refusing to get out, and all I'm left to do (without the ability to communicate with words) is exaggerated my expressions to show him he needs to obey his mother. I never knew he took me so seriously. "Ok, Atrain," I said, "I'm sorry. I will repent. I won't shake my finger at you if you promise to obey me the first time." And that was that. What a great missionary he will make some day.