Yeah

I'm still working on about 6 catch up posts at once. I'm so far behind I feel like I'm trying to rescue a runaway train. But I won't give up. The husband has been a good cheerleader. He even kicked me out of bed last night so that I could go write. I think that's a good thing--just that once, though.

Baby J is growing up so much. He melts my heart into a puddle of love every time he flashes his crinkle-nose smile my way. He also gets a horizontal wrinkle right between his eyes and breathes in and out of his nose as he examines strangers. Funny baby. The other night I had a meeting at my house with a lot of medical school wives. Jdog stayed up to be a part of the fun. He hobble-crawled around the room with one leg strait, then pulled himself up on his knees with the help of the new set of legs he found. Then he scrunched up his face, pushed air in and out of his nose and flashed his two-toothed grin. How could you not laugh out loud?

Jdog also has acquired a few funny "words." He isn't big on conversation. It's ironic that big brother Atrain (who was only aided with two sumo strength hearing devices) was 'talking' more at his age: more gibberish exchanges. I love the differences. Jdog mumbles on about "dadada" and "geekgeekgeeek" most of the day. And lately he's come up with the funnest little expression, "Yeah!" He says it quite frequently. The word bursts from his mouth with rising intonation all day long. And I egg it on--all day long, trying to get him to answer my questions, "Are you a cute baby? Yeah! Do you love your momma? Yeah! Does momma need to do the laundry? Yeah!" I hope this lovely little word lasts forever.

Esteban and Hill's Wedding: The Perfect Storm

When I was young(ish) I heard tell of a fiery fellow who was the older brother of the wonder boy I had a huge crush on. Rumor had it that wonder boy’s brother generally did not like the girls he dated. I do not know if there was any truth to this hearsay. But I do remember being afraid of him, or at least of what he thought of me. Whenever we play ‘Word on the Street’ I still sort of am. I do not know why. Probably because he’s extremely intelligent, and occasionally when conversing with him he morphs his face into a fierce interpretation of “The Scream.” It’s pretty scary.

But on the inside Esteban is all heart. I can see his sweet insides ooze whenever he’s around my boys. And they love him too. How could they not? He is funny, a great playmate, and can grow a killer beard—all traits that his new wife Hill adores as well. I adore them both and I look forward to every chance we will get to spend time with them.

Esteban and Hill’s wedding today was like a dream: an intimate setting, a classy feeling, finely tuned details and a whole lot of love. If I could go back I would copy her bouquet—peonies, fresh hay grass and various green buds. Esteban also wore some sort of green bud on his lapel, to which Atrain said, “That’s crazy, uncle Esteban!” And then he proceeded to pick all of the grass flowers he could find for the newly married bride and groom. I admire the way Esteban and Hill do things. These two will be inspiring me for years to come.

The couple married later in the day and then had a beautiful dinner with close friends and family out on the farmland great Grandpa worked for decades. It also took a lot of work to orchestrate their dutch-oven dinner there—especially with the thunderstorm that rolled through during the temple ceremony and literally tore the tents, tables and décor apart. When we came out of the Manti temple and heard the thunder rolling in the distance, anxiety levels were peaked. My heart was aching for Hill. But Esteban held her tight, said “oh, don’t cry,” and then rushed to the scene to put it all back together.

It was beautiful: not just the way the way the light canopy twinkled in the sunset; the way the bushels of sage and basil were strewn across moss and potato sacs down the tables; the linen topped hay bails used as seats; the blue-grass music drifting across acres of green crops; or even the eclectic, take-home memento china plates the steaming dutch-oven dinner was served on. It was the way it was done—their vision, careful planning, persistence, and desire for the family to be—not just an accessory to, but a part of their special day. Being there made me feel special.

I can’t wait to witness and learn from all the incredible things these two do with their lives together. They inspire me—so much that I revised a well-known blue grass song, “The Devil Went Down to Georgia,” in their honor. I posted the words yesterday. We had a lot of fun performing it out on the farm during the wedding dinner. Famous and I played the parts of the cast-off ex girlfriends doing the “single ladies” dance during the devil’s musical interlude. Not sure if anyone else thought it was funny, but man it was fun. I’m sure lucky that I love my in-laws. And, let it be on the record that I do not think Esteban is like the devil. Aint no truth to that comparison made in this revision. But truth be told, I do believe Uncle Esteban has a heart of gold.

The Devil gets Married

“The Devil went down to Georgia”

*Revised for Esteban and Hill's wedding*

‘Ol Stevie went up to New York

He was lookin’ for a heart to steel

He was in a bind, ‘cos he was 29

And he was willin’ to make a deal.

When he came across this young gal

Sawin’ into hearts (and she was HOT)

So Stevie jumped up on a road bump

And said, “Girl let me tell you what…”

I bet you didn’t know it,

but I’m a player of hearts too

And if you care to take a dare,

I’ll make a bet with you.

Now you’ve got a pretty good game girl,

but give “ol Stevie his due

I’ll bet my heart of gold against your soul,

‘cos I think I’m better than you.

The gal said, “My name’s Hillary and it might be a sin,

But I’ll take you’re bet and you’re gonna regret

‘cos I’m the best there’s ever been!

(CHORUS)
Hillary rosin up your bow

And play those heart strings hard

‘cos Hell’s broke loose in New York

And ‘ol Stephen deals the cards

And if you win, you get his shiny heart, made of gold

But if you loose ‘ol Stevie gets your soul

‘Ol Stevie opened up his case and said “I’ll start this show”

And fire flew from his finger tips as he rosined up his bow

And he pulled the bow across his strings and it made an evil hiss

Then a band of ex-girlfriends joined in and it sounded something like this

When ‘ol Stevie finished, Hillary said, “Well, you’re pretty good ‘ol son

But sit down in Times Square, right there, and let me show you how it’s done!

F­­­­­ire on the skyline, run boys run

Hillary is in the house of the risin’ sun

Cookin’ in the bread pan, makin’ lots of dough

“Ready for your first night?”

“No, child, no.”

“Ol Stephen bowed his head because he knew that he’d been beat.

So he laid his golden heatt on the ground at Hillary’s feet.

Hillary said: “Stephen just marry me, and we’ll play again and again.

But I told you once, you son of a Pat, I’m the best that’s ever been.”

And they played fire on the skyline, run boys, run.

Mam-Frands built a house in the risin’ sun.

Cookin’ in the bread pan, makin lots of dough.

“Stephen will we ever fight?”

“No, child no.”

Speaking Firework

Today our little family had one plan, and one plan alone for the fourth of July: watch Cars 2. So, that's exactly what we did. It was awesome. And the movie wasn't half bad either. Atrain was enchanted by the action--literally on the edge of his seat as Mater was dragged into a top secret spy plot. I don't think he necessarily cared (or followed) the sinister plot line, but he sure loved seeing all of Mater's disguises. He's been compiling a list of the cars he needs to earn ever since.

That night we invited ourselves over to Pance Farmstrong and Famous' home to watch fireworks. We're really good at doing that. They weren't even planning on being around until later, but welcomed us in anyway. (I can't wait for the day when people want to invite themselves over to my home--really, I do hope you all pay me back someday. A lot.) I started baking a cake for my mother-in-law's birthday the next day, but my good intentions were soon interrupted by an assortment of explosions. I looked out the kitchen window and saw the skyline dancing with bursts of billowing light.

The husband and Atrain opened the patio door and took a seat on the deck, along with Bil, Deej and family. This year our state legalized personal areal fireworks, and everyone was celebrating their independence in style. P&A soon returned home to watch the show. The hill their house sits on was the perfect place to relax and revel in the neighbors' festive displays. The kids bounded about on the grass with glow sticks in hand, giggling uncontrollably, and then stopping on occasion to stare with jaws-dropped as sparks grew into fiery willow trees, then disappeared right before their eyes. I never want to forget how my heart bubbled with excitement as I held the husband's hand and watched Atrain's little silhouette jump across the star burst sky. My niece Bellzozo laughed without restrain and squealed with each explosion, as if to answer them back. "She's speaking firework," said Pance (my new nickname for P-diddy, since he loathed my previous attempts). If only we could all speak firework.

All is Well

Being at church with the husband is heavenly. Having someone there to share with, to snicker at, to smile because of, and to look forward to. Just being with the husband is heavenly. Of course, all of the to-dos are a lot harder without him, but it's the emotionally empty feeling that is most difficult to bear. I never realized how heavy the burden of being 'alone' is until he came back. Perhaps that means I didn't appreciate him enough. Or maybe it means that there were many seen and unseen hands helping be along the way. Probably both. At any rate, when I head him whistling this weekend I finally felt at home in my own home again. All is well.

Super 8

Today was the baptism of my 8 year old nephew, Shmibbers. It was also his eighth birthday—the age of accountability. So many thoughts flooded into my mind as I watched this sweet boy make such big promises to God. Eight is such a tender age to covenant that you are willing to serve God and keep His commandments, bear one another’s burdens, and stand as a witness of God at all times and in all things, and in all places. Yet there was Shmibbers: so sweet, so smart, so willing, and so full of love.

I was just eight when I made the same promises. I remember my excitement—how much I looked forward to making covenants with God, how much my father and I practiced the immersion dunk (sans water) in our living room, and how much I wanted to be perfect. I remember my white dress, my fluffed bangs, my family smiling down at me in the baptismal font, my father’s strong hands that held mine—how large they looked around my tiny wrists, the warmth of the water rushing over my face, and the feeling of peace that wrapped around me when I surfaced. I smiled, hugged my father, and turned to see my mother there at the stairs, smiling and crying as she waited for me in the dressing room.

I know a lot more now than I did then: about my faith, about my church, about my worldview, and about this life—but I knew then just as much as I know now that God loves me. He trusts me now, as much as he trusted me then to keep the promises I made. “I am a Child of God,” was scripted on the necklace my great aunt Cat gave me that day. I am still such a child. I am so far from perfect—so much further than I was when I was baptized. But I’ll keep trying. I’ll keep taking the sacrament every week to repent and renew my promises with God. And as I do, I know that He keeps His end of the bargain. I love how clean, new and motivated I feel when I remember that this is all that life is really about anyway. Thanks for the reminder, Shmibbers, and happy birthday.

Coming Home

The husband is en route to our lovely little apartment. We simply can't wait to have him home. I can't wait to hold him, to smell him, to watch him tickle the kiddos, to hear him whistling in the bathroom, to see Atrain's excitment and Jdog's recognition when their father walks through the door, and to stay up late talking, snuggling, smooching, etc.

We are all craving time with the shmub. Yesterday, while talking on the phone with his father, Atrain relayed a minute-long list of the things they were going to do. No joke. The husband said, "And what will we do when I get home?" Atrain responded without even taking a breath, "We will play football, and take off my training wheels, and watch Cars 2, and play soccer, and watch football, and ride bikes, and tickle, and watch Jdog and laugh hahahaha." We can't wait. Drive safe shmub. See you soon.