Book Review: Summer Fit Workbook

Last week I went searching for an email in what has become my spam email box--a box I've completely lost control over.  I've tried to rescue it, I really have.  But it's time.  I have officially given up.  Still, I was mucking about in this box looking for an email among my 8890 unread messages, (sadly, this is not an exaggeration) when I stumbled upon an email from Media Guests, for whom I review books, asking if I'd received and would review the Summer Fit workbook.  

The email was dated May 11.

Thus, the mysterious appearance of the workbook has been solved and it was total and complete coincidence that I got THE perfect book for my daughter.

But there is the matter of the review for which I received the free book in the first place.

I LOVE Summer Fit.  Let me tell you a bit about what it is.  These guys who created Summer Fit wanted kids to be physically and mentally active during the summer.  So they used national standards to create this book.  Each book begins, deliberately, easy and just touches on different subjects to keep the kids fresh but not bore them with pages and pages of repetition.  The book increasing in difficulty as the book moves along, but the focus of the book is review.

In addition to the academics, the book encourages physical fitness.  Each day there are recommend activities, with lists of games including instructions on how to play.  The activities alternate between aerobic and strength training and have fun names like, Fly in the Ointment (that one I could feel for a few days) and Moon Touch.

Summer Fit also includes a character trait for each week (the first is Honesty) has a recommended age appropriate reading list on the topic and a bio about a famous person who exhibited this trait.  (Abraham Lincoln is honesty; Mother Theresa is compassion, etc.)

I have been so impressed with the thought and depth that has gone into creating these workbooks.  There a few issues I suspect they are working out.  We've run into titles of books that were notably off.   On one of the boys' books the title in the book said, "The Summer My Father Turned Ten"  but the actual title was, "The Summer I Turned Ten".  There have been some math terms that aren't quite right either.  Like, instead of "find the nearest hundred"  it says "hundredth", which of course is a decimal two places out and the page has no decimals.

But it hasn't been a big deal.  It's been easy to figure out what they meant and give an assignment to look for typographical and other errors.  That always makes kids feel smart.

I heartily endorse Summer Fit as a well-rounded workbook with excellent curriculum and a certain solution for summer doldrums as well as kids who need an extra challenge in the school year.

The Mystery of "Summer Fit"

In the spring, I got a package in the mail.  It was a children's workbook.  I LOVE workbooks.  LOVE THEM!!  It was a 1-2 Grade workbook, which is absolutely perfect for my obnoxiously advanced 5-year-old.  (She'll be in Kindergarten in the fall.)

There was no return address on the envelope, but my mom's big on workbooks too, so I figured she sent it to me.

The second week of May I was at PTA Convention at BYU (I'm going to be PTA President next year, you know) when I saw them--Summer Fit workbooks were exhibitors there.  I stopped and talked to the guy.

"Hey," I said with some excitement, since workbooks are very exciting, "I just got one of these in the mail."

The guy looked at me and blinked. "How did you get a workbook in the mail.  We just came out with them."

I shrugged.  "I thought my mom mailed it to me, I figured she bought it somewhere."

"No," the guy insisted.  "We're not in any store yet, you just about have to know us.  Who's your mom?"

My mom is great, but she's not employed, not "well-connected," not famous and there was no way this guy knew her.  I told him as much.

We puzzled it out.  Eventually, we figured that since my mom had gone to BYU Women's Conference and they were exhibitors there as well, that must have been when she ordered it.  And had it mailed to me. Which is weird since she lives two minutes from my house.  But, that had to be it.

After this strange interchange, this really nice fellow explained how the workbooks worked, the concept behind them and I purchased two more copies for my big boys.

Shortly after the conference I called my mom.

"Thanks so much, Mom, for the workbook.  Annika's already doing it and she's loving it."

(Pause) "I didn't send you a workbook."

"You didn't? Do you know anyone else who might have?"

Mom eventually decided that her younger sister, my Aunt Lisa, who was a presenter at BYU Women's Conference, must have sent it.  "She's been doing thoughtful things for people lately," Mom explained.  But I was still somewhere between baffled and impressed that she knew what level of workbook to get Annika.  Especially without consulting my mom or me.

But I loved these books.  I loved the concept and so I swiped the book from Annika before she could get any further in it and set up my whole summer curriculum around the Summer Fit workbook.

Some Kid-isms 2011 Edition (Plus a few other things I've posted on FB)

I'm really, really good at posting kid-isms (the funny things my kids say) on Facebook, but I'm not good about writing them here.  But this is what I'll make my blog books out of one day!  So this is where they must be.  Here are some of the highlights...

Jan 6
Annika (4.5) said, "It's not a POT pie, Mom, it's a POP pie."

Jan 10
I love that Annika (4.5) just told me, "Watch and learn."

Jan 14
Annika (4.5) asked, "Why does everything say, 'Choking hazard.  Not for children under three years'?"  Having a 4-year-old who reads sparks some interesting conversations!

Jan 15
Beck (3) said, "When I was young I liked Bob the Builder."

Feb 9
Wendell and I took Annika to Lowes.  As we made our purchase, Annika found a bench to sit on.  Wendell asked, "Why are you sitting on that bench?"  Annika: "Because I want to and it's fat free!"

Feb 19
Yesterday Beck (3) was insistent that there was a termite in his pajamas that was biting him.

Feb 28
Annika (almost 5) said: I remember being three like it was yesterday.

March 13
We learned an important lesson today.  Little girls can not wear bright blue underwear with cream colored dresses.

March 30
M: Beck, will you go and check on Annika?
B: (looking puzzled) I don't have any chicken.

April 4
Beck (3) while eating breakfast said, "The raisins are having a party in my mouth!"

April 28
I love that Emma (11) just explained to Wendell what a dystopian novel is.

May 3
Annika, while working in a workbook, "This book says 1st grade.  I'm almost to Kindergarten, so this book is exactly what I need."

May 11
Today Nathan (8) announced that Emma is 12 and 1/365

May 29
Wendell to me: Did you just say to me, "I wish you would use your words"?

Nathan (8.5): Oooo!  I LOVE Minuet in G Major!!!

June 3
Annika (5): You know I have Ninja moves, right?

June 6
Annika (5): How come you didn't pour a tsunami of milk on Beck's oatmeal?

June 7
Beck (3.5): That was a LONG short-cut.

June 16
Annika (5): These shoes are too heavy.
Me: They don't fit.  That's 9/10 of the problem.
Annika: No.  It's 11/12.

June 18
Annika (5, looking through a box of crayons): Hmmmmm.  Where's cerulean?

June 23
My whole family was laughing at me because I told a child, "Don't bite the bacon."  I meant, "Don't take the bait."  Sigh.

June 26
As I'm watching my three-year-old run into the street, I call after him.  To which my whole family bursts out laughing and Emma (12) says, "Did you really just tell him to stay in the street?"

June 29
Nate (almost 9): One man's refrigerator box is another monkey's vending machine.

July 1
At 8:50 pm Beck (3.5) asks, "Mind if I have a snack?"
"Well, it's bedtime, " I say.
"No it's not," he says emphatically.  "It's 3 o'clock! It's snack time."

July 2
Emma comes home from girls camp today!!!! Anson (10.5) was asking about her yesterday and asking what time she came home.  When I told him that she wasn't coming home until 3:00 pm he said, "Awww."  Apparently, he's missing her, too.  :)

July 17
One of my favorite things about Nathan's 9th birthday was that he made all of his own origami bows for his presents.

July 18
So Annika (5) rushes out of her bedroom and says, "PS If you eat rust will you get poisoned?"

July 22
I love my three-year-old has turned on the metronome and is "playing" the piano.

July 24
Anson's new Webelos leaders came over to meet him today.  When they spotted Beck (3.5) they said, "What's your name?"  And without missing a beat Beck said, "Pablo."

Why I Look Like a Lop-sided Chipmunk Part II

I went to a Pioneer Day breakfast with my ward this morning.  Many people pretended not to notice my swollen and lop-sided face.  Which, I appreciated.  But I'm vain enough that I haven't ventured out again.  I feel like I MUST keep explaining what happened and the reality is most people just don't care.

It was a bit of a negotiation process to decide to do this many, five, gum grafts at once.  Back in the olden days of three years ago, dentists had to "harvest" your own tissue to do gum grafts, putting a bit of a limit on how many could be done at once.  This also left the patient with a gapping hole in the roof of her mouth that was, no question, the most painful and annoying thing to heal.

But in the last three years they have learned how to take starts from cadaver tissues, grow it in a petri dish, then sew that into your gums. Or at least, that's my understanding of the procedure.  Not only does it save the roof of your mouth, but you can now have a zillion teeth grafted at once.

So I entered the dentist's office at 9:00 in the morning and by 9:30 was breathing deeply vanilla flavored nitrous while holding my iPad in the air, by it's edges trying to figure out how to make it so that I was the only one to hear the music coming out of it.

I was introduced to a pre-dent student named Jason and things were underway.  Except my earbud in my right ear--the one right next to the dentist--kept falling out and the nitrous was on so low that I wasn't anywhere near loopy, a condition I prefer while having gum grafts.  I eventually wound my right arm up to my ear and stuck the bud back in, then, tapping the laughing gas that was across my nose, I jerked my thumb in the air twice to tell them I didn't want to be conscious of every little thing they were doing.

It was 11:40 when they told me that they were going to let my mouth rest (code for see other patients in the middle of my extremely long procedure) and left.  As I sat and listened to my Christian/Gospel music, I became increasingly aware of two things:  1) I could feel my teeth and 2) I needed to go to the bathroom.  It was 10 after noon, by my best estimation, when my team came back to finish what they had begun.  My first four gum grafts--the ones that took 2 hours to do--were all on my upper right side.  My remaining graft was on my upper left.  (This information is critical later.)

After sticking a "tooth pillow," that thing that keeps your mouth jammed open during dental procedures, in my right-side, the dentist began scrapping at the root of my tooth on the left.  I nearly came out of my chair.  So, they numbed me up again and immediately began scraping, to which, I had the same reaction.  There was nothing to do now but let me sit again until the medicine took effect.  I took the opportunity to take a potty brake.  But having been on laughing gas for more nearly three hours, I could hardly stand up, let alone walk a straight line.

The sweet, petite, nurse who's name tag said, "Jenny," thought she should walk next to me on the way to the bathroom.  This seemed absurd since, if I fell over and she tried to catch me, we'd both be going down. But I slid my hand along the wall and tottered my way drunkenly to the bathroom.

After I was seated back in my dental chair, with a blanket over me because I was freezing by this point, I was more and more concerned about how much I was feeling on my right side.  Under these circumstances, my dental team appeared once more and worked for the next 30 minutes on my left side.  When I left the office at 1:00, I couldn't get my post-op instructions, prescriptions for meds, pay and get out of there fast enough.

It was 1:30 by the time I got home and collapsed in my bed awaiting Wendell's return with some pain killers while holding an icepack to my face.

Why I Look Like a Lop-sided Chipmunk Part I

The day finally came.  The procedure I've been putting off for two years now came due.  So, on Thursday, I went to the dentist's office and four hours later (four-freaking-hours!) I left the office with five new gum-grafts. (Apparently, this is what I get for being a woman, having children, breast-feeding and being related to two other gum graft recipients--my dad and little sister--neither of whom has ever been pregnant or breast-fed anyone.)

This is not my first gum graft.  I had that pleasure about three years ago, I think.  And I remember thinking, "I will do ANYTHING to not go through that again."  Knowing full well that we had only tackled the worst cases and that my gums were still receding.

(Going against my better judgement, I am now going to reveal the history of my dental hygiene.)  You see, I've always been a good brusher.  Even too good of a brusher (another reason for receding gums), but I was a below average flosser.  Oh, I'd go to the dentist and get a little reminder that I should floss everyday.  And I would.  For a few weeks.  Maybe even a couple months, but that's really the outside edge.  Then, I'd quit flossing, except, of course, when something obvious was in my teeth, like meat or popcorn.  Therefore, I was still flossing at least once a week-ish.

Then I'd get that little card in the mail that says, "It's time to go to the dentist again..."  And I'd think, "Oh, pooh, I haven't been flossing."  So, I'd floss like crazy that last month.  Then the cycle would repeat.

But after that first gum graft...  There is NOTHING like pain to motivate a person.  Nothing.  And I floss every single day twice a day.  It may be flossing overkill, but it's how I roll now.  And it helped.  When I got the first gum grafts the dentist thought I'd have a year, tops before I'd have to come in for more.  One year became two and then three and I'd reached the outside edge.  And it became time.

 And I have no make-up on. Because it hurts that much to touch my face.

The Miracle

The man's voice boomed as he talked in the echoey entrance of the Rec Center.

"I just got sealed to my family about 2 months ago.  It was so neat.  We were kneeling across the alter and they brought the kids in.  I feel like I've gotten a second life!"

He was just launching into how well his business was doing when I slipped out the front door.  I don't have any idea what his "first life" entailed.  But the fact that he has had a complete turn around and now felt the joy of the gospel of Jesus Christ was evident.

This is the miracle of repentance.

Because of the Atonement of Jesus Christ, it is a miracle available to all of us.

Sadly, many of us (me included) wrongly think that we don't really need repentance.  After all repentance is for guys like the man in my story, people who don't have a temple recommend--addicts, adulterers, people who don't pay their tithing.  You know.  "Those" people.

Elder Neal A. Maxwell said of this, "Even when free from major transgression, we can develop self-contentment instead of seeking self-improvement.... Repentance is not solely for the renouncing of transgression.  [It is] reflective of our total progression."

He went on to say, "If we were more meek, brothers and sisters, repentance would be much more regular and less stared at."

In Elder L. Tom Perry's most recent talk on the sabbath and the sacrament, he reminded us that each Sunday should be a time of reflecting on where we have gone amiss both in offense to God as well as to our fellow man.  To ponder on these things--our faults and failings--then turn them over to God is how we offer our sacraments unto the Lord.

To truly repent, we may need to seek out those we have offended.  This is humbling.  But, oh the sweet peace of conscience after we have done so!

Sometimes, as we reflect we may think of someone we offended from so long ago that we no longer know how to get in touch with them.  Or we may think of someone who never knew of our unkind actions or feelings toward them.  How can we make amends in such a situation?  For me, writing a letter, sometimes even reading it aloud to a chair or a nonjudgmental friend, can bridge that gap.  And then putting into action that final most difficult step of repentance, changing.  Becoming a new creature in Christ.  Allowing the grace of God, the mercy of the Atonement, to help us not to make that same mistake or offense in the future.

To be sure, we are works in progress.  We will fail some days.  But with the help of the Atonement we will succeed on others.  And soon all things become possible through Christ which strengtheneth us.

I Dug It Up

It's true after 10 whole minutes of searching, I found my goals-to-be-accomplished-before-I'm-40 list.  And you know what?  I was surprisingly unambitious!  (Unlike my friend who has 40 things she wants to do before she turns 40.  Sheesh.  Overachievers.)  I am completely sure that the fact that I had a 3-month-old baby when I wrote this list has NOTHING to do with my lack of ambition.  But here is what I hoped to accomplish and should be half way done with by now:

1. Improve my spiritual life.
2. Get healthy
3. Participate in the PTA
4. Get out of debt
5. Early to bed, early to rise
6. Nourish my relationship with Wendell
7. Get the house organized.

That's it!  Seven whole things.  So, I should be done with 3.5 of them.  Number 1 is going well.  Number 3 is well in hand.  Number 4 is checked off!  Number 5...still working on that.  Number 6 is going well.  And we're trying mightily at Number 7.

That was fascinating.

I Did It! (And Looking at Other Goals...)

You should have seen me last night running around the house trying to get everything done and still get to bed at 11:30.  At 11:30, Wendell and I were on our knees saying couple prayers.  I think that counts.  It was, realistically, 11:35 before I was *actually* in bed.  But who is going to quibble over 5 minutes?  Not me.  I'm counting it.

It dawned on me yesterday after making this post that July 1st is the half way point of the year.  So, I should be half done with my yearly goals.  And having made a new goal to go to bed at a reasonable time, I thought (shrug) that I'd just take a look at all my goals.

Goal #1: Finish 9 homework lessons.  Check!  I did it.  In fact, recently I've been reviewing some of the things I worked on earlier, so I'm almost done with 10.

Goal #2: Read 12 sessions of General Conference.  I've read 5.75 actually.  I'm almost done with the 6th session.  But if I am to achieve this goal, this has to be a bigger priority.

Goal #3: Make 18 temple trips.  I've been 11 times so far this year and am on track to meet or exceed that goal.

Goal #4: Lose 22.4 lbs.  (Clearing throat)  Well, I always knew this was the hard one for me.  As I sit today I've lost a whopping 2.6 lbs.  Which isn't awesome or noteworthy or anything.  But it's better than having gained.  (This is me trying to look on the bright side.)  One of the things that frustrates me is all the up and down.  I've probably lost as much as 8 lbs at certain points.  But here I am only down two and a half-ish.  The sad thing is, I think my original goal was to lose 32.4, then I dropped it to 22.4.  And here I am at the half-way point tracking to lose a solid 5 lbs in 12 months.  (Sigh)  It is self evident that I will not be achieving even my reduced weight loss goal.  So, I have to do what any reasonable person would--I'm reducing the goal again.  Can I lose 9.8 more lbs in the next 6 months?  I should be able to.  I should.  So, I'm dropping my goal again.  12.4 lbs, here we come!  (Grinning)

Goal #5: Ahhh.  The goal I cannot fail!  Read more of the Book of Mormon.  I started on page 158 and am now on page 229.  I have read 71 pages of the Book of Mormon so far this year.  Last year I read 128 on the year, so I'm tracking a bit ahead of that.  But it doesn't really matter.  My goal was only to read more of the Book of Mormon.  I've already achieved that.  And every little bit extra I get is just that much more icing on the cake.  Or, rather, fat-free whipped topping on the angel food. (Trying to keep all my goals in mind.)

Later I've got to go through my journal and figure out what, when I turned 30, I set out to achieve by the time I'm 40.  I turned 35 in May, so I'm just a hair past the half-way point of that, too.  But I don't have the vaguest what I thought I wanted to accomplish in the next 10 years and with 5 years already behind me, I'd better make adjustments as I look ahead.  I'll keep you posted.  (Pretend you like that.)

Priorities (and Streaking)

The other day I asked Wendell to name his top 5 priorities in order of importance.  It's not as easy as it sounds, but I have been giving this topic a lot of thought.  Particularly because of the disconnect between what I proclaim my priorities to be verses where I actually spend my time.

So here are my priorities.

1. Spirituality (includes: personal scripture study, personal prayer, journal writing, attending the temple)

2. Family (includes: dates with my hubby, FHE, fun family activities, one-on-one time with the kids)

3. Health (includes: getting 7 hours of sleep, exercise, eating healthy)

4. Housekeeping (includes: making meals, dishes, laundry, regular house upkeep, decluttering)

5. PTA/Callings (I am the PTA President next year, so PTA had better be up there.)

These are followed by helping with homework, piano, kids' activities.

Now these are good priorities and demonstrate a shift.  Before this self-review, I would have to admit that what is now my #4 priority, housekeeping, used to be very last.  It fell behind PTA, church responsibilities, helping the kids with homework, piano and being a mama taxi service to get everyone to all their activities.  And my house shows it.  It can take 30 minutes just to pick up all the stuff off the kitchen floor to be able to sweep and mop it.  It can take 20 minutes for 5 of us (me, Emma, Anson, Nathan, and Annika) to pick up the living room so that it can be vacuumed and everyone can sit down.  I'm sure that you can do the math on how long that would take for me to do that by myself.

The essence of the problem isn't work ethic, because hoarders--like me--actually spend more time cleaning than non-hoarders.  The problem is priority.  (And hoarding issues like not throwing papers away because I'm afraid I'll throw away something important and I'll regret it later. So I'm over run with papers.  And it embarrasses me.)  But there's more to all this than just that.

There is a primary disconnect between my priorities and the way I allocate my time.  If my spirituality is my top priority, then why do I struggle to find time to study my scriptures or say my morning prayers?  If my health is a priority, then why do I frequently go to bed between midnight and 1:30 AM making it that much more difficult to be motivated to exercise?

The more I thought about this, the more I realized that going to bed earlier will solve so many problems.  Let's say that I just went to bed at 11:30 pm every night.  I do well on 7 hours of sleep, so I could feel very rested and get up at 6:30 in the morning.  I usually get up around 7:15--later if I've stayed up till one.  That would buy me and extra 45 to 60 minutes each day.  Thus I suddenly have time to read my scriptures and time to plan my day.  I bet I could tell you what was for dinner by 7:15 AM instead of wandering around the kitchen at 5:00 PM distraught that I never put something in the crock-pot.

And once I get used to it, I could start going to bed even earlier.  And getting up even earlier.  And getting even more done.

Now this isn't the first time I've had this particular epiphany.  I can't tell you how many General Conferences, I have written down, "go to bed at a reasonable time" and put a big star in front of it.  Yet here I am, 35-years-old and regularly going to bed at midnight or later.

So, I'm enlisting a little help.  I'm posting this on my blog to make me accountable.  And I'm going streaking.  (Ha, ha.  Not like that.)  I'm going to post and track how long of a streak of going to bed at 11:30 or earlier I can put together.  I'm going to buy myself a little present if I can do it for a whole week.

A Letter to Emma

Every year when our YW goes to camp, they take a hike and write letters to themselves that they open the next year.  Since the first years don't have a letter from last year, their moms write a letter to them.  Here is mine to my oldest daughter.

Dear Emma,

I am so excited for you to be at camp!  I loved camp as a youth and it was an amazing place that helped me grow.  There are so many things that I want to say to you that I almost don't know where to start.

I'm so proud of you!  No just because you are smart or all of the awards that you've won.  I'm proud of you for you.  You are kind, thoughtful and a good friend.  You are motherly to your younger siblings which shows me what a good mother you'll be.

You're fun!  You have a great sense of humor, contagious laugh and you're just plain fun to be around. But of everything that you are and do, I am most amazed by your spirituality.  I love that you love the Lord.  I love that you keep His commandments.  I am in awe of your scriptural understanding.  You know things about the scriptures that I didn't know until I was an adult.  That is a spiritual gift that you should continue to cultivate.

I love you.  I have always loved you and I will always love you.  I am far from perfect as a mother, but I pray that the Atonement of Jesus Christ can make up for my lack.  You are so dear to me.  You are my joy and my helper.  You are a ray of sunshine wherever you go.  Don't ever be afraid to let your light shine.

I love you with all my heart!

Love,
Mom

It's Not Really My Birthday...

My birthday is in May.  So, it's not my birthday, but this is one of the best birthday presents I've ever received.

An Ideal Evening vs. Not Ideal

An ideal evening includes, sitting on my new comforter and leaning on my new pillows to read in bed.  And Wendell is reading in bed, too.  Then we are talking about what we are reading and connecting on a deep intellectual level.  This is followed by prayers, snuggling and going to sleep at a reasonable hour.

A not ideal evening includes me reading in bed while Wendell drools on the sheet.  Then there's praying alone because it's almost one o'clock in the morning and I don't have the heart to wake Wendell up.  And  then when I get in bed, Wendell tries to get up, so I order him to stay asleep and he complies.  Then I fall asleep without having really talked to my hubby because I stayed up reading too late.

Is anyone else willing to dish?  What does your ideal evening look like?  What usually happens?

Control Issues

Normally, I'd say that I don't have serious control issues.  Or maybe I just know so many people with worse control issues.  (This is me waving and smiling and not mentioning any names...)

But Wendell and I have decided to add an additional filter to our computer after the 5-year-old and 3-year-old found a surprisingly indecent picture very accidentally.  This filter is called K9 and... I LOVE IT!  Best of all, I love the level of control I have.

I now have all Google images blocked (this is where the offending photo was found), I have all the game sites blocked and I can block any other site at any time I want.  BWAH HAHAHA!  CONTROL!!!

Do you have teenagers?  You can block Facebook.  Then, with your password, you can override it for yourself for a certain amount of time or allow the kid on for, say, 30 minutes, then buh-bye.  When time's up they are kicked off the site.

You can even set the computer to bark every time a blocked site is attempted to be accessed!

And I almost forgot--you can also set time frames that the internet can't be accessed.  I have "Night Guard" to shut things down from midnight to 6:30 AM, but you can shut it down anytime, any day.

I am so in love with it--I would kiss it if I could.  I am seriously having a control high right about now.

When the Only Thing Left Is Hope

Like you, I've been through some hard things.  I'm not silly enough to think I have a corner on the market.  We all go through tough times.  We all have bleak moments.  Whatever the source of our trials, feelings of anger, sadness, loneliness, betrayal, loss and other sources of pain are part of this mortal experience.

At one such time in my life I recognized 1) I was powerless over the situation and 2) I was in desperate need of some hope. But when you feel hopeless where do you find hope? 

A friend of Wendell's made a comment about General Conference and how he was sorting through the talks looking for specific messages.  He had a whole sorting and highlighting system that he was sharing that struck Wendell.  He told me about it and, reluctantly, I began reading conference talks.  Wendell was reading the current edition, so I started with what I could get my hands on--an older copy--and just started looking for titles that might apply to me.

Titles like, "Attempting the Impossible", "That Your Burdens May Be Light", "To Acquire Spiritual Guidance", "Hold On", and "Safety for the Soul", drew me in.  I learned that right there before me were messages from God for me.  These were gifts from Apostles and Prophets on the earth today, and in modern vernacular, no less.  In a talk by Elder Scott I read, "Had I not responded to the first impressions and recorded them, I would not have received the last, most precious guidance."  And I realized that I needed to record my messages.

So I backtracked and wrote down, in a pretty little journal, all of the quotes from those general conference talks that were meant for me.  And when the days were the bleakest, I opened the Ensign and read, underlined and rewrote messages in my journal.  Later I could sit and reread those lessons in quote form.

"Love. Healing. Help. Hope. The power of Christ to counter all troubles in all times.  . . .That is the safe harbor God wants for us in personal or public days of despair."  --Elder Holland

"In the scriptures there are very few stories of individuals who lived in blissful happiness and experienced no opposition.  We learn and grow by overcoming challenges with faith, persistence and personal righteousness." --Ann Dibb

"Because personal revelation is a constantly renewable source of strength, it is possible to feel bathed in help even during turbulent times." --Julie Beck

As I read His words, hope elbowed it's way into my heart. Not only was I crying less and smiling more, but perhaps even more importantly, I was building an reserve of hope and coming to understand that hope is not just a state of being of which we, emotional mortals, are victims, but rather a commandment and a responsibility.


"Be of good cheer" is just as much a commandment as "thou shalt not steal."  And despair is a temptation that I should resist. 


Of all the ways I had looked at hope--this was certainly a new one.  But a reassuring one, too.  Hope was no longer a passing phase, but an action that I could take.  Prayerfully, I could ask Heavenly Father, in the name of His Son for the spiritual gift of hope.  And what a gift it is!

Telling verses Guiding

I had a chance to go to a fireside recently where I had an epiphany about being a parent.  Let me back up a bit.  I have found myself, recently, in a position where people are often seeking my help and advice. To say that sounds a bit self-aggrandizing, which I'm not.  It's just that because of what I have learned facing trials in my life, others facing similar trials seek to find the same peace and calm that I have.  And I'm happy to share.

But these are adults, so when they ask me my advice I begin by saying that I don't know what the Lord would want them to do.  Often, I share what helped me when I was in a similar situation, but mostly I encourage them to pray, study, and write in their journal.

My main objective is not to tell anyone what to do, because that would be obnoxiously presumptive of me.  After all, who am I to advise someone else?  But I know that the Lord knows what they should do, after all personal revelation is...personal.  And the best help I can provide for anyone will come in teaching them how I am learning to listen to the Spirit and follow the promptings I receive.  I'm far from perfect, but I'm willing to share what I'm learning if it might benefit someone else. 

So here comes my epiphany: why don't I do that for my children?  Especially with Emma.  She's 12 now and she starting to need to make decisions on her own.  But instead of saying, "I don't know what you should do, but I know the Lord knows what you should do."  And then teach her about prayer--real prayer not the repeating the same stuff you say over and over at meals or bedtime prayers, then teach her the power of journaling, seeking answers through scriptures and New Era or Ensign articles.  It could be so powerful!  It could be so helpful!

Instead I tend to say, "You should do (insert my own "wise" idea)."  To which she reacts by saying, "That won't work!  I can't do that!"  Then I get frustrated and say things like, "If you won't listen to me then just figure it out on your own.  So far everything I've said is wrong!"

But there's a reason why everything I've said is wrong.  Because it is.  It's MY idea of how to solve her problem and it stems from years of MY experience.  But she's absolutely right.  This might not be the way to solve HER problem.

It would be far better and so much wiser to stop acting like I have all the answers.  Because I don't.  But I know Who has all the answers and I'm getting better and better at turning things over to Him and letting Him lead me to do what I should do next.  What a gift that would be if I can help Emma--or any of my children--know how to find His answers rather than giving them my two cents.

Why I was mean when I was a kid...

Today a friend of mine posted about how her sweet little 6-year-old got a rash on her legs from sitting "criss-cross applesauce".  Apparently, this little girl is allergic to the souls of her shoes. 

Suddenly that brought back for me a time when my little sister got a rash. On her legs. 

Only it wasn't a cute little rash.  These were big ol' boils.  My older sister and I were particularly grossed out.  I think my older sister started it, but we got little sis to believe that inside the boils were some kind of bug--a beetle maybe--and when they burst a bug was going to come walking down her leg.  My little sis was completely freaked out.

And I don't know if that was even the worst thing we did to her...

Things I Have Learned (or Been Reminded)

Summer is not as relaxed as it seems.  Instead of the kids going to school at 8 and the insanity starting at 3, it's just insane all day.  We've definitely started summer off with a bang.  Here was yesterday's schedule.

9:00 Emma and Anson to swim team
9:00 Nathan to Golf camp--it is always tricky getting 3 kids to two different locations at the same time.
10:00 Pick up Emma and Anson
They shower and get ready.
11:00 Take Emma and Anson to art
I take frantic shower so I can...
12:00 Pick up Nate from Golf Camp, while my mom picks up Emma and Anson from Art.  Wendell meets us at home about 12:15.  Feed Emma and Anson lunch.
12:30 ish Anson leaves for his golf camp
12:45 Take Emma to the Scera where she's working.
1:00-3:00 Run summer school for Nathan and Annika.
3:00 Pick up flash cards that have been waiting for me for a week and a half, put gas in the car (my gas light was on), and rent a flute.
4:30 Walk in the door and Emma called--work was done early.  In fact, she had already called at 4:10, but I was still renting the flute and she doesn't know my cell number.
5:00 Wendell got off early to pick up Anson
Then we fixed dinner and had FHE.

Today was similar.  I think the insanity slows down tomorrow, because Nate's done with golf camp.

Eye Have Some News

It's been quite awhile since I've written and update about the kids' eyes.  So here are the things that have happened lately.

*Emma was put on a diuretic.  No one thought it would work and the doc (Dr. Two) wrote the prescription wrong.
*At Emma's next appointment we got a new prescription and the doc wanted to see her the next week.
*6 days later having had only 4.5 doses of this new medicine, every single image (which are taken in "slices" of the eye) showed improvement. Doc suggested we try it for 3 more weeks.
*At the next appointment, Emma could see every letter on the 20/20 line.
*Appointments were scheduled for Nathan and Annika to start them on the same meds.
*Went to appointment with Dr. Two again, on Friday.  Emma and Nathan, who were only taking half their dose, showed slight improvement.  Annika, who is very diligent about taking both doses of meds, showed notable improvement.
*In one of Annika's eyes, her retina is laying down completely.  :)
*I became more determined to have Emma and Nate take their meds twice a day.
*Emma can still read on the 20/20 line.  :)

I know that we have witnessed a miracle.  I feel so grateful for the blessing that we've received.  Now it's up to us to do our part.

In other news, Dr. Z has "located the mutation" in our family genome.  Dr. Two is calling me next week to tell me more about that.

V. S.

Today I'm steamin' mad.  Last Saturday, Emma and I went to the University Mall.  We had occasion to walk from one part of the mall to another past a store I hate, V. S.  I instructed Emma to look across the aisle while we walked past.  I did the same. 

But on the way back, I had a shock.  V. S. is moving.  It will no longer be in a little alcove down by Nordstrom's, easily avoided.  It's now going to be about two shops down from Dress Barn.  Right across from a game store.  With a store front twice the size.  Depending on how they construct it and where you're standing,  come Christmas, you might even be able to see in the store when you're standing in line for your kid to see Santa. Nice.

What ticks me off the most is that I know a lot of women will, with me, feel upset about the move.  But they shop there.  Now I don't, I don't even look at the windows or set foot in the store for any reason.  But others will be upset, yet are too ignorant or stupid to make the connection that their financial support of the store makes possible the move.

You can not click your tongue at the advertising, then shop there and despair that the world is going to heck in a hand bucket.  No one asked for a vote in where stores like that go in, but in a capitalist situation we vote with our dollars.  If you shop there, you can not also complain when V. S.'s presence becomes more ubiquitous.   You can not complain about the catalogs, you can not complain about the TV ads, you can not complain about the annual porn fashion show.  You are supporting them!

As my children are approaching teenage years, I feel angry that this store will stand in the middle of the mall, a beacon of temptation to my sons and a degrading example of an impossible comparison for my daughters.

And though I've been completely forthright and moderately insulting, if this makes you mad, will you join me and stop shopping there?  I promise you can find great bras at other stores, too.

How Old Are You?

We get something like this almost everyday.  It's a standing joke.

The only thing I wonder is, who thinks my 35-year-old husband is turning 65?

I've told Wendell that I thinks he gets these letters because of his name.  Did you know that "Wendell" achieved it's peak popularity in 1946? 

I bet whoever put together the list knows that.

Fire Fox

I can no longer post new posts on Blogger from Safari.  So I'm trying out Firefox.  Which is fine, except for whatever reason it won't stay on my toolbar on the bottom of my screen.  So in order to make a new post, I have to go to my Finder and search for Firefox.


I keep hoping that the computer fairy will magically make Blogger work.  So that the next time I log into Blogger on Safari and I click "New Post"--it will just work and I'll be able to post without any hassle.  Alas, no such luck.

Tyler

On Tuesday morning I got the call that no one ever wants to get.  The call that tells you someone you love has passed away.

With three octogenarian grandparents, it's a call I knew was coming.  Except it wasn't any of my grandparents.  It was Tyler my 27-year-old cousin who died of an accidental drug overdose.

Tyler is the third of six kids and he and his two older brothers grew up just down the street from us.  Our moms, who are sisters-in-law were friends and swapped babysitting on a semi-regular basis.  I played at my aunt and uncle's house and JR, Garrett and Tyler played at mine.

I don't remember how old we all were when Tyler's family moved to West Valley.  But I remember still seeing them at Thanksgiving and swapping cousin Christmas gifts, etc.

My very favorite memory of Tyler was at Thanksgiving one year.  There had to have been nearly 40 of us sitting down to Thanksgiving dinner when Grandma asked everyone to go around the room and say one thing they were thankful for.

I remember being annoyed because I wanted to eat dinner not sit there and let it get cold.  I also remember being worried if I could say the right thing.  I didn't want to sound stupid, but I also didn't want to say too much.  I had gotten through my turn alright and was still breathing easy when it was Tyler's turn.

Tyler had some kind of growth problem.  He had a heavy upper body, but thin, short legs.  He had to wear a halo thing around his leg and turn screws to make his legs grow right.  He was in his pre-teens and this has been really hard on him.  If you knew him as well-proportioned, nice-looking adult you'd have no idea what he went through growing up.

But here we sat at Thanksgiving and Tyler, after having had such a hard year, talked about how thankful he was, in particular, how thankful that he could walk.  I don't remember exactly what he said, but I know exactly what I felt.  This small boy had a powerful testimony and was full of gratitude for the things the Lord had given him, even through the struggles.  I felt awed by his maturity and his depth.

But Satan was listening to.  And he worked and worked on Tyler.  The devil convinced Tyler to get angry and then led him to rebellion, drugs and addiction.  Once Tyler was addicted, his agency had be hijacked and was no longer his own.  But in recent years, Tyler had been fighting back.  He had been working on his own recovery from addiction through 12 Step programs, rehab and others.

But ultimately his addiction cost Tyler, one of the very elect, his life.

I like to think now that Tyler, free from his body, is also free from his addiction and is now able to make spiritual progress that he no longer could make in this life because of the bondage he was in.

It Said, "Easy"

Emma talked me into looking for new recipes at Weight Watchers.com.  I find a recipe for "herb-crusted roast and vegetables" that was rated "easy."  I'd like you to know, they lie.

After chopping up 2.5 lbs of red potatoes, 2 lbs of zucchini, 2 onions and throwing in a bag of baby carrots, I was ready for the hard part.  (Do you have any idea how much food that is?  5+ lbs of veggies?  Let me say that I don't own a bowl big enough to hold it all.)

So, then the recipe says that I need 1 cup of parsley.  So I pull the parsley out of the fridge and begin chopping.  I chop and chop. With a knife.  Only after I'm done chopping do I realize that the recipe actually says, "parsley leaves".  I look at the stems in the bowl.  I pull a couple out.  Who cares, right?

Let me take a small detour here to say that I own a food processor. I've owned one for years.  But I have never, ever, ever, EVER used it.  I don't begin to know how.  Wendell has used it periodically to make fresh salsa, but I haven't.  And I don't know how to use it.  I don't even know what pieces I need and I've only got 45 minutes until I have to leave to pick up my kids from piano.  So I'm chopping with a knife instead.

Next, it says to add a 1/4 cup of chives, roughly chopped.  That is easy for me.  I'm good at roughly chopping, though Annika started asking why I was throwing grass in the bowl.  Then I'm to add 1 Tbs of rosemary.  As I measure out 1T of dry rosemary, I realize that the recipe might mean fresh rosemary, but I don't have any and I don't care.

Next it says to mince these together.  Then I realize that by mince it doesn't mean "mix".  I make a frantic phone call to Wendell.

"My Magic Bullet is supposed to do that!" Wendell tells me.  We look up how to do it on an on-line user manual since neither of us knows where the actual user manual is.  "Use the cross-blade and pulse," it says.

I begin to look for the cross-blade.

"It's in the second drawer down," Wendell says. I can't find it.

"Try in the corner cupboard."  I can't find it there, either.  I say so.

"It's there," Wendell asserts.

Doesn't really matter what he thinks, I think to myself.  He's there at work and I'm the one here looking for it and I can't find it!

I look in the thingamajigit drawer.   Nothing.  Second drawer down, silverware draw, corner cupboard.  It's nowhere.

I hang up with Wendell and grab the regular blade.  I shove the herbs in the "small cup" as directed.  I pulse as directed.  It does jack.  I get a larger cup.  I pulse and shake and pulse and shake and it kinda seems to be working.  After a while, I declare it good enough.

Next I am to add 2 cloves of garlic.  But I only have garlic powder.  I throw in 1tsp.  I think about adding another, cuz surely one clove of garlic = one teaspoon of garlic powder, right?  I rush to my computer to double check.  eHow seems to have a conversion.

One clove = 1/8 of a teaspoon of powder.  1/8.  I now have four time the amount of garlic...  Good thing I like garlic, right?

Add Dijon mustard, salt and pepper.  Mix.  Rub onto roast.  I rub.  Time is ticking down.  I have 3 minutes until I have to leave to pick up my kids.  I add the olive oil to the rest of the herbs, I mix.  I hear the garage.  Wendell is home.  I am supposed to leave in 1 minute.

I have the veggies divided out between two bowls since I don't have a bowl large enough to hold all the veggies. I blop part of the herb mixture in one bowl and the rest in the other.  I look at the spoon.  I toss it in the sink and start mixing with my hands.

Wendell takes off to pick up the kids.  I put a few veggies around the roast in a casserole dish.  The recipe said to use a roasting pan, but I don't own one.  It also directs to only have one layer of veggies. I can fit 13 veggies around the roast.  I stuff 7 more in.  I pull a cookie sheet out of the sink, wash it, pam it and pour all the rest of the veggies on.  It's not exactly one layer but it's close.

I turn the temp down to 350 degrees and set the timer to 1 hour 15 minutes.  It's already 5:30.  We won't be having dinner until at least 7:00.

I'm wasted.  But I sure hope it tastes good.

Quote for the Day

"We must know ourselves, for until we are conscious of our weaknesses, we cannot correct them; until we know our strengths, we cannot use them well."

 ---Bruce D. Porter, Ensign, Nov 1971, "Searching Inward"

3-year-old's Prayer

Beck loves to say the prayer.  But he doesn't really know what to say most of the time.

Dinner prayers he has down pat.

"Dear Heavenly Father, We're thankful for the food...in the bodies.  In the name of Jesus Christ, amen."

He's supposed to say something about the food being good for our bodies, but he usually skips that part and I figure Heavenly Father knows what he's trying to say.

For other prayers, Beck needs some prompting.  Last night, he said the closing prayer for Family Home Evening.  Following are my prompts verses what he actually said.  Skipping the traditional opening and closing, which he got right, here is the rest of the prayer.

M: We're thankful...

B: We're thankful...

M: for Family Home Evening.

B: for Family Home Devening.

M: Please help us

B: Please bless us

M: to have faith

B: to have Nathan

M: to choose the right.

B: to choose the right.

After that everyone was in fits of laughter, including me, and I prompted him to end the prayer.

Co- What?

I remember as a kid watching General Conference when Pres. Benson gave his historic talk on pride.  I remember, as he listed off what pride was comprised of, thinking how this applied to this person I knew and that element of pride applied to someone else, all the while feeling rather smug.  Then he said something to the effect that if you are only finding evidence of pride in other people, then you were being prideful, too.

I was dumb-struck.  I had never considered that I had much, if anything, that I needed to correct in my life. Yet here I sat and clear as day realized that a Prophet of God was calling me to repentance.  He told me that I was prideful.

It was not that dissimilar of an experience when someone told me that I was co-dependent.

The only thing I knew about co-dependence was that someone dear to me proclaimed herself to be co-dependent.  And though I love her very much, we have many notable differences.  So, I figured, if she was co-dependent then I, obviously, wasn't.

Wrong.  I am co-dependent and so are you.  At least, that's the statistical likelihood.  Co-dependence, in layman's terms, simply means attaching your emotions to someone else's behavior.  If you've ever been ticked that someone cut you off in traffic or marched through a store fuming because someone stole your parking spot, then you're co-dependent too.

The real issue with co-dependence comes in the application in our close interpersonal relationships.  Imagine that the person who stole your parking spot isn't some stranger, but your spouse, sibling or child.  Obviously, they are the problem since they stole your parking spot.  If their behavior was different, then you'd be happy.  Most of us would pull that person aside and give them a piece of our mind.  We'd explain how they "made" us mad and how changing their behavior would solve the problem.

And it might.  Until said loved one did something else that annoyed, offended or bothered us.  Like leaving the toilet seat up or not clearing their place after dinner or dropping their socks on the floor.  Then, only if they changed their behavior again can we be truly happy.

See the problem with that?

The tendency for a co-dependent is to work on solving the problem as we see it, which, pretty much always, is working to get someone else to change.  We nag.  We cajole.  We threaten.  If left unchecked, we begin to blame, shame, guilt, and embarrass our loved one in an effort to get them to change.  We are doing everything we can to manipulate and control someone else so that they can solve the problem, which is them. They are the problem!

In our head, we are justified because we are not the one leaving the toilet seat up/dirty dishes on the table/socks on the floor.  We are not the problem!  The longer this behavior goes on, the more mad we get.  Sometimes we start behaviors of suffering, letting other people know that we are a victim of someone else's behavior!

"Look at how hard I have to work," we might say.  "After doing 9000 other things I now have to pick up after you."

If the other person's behavior gets more extreme, so does our co-dependence.  Once we're sure that someone is "messing up their life" the obvious solution is for us to either a) jump in and fix it for them or b) worry ourselves to death about someone else's decisions.

"My intentions are so honorable," we say as we hunt for a job for someone else, or drop off a book or article on cleaning/organizing/loosing weight/living more righteously.

Because most of us also interact with co-dependcnts, we know how being on the receiving end of this kind of "help" feels.  We find ourselves fuming when someone has dropped by with an article called, "30 Easy Ways to Keep Your Yard Looking Nice" or "Why Children Who Watch Too Much TV Get More Ear Infections."

"Stay out of my life!" we think as we search for an article for them on why it's important not to butt into other people's business.

"That's so silly," you might think.  "Who cares about dishes/laundry/losing weight.  These aren't big problems.  But my loved one has a BIG problem.  You see, my loved one is drinking/smoking/doing drugs/living immorally/not going to church.  If I don't save them they might not go on a mission/get married in the temple/go to the celestial kingdom!"

Thankfully, the Lord has weighed in on this problem, too.  He said, "When we undertake...to exercise control or dominion or compulsion upon the souls of the children of men ... the heavens withdraw themselves; the Spirit of the Lord is grieved." (D&C 121:37)

Our loved ones already have a Savior and--here's the good news--it isn't us!  No matter what the problem is, when we use manipulation and control, not only are we not solving their problem, we're driving ourselves away from the Spirit.

Even in the little everyday things, we just don't need to nag, embarrass or manipulate.  You see, the Lord will take care of that too.  He's promised, "I give unto men weakness that they may be humble. (Ether 12:27)  [I]  show unto men their weakness (Jacob 4:7)  and out of weakness [they] shall be made strong. (2 Nephi 3:13)"

Usually

 Usually a child with a double ear infection and an eye infection would deserve to be babied.  He would get what he wanted, have my undivided attention and concern.  Usually.

But right now, he's not even the sickest kid in the house.  Annika (5) has a raging fever that has ranged from 102.1 to 104.1 without medication for the last four days.  Yesterday the lowest I got her fever with medication was 102.5.  This is largely do to the fact that she couldn't keep anything down, thus making it difficult to take fever reducing medication.  

The sum total of her caloric intake yesterday was comprised of 2/3 cup apple juice and one Go-gurt.  She also tried one fruit snack, one bite of a frozen pedialite pop, one bite of applesauce and one sip of Power-aid, only to reject every single one as tasting "weird".    

*Sigh*

Today she woke up with her lightest fever yet, only 102.1, and asked for a drink of water.  She gulped down about a half cup only to promptly throw it back up.  We are working on sips of apple juice again.  I have my fingers crossed that in a few hours she might actually be able to eat something again.

First, We Have To Do Everything

 I was recently privy to a conversation that included a little summary on miracles.  The story of the woman with an issue of blood, who was healed by merely touching the hem of the Savior's robe, was cited.  Then it was summed up this way, "What we have to do is first, do everything that is in our power to fix our problems. If we will put forth all of our efforts, then have faith that God will do his part, miracles will happen."


Raise your hand if you have heard this doctrine before.  Yep, that's pretty much all of us.


And it's completely false.


The point of the story of the woman with the issue of blood actually demonstrates the futility of doing everything that is in our power alone.  For more than a decade, she lived with this problem, calling upon doctors and all of the medical wisdom of the day to no avail.  All of that work profited her nothing, in fact, in Mark 5:26 it declares that for all the poking and prodding and money spent, she was worse!  Only when she exercised faith in Christ and partnered with Him, by touching his hem, was she healed.  


If she had struggled with this medical problem for a few months or a year, say, and had called on but one doctor and she did the exact same thing--she exercised faith in Christ and touched his hem--would she still have been healed?  Or would He have turned to her and asked, "Have you done everything you can on your own first?"  


Of course she would have been healed.  And our Savior never would have asked her to heal herself without His help.  When the questions are put like that, they seem absurd, as they should.


In Matt 11:29, Jesus says, "Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me...and ye shall find rest unto your souls." What he doesn't say here is just as important as what he does. 

But first, let's remember what a yoke is.  A yoke is a wooden crosspiece with two bow-shaped pieces of wood that cattle or oxen stick their heads through.  The point of the yoke is 1) to keep the animals very close together working step by step and 2) to multiply the strength of the animals so that they can carry much heavier loads.

So, it's important to note that Christ doesn't say, "Take this yoke upon you, drag it as far as you can by yourself and when you're completely exhausted, I'll lift my side for a little while and give you a rest."


Our Savior is already in the yoke!  It is His yoke, after all.  He is but waiting for us to come unto Him, to be by His side, shoulder to shoulder, and allow Him, through His atoning power, to pull our load, thus giving us "rest unto [our] souls." 


There are many other examples of this principle.  In 3 Nephi 11:38, Christ says, "Ye must repent and be baptized in my name, and become as a little child, or ye can in nowise inherit the kingdom of God."


Why do we have to become as a little child?  Some think it is to be so innocent.  Others think that it is to be meek, humble and teachable--all good qualities that children possess.  But I think it is dependence.  Note that Christ says "little child" and not just "child".  In some languages our English word "toddler" translates only as "little child".  


Thus, He is giving us an example of dependence.  My 3-year-old is dependent on me for food, clothing, shelter, love, teaching, etc.  In this way--as a little child--Christ wants us to be dependent on Him.  Giving up our will to follow instead, the will of the Father, just as little children are eager to follow parental guidance and please us.


Even though we need to be self-reliant in temporal matters, paying our own bills and not dependent constantly on some kind of intervention or aid, we should not be self-reliant in spiritual matters.  That merely puts our faith in the arm of flesh.  No, we have been directed over and over again to go through life with a divine dependence.  


Most of my life I have not understood this doctrine.  But now that I do know what it truly means to come unto Christ, to trust God and to surrender the only thing that is uniquely mine to give--my will, I can't help but share this message.  We don't have to go through life alone hoping that if we do enough righteous things, then we can take advantage of Christ's Atonement.  No, the Atonement of Jesus Christ can help us everyday, with everything, thus making Christ not only our Savior, but also our Friend.

The Week of Good News

I am totally behind on posting.  I've been meaning and wanting to give you a blow by blow, but life is getting in the way.  But we have had too much good news in the last week and I'm just bursting with it!

On last Tuesday, Emma went in for a follow up appointment with Dr. Two.  Much to our surprise and delight Emma was not only able to read the whole 20/25 line, but several letters on the 20/20 line!  Then when we went in for the scan she showed less fluid at the lesion in her right eye.

This means that the bleeding has stopped.  She isn't adding any more sub-retinal fluid.  Thus, why her vision has improved.  Now, the scans are rather thorough so they show that tho she had less fluid at the macula, she had more fluid lower down.

In layman's terms, gravity is pulling the fluid out of her vision center and to lower parts of the eye.

This bit of info changed everything.  We were going to give up on the shots and try--or at least consider--a more invasive treatment. Now, we thought, we should stay the course.

But Dr. Two had another thing he wanted to try.  He had absolutely no faith that it will work, but thought it couldn't hurt.  So he prescribed a diarrhetic that, in theory, should reduce the fluid in Emma's eye.

Now Emma is not a good pill taker.  And these are not small pills.  So we smash them with a mallet and stir them into applesauce and after she's gagged that down, then she can have a serving of unpolluted applesauce.

We set our appointment for 6 days later.  I was sick on Sunday, so, naturally, she got no medication the whole day.  (Why moms have to remember everything...)  When we walked in the door today Emma was all hopped up on Xanax and we got right to our appointment.

Her vision screening went the same--20/25 with no problem and some of the 20/20 line.  Then she went in for the scan.  And what do you know?  It worked.  The diarrhetic did exactly what it's supposed to do.  And it worked!

Not only is there notably less fluid in Emma's left macula (where the crux of the vision is), there's less fluid everywhere.  Her whole eye.  It's working!  Heck, even her right eye that has very little fluid at this point had slightly less.

So, Xanax or no, Emma didn't have to get a shot today.  And we just have to keep smashing pills.

To be real, this medicine has some serious side effects and isn't really a long-term solution.  But if it can eliminate the fluid in her eye in the short term, then we'll see what happens next.

For today, it's working and we'll smash those pills with pleasure!

Zap!

 Beck (3) has magical abilities.  He can cast spells at a moments notice.  He's capable of shrinking and growing family members or turning them into things--like frogs.  Sometimes this involves a wand, sometimes not.  The spell goes something like this...

"Zippity zip and zippity zap.  Turn this boy into a frog.  ZAP!"

Book Review: Don't Shoot! I'm the Guitar Man

This book intrigued me because it's a true life story of a man, Buzzy Martin, teaching criminals to play the guitar in jail.  It was written in diary style with each entry detailing Buzzy's visit's to the jail and his thoughts and impressions of the event.  One of the driving motivations for his participation at the jail, (and I assume, writing the book) was his work at juvenile detention centers.

In his experience, some juvenile delinquents look forward to jail and relish jail time a badge of manhood.  Buzzy wanted not only to help those in the jail, but also to bring real life stories to the detention center to help persuade the "lost souls" in detention to turn their lives around while they still had time.

Having said all that I hated this book.  It was terribly written.  Each journal entry has a lot of the same insights as the entry before that.  There is no plot and no flow.  Under severe editing, this book could really be amazing, but as it stands, it's a mess.  There is also excessive profanity and frequent sexual references.

Full disclosure: I received a copy of this book for free from Media Guests in exchange for my candid review of the book.

7 Calls

Call 1: First thing in the morning, just after I'd gotten the kids off to school, I got a phone call from Dr. Two.  Not just any phone call, but a call from Dr. Two's cell phone.  I KNEW he was calling about my canceled appointment and I was nervous that he might chew me out.  So I didn't pick up the call.

Call 2: After our trip to the Moran, I thought of all kinds of questions that I hadn't asked.  They had been simmering in my brain for a week and I just couldn't wait.  I knew that Dr. H had her conference this week and it seemed unlikely that I would be able to get ahold of her, but I figured if she at least had my questions, she'd be able to answer them as soon as she returned.  Plus, if Dr. Two was calling me... maybe I should get a little more information.

So I called the only number I have for the Moran which is for general scheduling.  The lady I talked to at scheduling was determined to relay my questions herself, so I asked two questions and hung up the phone.  Not 10 minutes later Dr. H was on the phone to me. She talked to me for 15 minutes answering my question and relaying mild frustration that her secretary/assistant hadn't already gotten ahold of me with some of the information. 

Call 3: Five or so minutes after we'd hung up, Dr. H called again going over a few more things and asking me a couple of questions.

(In the next 24 hours I received an email from the assistant and phone call from a surgery nurse wanting to schedule appointments for various of the kids. When the surgery nurse called and I asked her a few more questions and she seemed moderately impressed with my medical savvy.  Mostly I learn quickly--these ARE my kids' we're talking about--and I'm not dumb.  She said that she would ask Dr. H and get back with me, but Dr. H was already at the pediatric retinal specialist conference, so I haven't heard back, nor scheduled anything.)

Call 4:  The phone number that showed up on my caller ID was "Utah Valley...." and I didn't know what that meant.  I'd already placed a call to Utah Valley Eye Center where Dr. Lloyd's office was to discuss a billing issue.  And my kid's pediatrician is part of Utah Valley Pediatrics, where I'd set a few appointments recently.  So I picked up the call.  It was Dr. Two's office.  

"Dr. Two has a question for you," the receptionist said.

"OK," I said thinking that she would then ask the question.

"Hold on a moment."

Curse you, I thought.  Your darn caller ID fooled me and now I'm going to get chewed out by Dr. Two.

"Hi, this is Dr. Two," Dr. Two began.  And then very meekly explained that he had just today realized that I had canceled the appointment with Dr. Z.  He kept saying things like "it's not a big deal" and "you can do whatever you want" and "I'm not trying to pressure you to do anything".  

I explained that the doctors at the Moran didn't like working with Dr. Z since he left the Moran,we were already involved in a study at the Moran, etc.  Dr. Two told me repeatedly that that was fine.  No big deal.  Dr. Z flies into Utah on a very regular basis.  

Call 5:  In the late afternoon, I got another call from Dr. Two's cell phone.  Intrigued, I picked up.  Dr. Two was incredibly apologetic, but Dr. Z is really amazing and would I be willing to reconsider coming to the multi-hour appointment for all seven members of my family the next day.

I told him I was willing, but I had a couple of issues.  Number one, cost.  Our current insurance has an out-of-pocket maximum of $9000 for our family for one year.  We are on track to reach that and we can't begin to afford it.  Number two, trauma.  Annika was poked for a blood draw at the Moran that went very badly.  Those are my issues.  

Dr. Two said that he understood my dilemma and it was no big deal if we didn't come tomorrow, but would I at least talk to Dr. Z.  

"Sure.  I'll talk to him,"  I told him.

"You're a very nice woman," Dr. Two gushed, apologizing again for bothering me so many times in a day.

Now, my big boys had just finished their basketball season and to conclude things, their coach wanted to take the team to a BYU game.  Wendell and I already had a few tickets and had promised our kids that we could go that night, but we didn't have enough tickets for our family to sit together, so this would work out nicely. The boys could sit with their team and the other 5 of us could share the four good seats.  Unfortunately, Wendell ended up in an all day meeting in Salt Lake and I had to do all of the meeting the coach, feeding dinner and getting the kids to the game by myself.

Knowing that Dr. Z was going to call, I hung around the house as long as I could.  At the appointed time, I drove to the school to meet the boys coach and pick up our tickets.  Though the coach had been very specific about the time, he showed up almost 10 minutes late.  I got the tickets and rushed home.

Call 6:  Dr. Z called, as I had feared, while I was gone to get the tickets.  Anson picked up the call and relayed the message when I got home.  He told Dr. Z to call back in five minutes.  We quickly ate our hot dog dinner.  I decided that we have a life outside of doctors appointments and if Dr. Z called before we left, we'd talk, otherwise we'd have to talk tomorrow.

Call 7:  As we finished dinner, the phone rang.  It was Dr. Z.  He introduced himself by telling me that he was not just a geneticist, but he was also a retinal specialist and is the best in the world at what he does.  Then he encouraged me to look him up.  (I did.  He's Harvard, MIT and Johns Hopkins trained and is currently the Director of Institute at the the university that he flew in from.)  He went on to explain that he's sure that, as a parent, I would like to see as many doctors as possible.  I told him I agreed, but I had a couple of issues.

"I know.  Cost.  I am not charging you anything.  Dr. Two is not charging you anything for this visit.  The DNA will cost you nothing and if other costs get too great we can connect you with some charity and things."

Cool.

"I have just one other issue," I began.

"Yes.  Dr. Two told me.  No, we do not want to scare your little ones.  We can do some things with spit and cheek swabs.  That is all I need to get the DNA."

"Great," I said.  "We'll see you tomorrow at 1:00."

"I'll have Dr. Two call you tomorrow to confirm everything," Dr. Z said.

Apparently, the condition my children have is rare enough that the retinal specialists are now calling me, begging to see my children, and even meeting my "demands".  This is all a little weird.  Still, how cool is that the people are fighting over my children and willing to see them for free? 

After the Moran

I had notable trepidation when I called to cancel my WHOLE family's appointment with the geneticist who was flying in from California.  Even though Dr. Two told me repeated that Dr. Z comes to Utah all the time.  I had a hunch that his main reason for coming was us.  And I was sure that Dr. Two would be mad.

But the receptionist thought it was no big deal and I cancel a bunch of appointments and she was very pleasant.  And that was it.  Until Wednesday.

Monster Day at the Moran

Last Wednesday we packed up the troops and headed to the Moran Eye Center in Salt Lake City.  We dropped Beck (3) off at my mom's at 11:10, checked Emma and Nate out of school and headed up.  I packed the least nutritious/most fun lunches I could think of. I bought Uncrustables, and packed grapes, carrots, juice boxes, Go-gurts and granola bars.  Emma (11), Nathan (8) and Annika (4) were in seventh heaven.

Wendell and I didn't get much of a lunch, me because...I don't know.  I was nervous.  Nervous we wouldn't be on time, it would be hard to find, we would have to wait for hours before we could even get in, etc.

It was trippy trying to be with three kids all at once there, because they liked to do things simultaneously. I was happy that Wendell had switched days off to be there, but we still couldn't be with all of the kids at once.  We ended up with me pairing with Annika and Wendell going with Nate and Emma just had to go alone.  The doctor ordered vision screenings from three different cameras on all of the kids.

As Emma as called back, I kept the door open and my ear to the hall for when Annika might get called.  I heard a tech say, "Great. I've got a four-year-old who I have to get pictures from three cameras."

I poked my head out and said, "The four-year-old is mine.  When you call her back, I'm coming too."

I left Emma with her tech and I went with Annika trying to help her hold still.   Nathan had a bunch of extra imagining done, some of which I recommended and some of which I had no idea we were doing.

We got home from the Moran at 8:00pm.  Some of it is still a blur.  Here are the important points.

* This retinal specialist has never seen anything like my kids' either.  She happens to be going to an international pediatric retinal specialist conference this week and asked for permission to present about my kids and see if anyone else has seen anything like it.

*Dr. H is not trigger happy.  As long as Annika's and Nathan's eye's are stable, she recommends not treating them.

*She recommends staying with the Avastin treatment for Emma.  Except that this is Emma's only seeing eye and, um, the treatment isn't working...so maybe go with the next shot that's $2100.

* At the Moran, they are happier if everything is in-house.  So we enrolled in their genetic retinal specialists study because the guy that is flying in, is stingy about sharing.

*Annika was so terrified of having her blood drawn that she threw up when the guy missed and we were considering switching arms.

*At the Moran, invasive tests and treatments can all be done sedated.  This is where I'll have Annika treated. Period.

It was a long, long day.  And I have a ton of questions still.  Hopefully, we'll be able to get them answered as we go along.

Book Review: The First-Timer's Cookbook

To divert myself from all else that is going on in my life, I am doing a few book reviews.  At the very least, this should light up my blog!

My first review for 2011 is Chef Shawn Bucher's first book, The First-Timer's Cookbook.  This is not your traditional cookbook since there's not a single recipe in it!  Instead, it's full of the kind of tips that you call home to your mom while you're in college to ask--things that seem like they should be intuitive, but really aren't.  (e.g. How do I cook spaghetti squash? How long does pasta take to cook?  If my chicken's pink on the inside can I eat it?)

This book reminds me of Suze Orman's, Women and Money, in that some of the tips seem eye-rollingly obvious. While other points are really beneficial. In Women and Money, for example, Suze Orman would say things like, "A checking account is bank account where you use the money by writing a check." Similarly Chef Bucher keeps things (ridiculously) simple with tips like,"Knife skills...come down to this--don't cut yourself."  Nevertheless, if you keep reading your bound to learn some valuable info, like how to use "carryover cooking" to your benefit to have perfectly done meat, which months certain fruits and veggies are at their best and even how to cook obscure vegetables like egg plant.

I personally benefited from the "how to cut butternut squash" segment. Something that previously had been the bane of my existence, I could now do with ease.

While the average stay-at-home-mom could definitely find a few new tips and tricks in this book, I think it's biggest target is those learning how to cook, also called people-who-can-only-make-microwave-popcorn.  That includes, young cooks (my 11-year-old daughter is DYING to get her hands on this book), young men wanting a crash course before they serve a mission, missionaries who missed the crash course and are tired of ramen noodles, and co-eds who don't want to call their mothers.

Full disclosure: I received a copy of this book for free from Media Guests in exchange for my candid review of the book.