I Wanted to be "Little Debbie" --and other assorted wild fantasies of my youth

Okay,
so where have I been lately?
Right?
Right.

We STILL have yet to commit to a Family Motto for 2013--
I had pretty much settled on
"We Seek After Bacon"
and thought I'd be clever n' just make
BACON an acronym for something ethereal and lovely like
B=Being Kind
A= Academic Exellence
C= Charity towards others
O=Organize Ourselves
N= Nourishing our Testimonies.

Yeah. That was shot down.
Too cheesy, they say.
{shaking my head}
Do these people not understand
that their Mother is the 
Queen of All Things Cheesy?

So. No Motto. Nothing carved in wood yet.

Okay, so back to my title.
Little Debbie.
I'm a girl of the South.
Cut offs, barefeet, midriffs or bathing suit tops
was the uniform of summer.
The only closed toe shoes I ever owned
were the ones I got at Easter--
white patent leather that I used either toothpaste or Comet
to clean the scuff marks off.
I know what fried okra is,
eaten a belly full o' pork rinds n' frog's feet,
picked cucumbers and bell peppers,
stood atop an old Chevy to pick brown bags full of tangerines,
and knew that day that involved a fresh Moonpie with a YooHoo!
 was a good day indeed.
I am a Southerner.
N' I just loved

Little Debbie.
Yeah.
I used to save the boxes the treats came in--
I don't know why...I thought she looked like me
only in a bonnet.
We could be friends.
I actually mail-ordered a Little Debbie Barbie
when I was old enough to pay for it--

as the mother of 5 chi'ren.
No kidding. Little Debbie rocks.

Also,
I saved Aunt Jemima syrup bottles--
the glass ones that came with the cloth aprons on them.
Seriously loved that buttery syrup.
Are you shaking your head now?
I know. It's nuts. But it's true.

Wendy's.
I wanted to know Wendy of Wendy's.
I've seen her now as an adult,
but I really wanted to see her as a kid--
her "Little Debbie" knock-off garb
combined with her Pippi-Longstocking-styled red pigtails.
I mean, yeah, was I the only one who noticed
Wendy was tryin' to look like Little Debbie??
Lotta nerve if you ask me. Lot. Of. Nerve.
Definitely someone I wanted to know
when I was still as ridiculous as I am now,
but not as cheesy.


The fantasies of my youth were not limited to food icons.

(notice my lovely bangs?)

When I was in second grade,
I'd stand in front of my dresser mirror
n' squint my eyes tryin' to imagine what I'd
look like all grown up 
in the sixth grade.
I didn't know about middle schools and high schools then.
I thought once I got to sixth grade
I'd be like, 21 years old.
I really wanted to look like Barbara Eden

of "I Dream of Jeannie"--
or "Twiggy" with her long eyelashes and short hair.
I figured I had a better chance of coming out like Twiggy
than Jeannie,
because my momma could not stand to let my hair grow
even to my shoulders
before she'd get out her sewing scissors and take a whack at my hair.
She was forever-and-ever-amen
trying to give me a "Page Boy" cut.

(notice my "page boy?)

I typically looked like I had used box cutters on my own hair.
More like Twiggy with her "pixie cut"--
one that my mother ALSO tried out on me.
The other thing I had in common with the lovely Brit
was that I was a bean pole.
My momma used to say,
"Stick out your tongue so we can see you."
So of course I had to have a Twiggy lunchbox--
hoping my classmates would also notice the strong resemblance
between me and my fantasical idol.
To my recollection,
noone ever did,
probably because I looked more like
Little Debbie.



But hey, I didn't know my audience.
Clearly they were too young and Batman and Catwoman
were more popular for the crowd I ran with.
Catwoman scared the beans outta me so much,
that I think that was the beginning of my dislike for cats.
Maybe she woulda been better if she'd owned a dress like Little Debbie.
Or ate a moonpie once in awhile.

Where Are The Christians Part Two

As promised, here is the second of five excerpts from the nationally-released book:

Albert Schweitzer once said "One truth stands firm. All that happens in world history rests on something spiritual. If the spiritual is strong, it creates world history. If it is weak, it suffers world history.” Section one of Where are the Christians? takes on the daunting task of providing a concise and compelling history of Christianity to give readers a background of where it all began as a foundation moving forward. To help the reader navigate an otherwise complicated history Shuster divides the 2000 year period into four segments, one for each of the four chapters in section 1.

Chapter 1:  They Were Evangelizers and Builders (up to AD 299)

While some might think Christianity began the day Christ was born, Christianity was long prophesied in the Old Testament. The over two centuries that followed during the Evangelization and Formation Period were defined by seven major categories of events:  persecution of the church, martyrdom of its early leaders, the spreading of the gospel outside of Palestine, the conversion of Paul, the formation of the church, early heresies, and the writing of the New Testament.

Chapter 2:  They were Legitimized and Codified (AD 300-999)

The Legitimacy and Codification Period from AD 300 to 999 was a time for Christianity to continue its global proliferation, while codifying its doctrines and legitimizing its place in religion and politics. This period of Christianity was defined by seven categories of events:  the continuation of persecution and evangelization, increased heresies, doctrinal codification, hierarchy and politics, validation, and the seeds of corruption.

Chapter 3:  They were Corrupted and Divided (1000-1499)

As the Christian Church neared the millennial landmark it began to be faced with significant issues of leadership that would rupture its unity. Although Christianity was still spreading throughout the world, the organization of the Church would be challenged by its integration with the political structure and an increasingly corrupt leadership.  The Corruption and Division period (1000-1499) is marked by four categories of events including doctrinal evolution, church and state integration, corruption and division.

Chapter 4:  They were Reformed and Scattered (1500 to the Present)

The final segment of Christian history covers the year1500 to the present and is called the Reform and Denominational Proliferation Period. During this period individuals came forward to challenge the established Christian Church to reform itself from corruption. This period is marked by five major activities including the carryover of corruption, the emergence of refiners, reformers and restorers, Christian movements and influencers, the propagation of published scripture and the proliferation of denominations.

Modern-day Christians are influenced by the past and are products of their own history. It is a history that produced the best and worst of humanity over a 2,000 year period. Our faith walk today is affected by and reflects these four periods of Christian history. Having a better understanding of where we came from as a Christian people we are now ready for the next leg of our journey to answers the question:  “What is a Christian?”  

Go to www.findyourchristianity.com to watch the book trailer, find out what type of Christian you are, and to order the book.

Growing a New Talent for 2013

Trying  new things makes me happy.

Just the attitude of approaching something I've never done
with an open mind and a willingness to try it
has served me well most of my live long days.

It is in this spirit that I decided to give "painting" a try.
I've never taken painting classes--
unless you count a tole painting class I took in 1986--
and I haveta say, boy can I paint white ducks!
I can, I can.

I love art.
I have often said my ideal vacation would be to spend at least two whole weeks
locked inside the British Museum by myself or with someone equally enthralled
with art in all it's myriad forms,
and do nothing but look at the beautiful works and breathe it all in.

Watercolors especially intrigue me.
I don't know why...haven't set about to ask myself why...
but the way water and color mix and looks so effortless
is soothing to me.

Anyway,
I tested the waters this month
and bought a few little brushes and paints
and small canvasses to give my interest 
a chance to express...
I painted something I love.
Aspens.
In the Fall.
No photos to look at, 
just let my hands follow the patterns I know
so well in the natural beauty of aspens
and this is what came out:

I know it's not brilliant.

But it's a start.

I want to continue to make the most of this New Year

by learning new things...

what are YOU thinking of trying in 2013?

Where Are The Christians?

Sometimes, people come into my life

through the backdoor, so-to-speak.

Meaning, I don't see them coming

or expect the impact that they will make

once I get to know them.

It is in the getting to know them

that I come to wonder how it is

that I am so fortunate and privileged

to have crossed paths with them,

as they exceed my expectations.

Eric Shuster is my backdoor friend.

I first met him through an opportunity wherein

I was assigned to find a Guest Speaker at a special event

and his name was recommended to me.

That was three years ago.

Since that time, I have had the great pleasure 

of coming to know and love him and his beautiful wife, Marilyn

and their family.

As the best friendships are created,

we have been as blessed by this union as they have.

Our daughter Diana was their nanny before her mission,

as they adopted a set of twins and their older brother.

In the process, 

they became her "second parents" and I cannot say 

how much we truly appreciate their great capacity to love

and the profound influence they've had,

and continue to have

upon our family.

*Marilyn and Eric with our Nana on her first trip to the temple.

Eric and Marilyn are lovely, intelligent truth seekers and sharers--

as he shared in his first book, 

"Catholic Roots, Mormon Harvest"

and then 

The Biblical Roots of Mormonism.

Eric's latest offering is here and I am so stinkin' excited to share it here 

with my family and friends!

Here is the thought-provoking introduction to his marvelous work:

"Ponder if you will the state of our world; and in particular the condition of America. Although one can easily argue the United States is still the greatest nation in the world and a country so many desire to come to—even risk their lives to enter into—there is no denying America’s social, moral and spiritual fabric continues to deteriorate at an accelerated pace. For many this is an alarming and discouraging trend.
Now consider the fact that 76% of Americans claim to be Christian, making the United States one of the highest per-capita Christian nations in the world. A nation full of Christians in a deteriorating society? If this indeed be the case then WHERE ARE THE CHRISTIANS? To solve this conundrum author Eric Shuster gives us a book that bears this question as its title with the promise of answers and unique journey for readers.
Where are the Christians? uses the classic format of who, what, where and how to explore Christianity and the dynamics that unite and divide the religion into the unrealized potential it suffers from today (thus the subtitle of the book—the Unrealized Potential of a Divided Religion). The book enlightens readers as to who the Christians are from a historical perspective; what a Christian is from a spiritual perspective; where the Christians are from a behavioral perspective; and how Christianity can be strengthened and more united from a societal perspective. Where are the Christians? examines hundreds of Biblical and scholarly sources, analyzing data from a multitude of studies leading to unique perspectives and solutions to the challenges facing Christianity in the modern era.
Where are the Christians? contains 17 chapters arranged into four sections:
* SECTION 1: WHO ARE THE CHRISTIANS?—a history: 4 chapters providing a concise history of Christianity spread across four distinct periods: Evangelization and Formation, Legitimacy and Codification, Corruption and Division, and Reform and Denominational Proliferation.
* SECTION 2: WHAT IS A CHRISTIAN?—a definition: 4 chapters examining the definition of a Christian from the perspectives of the world, the Bible, landmark religious studies, and what Shuster refers to as Modern Day Pharisees.
* SECTION 3: WHERE ARE THE CHRISTIANS?—a categorization: 5 chapters profiling the five types of modern Christians including a unique and enlightening exercise to help readers understand what type of Christian they are among the five.
* SECTION 4 – HOW IS CHRISTIANITY TO UNITE?—a vision: 4 chapters describing the ways Christians in America can unite into a force for good by focusing on individuals, families, churches and communities.
For the next 4 weeks author Eric Shuster will take us on a tour through each of the four sections of Where are the Christians? providing a glimpse of what the book is all about—the questions it will answer in each chapter, the insights it will provide, and the vision it lays out in bringing together a deeply divided religion into realizing its true potential for America. This is one tour you won’t want to miss!
Go to www.findyourchristianity.com to watch the book trailer, find out what type of Christian you are, and to order the book."

I am honored to have been asked to participate in the release of his new book and enthusiastically encourage
the reading and sharing of it!  Thanks, Eric!

Why, Hello There, New Year!

Seriously?
It's the second week of January
Two Thousand Thirteen?

I feel like I've been in tumbled about in a dryer
these past couple of weeks.

Christmas was wonderful.
All kinds of crazy noise,
busy days
and late nights
hanging out with all of the people who call me
"Momza".

Highlights:
Christmas morning was a blur of smiles and wrapping paper.
Christmas dinner was both turkey and ham and all the fixin'
and intermittent naps by the whole heehaw gang.
Tisha took pictures but I can't find them on this new pc.

That's right.
David Scott came to town and built us a new pc.
I lub it much much.
The old one was being run by degenerate hamsters on wheels
and was about to die at any given "click"...
so all those years when I pitched fits over yet
"another broken computer!#$Q%!"
because of David Scott's determination to find out what makes 'em tick,
finally paid off!
When I reminded him of those days,
he said,
"Hey, I only broke two."

One of the best parts of the holiday was getting to SKYPE
with our missionary, Diana, from New York.
She first visited with everyone in the family,
and then it was my turn.
Her voice cracked when she saw me
and I showed remarkable strength--
inside of my heart
fireworks were exploding
but on the outside,
I smiled and said,
"Ohhhh...there's our girl!"
She and I visited for about 15 minutes
and she had to go.
But then later that night,
she called home and visited with each of us a bit longer.
It was great feeling to hang up and know she is happy doing what she's doing.


New Years' came in like a lamb.
A sleeping lamb.
David Scott & Tisha went home to Meridian, Idaho
and Brad left for Houston the weekend after Christmas.
So by NYE,
we were all tuckered out.
Though we were invited to come and play with friends,
I am pretty sure my bum was tucked into bed by 9:30pm.

Plus, it was really cold here in Colorado for almost all of the holidays--
highs in the teens and lows in the minuses.
Brrr-frickin'-cold!

Dani and her boys stayed here until just this past Wednesday.

Let me just say this:
there's a reason why old women don't have and shouldn't have
children after a certain age.

And just to keep us on our toes,
we had a major water leak that ran
from the laundry room on the main floor
to a bedroom in the basement,
which filled the ceiling with water and the walls in between.

That was an exciting discovery.
Kent was already at work,
so I pretty much turned to friends to walk me through the day
which they totally did!
Thank you, Friends!
So right now,
my washer and dryer are sitting in the family room.
The mainfloor bathroom has been dried out professionally,
the floors have been ripped up,
the drywall is gone,
and the toilet is sitting in the garage.

The ceiling in the basement has been cut open
and professionally dried too.

The good news is really good news:
we'll get it all put back together
for just the cost of our deductible!
I get to pick out new flooring and paint!
I have been wanting to paint both of those rooms,
and now all I have to do is pick the paint and someone else will do it for me!

I think that's pretty cool.

But wait! There's MORE!
More? You say?
Yes, More!
We've been to the laundromat
and Daisie felt like it was a fantastic Field Trip!
She loves the place!
I know. I have been derelict in my mothering duties,
as my 5th child has never been to a laundromat.
Good thing this happened tho,
as she is getting ready to leave for college this year.
I could change the name of my blog to
"The Derelict Mother" over this...
but that sounds like alot of work
and I'm already tired.

Also on the plate today:
Mr Wonderful is having knee replacement therapy today.

It's been a long time coming--
and while I would love to say he's worn his knees out in prayer--
Bahaha!
--the truth is he wore them out by the thousands of miles
he's hiked and skied over the years.

SO. That's 2013 so far.
Well, the highlights anyway.
There's more.
Of course there's more.
Always.
Like one of my more fine mothering-housekeeping moments yesterday
when I used a pair of socks to dust my dresser
just before I put them on my feet.
What?
I shook them out first.
Two birds with one stone.

And we have chosen our 2013 Family Motto
which I will reveal in the next post.

2013 has started off with a Bang!
And I say
BRING IT!

Christmas Eve 2012

I know it's going to be a great Christmas Eve when Santa shows up:

 Dean loves Santa. He especially loves being Santa's helper and looks forward to wearing his Santa suit every year.

 Our Grandma Barb hand-carves her own Santa ornaments and has given a few to us over the years.

 Joseph and his favorite brother, David Scott.

 On Christmas Eve, after dinner, we open the name-exchange gifts--it's always interesting to see
what the kids give to each other.

 This year, M. Wonderful drew my name...that hasn't happened before,
and I had no idea what he'd been up to; but my first clue that it was gonna be a neat gift
was the bag from The Shane Company in Denver!

 Before I opened it, I asked Dara to recite the radio commercial for The Shane Company--
it's been playing for years and she knows it by heart.  I still wasn't prepared for the surprise though!

 Pearl earrings! I love Pearls...it's in my Southern blood to love them!

 But wait, there was one more!

 Told ya, pearls just do it for me!

A beautiful pearl necklace! 

 Dani's gift from Dara--an ipod nano!Dani has wanted an "i"-something forever and she was delighted!

 I had Dean's name and he's been wanting a camera, SOOOO...well, yeah, that was easy.

We had a potty emergency in the middle of gift-opening.

David Scott bought Joseph a machete.

I was a little concerned about that, 

but safety rules were given and I've calmed down since.

 Danielle made us a fun family gift from her boys to Joseph and Dara and Dad (& me)---hot cocoa mix + marshmallows + a new LOGO game + personalized mugs for all of us. Way cute!

 Danielle actually got Tisha's name and gave her this awesome cookbook by The Smitten Kitchen!

 Joseph got David Scott's name and gave him a clay-pigeon launcher! I had no idea those kinds of things even existed...

 I couldn't find the rest of the pics but Bradley received a new knife set from David Scott.

The end of the evening, 

Santa Dean was tired and ready to go home.

So while I took him home,

the other kids broke out the new game and cocoa:

And that was Christmas Eve 2012.  Oh! and we got a call from our missionary Diana, telling us what time to expect her call/Skype the next day!  I wasn't home when she called, so I was sorta bummed, but she got to speak quickly to Dani and David Scott and Joseph.


***Many thanks to Tisha for being the family photographer with her new i-phone this holiday!***

The Everlasting Life of Salt Dough

You know what this is right?

Look closely.
I'll give you a hint:
it's very seasonal right now.

That's kind of a crummy hint,
but if you guessed it's a
Nativity or creche.
you're right.

Mr. Wonderful made this little treasure
when he was in first grade--
it's over 50 years old.

Made outta plain ol' Salt Dough,
dontcha know.

I've never met his mother, Doris--
she passed away almost 30 years ago.
But, the fact that we still have this little treasure
made by her boys' small hands,
says alot about her, I think.

This reminds me to be careful about what I consider
"valuable"--especially with all the things my yahoos
bring home from school,
or make with their own two hands.
Because someday, someone will be glad that I did.

Thanks, Doris
for seeing the value of
everlasting life of salt dough
as it was formed to create
Mary, Joseph, and the baby in the manger*,
by your little boys' hands.
We see it as the treasure you must've seen it too
all those many years ago.



*Mr. W isn't sure where the "baby" went,
so we like to think he's in Mary's arms.

Our Little Ones

Today as my heart flooded with emotion
to the point of tears,
Arianna aka "The Caboose" noticed.
She'd stayed home from school with a stomach bug,
and was just coming downstairs
when she noticed me at the laptop,
tears flowing.

I gathered my emotions together,
straightened my Self,
and told her to sit down for a minute,
I had something to tell her.

She could tell by my appearance
that something wasn't right,
and sat right down to listen.

Then, I told her about a mentally ill man
going into his kindergarten-teacher-Mom's school
and killing alot of little children
and other teachers and the principal there.

Her eyes welled up,
and then a look of fear came over her own face--
"Why would someone kill kids? Why?"

That is a question I do not have the answer.

This practice of loading up guns
then heading out to shoot-to-kill
innocent people without interruption
has gotten too familiar.
Wasn't it just days ago
that a similar thing happened at a
Clackamas shopping mall?

It's happening so often,
there isn't enough time to even
mourn the losses in each instance.

I'm thinking it's time I get a permit to carry a concealed weapon.
I have friends who have done this,
and while I abhor guns,
I don't want to ever be at the mercy of a lunatic
pointing a gun at my self or my child
with no way to protect them.
If even one teacher had a weapon today,
perhaps the shooter wouldn't have had time
to kill an entire classroom of children.
He may have shot one,
but not 27 others.
Or the crazy orange-haired nutjob shooter
in the Aurora theater--
if just one other person had a gun in that theater,
lives would've been saved.

Enough is enough.
Gun laws are for law-abiding citizens.
As one friend shared,
Criminals don't obey laws,
that's what makes them criminals.

My mother-heart is truly aching for the mothers and fathers
and families and friends whose babies were taken away from them today.
Something has to change.
I don't know the answer,
but I want to hear some good suggestions
for ways we can protect our selves and our little ones.

May God in heaven bless you all in Connecticut.

Ugly Sweater Day

Arianna: "Mom, can I borrow one of your sweaters?"

Me: "One of my sweaters? Why?"

Arianna: "It's Ugly Sweater day at school."

True story.

*disclaimer: that is not my sweater.

Diana's "22 Things I Learned From You, Mom"

So I got a birthday card from my girl--
nevah-mind that it was a bit late by a few weeks-
it is the thought that counts, right? right.

It was a hoops & yoyo card...
my all-time favorite kind of card,
except for Hollie Hobbie cards
when I was a kid.
I muy-mucho-mas love Hoops & YoYo!

Inside was written by my missionary girl in NY:

Mother Dearest! Sorry this is a bit late! I bought your card over a month ago but didn't have time to write in it!  So I hope you'll forgive me as I list 22 things I've learned from you since you gave birth to this fool 22 years ago!
1. Cleaning sucks. But cleaning while listening to Rod Stewarts love songs makes everything a tad bit happier.
2. Noodles+tomatos+butter = happiness.
3. Grey clothes look bad on everyone...wait...that's just you. haha
4.The best way to share the gospel is to open your mouth and your home.
5. When you're in the room, Be IN the room.
6. The only way to really clean a floor is on your hands and knees.
7. You choose to be happy.
8. God hears and answers our prayers.
9. Saying sorry means very little, you need to show that you're sorry.
10. We are not victims of our circumstances.
11. Always do your part & Show your Best! AKA Don't Suck!
12. Fall is the most wonderful time of the year!
13. A mother is only as happy as her saddest child.
14. Every woman deserves a "Mr. Darcy".
15. Being poor doesn't mean you have to be dirty.
16. No elbows on the table!
17. The Best way to fix a problem is to talk it out...or say "whatever". haha
18. Dinner's not done till the fire alarm goes off.
19. If it's not your dog, let it go.
20. Sacrifices are required to receive greater blessings.
21. Families are meant to be together forever.
22. The atonement can heal us.

Thank you for your example & all you've taught me.
Thank you for loving me
no matter what.
Have a happy birthday!
I love you!
Nana

I may be guilty on all accounts without any chance of parole.

A New Week and a New Motto?

Sunday was a do-nothing day here.
An actual day of much-needed rest
after the week spent at the hospital
with clenched jaw and sleepless nights.

It was our first snow day too--
this morning it is just a few degrees above zero;
the yahoos are upset that school is still ON
with warnings of frostbite on the news.

Looking out my window at the snow-covered foothills,
I am kinda glad that the kids have school today
as I could use a morning to myself.

At dinner last night,
we made some goals for this upcoming week
based on what we can each do to
bring the spirit of Christmas
into our family this week.

Joseph went first,
his is "No Bickering".
Dara's goal is to offer
"Service".
Arianna's gift to us this week is
"Listen to Christmas Music.
Which she is already doing while
getting ready for school.
In an effort to save my own sanity
and to be more gentle,
I'm going to Nag Less.
Yup.
I still have to wear the parenting hat,
but I'm not gonna nag this week.
Mr W said he's going to be
More Cheerful.

We were talking about our Family Motto
for 2013...
our 2012 motto being
"Don't Suck" worked out pretty good.
I'll review that soon.
In an effort to be even less sucky,
I was thinking
"We Seek After Holy Things"
which the yahoos revised to
"We Seek After Bacon"
SO
that's a no-go.
It reminds me of our
"Return With Tacos",
"Loathe is Spoken Here"
and
"Remember Who You Are And Don't Be That Person"--
mottos of years' past.

I know.
Ridiculous.
Hopeless.
These fools are no help
in my quest for spiritual refinement.

IN considering our past year's illness and hurts,
our home teacher suggested a motto for us:
"Injury Free We Will Be"...

it's growing on me.

A New Page in Dean's Story

Where've I been all week?
It's Saturday night, the second weekend of December,
and I am gratefully sitting in my room
on my bed,
half-listening to "Pride and Prejudice"--my "comfort" movie
on days like these...
days for sitting while layers of the previous week
wilt away and fall off my shoulders onto
my cream-colored matelasse
dripping down my bedskirt to the floor.

It has been a Week.
A long, long week.

On Tuesday,
another page in my special-needs son, Dean's
very special life,
turned and revealed new tendernesses to yet consider
during his time spent here with us mere mortals.

I got a call early,
just as I sat at the table for breakfast,
from Dean's caregiver, T.--
it was an alarming call,
as T. explained to me that Dean suffered a seizure
at breakfast
and was on his way to the emergency room via ambulance.

I quickly took my own breakfast,
and not wanting it to waste,
left it in the fridge and headed out the door to the ER.
But a thought came to me that I should grab
Dean's favorite possession--
his red furry Santa hat,
as I knew it would cheer him up.

We sat in the Er for several hours--
the docs ran a catscan which showed a previously-unknown lesion
on Dean's brain...
they are thinking he's suffered a stroke.
So,
they give him a dose of Dilantin to quell seizures,
and after 8 hours in the ER,
we were set to leave with a referral to a
Neurologist.
Our Bishop and another brother from our ward
came and gave him a priesthood blessing
and we thought were ready to go.
But things changed quickly
when Dean suffered a grand mal seizure in the ER.
That was the only time he said,
"I'm scared." to me.
I held his hand and loved on him,
wiping his sweaty brow with a cool cloth,
and removed his Santa hat till his color came back.

New plan:
Go to the bigger hospital in town,
that has a Stroke/Pulmonary floor and specialists.

Dean was delighted to sit and wear his Santa cap,
and the surgical gloves given to him,
courtesy of the ER nurses.
He was even more pleased
when the EMT's who were transporting him
to the other hospital,
ran the siren and lights on the ambulance before they
pulled out of the parking lot.

Dean declared that he loved all the nurses,
and asked if he could work at the hospital!
He thanked each and every one of the docs and nurses
that attended there and left with a smile.

That was Tuesday night.
I followed him over to the hospital in town
and stayed until he was ready for sleep.

Now, on Wednesday I had a settlement conference in Denver
that had been scheduled for months,
and if I did not attend it,
would have to be delayed further until April.

So, Wednesday was a crazy long day.
I just wanna say Insurance adjustors are...
are...are...aw, if you've dealt with them,
then you already know.
And I'd rather not pepper this blog with ugliness.
Suffice to say,
my attorney is awesome
and we won our case pretty much
so that is all behind us.

As soon as the settlement was over,
we drove home,
changed clothes
and headed back over to the hospital
just in time to say good night to Dean.
I went to bed exhausted.

I wish I could say I got some much-needed rest,
but nope.
Of all the crazy things to happen,
I got an amazing toothache at 3:45am.
So bad, that I couldn't rest.
I hadn't had a toothache since 1995!
Since I couldn't sleep,
I went down to the kitchen and cleaned it,
found the breakfast from the morning before
still in the fridge and tossed it out,
threw in some laundry,
swept the floors and puttered around the main floor
while the rest of the house slept.

About 5:45am, Mr W came down to check on me--
rarely do I rise and start cleaning at four in the morning,
so he knew something was up.
I called our dentist's office and left a message--
they called back at 6:30am and said I could get in at 7am.
Hoping they would get me in,
I was already showered and dressed,
so I could get right over.

Turns out, because of the clenched jaw I'd had most of the week,
one filling was cracked,
and another filling has some decay building up under it,
thus, two teeth are the culprits of pain.
So, with an antibiotic rx and a pain rx,
I was ready to get on with my day--
which included a trip to the chiropractor,
an orthopedic appointment with Mr W,
and another trip to the hospital to see Dean.

Dean's docs scheduled a medicated MRI for him on Thursday,
which he had to be sedated for--
he'd had an EEG on Wednesday.
While the procedure went well,
he did have another seizure while being put under,
so
the docs decided to do a spinal tap.
Only they couldn't do it on Thursday or Friday.

So Dean sat in the hospital all day long on Friday
with nothing to do.
By the time I got there early Friday,
he was restless and anxious and ready to go home.
He was quite angry with me
for not taking him home.
SO I had to sit in the waiting room,
to keep him from trying to get out of bed and leaving that place.

That. was hard.

I just wanted to sit with him and love on him.
He wanted to leave--
he was sick of IV's, and tests, and not sleeping well.
Friday was a long day,
and when they told him he had another day to stay
they decided to sedate him to help his day go by quickly--
he'd already torn out one IV,
tossed his heart monitor across the room,
and the prospect of one more day was daunting,
so they gave him a mild sedative.

This morning,
his spinal tap was scheduled at 8:30am,
so we had to be there by 7am.
The first words out of his mouth when we came into his room:
"I'm going home today!"
He had no idea he was going to be put to sleep again,
and a needle was going into his back--
all we told him was that he had to have one more test,
then he could go home.

SO he was eager to get that over with,
greeted the anesthesiologist, the techs, the Xray/whatever Dr. that administered
the lumbar puncture,
and finally,
6 hours later,
we signed the discharge papers and were on our way home
with a worn-out boy.

Now that I've related the who/what/when and how's,
let me say I have been keenly aware of the many prayers offered up
for our Dean.
My boy.
I know that Heavenly Father loves Dean.
I know that Dean's days are known and numbered,
and while I do not know those numbers,
I am keenly aware that this new page will be
the beginning of a latter chapter for him.
This is hard.
We learned that epileptic seizures are part of the norm
for people born with brain injuries, such as cerebral palsy,
like Dean
to develop at they age.
I didn't know that before now.
It is a new reality.

We got through this week with the help of many friends...
those who drove kids to school and to the hospital to see Dean.
Friends who brought in wonderful warm dinners and desserts,
who offered shoulders and hugs and a few tears too.

Our missionary in New York had a very long week as well,
her heart was concerned for her family,
she actually got to call home so I could give her a quick hug through the phone,
and let her know everything was going to be fine no matter what.

I am grateful to be home in my own bed.
To know that Dean is home in his own bed.
We left a hospital full of people who are not sleeping in their own beds
tonight,
and saw more than one grieving family there,
who I doubt will sleep at all anywhere tonight.
The tendency to feel sorry for myself
is squelched when I see the reality of life's randomness--
things could've gone so much worse than they did,
you know?
So thankful are we that they didn't.
Not yet anyway.
A reminder that in this season of giving,
Time is a grand gift, indeed.

This is a Test. Teenager Test Take Five.

You know I'm on my fifth teenager.
If being the parent of a seventeen-year old was a paying job,
I'd have clenched job security in the year 2000
and receive a hefty pension in about six more years.

Yeah, I've been doing this a LONNNNNNG (that's 7 N's there--one for each yahoo)
Time.
Now the problem with this is that while MY experience is tried and true,
the next yahoo coming up to the magical teenage years
is a Novice...capital "N".
They think this is my first rodeo.
My first bull ride on an angry longhorn.
Even though they've witnessed my skills and cunning
with the siblings ahead of them,
they don't get that this Momza can hold on longer than 8 seconds.

O sure, they value some parts of my experience
absolutely.
When it benefits them.
But good night! they shudder when it doesn't.

Case in point,
the current seventeen year old lost her mind this past weekend.
She demonstrated this loss
by making choices that were counter-productive
to having-slash-maintaining a good relationship with her dear Momza.
When I called her out on it,
and reminded her that I'm not a doormat,
will not lay down for foot-wipeage,
and that her lack of appreciation offended me--
why, her reaction was totally a novice's reaction
thru n thru:
"You're my mother. You have to do those things!"

Yeah.

So, I politefully declined her assertion and told her I'd give her time to think about
what is and is not my "duty" to her as a Mother,
by stepping back a little and letting her find another way, her way,
of facilitating her life.
The audacity of it all nearly cost her eyesight!--
as she rolled her eyes so far back into her noggin,
it was like Apollo 13's jag behind the moon.

"Fine!" she retorted. "I have friends who can take me to school, and take me to work,
and pick me up, too!"

Mwah ha ha ha

"Okay, that's great. Let me know how it goes." I answered back.

Now, I knew the planets were aligning, and fingers n' toes crossed,
I was hoping that barring any major development
my daughter's karma was about to come full circle
and kick her in the
bahooey.

Yes, she was about to learn that her teenage friends
are as self-centered as she is.
Sure they'll run her to school. Once.
And home from school. If they have time.
And to work, if they have the gas/time/inclination/nothing better to do.

"Let her learn."-- the winds of teenage-parentdom whispered to my mother-heart.

That was last night.

This morning,
before school, I took a risk and went down to her dungeon...
the one with 42 piles of clothing...some folded, some not,
some clean, some not.
More shoes than Jessica Simpson,
and other UFOs randomly laying about her living quarters.

I found her in the midst of this chaos,
curling her hair for school.

"I want you to know that I love you, Day. I don't enjoy arguing with you and having bad feelings.
BUT. (her eyes start for the course around the moon) You owe me an apology. That's on you.
AND (yes, I'm still talking even tho I wonder if she's even in this universe), until you do,
I'm still stepping back.  My feelings have been hurt. And you need to figure out a way to make me
want to invest any more time in you."

She had still not come back around from the dark side of the moon
by then,
so I turned and walked upstairs to help the other yahoos get ready for school.

Her ride for school came. She left without a word.
I looked at the clock as it got close to her release time from school--
since there was no text or call,
I figured she'd gotten a ride home.
Which she did. And a ride to work.
And, a ride home from work.

Now, let me say this,
the day was long for me.
I don't enjoy these "teenager tests" of power and will.
My feelings are that by the time my child is a Senior in high school,
our relationship and roles should be evolving from disciplinarian and student
to mentor and friend.
The other 4-teens-now-adults have taught me that.
Mutual respect is KEY to having a good relationship at this point.
Feeling the way I do,
today was a long one.
I'd put all my money on the fact that she would quickly learn
that she does still me need to facilitate her life,
and noone in the world wants to feel unappreciated,
nor will you find someone willing to invest in you
if there is no reciprocation.

SO.
I quietly let the day pass
as she exercised her "independence day" from Mom.

About 9pm, Miss Liberty walked quietly into my room
and stood by my bedside,
obviously wanting me to turn my attention from
"The Voice" (btw Trevin Hunte is #1),
so she could talk to me.

I waited for a commercial,
and then lifted my eyebrows toward her--
"Yes? Do you need something?" (mwahahaha)

"Uh. Yeah. I came up to apologize."

"Oh, you need something, hunh?" I said.

"A ride. I need a ride to school."

"Where're all your friends who offered to drive you every which way?" I asked.

"Hmm. Uh. They can't tomorrow."

And Miss Liberty followed up with a,
 "I'll-try-harder-to-express-gratitude-for-all-you-do-for-me-everyday, Ok?"

"Ok, That's a good place to start. I will appreciate your effort. See you in the morning."

And then I exhaled.

Another test passed today.
WooHoo!
My experience has not failed me.
I held my ground and my breath--
and let her learn for herself
that you catch more flies with honey.
Everytime.

I'm A Southern Woman at Heart

Last week while I was visiting my daughter Danielle in Houston,
I was happily reminded of my Southern roots.
I saw crepe myrtles in bloom still,
as well as the luscious tree of the South,
the Magnolia--without it's blossoms it is still grand.
And don't get me started on the spanish moss hangin' from the oaks--
and the monkey grass and geraniums lining the curbs,
and I did spy with my little eye,
a lovely gardenia bush up near someone's front porch--
only common sense kept me from sneaking up there
just to sneak a good smell of it!

I was born in Miami and lived up and down the east coast of Florida
and then in my teens my folks moved to the Carolinas.
Yes, both of them.
My sophomore year was spent in Rock Hill, SC
and my Junior year we moved to Charlotte, NC.
My senior year took us to Denver--
the reason was not a job
but that the Broncos won the Super Bowl that year
and my father's gypsy blood took over his mind
and one day I came home from school
to find out that we were heading West,
pulling a Uhaul behind us.
Why take a vacation
when you can just move there?

Now, I've shared that the folks didn't care much for the West.
My mother especially detested the manners or lack thereof,
of those "d@mned Denverites!"
There aren't the same social graces in the West
that grace the South;
whereas I was raised to say,
"YESSIRNOSIRTHANKYOUSIRPLEASE."
to every adult I knew or just met--
teachers, neighbors, or family--
it just isn't done in the West.
It's not expected and worse,
it is looked upon with contempt.

The folks packed it in and headed back south
to Texas after two years.
And while I have chosen to live in the West,
in fact, I've lived here twice as long as I lived in the South,
the manners I was taught as a child
are still with me.

I remember my "Ma'ams" and "Sirs",
my "Thank yous" and "Pleases".

Last week, I got to practice them more often,
and enjoyed hearing them used by nearly everyone
I met in Houston.
Another thing about Southern women--
they don't leave the house without 5 things:
*their "pocketbook" (I use that term and get weird looks from my yahoos),
*their make-up (aka "my face on") and their hair done
*their jewelry...earrings, rings, necklace(s), and bracelets.
*perfume.  Because a woman perspires but doesn't sweat in the heat of the day.
*and lastly, their good manners.  Noone is properly dressed without them, they'll tell you.
And a truly gracious southern woman says "Yes Ma'am" to every female, young and old alike, to show you just how gracious she truly is.

I was completely under-dressed everywhere we went
because I only brought a single pair of earrings, which I wore everyday.
And I had a "bad hair day" every day because I didn't bring any Aqua-net!

Now, as a god-fearing Southern woman,
I have raised my children to use southern manners
since they were born:
"YESSIRNOSIRTHANKYOUSIRPLEASE"
has been oft-repeated in our house.
But I happened to marry two Western-raised men (not at the same time. Had to let the 1st go.)
who don't see the relevance of such formalities
and therefore, didn't expect it from the kids like I did.

My eyebrows raise at the kids response of a single
"Yeah." or "Yes." ("Yeah is what you say to your friends, not your Mom.")
My response to that is, "Yes, what?"
"Yes, Ma'am." is the correct answer.
I've said more than once,
"Good manners will get you into places that a good education cannot."
And I meant it.
People don't care how much you know,
until they know how much you care
and that begins with how you talk to them,
or regard them with your speech.

Now, when my oldest 3 children were young and just beginning school careers,
we lived in Spartanburg, SC
and there they were taught Southern graces
by their teachers.
We lived there for almost 4 years,
and when their dad was finished with his schooling,
we moved back to Phoenix.
Well it didn't take long before a teacher called the house
to complain that David Scott was "a smart aleck"--
I was shocked to say the least!
Upon asking her what he'd done,
she responded that he'd called her "Ma'am!"
I told her that we'd just moved from the South
where that is exactly how he'd been taught to address his teachers--
and this snotty young teacher was insulted and said she was "Not a Ma'am!"
I let her know right then and there,
that she would have to get over it
because it's a conscious teaching in our family.
So there.

Mr W. used to make fun of my conscious teachings
to these yahoos--
whenever I'd try to get the child at hand
to use manners,
I might say,
"You need to say, 'yes sir' when answering your Dad."
Mr W would follow with a,
"Yes Sir MasterBlaster will work."
Yes Sir MasterBlaster?!

He has since come around,
and while he doesn't expect southern graces from the yahoos,
he respects that I do and the reasons why I do.

Our society has gotten so casual, too casual in how we relate to one another,
in my opinion.
There are very few social graces even taught these days--
most people disregard them as outdated and unnecessary "extras"
in human relationships--
we ignore one another with a small palm-sized gadget
up to our ears,
we barely acknowledge people as we pass them,
and the lack of respect is palpable in our schools too,
going both ways between the student and the teacher.

Let me tell you what,
I still believe that good manners can get you into places that good education cannot.
I've seen it.
The gentleness of the South is worth adopting.
Showing respect for others,
having a reverence for sacred things,
giving due courtesy
is a blessing for both the giver and the receiver.
Now, if ya'll will excuse me,
I need to go put on my face
and dab a little perfume on
for the day.


Today's post was inspired by
Glamazon Mom's: Fried Chicken (a western mom living in Arkansas)