Hello From Quarantine

 

Hello from quarantine.

I just finished Becoming by Michelle Obama, and it gave me like a lot of feelings.

I felt like Michelle was Dr Paul Stubbs from Star Trek telling me that, " [I] will never come up against a greater adversary than [my] own potential." Do you guys remember that episode? Probably not- I only know it because my husband is watching The Next Generation with the kids and I happened to catch this one. Dr. Paul Stubbs is a sort of mega-genius astrophysicist who is running a project on The Enterprise. He meets Wesley Crusher and recognizes in him a fellow wunderkind and gives him a word of caution. He told Wesley that he felt the burden of being a high achiever, and that he would constantly need to top his last accomplishment to keep up with his potential. Except he says it with the emphasis on the first syllable: PO-ten-tial.

Bob Kelso dropping Trek knowledge

Obama's central thesis is that she is an ordinary person who took her situation and applied grit, smarts, planning, energy, and focus and turned it into something extraordinary. That the reader, me, you, every ordinary person could do this.  I determined a long time ago that my children have sapped me of whatever hustle I had. I have to work really really hard just to keep up with all the meals, track meets, science homework (do YOU remember how to determine how many valence electrons are in any given element?), and messes that come with raising 4 kids. So many messes. Plus a dog. It feels unfair to me that she would tell me that I could do more.

Maybe this book wasn't the best pick to read during quarantine. Where all my volunteer opportunities are extinguished and my already very limited social circle shrunk down to my five immediate family members. Plus a dog.

Instead of thinking about PO-ten-tial, with a capital P and the emphasis on the first syllable: First Lady starting several world-wide initiatives, staff of 50, with a personal hairdresser and stylist kind of PO-ten-tial; and just work on being me+1.  Meaning- how I am today, just one point better. I don't have the drive to live Michelle Obama's life, but I can live my life. Plus one. And a dog.

Epiphanies, plural

Lillian likes to lay like this when I'm reading to her at night.  The doctor says that her hypotonia is no longer detectable, but she's still really floppy and it's hard to tell if she does stuff like this because she can, or because it takes too much core strength to sit upright.

I don't know what I was thinking or hoping, but I think deep down, I thought that because she had grown out of the hypotonia, she might have grown out of the ADHD and maybe picked up some number sense over the summer.  But in the first few weeks of school, she's shown that this is not the case.  In considering my feelings about having a child with learning disabilities, I've realized a few things.

1. I was thinking about how Lillian could really use a full-time math tutor.  Someone to sit with her every night and do math homework; who was good at math and good with kids and could really get Lillian and explain things to her.  I starting thinking about how much that would cost and how much I would have to work to be able to pay for it when I realized that I do that.  Like, that's what a mom does- whatever it takes.   Your kid needs extra math help?  You're a math tutor.  Your kid needs a special diet? You're a chef.  Your kid needs a soft place to land?  You're a pillow.  It's pretty obvious- of course I'm going to be there for my kids, but it was just a moment of clarity that *I* could help solve this problem.

2.  I loved school.  I loved going and taking tests and learning everything.  Test taking is very easy for me; I could probably take a multiple choice test on a subject that I know nothing about and get a decent grade because I have a sense about what correct answers look like.  I liked to think that I was kind to everyone and respected all the kids regardless of scholastic aptitude, but I'm realizing that I looked down on people who weren't as smart as me.  I thought I was better than them.  Now that I have Lillian, I realize that she works way harder than I ever did at math.  She struggles to complete worksheets in class and then has to finish them at home on top of the homework, plus she goes to extra tutoring in the resource room, plus I practice with her every day and on weekends.  And she does it with minimal complaints.

When I got to AP Physics in high school, it was hard for me, and instead of sticking it out, I arranged with UCSB (to which I had already been accepted) to drop out with an F on my transcripts.  I had no coping skills built up to tackle a difficult subject because no subject had been difficult before.  For a long time, I congratulated myself on my clever solution to my problem, but I realize now that it was a total cop out.

3.  I need to be more sensitive about bragging about my kids.  Nora is very smart, and sometimes I get carried away telling people about it.  However, it's totally the pot calling the kettle black because when people brag to me about their Lillian-aged kids, I want to punch them in the face... or just cry.  That's great for you that your 8-year old has read all 7 of the Harry Potter books (Lillian can barely read Magic Treehouse and that's only if I'm sitting next to her to remind her of where she is when she gets distracted) but that doesn't make your child better, or mean that you are a better parent than me.  I'm sure this is just me projecting my insecurities, but I don't want to make other parents feel bad because their 5-year old can't count by 3's (which Nora likes to show off).  IT'S NOTHING I DID, she's just like that.  Its also something I need to remind myself- My parenting can't and shouldn't be measured by the achievements of my children.

Living Within Our Means

This is what my fridge looks like right now.

In 2011, I started working full time.  Before that point, if we budgeted carefully, only went out to dinner on special occasions, and considered our purchases, we had enough money for our needs.  After 2011, we didn't have to worry about budgeting.  If I wanted something, I bought it.  If I didn't feel like cooking, we went out.  I fell out of the habit of checking how much I was spending every month.  Don't get me wrong, I wasn't going crazy; all those years of being a poor college student and thrifty bargain hunter definitely left their mark, but I wasn't being careful either.

Then in late 2012, I got pregnant and started throwing up, so I switched to working only one day a month. The only thing on my radar was survival.  Then 2013 comes and I have this small human who DOESN'T STOP CRYING FOR 3 MONTHS.

At the beginning of this year, once everyone started sleeping through the night, I started thinking, "huh, I wonder how our bank accounts are doing."  Turns out, we were spending at 2011 levels, but only making 2010 money.  Whoops!

We weren't in the red because we had money saved from my full-time days, but every month, we were spending way more than we were bringing in.  I freaked out and launched a family-economy sequester; buckling down, cutting spending, and asking around for someone to watch my kids so I could start working 1 day a week.

I made a food budget of $800 a month.  It's so high because I was including our Costco trip wherein I might buy socks or a new swimsuit or something, and our grocery store has pretty much everything you could ever need (lamps, pillows, huge toy aisle, art and craft supplies, baby clothes).  I have no idea what I bought, but we maxed out our grocery budget 4 days ago on April 26.  I decided I was going to see if we could stick it out.  I did make an emergency run for milk, apples, and bread, but other than that, it's been slim pickins.

We've eaten every piece of frozen meat in our freezer (I even MADE hamburger rolls to avoid going to the store), eeked out soups with questionable bottom-of-the-bag vegetables, eaten several tuna dishes, and forced my family to eat oatmeal when the cereal ran out.

I've learned several things- 1. Wow, food runs out fast when you're not constantly going to the store to replenish your stock. 2. Man, I'm thankful for the grocery store and I don't have to somehow otherwise procure food.

And 3. I waste so much food!  Most of the food we've been eating these last 4 days has been less than perfect.  Let's just say, I've been cutting some brown spots off.  If I had been able to go to the store, I would have totally thrown that stuff out.  Or, more likely, ignored it in favor of the fresher food and waited until it became completely inedible and then thrown it out.

Also I'VE NEVER BEEN THIS EXCITED TO GO TO THE GROCERY STORE!

I am not a flexible woman

I'm not naturally flexible.  This is me, giving it my best effort to touch my toes.  I'm not joking.

After I had Lillian, I took a Mommy-and-Me yoga class.  It was fun but I was so totally not as flexible as the other women in the class.  I asked the instructor how long I would have to do yoga before I would be able to do a simple down dog pose with my heels on the ground.

Ten years is what she guessed.

Ten. Years.  We're coming up on 8 years, and still I'm nowhere close.  She underestimated the power of my hamstrings.

The thing is- I hate yoga.  The whole time I'm doing it, I think, "I hate this.  I'm so uncomfortable. I don't want to breathe.  I'm so bored."  Plus, I now have a peanut gallery that says stuff like, "Mom, she said you're supposed to put your forehead on the ground."  "Mom, she said that you're supposed to be on one leg."  "Mom, she said to grab your toes."

Yet I do it.  Because I fear that if I don't, I soon won't be able to bend over to put my own pants on.  Which... actually... might not be a problem.

Only first-time parents deal in absolutes

I was totally guilty of it.  I had Lillian and she was a Goldilocks Baby- not too easy, not too difficult.  She cried some, was happy some, didn't sleep that great and then we worked on it and then she slept great, ate OK, breastfeeding went badly for a while, then it was fine.  I had a problem, and then I'd solve it, and there would be much rejoicing.

I was one of the first in our group of friends to have a baby so they all asked me for advice when they had their first.  I was totally the expert.  "This is what you have to do..." I'd tell them with total confidence.  Do not let your baby sleep in your bed.  You must get a swaddling blanket.  10/10 buy a Moby wrap and an Ergo carrier.  You need both.  Do not let your kids sleep in their car seat, they will die.  Let them cry it out, they will stop crying and then they'll learn how to go to sleep by themselves.

I was baffled, then, when I'd ask my mother about a problem I was having.  Surely she, a mother of 7, would have experienced this.  She would say, "hmmm, I don't know.  None of my kids ever did that."

What?

I now know that I wasn't a baby expert.  I was a 2006-Amanda-and-Tyler-in-San-Luis-with-the-infant-Lillian expert.  Things that worked for her didn't work with my other kids.  Things that worked for me in that time of my life don't work for me now.

Someone asked my opinion the other day and the best I could say was something like, "I can tell you what worked for Nora, but didn't work for Ethan, so I don't know if it will work for you."

That said, my new piece of advice is to wait for allergy season to have your baby cry it out, because then you'll be strung out on allergy medicine and can totally sleep through the crying.

Fast and Slow

Now that I'm spending a lot more time with my kids, I am more aware of what I say to them.  I find that I am giving my kids two different messages all the time, and that might be confusing for them.

All the time, I'm telling them to move faster.  I'm constantly emphasizing that we're going to be late if they don't get their shoes on and get in the car, their cereal will get soggy if they don't put down the ponies and get over here, I am always trying to figure out ways to get Lillian to read more smoothly so she can make 80 WPM and pass off her stupid reading assignments (she has these dumb paragraphs that she has to read over and over and over again until she can read them in a minute or less... we've read the current one every day for two weeks), or pushing her to be able to do her timed math wherein she is supposed to do 72 simple addition and subtraction problems in 10 minutes.  She can do about 20; it takes her about 40-45 minutes to do all 72.

And then sometimes in the same breath, I tell them to slow down.  Be patient, wait, I know it's boring, take your time and do a good job.  Lillian has very sloppy handwriting and Tyler and I harp on her about it ALL THE TIME.  I\We make her erase and re-do, do practice worksheets like the kind you do in kindergarten, and emphasize that she has to think about what she's doing before she does it.  The kids complain that their chores take too long or that it's boring when we go to the park with just a soccer ball and no organized games or activities, or when we have to wait at an appointment or a restaurant and I didn't bring the iPad or any books or toys.

I was thinking about this on our a hike we took recently.  All three kids were walking and there was much emphasis on hurrying up, putting down the rocks, stop touching the grass, catch up, OK I'm leaving without you, and that sort of thing.  The kids kept telling me that they were bored; they wondered when we were going to "get there," and I told them that there was no "there."  I told them that the point was to be out in nature and to get some exercise.  Speed up and slow down at the same time.

I worry that they can't keep up with life, that they won't be fast enough; but then at the same time, I worry that they won't know how to slow down and do "boring" things like wait, study, practice, and enjoy nature.

I suspect that this is why parents make their kids play sports.  It has elements of both things- you need to think fast to keep up with game play, but at the same time, you have to do boring drills and go to practice over and over again.  So, although I have no idea how soccer is going to fit in our schedule, I plan on signing Lillian up for the spring season.

Biblical Birth Order

One of my patients at work started talking to me about birth order and the Bible.  I'm not sure why... as far as I can remember, she told me that she was from California, and I asked what part, and she said that she was from Ojai, which is sort of near Santa Barbara, which is where I went to school for 2 years.  She said her daughter still lived there and that she home schooled her kids.  I said I could never home school, not because I don't want to, but because I'm fairly sure that Lillian and I would just fight and that she benefits from the peer pressure of all the other kids.  So she started in on birth order and personality traits according to the Bible.

Apparently, the oldest child is supposed to be very controlling and bossy.  I don't want to point any fingers, but my oldest sister's job title is Controller.  Just saying.  It's not that Lillian is bossy, she just refuses to be bossed.  She is the boss of herself, and that is final.

The second child is supposed to be very eager to please and sweet.  This fits Nora perfectly.  She is naughty sometimes, but mostly I just want to squeeze her until her head pops off because she is so cute and sweet.

For these first two, she kept coming back to the example of Jacob and Esau.  Which, I'm confused about... was Esau controlling?  Was Jacob sweet?  At face value, I would say that Esau was greedy and that Jacob was tricky.  But, she was so sure of herself, she might as well have said, "The second child is always sweet, like Jacob.  QED."

Moving on.  The third child is supposed to be "happy-go-lucky."  Anyone who has met Ethan knows that this description is the exact opposite of him.  He is not happy or go-lucky.  He mostly cries a lot.  I keep reminding myself that he probably won't cry forever, but some days...  Our conversation got cut short by my Ascom phone beeping, so I didn't get the chance to hear the Biblical evidence for that one.  Any ideas?

Update Time

 I'm working my way back with the pictures.  I'm not sure why we took these ones, but they are pretty cute, so I'll put them in with a general update.

Amanda:  I'm working full time, which means three 12-hour shifts per week.  I leave the house no later than 6:18 and I come home sometime around 8:15-8:30.  At first, I had a really hard time making my brain work for such a long stretch.  Once, as I was reporting off to the oncoming nurse, I was telling her about the last pain medication I gave.  "I gave it at 18:30 and it's every 4 hours so he can have it again at....   ....   .... uh... can you do the math for me on that one?"

Its getting better and my mind isn't so sloshy by the end of the day, but that doesn't mean that I know what I'm doing or am confident at my job at all.  I'm still afraid of my boss; I'm afraid that she's going to find out that I'm totally just winging it and probably screwing it all up.

The floor I work on is a surgical specialty floor- women's health (which is a lot of gynecologic oncology (cervical cancer, breast cancer, ovarian cancer, endometrial cancer, etc.), urology (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Transurethral_resection_of_the_prostate">TURPs, bladder cancer, kidney cancer, urosepsis, etc.), and ear-nose-and-throat (throat cancer, tongue cancer, esophageal cancer). "Wow," you're saying, "that's a lot of cancer patients."  I know, right?  Who knew that's what "surgical specialty" actually meant.

We do get a lot of "medicine overflow" which means the whatever patients who come in through the ED.  I've had several http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/CIWA">CIWA patients, a guy who had a chronic wound in his scrotum that I swear you could have put a golf ball up inside of it, there was a lady who didn't know there was a sawed-off shotgun in the back seat of her car and it went off and shot her in the buttocks, and the lady who was pregnant and diabetic and decided to fast for Ramadan which put her into http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/DKA">DKA.

After working there for 5 months, all I can say is that it's my new mission in life never to get cervical cancer and as soon as my girls are old enough, they are totally getting the HPV vaccine.

Tyler:  Tyler still has a job although they've changed his responsibilities around.  Apparently, he gets to use power tools now, or maybe he's just by the power tools, so he's spent the last several days watching http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g-hz1GpFpXA">safety videos.

Ethan: Ethan has been able to walk for several weeks now, but had chosen to continue crawling.  In case you're keeping track, he turned one in July.  Then, on Tuesday, he decided it was the day to make the switch.  He's about 50/50 now which is a big improvement from the 99/1 that he was on Monday.  He only has 4 teeth and is still super crabby.  The doctor asked me at his last check-up how many words he said.  "Uh.... zero?"  He just grunts.  He makes a distinct grunting noise whenever he sees a dog, so I'm going to go ahead and count that.  A mother at the park said that her pediatrician counts signs, in which case we can add bananas and grapes.

Nora: I'm just going to go ahead and say that Nora is the cutest little kid I've ever seen.  She's generally happy and bounces when she walks.  Her little giggle and her chunky baby legs just make me want to eat her.  She sings little songs to herself and like cuddling.  Her current favorite movie is Jumble Book.

Lillian:  Lillian is really learning a lot in kindergarten.  She's one of those kids who will perform for other adults, but will do nothing for me, so it's sort of amazing what her teacher can get her to learn- which is pretty much what I've been trying to teach her for 2 years to no avail.  Her report card showed pretty good marks in everything except "Uses Time Wisely," in which category she got the lowest grade possible.  Yeah, that sounds like her.  She lives life at her own pace and refuses to be rushed.

She is getting to be pretty funny, though.  The other day, I was planting a new flowering vine in our backyard.  It is going to have little purple iris-looking flowers.  "This plant is silly mom.  Why did you want one with purple flowers?" (Also, she questions everything.  "Why did you want this bread?" "Why did you do your hair like that? "Why did you say it was time to go to bed?")

"Because I thought the purple flowers would look pretty."

"Yeah... pretty silly."

The only other question you have is, "what do you do with your kids when you're at work?"  I know this because everyone asks me this question.  A lady I know from church who has kids approximately my kids' ages takes Nora and Ethan all day.  Then a different neighbor picks Lillian up with her school-aged children and hangs on to her until Tyler gets home.  It's kind of a lot of juggling, but we make it work.

A Day in the Life

I gave Lillian the camera. She took about 400 pictures, these are the greatest hits. We did laundry.

And changed the sheets. I wish I could remember what she said that made me laugh so hard.

Ethan woke up and I changed his diaper.

Nora woke up from her nap.

More laundry.

Messing around in the kitchen.

Has Lillian talked your ear off about Toy Story 3 yet? No? Just wait.

The turquoise horse is Bullseye because I'm such a mean mom, I won't buy her a real one.

Oh, hey Ethan.

Skype with Anne. She was at her nerd conference.

I like baby feet.

Go upstairs and come back with a different attitude

I woke up a little off today. Usually, I'm really patient with the kids until about 4 or 5 (which is good because Tyler comes home at 5 or 5:30), but Lillian started right up I'm coooooooooooold!! I'm huuuuuuuunnnnngry. I don't waaaaaaant oatmeal. Nora hiiiiiiiiit me. and I couldn't handle it. I was snapping at her left and right and threatening to spank her bottom if she didn't quit whining. Usually the I'm-going-to-spank-your-bottom threat doesn't come out unless things get really bad.

I took a step back and said to myself in my best mom voice, "you need to go upstairs and come back down with a better attitude." So, I did. I shut myself in the bathroom (while Nora very helpfully slid some magazines and small toys under the door, in case I got bored), sat on the edge of the tub, said a little prayer, and thought for a minute.

Sometimes, I feel like I'm stuck in the movie Planes, Trains, and Automobiles as the Steve Martin character, and my kids are collectively the John Candy character. In the movie, Steve Martin is trying to get home for Thanksgiving, but things keep happening, some natural (there's a blizzard and his plane is re-routed) and some (most) are caused by the John Candy character: he spills beer on the bed, he gets them into a car accident, he lights the car on fire, etc. This is my life.

I was trying to make dinner yesterday while talking to my friend Myriah, and during our short conversation (I called her because Tyler was running late and I was starting to go crazy), there were like 10 different disasters: Nora and Lillian were fighting over the slinky and then stretched it out, which caused a separate melt down all it's own, Nora had to go to the bathroom 3 or 4 times, then she needed her jacket off RIGHT THEN, then it was WHY, OH WHY DID YOU TAKE MY JACKET OFF, I HATE YOU, then Ethan was crying and Lillian was saying, "MOM THE BABY IS CRYING" over and over again, plus there was the "Mom, mom, mom, I'm hungry. Mom, I don't want to eat that. Mom, I'm huuuuuuungry. Mom, I haaaaaate broccoli soup."

At the end of the movie, Steve Martin and John Candy are good friends and can laugh about it all, which is how I felt last night watching Nora do her little dance to the "L says llllll, L says llllll" song that the alphabet toy plays. It was so cute, my heart about exploded.

But the underlying frustration is still there. I'm frustrated that I can't get anything done. And by anything, I don't mean like... I can't volunteer for Doctors Without Borders or Literacy Volunteers of Tucson, both things I really want to do, but realized a long time ago it wasn't my season of life. I'm talking about the fact that I tried for 3 hours yesterday to mop my floor, something that should only take 45 minutes at the most, and it still didn't get done. Plus, Lillian dumped two pocket's full of sand out right after I had finished sweeping.

I know, I know. It will get easier, but for today, it is hard. And, I need a better attitude.

And I believed her!

Some of this post might be considered an overshare, so don't read if you are sensitive to that sort of thing. Also, I realize that this will automatically repost on Tyler's Facebook page so Note: this is Amanda typing.

I've asked my mom, mother of 7, why she had so many children. At different times in my life, I've received different answers. One time, she said, "I just couldn't turn it off. Every time I turned around, I was pregnant again." I think I was a teenager, or maybe in my early 20's because I answered, "you know mom, they have things that you can do to take care of that problem."

And now, here I am, 3 kids in 4 years later because I just couldn't turn it off. Something had to be done, so I decided to get an IUD. My doctor, whom I know and love, told me that her office no longer stocks Mirena because they cost $800 and they were losing too much money on them. So, if I wanted one, I would have to buy it myself, have it shipped to her office, and they would put it in. She made it seem like no big deal. I called Blue Cross to see if such a thing were possible, and the lady on the phone actually said, "Oh Yeah! That's FINE. Just go online and fill out forms X, Y, and Z and send in a copy of such and such paper and we'll send you a check." I was apprehensive because it seemed all too easy, but she was so confident that this would be no problem; she knew which papers to fill out, what to photo copy, she used sentences like, "ask your provider for a copy of the superbill." Surely this woman knew which way was up.

I called CVS/Caremark and ordered the thing, had it sent to the office, they put it in. I filled out form X, Y, and Z, made the appropriate photo copies, and sent it all in. I waited. And waited. Meanwhile, CVS/Caremark was deducting $35 a month from my account and would continue doing so until I paid them $800. I received a notice from Blue Cross stating that my claim was denied. Excuse me?

I called and an hour on the phone later, got it all sorted out. Did I mention that this was in September?

Since then, I've received notices, placed phone calls, and made more copies. I called again today to get a status update.

"My records show that we sent you a check for $326 on November blah-bi-di-blah."

"Yeah, I never got that. Did you send it to blee-bi-di-bloo?"

"Yes. Well, because it was never cashed, I'll just put on a stop payment and send you a new check."

"Great. What about the other 400-some-odd dollars?"

"I'm sorry?"

"The device (this is what you have to call it when you call in, so you know) cost me $800."

"Well, Blue Cross only allows 500-blah-blah dollars, your deductible was met so we'll pay 80%, leaving you to pay 200-blee-bloo dollars."

"Um... what?"

"[Starts to explain allowances]"

"No, no. I get that. What you're saying is that I'm stuck with paying not $200, but actually almost $500."

"Um.... Right... well [starts in on some lame explanation about pharmacy benefits vs durable hardware benefits]."

"[Enter a rant about how I CALLED and MADE SURE that this would work and the woman said it would be NO PROBLEM and now I'm stuck paying what may as well be the full price for something that IS COVERED and HOW IRRITATED I am and that I HATE Blue Cross.]"

"[Clearly flustered] I'm sorry ma'am. That does sound irritating. You're more than welcome to appeal."

"YOU AND I BOTH KNOW THAT WON'T WORK! I'll get a nicely worded letter about how I am ultimately responsible for knowing my coverage and that I have a copy of the plan, and that they have no record of me ever even calling in, and that it says in article B section 13 that I shouldn't base my insurance coverage decisions on what the insurance-coverage specialists say."

...silence...

"Is there anything else I can help you with?"

I apologized to the woman on the phone because she didn't do this to me. I probably will send out an appeal, but really, it probably won't work.

On one end of the customer service spectrum is Costco. I once took back some Cuties because they tasted a little funny, and they gave me cash back, no questions asked. In the middle is Target, where they require a receipt, a picture of you buying the item, and your first-born child before they'll give you cash back. And then way way down at the other end of the spectrum is the insurance company, who doesn't even give money to people who deserve it who are dying. Why would they give me my money back?

Candy Bomber

The number of living legends I've met has gone from zero to one.

Gail Halverson is in my ward and he's the coolest nonagenarian I've ever met. He came and talked to our primary and told the story of how he became the original candy bomber.

I missed the beginning part, so I'm not sure what he was doing by the fence, but he was standing outside the fence that separated East and West Germany during the Berlin airlift after WWII. Whenever he was in uniform walking around in the States, kids would mob him asking for chocolate, so he was really impressed that the group of kids who had gathered on the other side of the fence were just looking at him. He felt prompted by the Holy Ghost to give these kids the two sticks of gum he had in his pocket. He quickly dismissed the notion as he felt it would cause a riot and he didn't want any of the kids to get hurt. The feeling persisted, so he broke the two sicks in half and passed them through the fence.

There was no riot. Instead the kids distributed the gum and then passed the wrapper around to the kids who didn't get any so they could smell it. This made Brother Halverson want to help them even more, because they weren't greedy like American kids. He worked out with the kids that he would come and drop chocolate in a few days and they would know it was him because he would wiggle his wings on approach. He convinced some of his buddies to give up their chocolate rations and he tied handkerchiefs onto the chocolate bars because, as he said, "getting hit in the head with a Hershey bar going 110 miles per hour would make the wrong impression."

He did this for a while in secret (the kids nicknamed him Onkel Wackelflügel (Uncle Wigglywings)) until a German newspaper picked up the story. He thought he was going to be in trouble because his commanding officer looked upset when he called Brother Halverson into the office. He didn't get in trouble, quite the opposite, the project was expanded into Operation Little Vittles.

I hope I can be that cool when I'm 90.

Not our usual fare

I'm taking a class called The Art of Nursing. Putting aside how I feel about it, I had an assignment to create my tapestry of influence, seen above. I had to choose the virtues, and then decide who helped me develop that virtue.

I'm supposed to let these people know that they contributed to my development, but some of them I have no idea how to get in touch with, one of them is not a person, and another one, I don't know personally. So, I thought I'd go with public embarrassment acknowledgment.

Feel free to stop reading at any time if you think it's too sappy or long.

Caring: Amy Sanchez. Amy is my sister. She is the oldest of us 7 kids, and she is an amazing lady. She's 10 years older than me, and was more like a super cool aunt than a sister. When I was in my tween years, she had already moved out, but lived close by. Every Saturday morning, she'd pick me up and we'd hang out. We'd go to Target or to the swap meet. She gave me helpful hints on how to move away from childish things toward more grown-up things. Practical hints like how often to shave your legs, what deodorants smell the best, and that you should use the time that it takes to fill up with gas to throw away all the trash in the car; to more nuanced things like how to handle falling outs. It's been 20 years since all that, and she's continued to care for me and everybody she meets.

Resilience: Austin Calder. Austin is my older brother. We are great friends now, but when I was growing up... not so much. He teased me mercilessly. M e r c i l e s s l y. It's all water under the bridge now, so I won't go too much in to it, but it made me stronger and more able to handle the vicissitudes of life.

Enthusiasm: Allison Plummer. Allison is my older sister (I promise I'm not related to the entire square). Allison is 8 years older than me, and much like Amy, she took me under her wing and hung out with me a lot. Allison taught me how to have a zest for life. Here's one memory of hundreds: she had a Simon and Garfunkel tape in her car and we'd dance and sing along to Keep the Customer Satisfied as loudly as possible. The memory brings about a feeling of pure joy and happiness, that I have to smile when I think about it.

Focus: McConnell's Creamery. I worked there in high school, and on week nights, there was just one employee. It was the first time that there wasn't really an "I'll do it later" option. I had to work until all the people got their ice cream, cash drawer put away, ice cream put away, fruit prepped for the next day, marble clean, dishes washed, and the floors swept.

Courage: Scott Callister. Bishop Callister was my bishop once. He knows what he did for me, and I just want to let him know that I'm very grateful and I think about his wise words all the time.

Humor: John Gruver. John was one of my best friends in jr. high and high school. We met on a class trip to Washington D.C. and we got to laughing so hard in the Air and Space Museum that I had tears rolling down my face and I couldn't breathe. He's a funny guy, and he made high school a lot more enjoyable.

Creativity: Myriah Cohen. I love Myriah. If you are in have any influence over hiring at an ad agency in Chicago, you should hire her. She's creative and funny and once, she put gummy bears in brownies. Just so you know, they make little lava-hot pockets of tongue-burning sugar.

Awareness: Dr. Bishop. Dr. Bishop was my high school photography teacher. His introductory speech was about how you have to look around to see things in order to take their picture, i.e. you have to walk with your head up. I was a freshman and in my extreme awkward phase, and after that class as I was walking to my next one, I realized that I did look down at the ground a lot when I walked. After that, I made an effort to keep my head up and look around at the world. I've seen a lot of great things, because I was looking.

Honesty: Charles Pearson. Bishop Pearson was our bishop right after we were married. He also said some wise words to me once that I've never forgotten. Thank you Bishop.

Dependability: Tyler Ball. Tyler is my husband, and he's fantastic. Dependability is one of his many many great qualities, and it's probably the thing that moved him from 'dating material' to 'marriage material.' If he says he'll do it, he will. Before we met, I was probably average dependable, if I said I'd do it, I probably would have, eventually. This went double for school assignments. If I thought the assignment was particularly lame, I'd procrastinate, do a lame job, and then talk my way into a decent grade. Also, I hardly ever went to class. Boring. I became a much, much better student after we got married.

Curiosity: Vivian Thomas. Vivian was my first roommate when I went away to school. I had a suburban childhood and knew very little of the great outdoors. Vivian is from a rural town outside of Fresno and knew tons of ways to have fun outside. We went exploring on the bluffs in Elwood Beach, up mountains, and down into caves. I've loved being outside ever since.

Accountability: Tauscha Johansen. I cleaned Tauscha's house when we were desperately poor college students. Once, I overheard her talking to her daughter, who was a teenager at the time. I guess her daughter was supposed to have cleaned her room, but didn't, and Tauscha, without any anger in her voice, said, "you didn't clean your room as per our agreement, so now you cannot go out." I really liked how she didn't yell and how it was more matter-of-fact, like a business relationship. I suppose this has influenced my parenting more than my professional life (which is pretty non-existent), but being a parent is so much of who I am, I wanted to include it.

Confidence: Barbara Arczynski. Mrs. Arczynski was my sophomore Honors World History teacher. At the end of the year, she handed out pencils for different things like highest grade, best attendance, and the like. At the end, she announced she had a special award for someone who she just knew would do something great with her life, and then she called my name. This came as quite a shock to me as I felt I was possibly just slightly better than average. After this point, I was more confident that I was fantastic, and I've thought about Mrs. Arczynski many times over the years to make sure I wasn't letting her down.

Empathy: Steven Levitt. I've never met Mr. Levitt. He is an economist and co-authored the book Freakonomics. This book was published in 2005 and the chapter on baby names made a big impression on me. My father is a staunch Republican and I can remember him railing against affirmative action, asking why, oh why, should his children suffer and get their spots taken in colleges and jobs when he's worked hard and raised them right and those spot taker's parents are all... well, not exemplary in their parenting skills. (he had a few more choice words to say on the subject). The chapter on baby names talks about how the name one is given can have a big impact on one's prospects in life. It got me thinking about how life is so much more complicated than whether or not you were read to in utero.

Reason: Claire Ashby. Claire is Vivian's sister, and I lived with her after I lived with Vivian. She has the same curiosity and love of the outdoors as Vivian, as well as a love of learning and reasoning (which I'm sure Vivian has as well, I just remember it more in Claire). I loved living with those guys and wish I could see them more often.

Generosity: Marti Shelley. Marti is my mom. If it weren't against the spirit of the assignment, I would have put her name in every single box. She is an amazing lady and I hope I can be like her when I grow up.

I am not dead

My mother-in-law emailed me yesterday to find out if I had fallen off the face of the Earth. Also, I skyped Allison yesterday, and she was surprised at what Ethan looked like. I guess I haven't taken any pictures of him.


So, no. I'm still here. Turns out, having 3 kids under 5 and going to school full-time is a lot of work.


Here's a quick rundown:

Tyler plays softball in a city league and is having fun playing with all his new woodworking toys.

Lillian is an excellent big sister and is constantly begging me to let her help. She's learning to write and is really solid on L, H, and A.

Nora is 80% potty trained. She can stay completely dry with a bare bottom, mostly dry with panties and not at all dry while she's sleeping or if someone is not right there to take her. That's right, SHE can tell ME when she needs to go. I like that Lillian sometimes says, "when I was a baby, I had to learn how to use the potty." In my head I answer, "honey, I tried when you were a baby, but you didn't want to do it until 6 months ago."

Ethan is still a crabby baby. He sleeps ok at night, but horribly during the day, which is draining for everyone. He's good sized- the 3-6 months clothes are getting a little snug (he's 2.5 months old), but then again, we only know how to make really fat babies. Aaaaand... he's crying.

Spectacle

Tyler asked me once why I always insist on making a spectacle out of myself. I maintain that it happens organically without any help from me.

Take, for example, what just happened. I woke up at 6:30 and actually got dressed in real clothes. Lillian and Nora woke up about 7:30 and I brought them downstairs and got them set up for breakfast. Nora got Cheerios with yogurt instead of milk, with which she made quite a mess. She had it all over her, and proceeded to rub her yogurty face all over my shorts. I got her cleaned up, and then decided to put a load of laundry in, so I just took off my shorts and threw them in.

I went downstairs and sat on the couch with a book - the couch that's right in front of the front door, and blinds on the little window right next to the door were open. Right then, my neighbor John knocked on the door. I could see it was him due to the open blinds. I couldn't run past the door to go upstairs to get some shorts real quick, because he'd see. I looked around in vain for some sort of cover up, and then just decided to open the door a crack, and hide. I was so flustered, I'm afraid I was a little rude as I took the flash drive that Tyler left at his house, awkwardly explained that I wasn't wearing any pants, and then shut the door as soon as possible. John, being super nice, just laughed it off, but it was awkward.

See how this wasn't really my fault?

Dear Nora

Dear Nora,

I understand you are having kind of a hard time with Ethan. Pretty much, as you see it, he's a devil baby that has come into your life as some sort of punishment for some unknown crime. He's stolen me, your mother: my lap space, my time, my energy, and my love. I feel unexpectedly guilty about this. You are so small and so cute and it breaks my heart for you to feel thusly abandoned.

However, as I thought on this, I realized that I was you once. My mom had a baby 18 months after she had me. I was that older baby: abandoned by her mother for someone smaller and more helpless than myself. And, you know what? In my conscious memory, I cannot think of a time when I felt it. I don't remember thinking that my younger brother was a devil baby. I don't remember ever feeling like I didn't have access to my mother's love or time.

This gives me hope that this phase will be short-lived, or at least, that you won't remember it.

With love,
Mom

Pregnancy progression

32 weeks

34 weeks

Almost 36 weeks, today

The 35-week picture almost looks bigger, but I think it's just the shirt I'm wearing. My sister Allison pointed out that she was bigger and I'm a cry baby and I need to suck it up. Actually, she didn't say that last part. Her baby was 11 lbs.

I have a doctor's appointment today and another ultrasound on Tuesday to figure out how big this baby is and/or what the heck is going on in there. The most frequently asked question is: So, if you find out the baby is 10 lbs, are you going to get a C-section? (Or it's close cousin: are you going to get induced early?)

The first person that asked me, I was just confused. "No...? Why...?" Then 3 people asked. Then 5 people. Then 10 people.

Is this common? Are we women so wimpy that 10 lbs is beyond anything we're willing to try? I could see if you were a really petite Asian woman who was married to a tall, strong Prussian type and the doctor told you that no way was this going to work out naturally (it's called CPD), but 10 lb babies are no new thing. My sister did it. My mom did it. I'm a pioneer woman. I can do it.

And, as far as getting induced early, it's far more important to me (and probably to the doctor) that the baby is fully cooked than my extra two weeks of discomfort. But, ask me in two weeks if I still feel the same way.

To my new neighbors

Dear Neighbors,

I know you just moved in, and I want us to be friends, but there are a few things you should know about us.

1. We sort of hate small yapper-type dogs, of which you have three. That's fine for you, but when you let them out to yap for 30 minutes at 5 am, it's a little bit much.
2. We have a shotgun in our room, there is a clear view from our room into your backyard, and my husband is a very good shot.
3. I have a reputation for being a little bit irrational when I am woken up at irrational times.
4. My husband is pretty suggestible when he is woken up at irrational times. Anything to make the noise stop, if you catch my meaning.

I'm just trying to be up front about this, and I hope you still feel comfortable borrowing eggs from us.

Sincerely,
Your neighbors

Top 5 worst night's sleeps

Our house has been a den of sickness this past week. On Saturday, Nora felt a little warm, but was acting fine, so we loaded up to drive into town and run a bunch of errands. Twenty minutes into our trip, we weren't quite at Destination #1 yet, and Nora threw up all over herself. We weren't equipped to handle that particular disaster, so we gave up and went home. She proceeded to have several instances of what I would chart (if I were her nurse) as N/V/D (nausea/vomiting/diarrhea). Sunday she felt fine, and so did everyone else, so I thought it was a one time incident. Not so. Tuesday, Lillian started throwing up. A lot. I felt like an old-timey nurse because I was just running around changing sheets and mopping. I think I did 4 or 5 loads of laundry. Yesterday, she had less of the N/V and more of the D problem. Also gross. Plus a temp of 103 that came down to 101 with Tylenol.

Then, I started feeling sick in the afternoon. Plus, I had heartburn really bad. I called my mom in tears, and I think I sounded sufficiently pathetic that she's decided to drop everything and fly out here. I heart her.

Anyway, last night was I think the last stand of Lillian's sickness. I felt really bad for her, she was so weak and tired and sad and feverish, so I agreed to let her sleep in our bed. This has never happened before. I think I got about 2 hours of sleep.

My friend Carrie pointed out once that it's not a lack of sleep that makes a bad night. I've stayed up all night writing papers or that one time I watched all 6 hours of North & South, and sure you're tired the next day, but it's not so bad. No, a bad night is one where the promise of sleep is constantly being made and broken. Last night, I think, was my 4th worst night sleep.

#5: 2001. Both my roommates were out of town and I was by myself in my apartment. In the dead of night, I could have sworn that a man opened my front door, talked loudly for a few seconds, then left. It's probable that I forgot to lock the door and some person (probably drunk, I mean, this was Santa Barbara) accidentally came inside, realized it wasn't his house and left. But I was so freaked out. It being the middle of the night, I started coming up with all sorts of crazy theories like the drunk guy was just an excuse for one of his friends to slip in and hide in the shadows until I fell back asleep, at which time he would murder me in my bed. There was a young married couple who lived down the street and I called them and made them come get me and I went to sleep at their apartment, where I slept soundly for the rest of the night.

#4: 2010. Last night. I had a fever, heartburn, big baby belly, kept having to get up to go to the bathroom, and I was being muscled out of my bed by Lillian, who was really hot because she had a fever too.

#3: 2006. My dad was going to come visit and spend two nights at the Madonna Inn. My memory is kind of sketchy about what happened, I think Jeri got sick, so he ended up not being able to come. For some reason he couldn't cancel his reservation, so Tyler and I went to spend the night there. I was pregnant with Lillian, but I'm pretty sure that had nothing to do with the awful sleep we got. It was the most uncomfortable bed I've ever been in with the firmest, tallest pillows ever. At about 3 AM, I looked over and saw Tyler was awake too, so we turned on the TV and watched that movie with Jimmy Fallon where he really likes the Red Sox.

#2: 2006. The night I was in labor with Lillian. I had been having serious contractions all the previous night and day and by the time we went to the hospital that night at around 8, I think, I was zero dilated. I cried. Because the doctor felt my contractions were pretty strong and that I was in a lot of pain she gave me a shot of morphine. I remember them asking if I wanted it, and me being like, "YES PLEASE," but now it seems a bizarre thing to offer. It made me hallucinate and get even more wacky. Then, I remember swallowing a pill, which Tyler told me later was Ambien. So all that night, I was SUPER tired from the sleeping pill plus not having slept in 36 hours, hallucinating, and contracting every 5 minutes. Tyler told me I'd be dead asleep, wake up and scream for a minute, then fall dead asleep again. I sort of remember the doctor breaking my water and I vaguely remember the anesthesiologist coming in to give me an epidural. Mostly I remember he asked if I had ever had surgery before, and I told him that I couldn't keep my eyes open. And Tyler fainted when the doc stuck the needle into my back. After the epidural, we slept for about 5 hours until they woke me up and told me it was time to push, so I was rested for the actual birth part, which was nice. This night would be #1 worst, but I was so out of it, I don't really remember a lot of it.

#1: 2008. We had just moved to Tucson and in an effort to make friends, we decided to go on the ward campout. I was pregnant with Nora and we only had a 2-man tent. I suppose that counts as the first time Lillian slept with us. She was so fascinated by the novelty of sleeping in the tent, outside, on the ground, in between Mom and Dad that she didn't sleep all night. She talked, she wiggled, she played with her stuffed animals, she wanted to touch all the zippers. At one point, Tyler took her stuffed bunny and threw it to the bottom of the tent in an effort to get her to stop going 'boing! boing! boing!' on his head, which was very distressing to her, and needed it back RIGHT NOW but I couldn't find it in the dark. Plus, there was someone snoring really loudly nearby. Plus, I was pregnant sleeping on the ground. We couldn't just pack it in and leave because we had given our neighbors a ride, so we had to stick it out.

In the morning, I tried to be optimistic and say maybe if we got another tent, or a bigger tent it would be better but Tyler announced that we'd never go camping EVER AGAIN.

Am I the only one who keeps track of this sort of thing?

Thanks Mom

Things I did today that I learned from my Mom:

1. Woke up early and read in bed. My mom is an avid reader and taught me not only to read, but to LOVE reading. I was re-reading Guernsey Literary and Potato-Peel Pie Society for bookclub. I love that book.
   
2. Sang to myself and my kids while getting ready. My mom knows a song for everything and taught them all to us. Lillian's current favorite is The Playmate Song, as she calls it. (That version is annoying, sorry. Lillian likes it when you get really dramatic in the "She couldn't come out and play, it was a rainy day part" and actually pretend to cry. Also, my mom didn't say ain't. I think it hurt her ears. She taught me to sing, "Don't have a rain barrel..." instead. Also, my mom taught me how to sing this song in pig latin.
   
3. Taught 100 kids under 12 how to perform the chorus of "Follow the Prophet" in sign language. I love my job as singtime leader in Primary, which I would not have had my mother not taught me how to play piano and/or sing and/or passed on at least some of her teacher genes to me and/or taught me how to sign a little.
   
4. Laughed at and was silly with my kids. Mom was always ready with something fun.
5. Whisked up some gravy from pan drippings. (I was barefoot and pregnant (obviously) at the time, which adds a little something, don't you think?) In fact, I just read a book called, How to Sew a Button, and I would say I already knew how to do 98% of the things in there because of my mother.
   

That's all I can think of for today, it's been kind of slow, but things happen all the time that I can trace to my mother. For example: my friend Candie came to visit for a few days and we made brownies. I had Lillian up on the counter next to the mixer because she takes her job of dumping in ingredients and turning on and off the mixer very seriously. I was counting eggs and pulled out three and asked Lillian to help me figure out how to get to four. I kept counting wrong and Lillian told me I was being silly. The whole time, Candie was sort of watching and when we were done mixing it all, she said, "you know, you're a really great mom!"

I said thank you, but really I thought, 'isn't this what moms do?' I have very strong memories of sitting on the counter, counting cups of flour to go into cookies; or my mom teaching me how to do algebra while waiting for my dentist appointment when I was 10; or washing my hair and braiding it when I was sick; or taking me to the Huntington Library; or a bazillion other things that I hope I can replicate for my kids.

Thanks mom, for being awesome.