Frustration

How bad is it to want to smack my excessively defiant four year old?
I know as a mom I shouldn't ever want to do that.
I don't do it.
But why must she drive me to the point of wanting to?
Why does she make it so *!*^&$@# difficult?

An Evening Swim

Shortly after my  mom got home from work today, we met at her house for a swim.  Christopher and Tysen came with their kids, Mikayla and Guy were there, and Bryan and Donovan came out too.  It was such a nice swim.  The water was wet and refreshing, the children were all happy to be together, and we talked and laughed.  Guy entertained the boys and made "salamis" (tsumanis), Lyla floated around in her puddle jumpers, and Donovan blew bubbles.  Blythe and Ava demanded parental attention by splashing.  We made plans to go to the temple and to the movie, and I captured the kids in wonderful pictures.  Look!

Bridget looking guilty after eating Blythe's taco.

Good dog!

Breakfast

This morning the children were up early and went downstairs to watch TV.  After a shower, Kent went downstairs and found the children being furtive.  They were sitting on the couch but obviously hiding something.  Something edible.  Kent asked, "What are you eating?"

Blythe sweetly replied, "A granola bar."

Kent said, "That's okay.  It has taken us a bit to get down here to get breakfast."

Then Blythe showed Kent the "granola bar" she and Brandt were eating.  It looked like this:

Chocolate chip cookie--breakfast of champions.

Little Red Riding Hood

Back at the beginning of June, I rode through Cache Valley as part of Little Red Riding Hood, the all women, non-competitive bike ride I do every year.  This was my seventh year and I enjoyed it, as always.  Kent is good to wrangle the children while I go to Logan on Friday night, stay over, bike on Saturday, and return in the late afternoon.  This is such a well put together ride--the food is great, the volunteers are stupendous, the route is fantastic. 

I rode with my friend Eva Fisher and we had a marvelous time.  It was just fun to be on the bike, to talk and laugh.  In years past, I have biked with my friend Lisa Christensen, but this year, she was unable to come.  She is undergoing chemo for breast cancer, the very disease Little Red raises money to fight.  I felt her absence keenly and thought about her as we rode.  I hope she'll be with me next year.

In the last two miles, I got not one, not two, but three flat tires.  I changed the first two without problem, but by the third, we had run out of tubes, and I was somewhat frustrated.  I could see the finish line probably half a mile away and I told Eva I would just walk to the finish.  She encouraged me to just ride slowly and finish on the bike, which is what I did.  I already look forward to next year.

  

Changing the first flat tire. 

 

Changing the second flat.  

We ran out of tubes so I didn't change the third.

Found Pictures

On March 23, 2010 (yes, more than two years ago), we had a little four-wheeling activity with Grandpa De and cousin Blake.  Mikayla sent me pictures all that time ago, but I never did anything with them.  I think my intention was to put them on the blog, but for whatever reason it didn't happen.  We are leaving Comcast, my email will be defunct after Monday, so I was going through old emails to see if I needed anything.  I found the emails from Mik, and these wonderful pictures, including several of my dad.  I don't want to lose them, so I'm posting them, even though they are out of date (and order).

Our neighbors have a large piece of property, a goodly portion of which is undeveloped.  They do four-wheeling on it, and had a track all set up.  Dad had received a four-wheeler as collateral for a bond, Blake and Brandt were both desperate to ride it, so Dad hauled it over and we rode it for a bit.  It was fun.  I remember.

I love this one.

It makes me cry.

But happy tears.

I think.

Stepping On Toes

Grandma Merlynn came to be with us today as she does each Tuesday afternoon.  Blythe, our resident artist,  was working on a sticker picture with farm animal stickers she got for her birthday.  She was working on the floor and Grandma was trying to see what she was doing, so I suggested she do her thing on the couch, next to Grandma.  She agreed.  She filled her page with stickers, but there were some left over.  Blythe carried her page over to show me, leaving the remainders next to Grandma.  

After maybe two minutes, Blythe returned to the couch to find Grandma had selected a blank piece of paper and had begun filling it with the remaining stickers.  Blythe was incensed.  "GRANDMA!" she intoned with both distress and irritation, "NO!"  Grandma ignored her.  Blythe tried to take the paper away, tried to take the stickers, tried to make her stop.  She was unsuccessful; Grandma carried on.  Blythe turned to me to make her stop.  Poor thing.  She doesn't like to share (who does?) and she found herself at odds with her grandma.  How often does that happen?  I suggested that she give the stickers to Grandma but tell her where she wanted them so the finished product would turn out as she envisioned.  Blythe wasn't happy.  I left her to work it out with Grandma, but I heard a lot of "Grandma, no!"s.  

In spite of the conflict, I thought the sticker pictures were fun.

When There Is No Father

Before Kent and I had children, I was asked several times on Mother's Day if I felt bad that everyone was celebrating mothers, but I wasn't one.  I never really felt badly as I have a mother and a mother-in-law, both of whom are wonderful and both of whom I love.  


On this Father's Day, however, I have had a hard time celebrating, even though I have an extraordinary husband who is an exceptional father (definitely worth celebrating) and a great father-in-law.  Thing is, I don't have my father anymore, and it stinks.  I made a yummy breakfast for Kent, but I cried as I turned the sausage because my dad really liked sausage.  I cried during sacrament meeting as the youth speaker talked about how great her dad was and how grateful she was for him because I think my dad is great and I am grateful for him too.  And I cried when I called my mom to tell her that though we were doing nothing as a family to mark this day as special, I knew it was Father's Day and I was sad.

My sister-in-law's father died last week.  Tomorrow is his funeral.  I saw Sharon today and asked how she is doing.  She is alright and feels like the Spirit is carrying her through this difficult time.  I felt that too in the days immediately after my dad's death and through his funeral.  But then the regular days return, life goes on, and the missing starts in earnest.

So on this first Father's Day without my father, I am grateful for all the good things my father taught me, for his example, his kindness to others, and his sense of humor that still makes me laugh, even in his absence.  I am grateful to know I will see him again, even as I miss him and long for a big bear hug from him.  I am grateful, too, that I have Kent who does so much for me and for our family.  He gets a gold star (or two or three) in my book, and I certainly celebrate him.

A Wake Up Call

This morning, far too early for our liking, a tiding of magpies was just outside the bedroom windows squawking super loudly.  It sounded like they were fighting and arguing over something.  I even got up to peer out and try to determine what they were carrying on about.  It was incredibly irritating and not a happy beginning to a Saturday morning when we had hoped to sleep in just a bit.  

Shortly after we got up, Kent was in Blythe's room "playing."  I said to Kent, "The magpies were certainly vocal this morning.  I wanted to shoot them."  

Kent agreed.  

Blythe however, did not.  Although it appeared that she wasn't paying much attention, working as she was on Kent's hair, she immediately said, "No. Magpies are part of nature."  I guess we'll just have to suffer early morning wake up calls from our feathered friends.

A Bit More Memorial Day

In keeping with tradition, and in the company of my mom, Aunt Georgianne, and Mikayla, the children and I made a trip to Eureka and Goshen to decorate graves.  My great-grandparents, Grandma Hare's parents, are in Eureka, and Grandma Hare's brother and his wife are in Goshen.

I love the Eureka cemetery.  It is barren, dry, and wind-swept, but I love it.  It feels full of history, a place where things once happened but don't anymore.  And although it is a cemetery, because I am far enough removed from my great-grandparents and didn't know them in this life, it isn't really a place of sadness for me.  I just find it really interesting.  I wonder about the lives led by those who are buried there; Who did they love? How did they live?  Were they happy?  Was life really difficult?  I like going there on our annual pilgrimage, and I hope the children come to like it, too.  They certainly enjoyed running around, although it was so windy this year we could hardly be out of the car.

Being a Grecian urn.

That cross says, "Big Deal."

What?

This is a huge dead snake I saw on the side of the road.

Poor thing wasn't moving fast enough.

Probably slowed down by the meal it was digesting (see the lump in the middle?).

Brandt thought this was totally cool.

Blythe not so much. 

In addition to our jaunt to Eureka, this year we went to Tooele and Erda.  We went out for a Memorial Day picnic with Kent's cousins and several aunts and uncles.  The big draw for Brandt, however, was that we were going to Grandpa Droubay's farm.  Brandt loves Grandpa Droubay and was so excited to see where he lived and worked.  And we got to go his grave, too.  

Brandt DeMartini and Blythe Isabella Barrus standing with

John R. and Annie Shields Droubay 

When we got to the farm, Brandt was almost completely uninterested in picnicking, but totally interested in all the farm equipment and vehicles littering the "yard."  There was a tractor, a firetruck, a motor home, a baler, a semi, and a tanker.

Inside the motor home.

Cousin Lydia joining in the fun

Kent's cousin Leann and her husband Ivan live in Grandpa Droubay's house.

They have a tractor. 

Ivan was good enough to let both children have a turn driving and operating it.

How cool is that?

It was a marvelous day on Grandpa Droubay's farm.