Our Main Man

Today was our best Father's Day yet because my kids finally have a real father.  

I let my kids lead the way with how to handle this holiday and they chose to celebrate the main man in their life.  To them Father's Day means Danny's Day.

Hush is the guy they look for in the audience when they sing "I'm so glad when Daddy comes home."  

Hush is the guy they make art projects for and they know the answers to the little interview questions about what their Father likes to do, what he always says, and how they know he loves them.

For the first Father's Day ever they have someone worth celebrating who has spent time with them and taught them things and just simply been there, day and night, showing them what normal can be.  

For the first Father's Day yet I didn't cry at their deprivation of what all the other kids seemed to have.  

They don't call him daddy (to his face) but if he looks like a dad and acts like a dad, he's gonna get honored like one. 

So thanks, bb, for being a better dad to my children than I ever could have hoped.  Thank you for receiving their affection and thank you for giving them a Norman Rockwell childhood.

“I Did Not Expect Those Joys to Be Ordinary to Me”

 

This morning at 6am I started awake.  We’d made a grueling 14 hour drive home from Arizona yesterday and I was so unbelievably sick that by the time we got home I was able only to quickly get the kids into bed and then collapse in a barfy heap.  The car ride home consisted of me first attempting to nap for two hours, then begging to be mercy killed and/or left on the side of the road, followed by a drugged sleep for the last two hours across all three backseats because I couldn’t handle being upright anymore.  I was the least fun traveling partner ever because I think I had food poisoning the night before.

When I woke up this morning I was in a panic knowing that the minions had to be up and ready for school, but that I hadn’t set my alarm, didn’t know where my phone was to check the time, and basically was unprepared for the morning routine.  Disoriented I reached across Hush (smashing and waking him) and found that Hush had found my phone and my charger, plugged it in and set my alarm.  I still had over an hour to sleep.  Blissful relief.

When I did finally get up I vaguely remembered that most of the kid’s stuff was still in the car and it would probably require a luggage heft and shoe hunt.

But to my surprise all of the stuff from the car was neatly arranged in the living room and ready to go – I didn’t carry in ANY of it.  I looked for the dirty laundry basket and it was already by the washing machine downstairs.

I quickly got the kids off to school on time and then went to the car to throw away the trash and take it to the carwash.  All the neighbors trashcans were on the street so I went to the backyard to take our cans out before the garbage truck came.  Our trashcans were already on the curb.

After a morning of surprises effortlessly performed by Hush the Thoughtful Savant, the trash being out on the curb stopped me in my tracks.

Trash is a big trigger of trauma for me.  When I was married to Houdini trash night was just another night of me worrying and waiting for him to appear – another way to log his last disappearance and how long he’d been gone.  One particular night I remember I was about 8 months pregnant and it was trash night.  There are few moments that take me right back to that place of worry and helplessness like the memory of dragging two weeks worth of garbage far down the street 8 months pregnant blinded by both the pouring rain and my tears of hopelessness. 

“I tend to find the ecstasy hidden in ordinary joys

because I did not expect those joys to be ordinary to me.”  -- Andrew Solomon

But today, right now, the alarms are set.  The trash is taken out.  I didn’t have to carry everything in from the car.  I’m pregnant and I am able to rest.  This is my ordinary life, now.  I think that had I married Hush when I was 22 I would have thought this thoughtful behavior sufficient and normal.  Maybe I’d even get used to it and become entitled to being treated with such care and concern.  Instead I have a history of struggle and pain and only in retrospect can I forge meaning from what felt for years like punishing chaos.   And in these moments of surprise and gratitude I appeal to the sentiments of writer Andrew Solomon, “I think that I am indebted, even to [Houdini], because all those earlier experiences were what had propelled me to this moment and I was finally unconditionally grateful for a life I’d once have done anything to change.”

And it is because of my earlier experiences, through which many of you have encouraged me or just simply observed, that I now wake up every morning surprised, grateful and humbled by my unexpected family situation.  And I record it here, lest I, for even a moment, forget.    

Highly recommend this TED talk, good luck holding back your tears!

http://www.ted.com/talks/andrew_solomon_how_the_worst_moments_in_our_lives_make_us_who_we_are

Our Just Desert: Trip to Mesa

Hush's family had a wedding and a family reunion scheduled for Memorial Day weekend so we hit the road for a 12 hour drive to Mesa, AZ.  

One of the best lessons I learned from my mother was the traveling bank game.  Before we leave on big trips I stock up on play money and little treats and activities and whatever else I think will be desirable trinkets from the dollar store.  Then every half hour the children are rewarded with dollars for good behavior and welcome to use their money to buy things from the store.  Electronics can be rented for $2 for a half hour.  They quickly learn to barter and team up to buy the good stuff. I enjoy listening to them negotiate.  

The road between Southern Utah and Phoenix is windy and not nearly as polygamy laden as I was hoping.  I had grand expectations for Colorado City and was sorely disappointed.  I wanted to see some braids and gunne sax dresses with tennis shoes, dammit. None to be found (and not even a McDonalds?!) 

The kids were thrilled to travel through the Wild Wild West with real live Native Americans and Cowboys.  In that Arizona does not disappoint.  And cacti! 

Somewhere along the never ending highway with no food and no gas there was this cool cliff dwelling place that we climbed around.  Fun and right on the side of the road.

Once in AZ we went to a dude ranch on the outskirts of Scottsdale replete with ponies and snake warning signs.  It was as hot as ummmmm hot as the Sonoran Desert (because it IS the Sonoran desert) so the place was nearly abandoned which made it even more old Westy. All it was missing was tumbleweed. The place is called MacDonald's Ranch and all the activities are free, except the trail rides.  We didn't do a trail ride this time bc I was too pregnant and Silas was too little.  If you're in Az and want some classic old west experiences, I recommend this place, provided it's below 90.

Petting zoo

Evaluating the pokeyness of a Saguaro cactus. 

Panning for gold.  This activity was beyond thrilling for the children because they thought they were becoming instant millionaires.  

The kids each took a pony ride around the ranch, led by a cow woman. I felt really sorry for her bc it was so hot so I tipped her handsomely.  Jude's face in this picture cracks me up.

Roped some steer.

My wiped out little pretties, all snuggled up in a full size bed.  They really are great sleepers and I love having them so close in age that they are friends by necessity.  I need to do a post on their relationship because it is truly unique.

Oh, a week ago Mimi did this number on her hair:

I would have gotten very angry with her, but for the completely legit explanation that she offered.  Mimi fell asleep with (albeit contraband) gum in her mouth.  The gum, naturally, wound up in her hair. She woke in the middle of the night and came to find me for help but seeing me sleeping she remembered that you only wake mama in the case of a fire or other emergency.  Evaluating this to not be an emergency, Mimi handled the problem herself and went back to sleep.  I applaud her independent problem solving.  I took her to a salon in Phoenix and now she has adorable Audrey Hepburn bangs. 

The real reason I was so agreeable about visiting Mesa is Bahama Bucks.  As you know by now, I live for Shave Ice.  12 years ago Bahama Bucks was my first experience with manna from heaven -- before it was even on my radar in it's native Hawaii.  I've missed the Sun Devil (tangerine and cinnamon) and Wedding Cake flavor combination for years.  Reunited and it feels so good.

And the main event: Hush's cousin's wedding.  It was lovely and fun, so fun that I hardly took any pictures.  

Pre reception pose.

Family picture, best out of 50 attempts.  Want to know who was moving in almost all of them? Hush.  But look at my three boys! Aren't they coordinating delightfully?

Hush and his elder brother. Hush is middle of five siblings.

The rest of the pictures are on Hush's phone so they'll come in a later post.  Other highlights of this trip so far include: - Lazing by the pool chatting

- Finally getting to spend some time with Hush's siblings and parents.  Turns out I like them all quite a lot because they are all funny and smart.  I think large families that value verbal acrobatics tend to develop very acute senses of humor.  I'm also constantly surprised at the similarities of cultural interests and references made by this new inlaw family of mine.  

- Watching my children assume this new group of people is their family and that they therefore love them.  They are the perfect age to be assimilated and I am so grateful they are welcomed.

- The candy costco.  Hush's mother took us to the biggest candy store I've ever seen and we stocked up on rare and delicious treats.  It's a must visit. 

This desert is a pretty great place to visit, made greater by the wonderful people with whom we're visiting.  But holy crap it's hot here. 

Don't Tell Anybody But ...

I am addicted to Nashville. It's like if Britney Spears had a reality show.  On hulu. 

Which we watch while I binge eat cookie butter.  Why? Because I can.  Imma get so fat it's going to be rad. 

Also, you probably should see this: http://m.imgur.com/gallery/pYwYw

Oh, and I found this too late for that other post about the illiterate GF...

Instagram Reblog, Week 1

Dear Instagram,

You're kind of ruining blogging and it's making me frustrated.

Love,

NOR

 This blog is a seven year history of my family and ever since Instagram became the easy way out the blog has suffered.  I used to blog a few times a week but often fall into the "I'm too busy and I have a husband to pay attention to now so I'll just throw something on Instagram to record my children's lives" temptation.  It's a long winded temptation, but it's real and it needs a name. Copout record keeping maybe.  Also, I figure blogging has become the Wall Street Journal to Instagram's People Magazine and Facebook's Local News.  This blog at least. Because it's clearly written by a genius who uses SAT words and small print.

Anyway, my issue is that I understand that one could conceivably print Instagram pictures, but c'mon I'm not going to actually do that. Also, I want the captions.  So I think I'm going to try just taking a screenshot of our Instagrams of the week and putting them on the blog to have a coherent record in the space/time continuum.  That way it'll have pictures, dates and captions.  

And this is my solution. I still don't know what to do with my hours of video I have sitting on my phone.  When I remember I upload to YouTube, but it would be nice to have everything in one place.

I expect a big reward for years of family record keeping.  It can be in the currency of shave ice.

Return of the Hippie Summer

Summer in Salt Lake City is blissful.  Fall is exciting, Winter is snuggly, Spring is just flat out awful, but Summer is rad.

Salt Lake provides an interesting cross section of middle class people who love the outdoors.  San Francisco generates rich foodies turned green/vegan/fad diet afficinados who love snobby Napa wine.  Portland is exactly like Portlandia -- obnoxious self righteous hippies.  Seattle is subject to it's horrible weather, but Salt Lake is the perfect blend.  

People really do spend weekend mornings going hiking, mountain biking, rock climbing and all those other relaxed free sports.  This contributes to the laid back slow pace you find in Utah.  The afternoons are nap heavy and evenings mean outside barbecues and frisbang (Jude calls frisbee frisbang and I will not allow him to be corrected.)  The common thread with the weekend activities is free.  

On Sunday afternoon in Liberty park the hippies gather with their hippie toys: slack lines, frisbangs, hula hoops and our family favorite: the drum circle.  The atmosphere is what I imagine Golden Gate park was in the 60's: come one, come all, share all the toys, chat with whomever.  It's friendly and kid friendly, if you ignore the casual marijuana use that lingers in the background.

I can't think of any place in the Bay Area that operates at this lazy low cost pace and I think the mountain environment begets the friendly malaise.  The only comparable place I've experienced is either Ashland, Oregon or the Athenian School.  Who knew that being the only Mormon kid at the afternoon Grateful Dead dance parties at Athenian would find it's natural development into drum circles with my children in Salt Lake City?  Who could have predicted that the rock climbing class I loved in high school and the underground rock concerts I would go to in SF would translate to marrying a climber who spends all his down time playing the guitar?  

It's a pretty good life out here.  And I'm sure there are plenty of musical barbecues in my near future.

The Only Recipe I Need This Summer

Hush's Recipe for Perfect Coke

1. Buy coke in the bottle.

2. Drink some of it.

3. Put it in the freezer while you clean your kitchen.

4. Drink perfectly icy coke.

You're welcome.

(Step 5. Forget about it in the freezer and be sad when it's totally frozen.)

No Nap Day

Started the day with a water wall project for the boys. It was a success, though difficult to construct because I had to nail the bottles to the fence with a hammer.  Once we got it flowing they played with it for at least 20 minutes. Fun project, though!

Then we went to see Mimi perform at her school.  The show was patriotically themed and the first graders sang about 15 songs.  I was impressed by the pacing and the kid's knowledge of all the lyrics, even the third verse of the Halls of Montezuma song AND all Fifty Nifty United States.  She's going to know all the 4th of July songs forever!  Very happy with the school's mandatory performance programs.  The arts are not dead in schools.

Mimi practice "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" about a million times at home, each time at the root root root for part, "The GIANTS" and she would get so angry.  In the middle of the performance I couldn't resist and shouted "GIANTS" because stupid Utah doesn't have a home team anyway and they need to remember which team rules.

5 months pregnant, dreadlocks.

Next we hit Home Depot and bought plastic laminate and duct tape with the intentions of making the water blob thing you see all over Pinterest. 

It would have been a smashing success, but that the weight of the water taught me that we live on a slight incline.  The damn thing rolled half way down the hill.

And then it popped.  It was fun while it lasted, but do yourself a favor and don't bother trying that one at home.

Apparently one can get a lot done when one doesn't take a two hour nap.  I shall not repeat that error. Less is more.

Plan Enacted

Previous post removed (temporarily) because I can’t stand having those kind of random and unfounded lies written by an ignoramus floating out there.  I really appreciate the comments and support, verifying that I am right in drawing the line with that stupid (and not even cute!) just-ignorant-enough-to-be-dangerous 21 yr old who doesn’t know the difference between “your” and “you’re”.    Oh, and to the commenter who suggested that that type of behavior indicates a history of abuse – I looked through the rest of the blog and she does have that in her past.  Poor thing.  No wonder she has such low self esteem.  No undamaged person would behave in such a way.  At least that person has the good sense to ensure me over and over he would never marry her – you don’t marry people you cheat on.  That’s gotta hurt. 

She’ll eventually wake up and see what a dead end situation she’s in and how much trouble she’s caused and how nuts she acted.  Time gives us perspective. 

Anyway, I’ve developed an action plan. 

Love you readers.  You always give me good perspective.

The Symptoms

Once upon a time I had easy breezy pregnancies.  Three kids in three years was no sweat.  I don't know if it's my advanced maternal age (ha.), the altitude, the different father, or some other mysterious reason but my body is talking back during this pregnancy.  It has opinions and they are scornful.
Let me start out by saying I have a high tolerance for physical irritation.  Like most mothers, when I feel sick I medicate and march on.  It takes a lot to lay me out.  But each trimester (so far) has come with a new set of unfamiliar problems.
Having a pregnant body is like the city of Chernobyl.  Everything was going along fine until nature took over and made me its subject.

First Trimester Aggravations
1.  The barfs.  Barf central 24/7.
2.  The starves.  Couldn't decide if I was hungry or needed to barf, but usually it was both.
3.  The smells.  I finally went out and bought face masks like they wear in Asia.  And a slew of candles.
4.  The sleeps.  Cannot keep my eyes open.  Have frequently taken more than one nap a day.
5.  Migraines from hell.  My migraines are super rad.  They last at least three days and are essentially debilitating requiring me to hide in a dark quiet room while it feels like a gnome is mining for gold on one side of my head.  The migraine medicine exacerbates my barfing and isn't good for pregnancy.  The barfing migraines give me digestive problems.  Every issue I have builds on other issues until the best I can do is lay around and moan.  Any one or two of these issues would be bearable, but all five at once made me nonfunctional.  And when you have the barfs and the smells you end up with the messy house and the overwhelms.

Second Trimester Frustrations
Once the barfs tapered off (though not completely, I still barf a few times a week) my body was like, "Hey let's try some new pain!"
1. Symphysis Pubis Dysfunction.  I didn't even know this existed until I caught it.  And by caught it I mean hit the second trimester with my fourth baby. The symphysis pubis is a stiff joint that connects the two halves of your pelvis and in 1/35 the ligaments can overreact and cause serious pain.  I'm only about 21 weeks and not that great with child but my body Chernobyl'd and now I can't move my legs independently to a. Put on pants. b. Climb into or turn over in bed or c. do anything that involves moving one leg away from the other without a ferocious pain in my pelvis.  It feels like David Beckham kicked me in the crotch hard enough to bruise me and then kicked the bruise a few times for good measure.  Tylenol provides no relief.  If you see me out of my bed at all know that I am dealing with level 7 pain.  Anybody got any tips?  I'm only five months in, if this gets worse I'm going to be in a wheelchair by the end.

2.  Sciatic nerve pain.  Yippee.  This one is when a nerve on your back is slightly pinched and pain shoots up and down your body until you limp.  For this I try sleeping on a tennis ball and by morning it's usually ok.  During the day it builds until I find myself practically (ok, sometimes literally) crawling.

I seriously do not understand why my body is rebelling in this way but I simply will not capitulate to it's tyranny.  I remind it every day that it's gotta pull itself together because this is NOT going to be my last pregnancy.  I will function, pain or no pain, and it's all worth it because

IT'S A GIRL.

and more than that, it's my sweet Hush's girl.

Bring the Children

On the front of the Oakland LDS Temple there is a massive bronze plaque bearing scripture from the Book of Mormon about children.  This always struck me as an unusual choice for this building -- children are not regular temple attendees.  Directly in front of the plaque there are a few statutes of children and a dog.

Whenever we are at the temple walking around the grounds to look out at the view of San Francisco, my children cannot resist spending considerable time climbing on those statues.  This gave me ample time to think about that particular scripture which basically says that Jesus gathers the little children around him and that He weeps for the wickedness of the world they will doubtless encounter.  Then He prays for them in a prayer that I would very much have liked to hear.  

There are so many conflicts for me within the LDS church.  My skin bristles when I hear the limits the religion puts forth about families, among other frustrating inexplicable standards and controlled information.  There is much that I believe, there is much that I doubt.  

But that scripture aligns with my belief: that children are precious to Christ and that he knows what they need and that He will give them what they need.

It's hard to believe that prayers I said years ago for them in that Temple hung, suspended in time until they could be bestowed on our family.  God knew what they needed and no amount of obstacles was going to stop them from getting the gifts He believes they need.  All of the hard was pushing us here.

Last Sunday they needed a dad who was willing to sit through three hours of church on a beautiful Spring day perhaps for the sole purpose of providing a shoulder for these little children to lean on.  

Sunday after Sunday, month after month.  

And this is the family that prayers made: