A Fun Weekend in St. George

On Sunday, we got back from a really top-notch family reunion in St. George, Utah. My brother, Ben and his wife, Meagan planned the entire thing, and it really was nearly perfect with just the right number of planned activities mixed together with a good amount of down time. We stayed in a condo with plenty of space (and Mike even found the perfect hidey-hole under the stairs for my brother, Christian, who needs his alone time away from all the little nieces and nephews). We were missing my sister, Anna, who had too many obligations at school to get away. (Everyone else was on fall break, but BYU doesn't take a fall break (WHY?!), so it couldn't be helped.) But all in all, it was a fantastic four days.

I'm not going to do a full recap on the weekend, but I wanted to share five of my favorite things from our time there. (If this list was created by my kids, it would almost certainly include playing on the Wii, which is rather embarrassing but I guess makes sense since we don't play video games at our house.)

In no particular order:

1. Snow Canyon
We did two short hikes, the sand dunes and Jenny's Canyon, both of which could be completed easily by all of my kids, even Clark, and had really fun attractions at the end--the sand dunes at the one (where they literally could have stayed and played all afternoon) and a slot canyon at the other. Mike and I had never been in Snow Canyon before, and we both wished we'd had more time to go back and hike some more. Next time . . .

2. Family book discussion
Every year, we choose a book ahead of time so we can have a little book club during the reunion. This year, my brother chose Creativity, Inc. by Ed Catmull, one of the founders of Pixar Animation. It was a fascinating read (I already wrote a little bit about it here, and a full review of the book is still coming), so we had lots to discuss. It was so eye-opening to get everyone's very different perspectives: from my dad who has worked for the government for over thirty years . . . to my brother, Gordy, who works in a similarly creative environment to the one described in the book . . . to me who tries to foster creativity within the walls of my own home. The book was amazingly applicable to a variety of situations, and I just love having other people to discuss a book with. (Unfortunately, we started the book discussion too late in the evening for my mom, and so she only made it about halfway through before she fell asleep on the couch.)

3. The St. George Temple
My parents were married in the St. George temple nearly thirty-three years ago, and this weekend was the first time they'd been back. It was so special to walk around the grounds with them and imagine them as a young married couple right on the cusp of life. My dad had some family names ready for temple work, so my mom, two sisters-in-law, and I divided them up and performed the initiatories (one of the ordinances done in the temple) for all of them. I felt such a sweet unity and friendship as we sat together and waited for our turn. There were lots of fun and lively moments during the reunion, but that one was just simple and quiet and made me feel grateful for my wonderful family.

4. The St. George Children's Museum
Mike and I both agreed that this was one thing we thought we'd just tolerate for the sake of our kids, but then we both ended up really enjoying it. I get serious anxiety when I think about the children's museum in Salt Lake. It's big and crowded and almost has too many activities so that my kids end up running around like crazed maniacs instead of settling down and enjoying one thing. The children's museum in St. George was much smaller and consequently felt so much more manageable. It was still crowded (we were there over fall break, remember), but the kids just didn't seem as psychotic or out-of-control. Everything was organized, people took turns, and there were lots of opportunities for exploring and creative play.

5. Gordy's humor
This really has nothing to do with the St. George setting, but it is one of my favorite memories from the reunion, so I had to share it. My brother, Ben, is helping a friend of his create an alphabet-themed card game. They're currently in the testing phase, so he brought it to the reunion so we could play it and give feedback. I realize that trying to re-tell a funny moment rarely works, but at one point during the game, my brother, Gordy was trying to think of someone's name. He said, "Mary and . . . John? Peter?" and then he looked at me like I should know who he was thinking of. Turns out, it was Joseph (as in, Mary and Joseph, the earthly father of Jesus) he couldn't think of. Joseph! One of the most well-known figures in the New Testament! For some reason, this just cracked me up, and I couldn't stop laughing. Tears were rolling down my face, and he just kept making jokes about it and setting me off again. No one's ever been able to get me to laugh like him, and sometimes it just feels so good to laugh.

It was just such a great weekend, and I'm glad my parents have made it a priority to spend time together as a family.

The Sweetness of Boys

When we were pregnant for the first time and found out that the baby would be a boy, I'll confess, I was a little disappointed. I had always pictured a girl first--one who would be sweet and thoughtful and nurturing (and probably a little bossy, too). But a boy. I just couldn't imagine a boy being any of those things.

I, of course, have changed my perspective in the intervening years. Boys are not the same as girls to be sure, but I've seen their kind, compassionate sides, and I love them for it. But even with this love and adoration for my boys, I had no idea that they were capable of orchestrating the best mother's day I've ever had.

It started weeks ago when Max put a box in his closet and began filling it with little presents he made in his spare time. I was under strict orders not to look in the box when I came in to get the laundry.

Around that same time, Bradley started crossing off the days on the calendar, giving me the most current countdown: "Only twelve more days until Mother's Day!" As the day approached, he grew increasingly excited, "Don't forget what's going to happen on Sunday, Mom."

I have to admit, I kind of wondered if they were confused about the purpose of Mother's Day. They did realize, right, that it wasn't a day for kids but for moms?

On Saturday night, Max set his alarm for midnight. His plan was to get up and clean the whole house so that it would be all ready for me when I woke up. Mike and I were the only ones who ended up hearing his alarm when it started beeping incessantly in the dead of night, but when he woke up at a normal time the next morning, he didn't let the lost hours stop him from getting right to work straightening up Clark's bedroom and the living room.

They let me sleep in and then showered me with gifts the moment I woke up: cards and bookmarks and pictures and crafts. There were so many little items in Max's box that we had to take a break so we could eat breakfast.

Here's some of what I found:

• a board game called "Get the Kisses"
• many origami hearts
• a little paper bag filled with six paper books
• hand-stamped notes
• a little scotch-taped paper container to keep my earrings in
• paper clip chains that spelled out the word "red" (my favorite color)
• coupons for basement and room cleaning
• homemade cards with fancy pop-ups

Sometimes I get a little stressed when my kids make me things because, as someone who doesn't love clutter, I just don't know how to handle all of it. But yesterday, I just basked in it. I thought of all of the hours and hours of work that went into it and realized, My kids are celebrating me because they want to. I am not just some afterthought. They didn't realize the morning of, "Oh I guess I better make Mom a card" and slap something together. They've been prepping for this day for weeks because they wanted to make me feel special.

Even Mike was surprised. There have been years when he has put forth a lot of time and effort to involve the boys in planning something sweet, but the week got away from him (and Mother's Day fell early this year). He still got me a gift (a kindle, which deserves its own post since it's taken me a long time to decide my life could benefit from having an e-reader in it), but he didn't take the boys out shopping or help them make anything for me. But his worry was unneeded. His boys paid attention to the date themselves and got ready for it on their own.

We spent the morning at church where the Primary children sang a couple of songs in sacrament meeting and filled out those fun questionnaires (for the question, "My mother loves to . . ." Max wrote, "read, take a nap, read to herself"). Bradley wore the sweater he doesn't like because he knows I like it. Clark handed me a paper flower with his picture in the middle and said, "Here, Mommy." In the afternoon, I read aloud to them (we just started Voyage of the Dawn Treader), and then I took a nap (so it appears Max knows me pretty well). No one fought or argued (or at least, not much).

In the evening, my brother and his family came over, and Mike made the most amazing salmon and shrimp (and he doesn't even like shrimp).

And through it all, I just kept telling myself, Pay attention. Remember that. You will never get another Mother's Day like this one. 

Maybe that's kind of cynical of me to say. But I realize I'm in the golden period of motherhood right now. My kids are old enough to carry on an interesting conversation and help out around the house but not so old that their parents don't know anything anymore. I would love it if they always looked forward to Mother's Day this much, but there will probably come a time when it will feel less like a privilege and more like an obligation. Life gets busy, and holidays become a burden because they come around so quickly, and a homemade card no longer seems to cut it.

I know a lot of moms who don't like Mother's Day because it brings up a lot of guilt. I certainly feel some of that, especially when my kids are so sweet to me and I remember all of the times I've been a real monster to them (although it definitely goes both ways, if you know what I mean). But mostly I just feel gratitude on Mother's Day: for my own mother, of course, but also for the opportunity to be a mother.

I don't know what my kids will be like in twenty years. I don't know if they'll be the types of sons who will call me on the phone or give me hugs or think to pamper me on special days. I like to think that they'll be like that, but I don't know.

What I do know is that right now, in 2016, these boys of mine are the sweetest, most thoughtful, most affectionate little boys I know. And oh, I'm going to treasure it.

The Most Marvelous and Exciting Father

We've always joked about my dad being the "fun killer" (not behind his back--he readily admits to it himself).

He can have a rather stern persona when he's not at home (okay, sometimes at home, too), and I think over the years most of the kids at church have been intimidated at one time or another by his glaring looks or curt words if they're caught running in the halls (or worse, the chapel) or drawing on the chalkboards or goofing off during Sunday School.

Growing up, I definitely remember some things being off limits (jumping on the couch, for example, or leaping over the back of it or even wedging our feet between the cushions). My mom was much more likely to let us take mattresses and go sledding down the stairs than my dad.

But personally, I think labeling him as the fun killer is much too harsh. Because for all his stern looks and disapproving glances, my dad definitely knows how to have fun. In fact, most of my memories growing up are of him participating in the fun with us instead of squashing it.

So today I'm going to set the record straight and give you just a few glimpses, out of hundreds and hundreds, of all the fun I've had over the years with my dad.

When I was still quite young, we read one of Mercer Mayer's Little Critter books called Just Me and My Dad. It inspired my dad to do one-on-one camping trips with all of us . . . in the backyard. For years, every summer I got my own turn going camping with my dad. We'd set up the tent, take out a giant stack of games or books, and enjoy each other's company by lantern light. In the morning, we would get up as quietly as we could, slowly unzip the tent, and sneak away in the chill morning air for breakfast at the local diner (the sneaking away part was very important). We christened these times "Just Me and My Dad Camp Outs."

Many times we'd have impromptu dances. We'd turn on some music, usually on the old record player, my dad would take my hand and spin me around the room. He taught me some of his old ballroom steps, my favorite being "the window" because he would turn me around until our arms formed a little rectangle we could look at each other through. My favorite song to dance to was an old Glenn Miller song, "In the Mood." It just kept going and going, and at the end we would twirl around at a feverish pace until we collapsed from dizziness. If we still had enough energy at the end, he would lower me into a dramatic dip.

My dad loves his garden. Every year he methodically plans it out and and then reaps a bounteous harvest during the summer months. My brothers probably have even more fond memories than I do of helping my dad in the garden. I think some good heart-to-hearts went on as they weeded side by side. But I have wonderful memories, too. My dad always let us help him plant, and I don't remember him ever getting impatient with us, even if we placed too many peas in one spot or soaked them too heavily. When I was a teenager, he mapped out this elaborate competition where we divided the garden into territories and got weekly points based on how well it was weeded. My brothers and I took this game very seriously, to the point of washing the rocks surrounding our plots so that they would look their best when my dad came around to judge.

I well remember The Monster Game. Probably most dads do some variation of it. It would usually begin when my dad was legitimately trying to take a little rest. We would sneak up on him and, without warning, his arm would shoot out and grab us by the leg. He'd reel us in with the menacing words, "Now you'll never get away from me! You'd better call for your mommy!" Somehow, by one magic word or another, we'd soothe him back to sleep. He would begin to snore convincingly, his grasp would loosen, and we'd begin to inch away. Just when we thought we were in the clear, his arm would shoot out again, and the game would begin again.

My dad loves music. He plays the piano and guitar, as well as several brass instruments. He wanted all of his kids to play some kind of portable instrument so that we could do some non-traditional Christmas caroling every year in December. He taught me how to play the trombone, and besides the Christmas carols, we also spent many evenings playing duets together. Our favorite to play was "The Yellow Rose of Texas."

Every 4th of July we had an intense water fight. We divided the family into two teams. One team had an empty wading pool, the other team had a larger one full of water. The object of the game was for the first team to steal water from the second until their pool was full (or until they gave up). My dad was always in the pool guarding the water. The rest of us ran around frantically and haphazardly dumped our buckets or squirted our water guns in order to help protect or steal the water. But my dad was always calm and methodical and consequently, his attacks packed the maximum punch.

Does this sound like a dad who would be known as the fun killer? I think not. At the end of Danny the Champion of the World, Danny perfectly summed up the way I feel about my dad.

"Because what I am trying to tell you . . . What I have been trying so hard to tell you all along is simply that my father, without the slightest doubt, was the most marvelous and exciting father any [girl] ever had."

I love you, my most marvelous and exciting father. Happy Father's Day.

A Decade Old Engagement Story

One of the reasons Mike and I decided to splurge on the Australia trip was because our 10-year anniversary is this coming April, and we wanted to celebrate it in a big way. (Australia may have been too big since we probably won't be able to top it for the even more momentous 25- and 50-year anniversaries.)

I go back and forth between thinking, Whoa, it's already been ten years?! to Only ten years? Really?

This past weekend, those memories felt very close, almost like they could have happened yesterday. Mike proposed on December 4, 2004, and with the anniversary of that important date passing this past week, I decided to try and recreate the evening.

It has been a long, long time since I've told this story (although, in the days immediately following, I must have told it a hundred times). As Mike and I visited our old spots, we found our own memories clashing just a bit. But this is how I remember it.

Mike and I were students at BYU. I was a sophomore; he was a junior. We had been dating since the beginning of the year and had mentioned the possibility of marriage (while still trying to be rather vague and non-committal about it).

Several weeks earlier, I had purchased tickets to Christmas Around the World, a performance that features multicultural dances by BYU's folk dance teams. The tickets were for December 4th.

Before we went to the performance that evening, Mike suggested that we get Panda Express and take it over to the Tanner Building. The Tanner Building was a favorite of ours. Although neither of us were business majors, we had choir practice there, we loved the architecture, and we liked finding secluded corners to, er, study in.

We had time to kill, so after we ate, we rode the elevator to the seventh floor. It was a Saturday evening, and the hallways were deserted. We went to our favorite corner and sat on a couch while Mike told me about why he couldn't sleep the night before. Before he started, he pulled out a box and said, "This story has visual aids." I opened it, and inside was a gold chain with a black pearl pendant. I don't think I said anything because I didn't know if it was a present or merely a prop.

He started telling me about a woman on his mission (he served a mission for our church in the West Indies from 2001-2003) who had been like a mom to both him and his companion. Before they left, she gave each of them a black pearl pendant and told them to only give it to the girl they planned to marry.

I know it's crazy, but until he said those words, I had no idea that it was the lead-in to his proposal. I glanced down at the necklace that I was still holding. Me. And he had just said that he was only supposed to give it to the girl he married. And I was holding it.

And then I knew exactly what we were doing in a secluded corner on the seventh floor of the Tanner Building. He didn't even have to say the next words (but he did), and I don't think he even really needed my answer (but I gave it anyway).

Then he put the ring on my finger, we kissed (it was our first one), and we practically skipped on our way to the performance. I remember very little about the dances except that we hid my hand from view in case we bumped into any casual acquaintances (since we hadn't told either of our families yet).

Afterwards, we phoned our parents (who were not surprised), told my roommates (who went crazy), and basked in the glow of being engaged.

And so that is why last Saturday, we did the same things we did ten years ago (circumstances called for doing them out of order, but we did our best). We again ordered Panda Express. We walked the halls of the Tanner building and sat on the edge of the fountain and argued about which corner it really happened in. (It was a little confusing since they've recently added onto the Tanner Building, but after much debate, I ceded to Mike who got me with, "I was thinking about the location a lot more than you were, and I picked the spot farthest away from the elevator.)

We went to the same performance of Christmas Around the World (thanks to my brother and his wife who watched our four (!) kids--definitely something we didn't have to worry about the first time).

I actually think I enjoyed the performance a lot more this time. Ten years ago, I was (a little) distracted.

Tanner Building - 2004

Tanner Building - 2014