It's A Good Thing

This is the result of leaving Drew and Bryan unattended in the playroom.  It's not so bad, really.  I can clean that up in twenty minutes if I can lock myself in that room tonight and not have interruptions.  I am just so glad that they have found something to do besides follow me around all day!

Nine to Six, Tuesday Through Saturday

It is with overwhelming trepidation that I write this post, because the last time I wrote a gratitude post the cosmos decided to punish me with three weeks of washing dishes by hand.  If that happened with this one we'd be toast.  So here goes nothing.

I am grateful for Andrew's job. 

(Cringe, hold breath!  Any second now he's going to call and tell me that he got laid off and it will all be my fault.)

I am grateful that he has a job.  It's an amazing thing that he is still employed, and has been at the same place for four years, despite all the uncertainty that has been going on in the world.  Especially in his field.

But more than that, I am thankful that he enjoys his job.  He looks forward to going to work, and that is rare.  Having a husband who is willing to take on the entire responsibility of providing for our family so that I can be the one to raise our children is a huge blessing for all of us, and he deserves to be happy in what he does.

He may not be doing the same thing three years from now, (or three days from now if the blogging gods continue to be cruel), but for the time being, I recognize this gift and I am thankful for it.

Saving Me $25 a Week

How long has it been since I've done a gratitude post? I don't remember, either. So I better get at it.

Andrew and I have lived in quite a few places since we've been married, and, for some reason, a fair number of them have been without a dishwasher. I am not a fan of hand washing dishes so the first time we had to get along without one I paid Andrew $25 a week to do the dishes. My folly came in the lack of terms. I never specified when the dishes had to be done in order for him to get his cash. So he waited until there were no clean dishes and came home to find Cameron and I eating Taco Bell for lunch because it required no plates or forks.

Now, we all are perfectly aware that Andrew could have just taken $25 without even having to run it by me, and what could I do, right? But that $25 came without nagging. So if he wanted to go spend it all on fishing lures, I was not allowed to complain. And that's pretty much what he did.

Tonight I am exhausted from a long day of cleaning, (which is very dissatisfying because already you can't really tell that I did anything), and I just find myself very grateful that I have a dishwasher, because at least there are no dirty dishes in the kitchen.

Now the laundry is another issue...

Still Brightening the World

Happy to report that this man has a healthy, plaque-free, blockage-free, and as of today, hole-free heart!! Because how sad a world would it be without him?

I am so tired.

So I can't even imagine how my parents feel.

Today was good. Dad came through the surgery like a champ. His 12 millimeter hole, (which allowed for his minor heart attack and stroke last year), was closed off with some kind of miraculous gizmo. The doctor called his hole, "a whopper", and then changed his mind and said that it was "one hell of a hole". Either way, I am grateful for modern medicine and fantastic doctors. This particular doctor was not too humble to tell us how smart he thought he was. His departing line was, "God heals, and I take the paycheck."

He is smart!

A Constant Blessing

Two nights ago, my dad stopped by to plow the snow from my really long driveway with his snow-blower. I was grateful because after two days of shoveling it, my back was pretty tired. Up and down the driveway he went, and even did the turn-around. I met him at the end of the driveway to help him lift the blower back into his truck bed, but he looked at me and asked, "Which way do the boys walk to school?" I pointed down the sidewalk to the south, and he cleared the sidewalks that hadn't been shoveled so that my boys would have a warmer, easier walk to and from school.

When he was done, I helped him load it up, and then hugged him good-bye. I came inside and cried, because I have the most wonderful father imaginable, and lately there has been more than one reason to worry that I'd lose him. It's all those little things, like blowing snow from a sidewalk for my kids, that remind me how blessed I am to be his daughter. And I'm afraid to be without him. My world would stop.

On Saturday, we were all at the tree lot together, and Drew had cold hands. My dad picked him up and put his own gloves on Drew. Drew left them on, which was great, because he won't leave his own mittens on for any longer than it takes to pull them off. My dad then carried Drew around, looking at trees, and after a while, he turned to me and said, "Don't you ever take these kids away from me." I wouldn't dream of it. Ethan told me tonight that his favorite part of Christmas is going to Nana's house. I am so glad that we live close to at least some of their grandparents.

And to my dad, I would say, it goes both ways. Don't you ever leave us here without you.

Getting it all out now so that when we go around the table expressing our thanks tomorrow, I can narrow it down to just one.

I am thankful for many things. Here are some of them, in no particular order.

I am thankful for hoodies. Nothing like being wrapped in a soft cottony fleece. It's comfy, it's warm, it has the option of a hood for those mornings when you left the window open just a crack too far.

I am thankful for food and the farmers who work so hard to supply it. Seeing my cupboards and refrigerator so full of food and goods that there is no room for my Vanilla Coke makes my eyes well up with gratitude and my stomach rumble in anticipation.

I am thankful for my new couches. Well, not so new anymore, but now when people come over I am not embarrassed.

I am thankful for Cameron who, more than any other being on this Earth, makes me want to be a better person.

I am thankful for my good relationship with my mother-in-law. She truly is a wonderful person who loves me more than I deserve. And the time I called her a bitch was to make her laugh, not to actually be cruel. And laugh she did.

I am thankful for my kids' new coats. They'll be nice and warm this winter. Also thankful for hand-me-downs from Mindy and Susie, without which, I would have had to buy new coats for Drew and Trent, too.

I am thankful for my mother, who is not my best friend, because she taught me to choose a spouse who could be my best friend. But she is a close second. Love her to death.

I am thankful for having only one car, and a garage to park it in. I feel so sorry for the people who have no garage, or who have so much junk in their garage that they can't park in it. Because scraping snow in the morning is no fun at all! And I'm thankful for just the one car because it means I get outside more, get more exercise, and don't have to pay for maintenance or registration on a second car. How's that for looking on the bright side?

I am thankful for my husband, who teaches our kids by example. Like, don't throw snowballs at the kitchen window, cause it will break. And don't argue with mom about whether or not the tires on the car need air, because you'll look stupid when you're wrong. Actually, he loves his kids more than anything, and I love that I can see that daily. I am also thankful that the only thing Andrew needs in order to be happy upon arrival home is a hot meal ready to eat. He doesn't care that a HAZ-MAT truck is parked out front and guys in bio-protective space suits are telling me that I have 24 hours to clean up the house before it's evacuated and has to be scrubbed down with bleach and acid as soon as the back-hoe is done removing the mountains of toy and school paper debris.

I am thankful for books. I love to read, and I'm glad there are people out there who are excellent writers and can entertain me in a complex or simple-minded way. Thankful for libraries too.

I am thankful for Drew, who keeps my life exciting.

I am thankful for good teachers who try their hardest to enlighten the minds of my children and are willing to stare down defeat and try again tomorrow.

I am thankful for snow before and during the holidays, and thankful when it disappears afterwards.

I am thankful for my siblings who know me so well and seem to like me anyway.

I am thankful for disposable diapers. Oh, yeah, very thankful.

I am thankful for my cousins who I get to have girl's night with once a month. Fun girls.

I am thankful for the gospel of Jesus Christ in my life. I'm fairly sure that without it I would be in a dark place and embarrass myself more frequently than I already do.

I am thankful for my brain, which at times is not such a blessing, but at other times keeps me entertained when nothing else can.

I am thankful for Ethan, who is good to the core.

I am thankful for Christmas, which provides me with a month of alternating giddy joy in the season of gifts and chocolate and grateful tears for the life of my Savior.

I am thankful for Andrew's job. I'm almost amazed that he still has one in his industry.

I am thankful that we are mostly poor, because it means that there's rarely any money to fight over.

I am thankful for my hands, without which I could not type, cook, squish my kids' cheeks when I kiss them or turn the pages of a book, because I'm just not that good with my toes.

I am thankful for Trent, who, if I wake him up early enough, will lay his cute little head on my shoulder for about ten seconds before he is off and running. (Or crawling, if you want to be literal.)

I am thankful for my Dad, who is a gift to the whole world, if you'd really like to know how I feel.

I am thankful for grandparents who share their wisdom and goodness with me, and who sometimes surprise me by talking about lesbians and how because most of them look like men anyway, they don't understand the point.

I am thankful for peaches - the most divine fruit in the world.

I am thankful for music and how it can uplift me, energize and motivate me, and make my kids dance like the white boys they are. Biting their lower lip and everything.

I am thankful for cameras because without them, I already would have forgotten a million things -like the shape and size of my thighs at 19, and how my kids looked when they were precious and innocent.

I am thankful for each new day; another opportunity to correct myself and work towards being the person I wish I already was.

But I Still Love Thanksgiving.

I'm listening to Christmas music while I clean this morning. It is a blatant violation of my "no Christmas music until after Thanksgiving dinner" rule. But I find that while nothing else is getting me motivated to clean my house, this is.

I am with the majority of the public in being disgusted at buying Halloween candy at the grocery store on October 31st and having to look in the clearance racks because Christmas goodies have already taken over the seasonal aisle. However, last night I went out and did a little more shopping, (saved a bundle by using discount coupons and forcing myself to wait for sales on the things I needed), and Drew came along to help. We happened upon a display of artificial Christmas trees and his tiny, little elf voice shouted, "It's boo-i-ful!" He was mesmerized by the glowing lights and sparkly ornaments on the trees. I nearly had to drag him away when we were finally done admiring them. I have to say that he infused me with the joy of the season.

Today I am so glad that I have such a wonderful family to spend the holidays with. I am overjoyed that Andrew called me last night on his way home from work to tell me that he heard a Christmas carol on the radio and it actually made him excited. (He normally hates Christmas with a passion, so this was good.) I am thankful to have four beautiful kids to share the simple joys of Christmas with. They look forward to bringing out the decorations, cutting a Charlie Brown tree from the mountains, the first snowball fight with Dad, and a fistful of other things. I love nothing more than sitting in the dark with my pile of kids and seeing the lights of the tree reflected in their shining eyes. Everything having to do with Christmas, from the baking to the glorious birth of our Savior, fills me with a flurry of elation, so forgive me if I harness that power before Thanksgiving even, to accomplish all the mundane tasks that have been put off for far too long.

Back to Gratitude

I have neglected my gratitude posts for too long now. So because I had such a good thing to be grateful for, albeit a repeat, I decided to get back in gear.


I had a sucky day on Monday. If my mother were to read this, she would tell me not to say "suck", but I have to because it's better than saying shitty. Oops.


So I admit that I do not remember the specifics of why I was so down and irritated and miserable on that particular day, but my husband had me all fixed up by the time I went to bed. He was helping his boss on a project, and on his way home stopped to buy me a Snickers shake and then rubbed my feet while I ate it and let me watch Flashforward even though football was on. (Course, had we not had the DVR I can't say that the last item would have been on the list of goodies.) All my woes forgotten, I went to bed without the burdens of my day and was able to start fresh the next morning. I love that man.

A Letter From My Mother

It was a year or two ago that my mother sent the following letter. I found it in my desk drawer today, and, while it is nothing profound or remarkable, I simply felt again what a gift she is to me.

To my daughter, Bethany -

I'm writing to all four of my children to tell you something of importance to me. I've been thinking about my family relationships lately. I've also been watching how other families interact. I've come to the conclusion that I am very blessed. Not only do I have a wonderful husband, but I have the greatest kids a mother could ask for!
Bethany, I want to thank you for always treating me with respect and with love. I never have to worry about where I stand with you - I know that with you I will always find an abundance of kindness. I thank you for that. You bring me joy.
One more thing I want you to know...it seems to me in our family we express "I love you" frequently. Sometimes on the phone, in cards or in person. Just because we say it often I don't want you to hear it lightly from me. Please know that I love you deeply, with all my heart! And I always will.

xoxoxox
Thank you,
Mom

I reverence my relationship with my mother. She is precious to me.

Are these not the kindest eyes you have ever seen?

Happy Birthday, Grandma Kestner!!

I feel so lucky to have Grandma Jane Kestner in my life. Grandparents are a wonderful thing, but it isn't just our "technical" relationship that brings me joy. True, we haven't spent much time together, but I love seeing her whenever I get the privilege, and hearing from her in e-mail is a decent second. I'm so grateful for all of her encouragement and compliments with my writing - and hopefully one day I will figure out how to get published and I'll have Grandma to thank for inflating my ego to a gargantuan size, giving me the courage to put myself out there.

Years and years ago I requested a personal history from Andrew's parents and grandparents, and since Grandma Kestner was the only one to complete that daunting task, I have read it several times. Allow me to share some of my favorite selections...

"When I was a child, little girls always wore dresses. Mother made mine, and usually made matching rompers. Sometimes I'd tuck my skirt into my rompers, put one of Daddy's ties on and insist on being called Billy Jim."

Seriously?? I cannot for the life of me picture that. Other people, yes, but Grandma Kestner? It's a stretch!

"Life was busy with both Al and I working full time, 3 teen-agers and a little one in day care. Of course, I didn't realize it at the time, but those were the best years of my life. Al was a Godsend to all of us. I had been spread pretty thin those years of being the only parent, and Al came along at the time that we needed him the most. I've always felt that he was as attracted to the children as he was to me. As soon as we could save the money to afford it, he legally adopted "the trio". Initially, they did sometimes resent his addition to the family, but as they grew up, all 3 realized the great blessing he had been to each of us."

What a strong woman Grandma Kestner is. These words make me feel exactly how much she loved Al and how grateful she is that he was there for her and her family. What a great reminder to live our lives to the fullest - sometimes the hardest times really are the best times, too. We are all so richly blessed.

"I always have more that I want to do than I get done. I've never been bored in my life. Life is a challenge, it's interesting and mostly fun. I wouldn't trade places with anyone if I could. Oh, I'd like someone else's skills or house or hair - but a 100% trade - no way! I have had, am having and look forward to a wonderful life. I've been blessed."

You are loved and admired by many, Grandma. Today I wish you many more happy days! Fill them with all the things and people that you cherish!

Happy 86th!

It was a good, good day.

Until last Friday, I thought that the thing I loved best about my oldest two sons was that nine times out of ten, they are able to urinate into the toilet without getting so much as a drop on the floor.  A close second to that would be their solid grasp of sarcasm, without which, most of our conversations would end in confused looks or hurt feelings.


On Friday, I drove, (hallelujah), to pick up the boys from school so we could go pick out snacks to take to the ball game that night in Salt Lake.  I asked them how their days were, and boy, was I a proud Mama when they told me.  


Ethan had used all his Bull Dog Coins* at the Bull Dog Store to purchase me a necklace.  He handed me that red-beaded Mardi Gras necklace with a radient smile plastered on his cute, little mug, and I wore it all day with as much pleasure as if it had been a string of genuine pearls.  Ethan also told me that there was a little boy at recess who had no one to play with because his legs don't work very well, and that he had asked that boy if he would like to play with him, and together they played tag, until the "outside duty" came and told them that tag was not allowed.  (Seriously?  No swings, no tag...what's next?  And I know it sounds odd for Ethan to ask the boy who's legs don't work well to play tag with him, but it's the thought that counts.  I hope the recess aid caught them quickly, or that poor boy might have spent his entire recess hopefully chasing my 6-year-old all over the playground and never gotten close to catching him.)  


Cameron beamed when he got in the van and told me that he had passed his math facts and moved onto subtraction.  I was just as proud as he was, because the kids have 2 minutes to get all 36 addition facts correct, and, as of a week ago, Cameron was taking 2 minutes and thirty seconds to pass all 36.  On Friday, he got them all right in one minute, thirty-two seconds.  He has worked his tail off to complete that, and now he is one of very few in his class that has moved on to the next level.  I am extra pleased with his success, because I went to his class and tested 8 kids, and only one of them passed, while the others were struggling to get 15 correct in the two minute period.  I'm not saying he's better than the others, I'm just very happy that he doesn't have to struggle with math while he's having to struggle with reading.  It was a painfully happy moment to find that he had passed, and his confidence is taking off!  He then told me that he had played four-square with 6 other kids at recess, and I almost cried.  Every day I ask Cameron who he played with at recess, and his answer is always the same:  "I mostly played by myself."  That is agony to a mother.  So to hear that he had been involved in a game with his classmates was the best news I could have gotten that day.


Today, I am a very proud mother, indeed.  And it has nothing to do with bathroom cleanliness.

*Bulldog coins are pieces of paper they earn in Ethan's class to be spent every other Friday in their classroom store, where they can choose from an array of trinkets and prizes.  

My Dad's Better Than Your Dad!!

In honor of my father's 52nd birthday, I have quite easily conjured up 52 reasons why he's better than anyone else's Dad. (Unless you are Kellie or Joel, and then we share the same father, and if you are Natalie, I think that due to your almond-shaped eyes, there is still debate about who your true father might be, so there you go.) And you can refute my claim to have the best father if you like, and I will understand that it is completely in an effort to make yourself feel better. I'm very sorry.

1. Dad always likes to play funny jokes on me; like when I was eight years old and he let me pick out my first pair of glasses and then told me I looked cute in them.



2. He never let me settle for less than my very best.

3. He taught me to respect my elders, so that the first time I accidentally used a curse word in front of my grandparents, I was properly mortified.

4. Dad instilled in me an appreciation for the fine art of horror films. I was introduced to "The Shining" at age 6, "It" at age 10, and "Misery" at age 14. Those were our favorites, (apparently we had a thing for Stephen King). A lot of the films we watched, such as Bram Stoker's "Dracula" were "paper bag movies". If we wanted to watch a movie that had nudity in it, we were required to put a paper grocery bag over our heads during any questionable scenes. (Can you picture it?) So this way, we could be scared out of our wits while still maintaining our decency, though not our dignity. Unfortunately, this practice was not invented until after the era of "The Shining", so I still have flashbacks of ancient, wrinkly, horrifying naked women climbing out of bathtubs sometimes.

5. Dad loved to be spontaneous - like deciding at 8:00 at night, while we were being given our bedtime baths, that it was a perfect time to visit Grandma 6 hours away. So we got to sleep on a makeshift bed in the back of the Bronco while we drove until 2 a.m. to get to Grandma's house. That's how I remember it, anyway.

6. My dad always brought us souvenirs from his world travels. My absolute, hands down favorite is this one:




7. He taught me that life is as fun as you make it.

8. Dad loves to tell my kids ghost stories. And boy, do I love the endless barrage of questions about those ghost stories that they punish him with!

9. Dad is an awesome example of leadership.

10. He taught me to appreciate creativity.

11. Dad forced me to try things that I was afraid to do. Case in point: We often went out on our boat to do a little tubing and water skiing, attempt wake boarding, etc. I never learned to swim and was therefore afraid of the water. No, not afraid. Terrified to the point of heart failure. So I had never been on the "biscuit" as we called it. One day on the boat, Dad decided to rectify that. He scooped me up and held me over the side of the boat, with no life jacket on, and told me that if I didn't get on the biscuit he would toss me overboard. No amount of kicking, screaming or crying would change his mind, so I finally agreed and he put me down. I got onto the biscuit, Dad promised not to flip me on purpose, and off we went. I clenched my teeth so tightly during the entire ride that when it was over, I couldn't open my mouth. Jaw was locked shut tight. But, once I could open my mouth again, I decided that it wasn't so bad and that it might have actually been kinda fun. That incident led to many a ride on the biscuit. Even the times that Dad did flip me on purpose were wicked fun in the end, and if he hadn't pushed me out of my comfort zone that day by threatening to drown me, I would have missed out on all that fun.



12. Dad was a father first, but always a trusted friend.

13. He taught me to cherish family.

14. Dad gave me an appreciation for a wide range of music just by exposing me to a menagerie of artists.

15. Dad kissed my mother in front of me all the time as a kid. I knew my parents loved each other. It felt safe.

16. He taught me to be grateful for what I had.

17. Growing up, he reprimanded us kids in French. I now have a solid, 6 word French vocabulary.

18. Dad was always so much fun to be with that even just a ride into town with him to run errands was a treat.

19. Dad never had to tell me that he was proud of me, I could just tell. But he told me anyway.

20. Dad can always make people laugh.

21. He used to sing while playing his guitar when I was young. I loved listening to him sing.

22. Dad always gave me what I needed, and often what I only thought I needed, and certainly things I was sure I didn't need.

23. When I was 7, I had another one of my accidents, and Dad came running to pull my bare foot from where it was trapped in my bike, and then carried me, bleeding, back to the house. Another one of those "safe" feelings.

24. When I was 16, and guilty of eating the last Rice Krispie Treat, he taught me the invaluable lesson that one is never too old for a spanking.

25. My dad has always been a good father-in-law to my husband, but because Andrew had lost his own good father, Dad stepped in to encourage him in a time of deep despair. He loves Andrew as his own.

26. Dad gave me his huge eyes.

27. He took me camping...

28. ...and to Disneyland (3 times)...

29. ...and to church. I didn't always like it at the time, but what would I do without that knowledge now?

30. Dad married Julie Sue McClurg, therein giving me the very best mother that a child could hope for.

31. He loved me even though my sense of humor was outrageously inappropriate 99.9% of the time.

32. Went with me to a Daddy-Daughter Date, which could not have been high on his list of fun things to do.



33. Took photographs of me as a child so that I could look back and see how cute I used to be.



34. Being the cool dad that he was, he hand-made us some incredible Halloween masks so that we could put the other kids to shame. We would sit for hours at a time in the days before Halloween as he applied liquid latex, foam, paint and other oddities to our faces. In the end, we had very red skin and a custom mask that would make little kids cry and cling to their mothers. We were not allowed to dress as princesses or angels or anything silly like that. Halloween was for being scary, and we loved it. One year I was a clown, but I had an eyeball hanging from it's socket. My favorite mask was the skeleton, which I wore for several years, until my face no longer fit into it's mold. And if that weren't enough, Dad took us in our hideous costumes to the ultra-rich neighborhoods, where all self-respecting trick-or-treaters go to get their full size candy bars and cans of soda. Smarties and tootsie rolls were for suckers.



35. Dad loves my kids. He never had the privilege of raising multiple boys, but he suffers through the noise and rowdiness and seems to really enjoy them most of the time!

36. Dad taught me to work hard and do a good job.

37. I was out with Dad once when I was a teenager, and we stopped at a store to pick up somethingorother, and we made a pit stop at the candy aisle to get a treat, but he said that we both needed to choose a candy bar that we had never tried before. I don't remember what he chose, but I picked a U-NO, (is that what they're called?). That was the day that I learned that I do not like U-NO bars, and that spicing it up is fun and exciting, even when the results aren't as good as a Milky Way.

38. Dad never sticks his nose into my problems or tries to solve them for me, but he is there for me the very moment that I call for his help.

39. Every Thanksgiving, we helped Mom make the dinner and then we helped with the dishes. Dad would take joy in repeatedly proclaiming that Thanksgiving was a "woman's holiday" in which we could showcase our talents. We all knew that what he was really trying to say was that there was no way he was helping with the dishes. But once in a while, Dad would grab a dishcloth and pitch in. (Ok, once in a great while.) But those times made chores a little more fun. Dad was there, and he made just about anything special.

40. For more reasons than I can list here, I went through high school with my friends loving my parents. Some adored my parents, others loved how fun they were, and others were quite jealous. It was neat to have "the cool parents".

41. We moved a lot as kids. I rarely went to the same school for more than one year. Dad may think that to have been a bad thing in our lives, but I disagree for two reasons. First, I was a huge nerd for many of my elementary school years, (or all of them), and moving meant I could start all over and make new friends at the next place. I never really did succeed in shaking that nerd label, but at least I didn't have to endure the same bullies every year. And the second reason I think moving frequently was good is that I have acquired the ability to easily adapt to change. In fact, I love change. Life is easier when you know how to get through challenges on your own willpower and ingenuity. I think Dad did us a favor.

42. Dad put me in my place when I needed it. I'd hate to have had a father who let me get away with things and thereby grow up to be a world class loser.

43. Dad took us crabbing several times when we were kids living in the Pacific Northwest. On one of those occasions, the biggest crab of the day fell out of the trap as Dad was pulling it into the boat. I reached down and grabbed the prize catch, in my mind risking life and limb, and Dad praised me over and over that day for snatching the crab back from the sea. I felt like a hero. Dads should make their kids feel that way from time to time.

44. Dad's Priesthood authority has been a blessing in my life and my children's lives.

45. He never made me mow the lawn.

46. Andrew once gave me a hickey on my neck when I was 16 or 17. I had no clue it was there, (always have bruised easily...) and Dad saw it. Oh, the fear that consumed me. I made an emergency call to Andrew in the dead of night to warn him that my father would be speaking to him at church in the morning. How humiliating! Andrew demonstrated that he was a real man just by having the guts to show up at church the next day, and Dad had a little chat with Andrew in his truck. Andrew claims that he was told by my father that if he was going to give me hickeys, that he should kindly do it in a place that no one would see so that his daughter wouldn't look like trash. Nicely put, Dad. It may have seemed like idiotic advice, but we were both smart enough to know that what he was really saying was, "If you really love my daughter, you will treat her with the respect she deserves."

47. My dad is SMART. I know that just a little of that rubbed off on me, because I am smart enough to know that I will never be as smart as him. I was about 15 years old when my father handed my sister and I each a copy of "10 Stupid Things Women Do to Mess Up Their Lives" by Dr. Laura Schlessinger. We were told to read it, give a book report on it to him, and when we were done, we would be given our spending money for an upcoming family vacation. How do you like them apples? Smart.

48. Ah! Responsibility. Dad taught me to do what I say I will do, be where I will say I will be, keep a promise and be on time. I am now habitually early to everything, I commit to things that I regret 5 seconds later, but I follow through, and I feel appropriate guilt when I let someone down.

49. My dad helps others, even when it requires sacrifice on his part. He once waded through sewage water for hours to help a widow fix her plumbing. How's that for a good example of charity?

50. Dad loves to laugh. He passed that love down to me. Although, the time that I came down the stairs late at night to get a drink of water, (I was again, 16 or 17), and saw Dad standing at the kitchen sink with a Kit-Kat stuck in an unmentionable place, I did not laugh. I turned around and walked back upstairs. Turns out that he was trying to make my mother think that he had...you know what? He will probably kill me for taking this story as far as I have already, and I should probably just stop right there. If you know my dad, you can guess where the story was going, and you'd probably be right. If you don't know my dad, then you would never understand.



51. My Dad told me when I was 19, and having a difficult time, to "create [my] own happiness." I've never forgotten that advice. It wanders back into my mind when I need it most.

52. Possibly the best thing that my father ever said to me was when I was 18 years old and the whole family was sitting at the dinner table one night. I don't remember what prompted him to say this, but it stuck with me then and brings me joy now. He said, "I hope that one day all of you find someone who will love you as much as I love your mother." Right in that one statement, a whole life was shaped and a future was mapped. I had lived my entire life to that point knowing that my mother was the light of my father's life. He was affectionate with her, had fun with her, treated her like royalty and demanded the same from us kids. My dad wanted the same kind of marriage for all of his children, and he had shown us how to have it. That's how I knew that Andrew was the man I was supposed to marry; he treated me like my dad always treated my mom.

On this day, when my dear ol' Dad turns 52, I am reminded of how much he has blessed my life, and how grateful I am to be his daughter. Happy Birthday, Dad! I love you! I'm sorry you're old!

Here We Go Again

Sometimes gratitude is synonymous with relief. If you were to watch someone push me off a cliff and I was able to grab a convenient tree root to dangle from instead of plummeting into a rocky river a mile below, and then you reached down and pulled me back to safety, that might begin to adequately describe the kind of relief/gratitude that I have for good teachers. (I know, that is a very simpleton and possibly ridiculous allegory, but just go with it.)

I am not grateful for all teachers. I had a few doosies growing up, and since I've had kids in school, there has been one teacher that I wish I had complained about, but was too afraid she would know it was me. I volunteered in her class for several hours a week and would experience emotions ranging from shock to sympathy for the kids under her care and instruction. Some people in the teaching field would be better suited to work at the DMV.

But then there are teachers like the one Cameron had last year. The teacher who pulled him back to safety from the root he was dangling from on the side of a cliff. Mrs. Smith is the first teacher that Cameron has had that has seen for herself the things that have troubled me about his education since kindergarten, and then done something about it. He now reads at a level that I had given up all hope that he would ever reach. He has improved social capabilities, though we're still working on his confidence. He has learned techniques to help him stay focused, and he continues to work on those. Cameron exhibits a greater sense of responsibility at home after what he acquired in class last year. And Cameron can also pronounce all kinds of "th" sounds now. Darned if that wasn't a long time coming! All of these things took place because Mrs. Smith is a dedicated, resourceful teacher who will do whatever it takes to help her students succeed. She spent time researching, re-focusing, meeting with me, trying different tactics, having him tested to get speech therapy, (finally!! someone who agreed with me!), and she spent a lot of time bolstering Cameron's self-esteem and just plain caring about him. And she did all this for Cameron without labeling him with some kind of learning disability that he certainly does not have.

As we prepare to embark on another school year, I can sense Cameron wandering again, dangerously close to the edge of that same cliff. I want him to stay in the lane of progress, and not just give up and take a leap off the edge. Cameron is not one of the lucky kids to which learning comes easily. He has to work at it, and it's more than work, really. He has to convince himself every day that he can do it, and that it's worth it.

This week, I've spent a lot of time stewing over what might come. I've wondered what kind of teacher Cameron might have this year, and I have high hopes. But right now, I am simply very grateful and relieved to have had Mrs. Smith come to our rescue last year.

Gee, thanks!

What am I grateful for this week? I have so much to be thankful for, and I do love these weekly posts that remind me of exactly how blessed I am. It feels good to count them all and pick one to highlight. I picked two today. Seeing as it's my space, I can do whatever strikes my fancy.

Today I am grateful for everyone that bothers to check in here at my blog and see what I've written or what is going on with my family, or what I'm venting about. It makes one feel special to have people that give a darn. Even if people just read my junk to fill the empty moments when they have nothing better to do, or if they keep waiting to see if I've finally grown up or dropped of the face of the earth...it counts as caring in some way, and that's good for me!

So thanks to all of you for being a part of my messy brain and commenting when you feel the urge. We do love those comments.

Also, I am thankful for other people's blogs. I do so love to read about what inspires you, makes you laugh, frustrates you, etc... I love getting a glimpse into who people really are, and this lovely little world of blogging sure is an enlightening way to do that. Sometimes I have those empty moments too, but most of the blog reading I do is spawned by curiosity and genuine appreciation for who you are. Keep it up, people!

Healthy Children

Yep, that's what I'm grateful for this week. Very cliche, but it falls into the category of not being thankful for something until you lose it. Trent has a wicked cold this week. I am losing a lot of sleep, and my shirts are constantly covered in snot. I'll be very grateful when my kids are all back to being healthy, because this:

is a beautiful sight.

**Sound of deep inhalation**

You smell that? It's the scent of my candle warmer fighting to eliminate the stench of the three dirty diapers I just changed! That's right, this week, I am sooo grateful for my candle warmer. It is pretty and it makes my bathroom, kitchen or living room smell good, when I remember to turn it on. And my mom works for this company, so it's extra gratifying to get these for next to nothing. Although, if I had to pay full price, I would happily do it. Right now I have Vanilla Pear in my living room and Prince Charming in my bathroom. Whoa... If I really had Prince Charming in my bathroom, I wouldn't be here typing on the computer, but I have the Prince Charming scented candle in my bathroom. The absolute best scent would be Citrus Splash, trust me on that one, but all of the candles smell divine. Yey, candle warmer lamp!

Nothing Like a Good Book

Libraries are awesome. I love going in by myself or with the kids to find something that sparks my interest. I love that the kids have favorite authors and I love that they enjoy non-fiction. Libraries are a fantastic resource, a wonderful place to be alone and think and can also be fun and inspiring. Tomorrow I am going in to pull a random book from a random shelf and read it, no matter what it is. I hope it isn't boring! This week I am grateful for my library!
This is one of the kids' favorites! Love Roald Dahl.

How the true identity of a dazzling sister can affect your love life.

I was a freshman in high school. He was perfection. And he asked my sister to Homecoming. Thus begins the story of my life. Well, a story in my life, anyway.

It really all began much earlier than our high school years. I was born one year and eleven days after my older sister, Natalie. We were great friends. We confided in each other, had Miss America pageants with our paper dolls together, borrowed each others clothes in later years, (or was that just me pilfering her clothes?), and struck deals such as Natalie getting to drive Mom's Explorer to work when Mom and Dad were out of the country, and in return, I could drive her Probe to school. We were "tight", as the kids say.

When I was about 12 years old I began to realize the differences between my sister and myself. The one that most people seemed to notice was the big, external, in-your-face difference. More than one person was caught in an awkward situation when, upon catching sight of Natalie, would exclaim how beautiful she was. "Oh, Natalie is so gorgeous!"...and then their voice would falter as they realized that I was standing just behind Natalie, and they surely could not compliment one daughter while ignoring the other, so they would stammer for a moment, and then say, "...and Bethany is so funny!", or some such cover up. Okay, maybe it was just the one time that someone made that blunder, but it certainly made in impression.

From then on, I was painfully aware that my sister possessed the gift of beauty while I was left to search for other gifts that I might delight people with. I never resented her in any way for being so alluring while I was stuck in the shadow of her glow, but I obviously envied her.

I'm not sure if Natalie ever did realize exactly how attractive she was and still is. It wasn't just the outward appearance, either. She was, and remains, kind, intelligent, thoughtful and humble. Always, it seemed that she sought the approval of others. She needn't have, because she embodied most of the characteristics that everyone considered good and lovely. And she did so seemingly without effort. Through my eyes, her face was simply the crown of all her glories.

Through the years we went, until we sisters arrived at the age of high school crushes and first loves. You can imagine my distress as I watched Natalie attract attention from all fronts. I was to follow her in the dating game by a full year, and it was already too late for me. School was bad enough, but at church every boy took an interest in her as though she had slipped them all a delicious love potion. There were probably moments when my innocent envy became sincere jealousy, but the moment of true torture did not come until she was asked to the homecoming dance by the boy who occupied most of my daydreams. We'll call him Leslie. (Yes, I chose that name because now it seems fitting, and it makes me laugh. Apologies to anyone who's real name is Leslie.)

My mother spent several hours making a dress for Natalie to wear to the dance, and upon it's completion, I could not believe that anyone could look so utterly glamorous while wearing long, black, lace sleeves. Natalie was the picture of elegance. Her normally perfectly straight hair that I longed to have for myself was set in glossy curls that framed her almond eyes, delicate nose and full lips. And she had boobs too! That's another story though...

Leslie came to pick Natalie up for their date, and he was nearly a match for her. His smile was intoxicating to me as I sat there on the couch watching him fumble with her corsage. Sparkling eyes and flawless complexion, and ooohh, I could smell his cologne. And then the boy who I was convinced that I was madly in love with walked out the door with my sister.

Leslie must have been mad with curiosity as to why Natalie did not agree to go out with him again. I can only imagine his confusion as he tried to work out whether it was his looks, his personality or some other unknown factor which lead to her apparent lack of absorption with him. When he couldn't figure it out on his own, I suppose that's when he recruited help. Me. Poor, little naive me. He lured me simply by paying me attention. We discussed Natalie and plotted ways for him to win her affections. Surprisingly, this caused me no anguish because I was spending time with him, and it didn't matter how we filled those hours. Eventually, he gave up the game realizing that he was getting nowhere. I don't know why Natalie did not accept a second date with Leslie, but I can admit that she must have seen something in him that I did not. But Leslie's toying with me did not stop. I spent my lunch hours at school with him, planned my route to my classes in attempt to pass by him hoping for the honor of his glance and spent hours talking with him on the phone. And all the while, he remained out of my reach. I was truly unwise and inexperienced when it came to teenage love. So obsessed was I with Leslie, that he soon became my reason for living. I returned to school just days after surgery on my foot because I couldn't bear not to see him. This was just one of my pathetic displays, but the rest make me look even worse and are not crucial to this particular plot.

In the middle of my sophomore year of high school I was presented with a choice. I could stay at Battle Ground High School, or join my aforementioned sister in transferring to La Center High School. It was an arduous decision. In the end, I finally came to my senses and decided that the best thing I could do for myself would be to remove myself from the situation of being led on, toyed with and made to feel silly and worthless by the person who I had wished to gaze at forever.

To this day I don't understand what was going through the mind of that boy that I had first fallen for. Was I a game? Was I a means to an end - a way to win my sister? It's been more than a decade however, since I have cared. By transferring to a new school I was blessed enough to be able to capture a boy, who, for the first time in my life, did not have an infatuation with Natalie. Silly thing.

Looking back through my muddled memories, I find that I have learned many lessons. I have learned that my big sister is, indeed, very beautiful, but that does not make me less than her; although other things might! I have learned to put my love in places where it will be multiplied, not used or mocked. I have learned to look for the inward good in people before determining their worth. Who knew that first loves could be so crucial in teaching us some of life's greatest lessons? In the end, I am grateful for my big sister and all the "beautiful" things that she has helped me to stumble upon.

Thank you for the YUM!

It occurs to me that I missed my gratitude post last week, and I certainly hope it wasn't because I spent all my blogging time complaining or venting. I'll have to check on that later. In the mean time, I have my gratitude item for this week:

Yes, I love a good pint of Ben and Jerry's Chocolate Fudge Brownie, all to myself.
I was introduced to Ben and Jerry's by my father, who, when I was a teenager, began the tradition of "Ben and Jerry's Questions". What is that? Well, Dad would come up with some off the wall trivia question, and the person who could answer it first would win a pint of Ben and Jerry's. Quite a good deal, if you ask me. I think I may have won once, but I am not the smartest of my siblings, so I may just be remembering watching them eat theirs... Anyway, in honor of Ben and Jerry's and of Dear Dad, we are going to have a little Ben and Jerry's Question of our own here on Bethany's Brain!
OK, there will be 2 questions; one for the general public, (yes, I know, there is a huge following here), and one for the general public, plus my parents and siblings. Here we go!

Question #1-for the general public. (Mom, Dad and siblings are ineligible, because this was my favorite "Ben and Jerry's Question" growing up, so you all know the answer.)

What three letter, one syllable word can you add one letter to the end of, and thus have a three syllable word?

Question #2 - anyone can answer:

What 1940's big band musician was declared Missing In Action after his plane disappeared over the English Channel while flying to France to play for soldiers who had recently liberated Paris?

The first two people to answer these questions correctly will win a coupon for a free pint of Ben and Jerry's! If you are the first person to answer both questions correctly, well, then, lucky you!

It's not just because it's his birthday.

This week I am grateful for my Ethan. I know it may seem a little obligatory to be grateful for someone on their birthday, but truly, it's just a good opportunity to highlight the reasons why I love him. Ethan is an explosion of energy. He loves to watch movies, but he cannot sit still while he does it; he must be acting out the movie with his array of action figures while he watches. Action figures are this boy's best friend. Ethan is always surprising me with the unexpected things he says and does. He is usually sweet and helpful, but can be powerfully moody sometimes. If ever he is mad at me when it is time for bed, he throws his pillows and blankets on the floor next to his bed and refuses to use them, thinking that it is somehow punishing me. Truth be told, it kind of does bother me, so after he falls asleep I go in and put his pillow under his cute little freckly head.
Ethan has a powerful ability to love. He loves with all his might. When he was about two and a half years old we were at the grocery store and he was talking to me as I pushed him around in the cart. He said, "I love you, Mom. And I love Daddy. And I love Cameron SO BAD!" The way he said it let me know exactly how much his love for Cameron was just bursting from him. He said it as though it caused him pain. What an expressive guy!
And speaking of expressive, he has quite a vocabulary. He uses words and phrases that he picks up from adults all the time. He quite often sounds like a clone of his favorite uncle, Joel. There are times when his vocabulary sponge brain is not such a good thing. He was just three when I overheard a conversation he was having with Cameron. It went a little something like this:

Cameron: (excessive grumbling about whatever had not gone his way.)
Ethan: Just relax, Dude.
Cameron: What??
Ethan: It means don't be grumpy.
Cameron: (telling Ethan off for being bossy)
Ethan: Don't be an ass!

Sometimes Ethan is a little too smart for me. (Not hard, I know.) Not long ago I looked at him and told him I would have to give him a haircut that day. He objected and protested and complained. You see, I just have this cheap pair of clippers that pulls a bit at the boy's hair and causes them some discomfort which they interpret as excruciating pain. So I put my foot down, told him he was starting to look like a baboon and that haircuts had to be done that day. He mumbled a "Fine," and retreated to his room. Later on that evening I heard Ethan "whispering" to Cameron and so I perked my ears up to have a listen. Ethan said, "I tricked Mom today. She said I had to have a haircut, so I put on a hat so she wouldn't see my hair." I was a little stunned. He had tricked me! I saw him in a hat that afternoon and told him he looked cute in it, but thought nothing else of it, which was stupid because he never wears hats. He grinned at me, but kept quiet. I was fooled by a conniving child's simple plan. By the time he told his conspiratorial secret to Cameron, it was too late for me to cut his hair that day.
If you can't tell by all these stories, let me sum it up for you: I love Ethan SO BAD, but he is going to be trouble. I can feel it.