Happy Birthday

To my mother…

yesterday.

I won’t tell you how old she is…

Love you so!

Broken Bones

When I was 5 I broke my arm. Or maybe I was 4.

When I was in Kindergarten I broke my arm.

It was all kinds of traumatic. I was at school, on the playground playing on the bars. Then I fell off. And then there was screaming. I remember lots and lots of screaming. I remember people gathering around. Then I remember teachers there trying to give me space.

The story of how I broke my arm has been told and retold countless times. So much so that things I heard later, I started incorporating them into my own memories. While there are things I know I remember other things I’m not sure if I remember them or if I was told them later. I say this because in that crowd of kids was my brother. Just a couple of grades a head of me. Somehow he learned that it was me and was trying to get to me but the teachers kept him from coming to me. And so I screamed.

I can only imagine how that must have been. I imagine my own children in that situation. I think the other ones would be just as heartbroken if their younger sibling was hurt, and traumatized, and mom and dad weren’t around and they were kept away. Breaks my heart a little.

Back to the screaming. Somehow they got me into the office and placed a pillow under my arm. I continued to scream for everything my five year old brain could think of. My mom, my dad, my Nana, my blanket. The list went on. While I screamed the school was desperately trying to get in touch with one of my parents. It was a few years before cell phones made people so easy to find.

As some kind of tender mercy, or blessing in disguise, my mom wasn’t at home when they called. Now I love my mother dearly but she wouldn’t even come into the bathroom if we were sick. She’d stand outside the door and ask if we were ok then tell us to splash our face with water and rinse our mouth out. Had she come in she would have joined in on the sickness. She knows her limits. I think having to take a screaming me with a broken arm to the hospital might have been more than she could handle in that moment. That’s just my speculation and so I call it a tender mercy.

They were finally able to get a hold of my grandmother who quickly came to get me. Somehow my dad was also reached and he met us at the hospital. From there things are a little less clear. Perhaps I was exhausted from all the screaming, perhaps I was finally in shock or perhaps the pain took over and my memory has wiped it away. Maybe a little bit of all of it.

My dad tells the story this way, that once they determined where the break was they gave us two options. Hold her down and they will set it or sedate her and we would be there over night. My dad says he and I talked it over and we agreed that if he held me down I would let them set it. Now, having had five year olds I can kind of picture how that discussion went. Nevertheless that is how it went. And they wrapped me up with an enormous cast. That I kept on much longer than was necessary because the saw they wanted to use to take it off was as big as my head and I remember screaming, “don’t kill me!”

School pictures with the cast. I remember distinctly that I wouldn’t let anyone sign it for the longest time. Finally I relented. And my little brother did this little scribbling thing that set me over the edge.

Why it sent me into a ranting and raging lunatic I don’t know. It just did. Funny the things we remember.

So with all the trauma, and drama, surround my first broken bone I’ve been getting the sense for some time that someone is going to break something. I’ve been mentally preparing having to pick up a screaming child from the school and rushing them to the hospital. I’ve thought about who I would call since David never answers his phone, if I needed help. There are so many mental preparations you can make for something that may never happen.

Imagine my surprise, then, when the first broken bone came with much much less trauma and a little less drama.

Towards the end of our Christmas vacation I started to notice LM favoring her right shoulder. She would cry when anyone picked her up, which is so unlike her. She would even cry when I would barely lift her onto the toilet. My “mom sense” started to notice it more and more and I had that feeling. That one where you know something isn’t quite right. After we got home I made an appointment to take her to the doctor. The morning of she started to act a little more normal. Once we got there and the doctor started moving her arm around she started crying. I then told her, our doctor, that a few years ago I broke my collar bone and had walked around with it for a week before I went and had it looked at. As she felt around her collar bone she looked at me and said, “you know, I think that might be what the problem is.”

We went downstairs for an x-ray then headed home while we waited for the report. It didn’t take long. The doctor called that afternoon to tell us she has a tiny fracture on her collar bone. All I could do is wait and let it heal. We could have gotten a sling for her to wear but that wasn’t a battle I wanted to fight. She was very cautious of using that arm/shoulder that I didn’t think a sling would be even necessary. It was amazing, actually, to watch her. She knew what her limits were and she accepted them, but she also didn’t really let them stop her from doing what she wanted. I’m relieved to say that now, a few weeks later, she is doing so much better. She hardly ever favors her arm now, although I still try to be conscience of it.

So while her story is a tad bit less traumatic than mine, in the broken bone department, it still matters. Because it’s hers.

Musings On Monday

• This weekend Ruth got up Saturday morning and decided to make brownies in her cupcake maker. She used a mix and added the eggs and water but didn’t know what oil was so she left that out. Then she had trouble getting them out. So things got messy. Being creative she shoved them all into a container, topped it with frosting and called it a cake. We had some after dinner last night. David and I gave each other lots of parent points afterwards.

• I made scones. The kind my mom used to make growing up. They tasted just like they were supposed to.
• On Saturday I gave the kids the job of cleaning the downstairs 1/2 bath and their upstairs bathroom. It took them close to 2 hours. Not because they were fighting or being resistant. They were just being very through. At one point The Boy put his swim suit on. I had to walk away.
• LM is struggling with sleep. Not a new thing, it’s been going on for months. I’m taking her to our favorite ENT on Friday. Crossing my fingers for some direction.
• The Boy has started basketball again. This year we’re being a little more brave and not staying around for practices. I think he likes the independence. Practice usually starts at 12 and he is usually read to go by 8. Makes for a fun morning.
• This week MT has a dentist appointment that could involving things like numbness and drilling and otherwise unpleasant stuff. I’m practicing some deep breathing exercises to get us through it.
• I had to give the dentist our insurance information. When I gave them the social security number it didn’t sound right when I was saying it but I brushed it off. They just called to say they couldn’t find us in the system that’s when I realized I combined David’s and my number. What does that say about my brain?
• Yesterday our ward was split. We are officially a branch. It was an incredible experience, one I hope to remember. The meeting was spiritual, refreshing and hopeful. We will now be meeting from 2 until 5 each Sunday. It sounds bad but we’ve decided to embrace the sleeping in and the almost bedtime by the time we get home.

One Fine Day

While we were out in California visiting my parents we were having such a lovely time we decided to stay a couple of extra days. During one of those days we took off on a little adventure. First we went and got donuts from my hometown. It’s THE donut shop. It’s the standard to which I judge all other donuts. It’s an institution, really.

Then we were in search of some really good clam chowder. We drove out to the coast to a place that was recommended to us. Spud Point Crab Co., Bodega Bay.

My, oh, my it was lovely.

We found this girl some crab too. She’s a fan. Big big fan.

From there we drove a little ways up the coast to find a spot where we could get some sand for our sand collection and get our feet a little wet.

We found the perfect spot. Yes the water was chilly, but the sky was clear and the weather was delightful.

That’s my son right there, hiking his pants up as high as they can go.

Of course when the wave finally came in he was out of there.

LM, on the other hand, embraced the clothes getting wet thing. A few times she “fell” while we were running in from the waves. Considering how hard she was laughing I think the fall might have been on purpose.

We found lots of shells. Sand dollars mostly. More than we could carry.

She’s saying, “Here, daddy.” When she wants something she puts her hands out and says, “here.” As in, give it here, right now. She’s ready to get back in the water.

He has a hard time saying no to her sometimes.

One of her “falls.”

And then a wave came and took out the two others.

They were not prepared. And it was hilarious. I know, I know we’re bad parents for laughing at our children. But you would have laughed too. It was that funny.

She got over it. The Boy took a little bit longer but he came around eventually.

See?

We found a huge rock covered in muscles. Much like the rest of the day, it was incredible.

I took a lot of pictures. If you couldn’t already tell.

Congratulations! You made it through.

After all the fun we had playing at the beach the kids were soaked and covered in sand. We made them strip down in the parking lot. We shielded them of course. One in our ranks had major issues, though. Which just made me pat myself on the back for all my “modesty teachings.”

We took a different route home than what we came. The drive was beautiful. Full of tall redwood trees and wineries. David and I just kept looking at each other saying, “that was a really good day.”

It really really was.

Balance

From the Christmas recital

Last night Miss Thing had her first full blown piano melt down.

Don’t get me wrong we’ve had melt downs over piano before. Plenty of them. But this one. Full on tears. Full on, “I want to quit.” Her reasoning? Something about she just wanted to try it out and see what it’s like but now it’s gotten so hard that she doesn’t want to do it anymore.

Uh. No babe.

It’s hard for me, sometimes, to find that balance of encouraging her and not forcing her to do something she doesn’t want to do. And I really don’t want her to hate it. But allowing her to quit because it’s hard isn’t an option. I surprised myself that I could stay so calm as I explained it to her. And after some alone/calm down time she accepted it.

I’m sure we have many similar battles in the future and I’m doing my best stretches to prepare for them.

Maybe some day she’ll forgive me.

Christmas 2013

Flashing back, Friday style.

For Christmas we were able to travel to my parents and spend it with them. To say I was excited was an understatement. I haven’t spent a Christmas in California since before I was married.

They waited on decorating their tree for the kids to do, since we didn’t put our tree up. the kids were thrilled.

We let them do it all on their own. I only showed them what ornaments to put on the tree and they did the rest.

This girl cracks me up, sometimes, with the dainty way she holds things.

I loved going through all the ornaments and finding ones I remember and being reminded of their stories. These were made by my grandmother for my parents for their first Christmas, after they were married. Forty years ago.

Now for just a few shots of Christmas morning.

Just a quick note about this gift my mom is opening (with help). Growing up whenever my dad did any sort of shopping for my mom he would then put the gift in mine (or my sister’s) closet and then come to us and let us know “he has a present for you to wrap.” Incidentally they were never simple shapes to wrap. They were always a challenge. This was also before I embraced the “gift bag” as the best way to wrap gifts. We always laughed about it but we also came to expect it. After traveling the 12+ hours to get to them, I hadn’t been in the door 5 minutes before my dad whispers to me, “I have a present for you to wrap…” It’s nice to know that some things never change.

Merry Christmas a few weeks ago!