Show Your Face

I hate getting Christmas cards with pictures of just the kids.

I want to see the aging process in all it's glory. Added wrinkles, shiny heads, protruding tummies.

Give me the chance to comment and criticize, or every once in a while exclaim "damn they look good". (rare these days)

Parents show your face.

By the way, here is our card this year.

Not Until

We each have our own "things" that help usher in the Christmas Season. I have three, and without them it just isn't Christmas.

Cinnamon Rolls: Mindy made the first batch last night and as the smell wafted upstairs we all took in deep breaths and exclaimed. Classic to see a 1 year old copy this behavior.

Real Christmas Trees: Mindy has been asking for a fake tree for 14 years but so far I have won this battle. The smell, the sap, the needles everywhere - it's all part of it. I especially like that I only have to unload the tree and then watch football while Mindy strings hundreds of lights.

Watching Scrooge: I could almost give up everything else if I just get to watch my movie. The 1970 musical version with Albert Finney. Every year I envision the perfect setting for watching this movie. The fire going, a cup of hot Pero in hand, the family quietly lounging around. My ideal setting hasn't happened in a while, but every year I look forward to it hoping it will be the perfect experience. This year I am watching it Sunday afternoon.
Heaven help any Kid, Wife or Hometeacher who interrupts my movie and screws with me getting into the Christmas Spirit.

The Other Man

When I was a senior in High School I visited BYU while on a trip with my cousin who is my same age.

During the visit my cousin and I were wandering around the Freshman dorms when we were approached by two beautiful college girls who asked us for some help. These girls had the hood of their car up and were attempting to change the oil, but didn't know how. A potential "moment" for some high school kids. Changing the oil was the first step to a glorious night.

We sauntered over to the car and I took the lead and began looking around under the hood for something, anything that said oil. It couldn't be that hard I thought, although I had never in my life even looked under the hood of a car.

A few minutes later I walked away from those beautiful college girls thoroughly humiliated. I couldn't find the oil, not even the dip stick. Clueless, helpless.

This was the first of many embarassing and hapless attempts at being Handy. Blowing the circuity of an entire apartment complex, hitting myself in the head with a hammer. I could go on.

Which brings me to Bill. I often come home in the evening or on the weekend to find a man in my house doing odd jobs. Bill. Putting up child proof locks, replacing the garbage disposal, fixing the faucet. Many times I'm not even aware something was broken or needed to be done. Mindy doesn't even bother telling me anymore. She just calls Bill.

So I just nonchalantly say hi to Bill, grateful for the extra time I have to Blog.

Day Four - The Big Aha

With Mindy coming home tomorrow I thought I would reflect on what I had learned.

My Epiphany turns out to be something I had known once before but had forgotten. It takes being alone with the younger kids for several days. It's a powerful lesson because it makes me appreciate my wife more than ever. I am in awe at her sacrifice and selflessness and her time management.

So...My insight, my takeaway, the revelation: You just can't grab reading material and disappear for 1/2 an hour when you are alone with the kids.

Day Three - The Response

I had one of those days where everything went wrong, mostly regarding Christmas related activities. As each catastrophe stuck I thought well here is my blog topic for the day.

But in order to fix the many issues of the day I was out and about with the boys and of course ran into a few people I knew. They would ask where Mindy was and I would tell them. It was then that I got the response. And it was the same response whether a woman or a man: "I bet you can't wait until she gets home".

The first couple of times I got the response I chuckled of course and gave them a hearty "yeah it's rough...". But after three or four times.....

Does every Dad dread being stuck with their kids that bad? Or do we all just say that, you know, because that's what you say to a guy stuck with kids.

I am much nicer to my kids when I am alone with them, when they have no Ying to my Yang. It may also be because I notice what happened in their day. I could tell you everything Garrett did today, everything he said, what he ate and every time he went to the bathroom. There's not many days I can do that. It gives you better context for the tantrums and difficult moments.

So for a couple more days I will enjoy the simple things, like being there for every bowel movement.

Oh, I went to the Ward Christmas party tonight but I had to rush out into the hall during the nativity scene. Ryan was screaming at me "Mom, Mom, Mom!!".

Day Two - Stop Calling Me Mom

For weeks Ryan has been continuously yelling "Mom". Anytime he wants something eat, or has something to show her or just if Mindy wasn't looking at him he yelled "Mom" .

And I am honestly using the word yell, not just trying to be slightly dramatic. At all of 19 months he can belt out a raspy, guttural yell. Not a squeaky high-pitched scream. It really is like a little man yelling at you.

Mindy has been quite tramatized by this continual verbal assualt. But I have found it quite comical to arrive home from a quiet day at work and find a frazzled wife being chased around the house by a yelling toddler. And the only way to quiet him is to try and figure out what he wants and give it to him. For the few brief hours I was around it each day I chuckled.

Well today I stayed home from work to watch the boys. All day long I was yelled at. At first I laughed. Then I decided to try and "change" the behavior by ignoring him.

Now I just want to yell "Damn it stop calling me Mom"!

Day One - Survival

A good test of any man is when his wife leaves town. Will he wallow in squalor, eat like a college student and numb his senses with endless hours of TV?

What if the wife leaves a few kids behind?

Mindy left for New York on Wednesday taking Paige and Kate with her. They have big plans: Mary Poppins, Radio City Music Hall Christmas Spectacular, Ice Skating, American Doll Christmas show, The Empire State Building and the Statue of Liberty. This is kinda an annual trek for her to New York.

So I get to hold down the fort with the boys, age 3 and 1.

One hour before Mindy boarded the plane Wednesday evening the 1 year old breaks out in a fever. A little Advil for him and off she goes, I am sure with a little smirk. Now Eldon gets a real test, not just TV and pizza with the boys.

Sure to form Ryan was up several times last night with a fever. He kicked and tossed with me from 3am to 4am. Then the drugs kicked in.

I took him to the doc this morning and of course nothing seemed to be the matter. So the babysitter came over and off to work.

Just four more days to go. I'm thinking Taco Bell and The Office tonight.

Sweet Bowling Skills

During our family reunion this Thanksgiving we had a bowling expedition. The event was rather typical until my Nephew started trash talking about his skills as a bowler.

Now I had just bowled a 105 game, which is about on par for me. (105 is really bad) But I couldn't not respond to the trash talk. You see this little nephew owns his own bowling ball, so I threw down a challenge. Anybody who owns their own ball must be humiliated.

It was me, trash talker and his brother. The comments are flying as this nephew starts the game with a strike. But I channeled some King Pin vibe, a vision of who I could have been if I had been a child of the 70s or 60s or some era long ago when people bowled.

I started popping off strikes, and the nephew started missing. Final score: Eldon: 175, Trash talker: 114, Nephew 2: 112

By this time we have a little crowd starting to gather. Trash Talker starts taunting me for another game. No way I could ever bowl another game like that, it was just pure luck. Even though I knew he was right it was game on!!

What ensued was not bowling, but trash talking with a couple of pins falling here and there. As we get to the last frames it's a tight game, with both of us just hoping to break 100. The bowling league players a few lanes down couldn't understand all the cheering and excitement about such a pitiful display.

So the game comes down to one last bowl. My last bowl. The crowd has gathered, the banter is at full pitch. I have one single pin standing in the middle of the lane. If I knock it down, I win. Miss it and I lose.


Now look at Trash Talking nephew, the one in the middle. You tell me who knocked over that pin.

YES!!

Validation. I'm bad, uh huh

Just wish I hadn't dropped the winning pass in the Turkey Bowl the day before.

Mid-life crisis

According to conventional wisdom I am about due for a crisis. A time to question the path I am on, to make a radical change, to re-invent myself.

I have been pondering on this subject as today approached, Monday, Nov. 20th. My 38th Birthday.

I had that oppressive feeling of being trapped, I just had to figure out what was causing it.

Then it came to me.

No matter what, I was going to get Angel Food Cake for my birthday. No one even asks me anymore if that is what I want. Am I trapped inside of this tradition, this expectation of family that Angel Food is my cake?

For the life of me I can't remember how the tradition started (Mom feel free to add a comment). I know I wasn't a big sweet tooth, at least until I got married, but how did we settle on Angel Food as the alternative to Chocolate Cake or Yellow Cake?

A quick survey of co-workers and others finds that most people do know what Angel Food cake is, but ask them the last time they ate any and you get blank stares? And ask if anybody has the special pans to cook Angel Food and...well you can guess.

So there I sat wondering if maybe it was time for a change. A chance to break free? Maybe Carrot Cake could take away the grey in my hair. Or could Spice cake really, you know, spice things up??

But alas I held true, fighting off the wicked fantasies of an almost middle-aged man.

And really, is there anything more sexy than a committed man?

Back in the Saddle

Thursday I woke up at 4am (7am Eastern) on the beach in Melborne, FL.



It has been a while since I have been on a plane for work or any other reason.

Observations:

1. People in the airport are generally ugly, fat and dress like white trash. But read People, Glamor and SI and watch the beautiful people on TV. Why the disconnect? I vow to never travel again in a t-shirt with any words on it, pants that are either too big or too small, and any flesh exposed.

2. If people are putting "enclosures" around their backyards and pools don't believe any statement like "the weather is great here", or "there are lots of things to do outdoors".

3. Weird to see the sun rise over the ocean

4. Thank goodness for Diet Coke at 4am in the morning

Booty

A couple of weeks ago when we started correcting Garrett's potty talk he discovered a new word that didn't elicit the same response from us. At the moment we were focused on

"poop" and "pee"

so when he started saying

"booty"

we just let it pass with no reaction. You know all that expert dribble you read about "ignore the behavior and it will go away"


At his first utterance of that evil word I should have screamed, one of those good scary screams where you kinda foam and spit all over someone,
"DON'T YOU EVER SAY THAT WORD AGAIN".

The trick would have been keeping a straight face afterward so that he stayed scared. True fear, the kinda fear you can instill in your kids that freaks your wife out.
(A couple of good scares wont kill him)

If I had done that I probably wouldn't start my days now at 6am opening my eyes to see Garrett standing at my bedside with that little mischievous grin of his. Once he sees that I am awake and looking at him he gives me a quick "booty, booty". Not "hello", or "I'm Hungry", or some other random 3 yr old grunt or exclamation. Just the dreaded word. And what do I do? I drone on in my head "Ignore the behavior, blah blah blah".

If only the booty call ended in the early morning at my bedside. But that is just the warm up to a day filled saying "the word" over and over to any number of random questions or situations.

Garrett what do you want for breakfast? Booty

Garrett lets go get in the car? Booty, booty

What does Garrett say while walking to school with the girls? Booty, booty, booty, booty

What about the the checkout lady at the grocery store? Booty

When the nice old lady at church says hi to the him? Booty

I actually heard a kid at a soccer game say to his friend after watching Garrett run up and down the sidelines saying booty, "that's the booty kid I was telling you about. I heard him yesterday at school"

The challenge is that booty is one of those words on the edge. Your not sure if you should be offended or not. Is it the pirate booty or is it the booty booty. When I get the "did you hear what your kid just said" looks from parents or folks at church or from tweens I just repeat again and again in my head "Ignore the behavior blah, blah, blah, pick your battles blah, blah blah"

But then I start thinking about those electric shock dog collars that electrocute the dogs when they bark. Can you program them?

Blood and other Halloween stuff

Even though they told me they were going to cut me I didn't believe them. I naively kept that thought until I watched all the bloody gauze piling up on the floor. But what put me over the edge was having all the doctors hovering over me arguing about the music that was playing. They needed better music to work to.

Great.

Some pathologist, hopefully not outsourced to a third world country, made derogatory comments about one of my moles. So there I lay. Getting a couple of divots scooped out of my back. Kinda like making watermelon balls with one of those cute Pampered Chef tools.

Some cauterizing of arteries and 20+ stitches later I walked out of there. Slightly traumatized that they weren't kidding about cutting me, and a little annoyed I didn't get a prescription for Percocet or Vicodin. So given my pre-disclosed nature for self-pity when faced with near death situations, I went home and stole some Percocet from Mindy's stash of "having a baby drugs".

The pharmaceuticals had long worn off before the morning of Sunday, October 29 but I still achieved a rare feat of arriving early and late for the same meeting!! The insult is that I had setup the meeting! I made all the calls on Saturday making sure everyone would be there at 7:30am. So imagine my surprise when no one showed up! It took me a couple of minutes to figure out that I was the only one who hadn't changed my clock. So that was arriving early.

Of course I came home and sulked around for missing out on my sleep, and didn't watch the time and got back late for my meeting. (Maybe Mindy should start counting her pills)

But I digress I have more blood to share.

Ryan also decided to bleed around this bloody holiday. But he wanted a larger crowd around to share in the fun. So at church on Sunday he picked out the perfect cinder block corner, right in front of the Bishops office, and waited until Mindy and I and just about everyone else at Church were standing close by. Then he gracefully launched himself into the corner head first opening up a nice little gusher.

I had to laugh a couple of seconds later as I laid Ryan on the desk of the Church office. We were both a bloody mess and the Bishop, who is a plastic surgeon, is taking a look at the damage. Where is the camera for those kind of shots.

Bleeding in front of a crowd does have its advantages. Ryan was fawned over by everyone. In minutes we has happy again and enjoying the attention.

Maybe if I had shared a video of my bloody gauze pile I wouldn't have resorted to chemical sympathy by sneaking drugs from my wife. (who didn't even use them after having a baby!!)

The power of Max and Ruby

Garrett had figured out that if he was naked he wouldn't have to get into the water at swimming lessons.

b

He became very adept at exposing himself at home, before lessons, in the car on the way and yes at swim lessons in front of his teacher.

b

That is until we unleashed the Power of Max and Ruby. Garrett loves this show, but now he can't watch it unless he keeps his pants on and has a great swim lesson.

b

Garrett's obsession with this show is so thorough that he has even begun speaking like Max, in one word comments. Instead of "I am Hungry" it is now "Hungry" etc. Watch a couple of episodes and you will understand.

b

So recently on Tuesday afternoons, Garrett has been keeping his pants on and actually enjoying his lesson. And when he gets home he gets to stare blankly at the TV and with a half-smile enjoy Max and Ruby.

b

Per my recent TV theme.

What if Mindy used the same logic on me?

b

"As soon as you get the printer hooked up you can watch Lost"

b

"No football until the Garage is cleaned out"

b

Little Boys don't change they just get bigger.

Desperate Housewives

Me: Paige time for bed, now!

Paige: Why what are you going to do, watch TV?

Me: Maybe

Paige: What are you going to watch?

Desperate Housewives?
(Paige noticed the name from the list of shows on the Tivo)

Me: Maybe

Paige: What is Desperate Housewives about?

Me: Four ladies and their lives

Paige: What do they do?

Me: Time for bed, now!!

A good test. Explain to your 9 year old the TV shows you watch and why you waste an hour watching them. Somehow the antics of Wisteria Lane are losing some of their luster. I am going to be sitting there thinking about how I would describe what is happening to Paige.

Man I hope she doesn’t start asking questions about Lost.

Obligatory

What can I say. We have kids so we go. We buy overpriced pumpkins, that will likely rot before Halloween, so we can take a few pictures.

I feel so cheap, so used.

Then we go to the grocery store and buy, for 1/3 the price, the rest of the pumpkins needed. Because our family has officially entered into the waste land of

"I want my own pumpkin".

This even applies to 1yr old Ryan. If he doesn't have his own, he will terrorize the rest of the kids, which of course does not help me exhibit all my good virtues such as speaking calmly and not threatening to take away every conceivable thing that is good from any child who annoys.

So Ryan gets his own pumpkin and I hold onto my good virtues for another 5 minutes.

Allrighty Then

I made it through the Birthday and did ok, I think.

The magic was replacing these

With these

I actually put them on and cleaned up, vs. just buying them and letting them sit around for 3 months until Mindy does it which is what I usually do and that is what made the difference.

The Politics of Birthdays

The pressure of a wife’s birthday!

Is it going to be as good as last year?

Or it HAS to be better than last year. Either way it’s anxiety!

Add to it some of my complications.

1. Mindy downloads all credit card transactions almost daily.
So if I buy anything in advance I get the “What did you buy at Nordstroms?” question. So then I wait until the last minute which, as you know, usually turns out bad.

2. I can’t spend too much or I get in trouble.
Mindy is too practical. Money spent on an extravagant gift is HER money that could have gone towards the mortgage or college education or….So it is all the more important that the gift be thoughtful.

3. The haunting of “The Worst Birthday Present Ever”.
See if you don’t agree how royally I screwed this birthday up and why I have recurring nightmares to this day. As newlyweds, in those “passionate” first months, I somehow waited until the last minute to get a birthday present and in a desperate attempt to do something, anything, I went to an ATM, withdrew some cash, stuck it in a brown paper bag, without a card mind you, and then in front of family handed it to her and said “hey you can go shopping”?

Can you ever make up for that?

It is even more graphic typing it out in words than just thinking about it. Ouch.

So here I sit. Wondering if my “gift card” is really going to do the trick.

Good Times

20 years ago Mindy and I took a great 80's picture in the living room of her parents house before a “friend date”.

A friend date is where the guy spends a ton of money and get’s no loving. A huge hint to most girls that the guy is hopelessly in love, but I digress.

So this was 20 years ago…

And this was last Friday night.

We look a little Wiser, but not bad for 20 years later.

So off we went to the reunion.

And….way better than we expected.

At the 10 year we were all checking each other out. At the 20 we were just happy to see each other. It was such a different vibe.

(of course it was everyone else who had mellowed out, we have always been grounded)

We left thinking everyone was much nicer than we remembered and looked much better than we expected. Of course the losers probably didn’t show, so….

Some of my old group. David Clark and Matt Brown.

And Mindy’s best friend. Lisa Macdonald

There wasn’t the nostalgia I kinda expected. No old memories came rushing back, in fact there was a lot I couldn’t remember. Especially if I was friends or not with a familiar face. Did I remember the face and name because I had teased them, actively ignored them, or because we actually hung out together? But it didn’t seem to matter, we talked anyway like old friends.

Kinda like the conclusion of the quintessential 80’s movie The Breakfast Club when the misfits all walk out together friends. Of course they figured it all out in one morning of Saturday detention and it took us 20 years.

I am happy with how life has turned out. I can tell because Saturday morning, after the reunion, I was done and ready to get back to my life today.

Like Garrett watching Chitty Chitty Bang Bang with the Cousins.

Yeah, the future is so bright I gotta wear shades.

Going Back

There is a certain amount of foreboding each time I talk with a former classmate about our upcoming

20 year High School Reunion.

You want to go, but then again you don't. It will be interesting to see who gets over the angst enough to show their face.

I think we are all asking ourselves,

"Are we happy with the way our life has turned out"?



Come on you have to ask that since at the reunion you are going to parade around in a "new outfit" and answer such judgmental questions as "What do you do for a living?" And all night long I am going to be repeating the most trite and false compliment of all -

"You look great".

When in fact nine times out of ten I am going to be thinking "Wow you gained some weight", or

"Those can't be real",

or "Dude I can't believe I am the same age. Man I hope I look better than that." Of course there will be a few times when I will really mean it.

Now when someone says that to me, of course they will be sincere.

Getting past the sizing up of each other that is going to go on, I am a little nervous because I am not the same guy I was 20 years ago. In fact I am not sure I know or could even describe who I was back then. But that is the guy most people will remember,

the only Eldon they know.



A very small example. We often go on family walks through new neighborhoods with homes under construction. Mindy loves to roam around these almost finished homes checking out the layouts and features. But I sit around nervously watching, sure that someone is going to come by and get us in trouble. Honestly I don't go in with her and look around. I sit outside and hold the baby while she runs around inside with the kids.

Even my 9 year old teases me

that I don't go in. That is not the same person who has comments such as "Dude you are the craziest person I know" written multiple times throughout his yearbook. I am not looking forward to the "remember that time you..." comments I am going to get.



I'm kinda like Eldon on Prozac now.

Or a mission, college, hot wife, graduate school, 4 kids, debt, debt and more debt had the same effect as happy pills.

Stay tuned.

Good times?

A waste of time?

or

Freaky Dude?

We leave Thursday evening for the 6 hour drive to Mesa.

The Tale of Two Sickies

That tickle in the back of the throat started about the same time for both of us. You know the tickle, the tell-tale sign that a cold is coming on. But just at this beginning moment we began very different journey's through

the First Fall Cold.


Mindy woke up early the next morning to work out. She hustled kids all day and started the laundry. I did make it to work but had to come home and "veg" before going to bed. Folding clothes was just too much in my delicate condition.

The next morning Mindy, who was just as sick as me, took my early morning slot and went to the gym. I slept in. Waking up late just in time to kinda sorta help the kids out the door for school.

This being Friday I was working from home, luckily. So I loafed around pecking out a few emails. Meanwhile Mindy has the boys out the door running who knows how many errands.

I get a call to go to lunch. Miraculously I find the energy to shower and go. But of course upon return the symptoms are as bad as ever and I have to lay down.

Saturday finds me again unshaven and in bed. As Mindy runs off with all the kids to soccer I kindly offer to watch Ryan who has just gone down for a nap. As the end of Saturday approaches I get invited to go to dinner after Priesthood session. Again I find the strength to get dressed and get out the door. Returning just as Mindy has put the last kid to bed.

As I ask Mindy a random question that evening I get no response. Softly I say "Honey what's wrong"? "Have I done something"? "I'm just sick".

37 and I still don't get it!!!!!!!!!!!!

Old Men and the Sea

Besides Camp Sleep, my term for those rough nights away from your pillow, we had a great time.

This is what Camp Sleep looks like.



We begged and borrowed surfboards and wetsuits. The wetsuits turned out to be handy because Friday was cloudy and cold. And Greg's wetsuit made made him easy to spot. We call him Aqua Man.



We managed about 5 hours of surfing on Friday. Old Men in the Sea. The arms ached, the back was tight. We barely made it to dinner. But Saturday was great. A beautiful sunny day with perfect waves. Surf Stoke.

Between the three of us we have 13 kids! Which means three women took it in the shorts hustling kids so we could hang out and tell high school stories. Thanks

Anticipation

Renting a RV this weekend to go surfing with two friends.

Dude I'm stoked!! Two days of killer waves!!

Details later.

Traditions and such

I had a great "Blought" (thought for the blog) during my parents visit, but then just before Dad left he messed it all up. Let me explain.

On Saturday after wiping the excess
BBQ Rib Juice
from our faces we pulled out a very traditional
Grahm Crackers and Ice Cream
for desert. We sat Dad at the outside table with vanilla ice cream, a knife and a box of Grahm Crackers. The kids all squealed and elbowed and fought for the first slather of ice cream on a cracker. Mindy couldn't believe that Dad made them the same way I did. Duh!! Where do you think I learned it.

So this was my "blought". My kids sitting around waiting for Dad just like I used to do. A simple thing but a wonderful memory for me. So I take a picture and think what a great post.

But.......

The next day at church I am sitting next to Dad in Elders Quorum listening, with eyes closed, to a lesson on Work for the Dead. Dad raises his hand to make a comment and
I cringe
waiting to hear what is going to be said.

Dad says he wants to share a personal experience that is relevant to the lesson. So he begins to tell about our ancestor who in about
1745
leaves a Last Will and Testament to his family, which by the way he has a copy in his pocket. What!!!
Who carries a copy of THAT around.

As he reads we all listen, eyes open this time, as this man tells his family of a dream he has had about work for the dead and if the family will stay faithful they will all have the chance to be together some day in the Kingdom of God. Remember this is years before Joseph Smith.

So this ancestor has had in effect a revelation regarding one of the most significant points of doctrine, and poignantly records it as a plea and admonition to his progeny.

What am I doing?
Blogging about Grahm Crackers and Ice Cream.

I think they call that dilution of the gene pool.

Hodad

Hodad: someone who hangs out with surfers but isn't one.

A good description of what I feel like after some Saturday morning sessions. There is still more "desert rat" in me than surfer dude.

Also the name of the best burger joint in Ocean Beach. We found out about it in and issue of BonAppetite and had to try it. The burger was great but the "scenery" was even better. A complete dive with all sorts of characters in and around the place. What we thought was a homeless guy turned out to be our waiter.

As the conversation turned to the "what is happening to this younger generation" I remembered that I am old. 4 kids and 14 years of marriage.

We went to La Jolla for Gelattos and suddenly felt more at home. But damn those are good burgers. Put this on your list of places to go when you come to visit.

Power in the Priesthood

Such is the power a good home teacher can have over their families

Opening Day

The Epitome of

"Keeping up with the Jones's"

has to be soccer. Every family is slowly deceived into believing that their kid will miss out in some way if they don't

waste

every Saturday of Fall and a few nights during the week chasing the soccer dream. Wait, what soccer dream. There is no college glory or millions in pros!! No endorsements (speaking U.S. here)!! Not even hanging out with friends when you are older and playing soccer!!

Ever heard of a pick up game of soccer??

And yet we sign up the little ones and give up our Saturdays. Driving our kids around in the souped up SUVs, taking pictures of poorly played games, giving them snacks (crap) after the game; not to mention forcing the younger siblings to oblige in "watching" the game. Of course since this is what everyone does it must be better than working as a family (yard service), cleaning the house (house cleaners) and fixing things (handy man). Somehow our kids are better for soccer.....

Yeah whatever here are the pictures..

Paige saving the goal

Kate after making a goal

The baby

A couple of years ago Paige came to us and said she wished we could all stop growing and, as a family, stay the same age forever. We laughed of course and explained that all the different stages of life were good in their own way. I am still not sure what it was about that time in Paige's life that to her was so perfect or safe or whatever that was better then any other time she knew.

I certainly didn't share her feelings at the time. I was happy to keep marching through time.

But I might be having a Paige moment now. I, not Mindy, am freaking out that Ryan is growing up and we aren't going to have a baby in the house.

I love this stage.
- climbing into my lap for a couple of minutes then off to play again
- running at me with his arms up in the air
- throwing food on the floor when full
- squealing when he finds an insect
- smiling at everyone
- being excited when I come home
- sitting on my lap to drink milk
- trying to climb on me if I do push-ups or sit-ups close to him
- bugging Garrett like Garrett used to bug the girls
- climbing up on the trampoline and jumping all by himself
- escaping out the garage and running!!
- fighting me changing his diaper
- sitting for only two pages of a book
- following all the kids around and trying to be in the middle

I wouldn't mind keeping the baby around a little longer.

Boys biological clock

Yes that's me and you can assume my trajectory continued upward over the entire wake with a perfect landing.

The tick, tock that I am hearing is the creaking of my knees, the stiffening of my back and the morning after aches and pains. How long can I act like a 20yr old??? There is something lurking deep down in the sub-concious that assures me it wont last...

But at least I hope to be active enough to "hang" with the kids for a while. The reality is that Ryan is only 1 so I have 18 years to remain active. 18 years of early morning jogs and limited ice cream, all for that fateful day when I am bonding with Ryan and tear an ACL!!!!!

Kinda, sorta, not really

It's what we call them, but they're not really; Grandma and Grandpa. Liz is now 40yrs old, 23 years since her accident.

I am still surprised at the "good" that has come from her tragedy. It hasn't been easy, but the experiences that family has had, the service they have given and received, the people that have continued to be a part of their life has changed them in immeasurable ways.



So we go on explaining the Kinda, sorta, not really grandparents and enjoying the journey.

Time Out

At 3yrs old Garrett is putting us to the test. We are up late at night reading parenting books, role playing what we are going to do when we "catch him" and wondering what the hell is in our genes that we passed on.

So after deciding we needed a special time-out room, complete with a lock (see Super Nanny) we turned it into a fun outing for the boys. Hey lets go to the store to get a lock for your time-out room! "Yeah, cool, I'm getting in the car".

Is it wrong to chuckle inside as we head to the store, "yeah just you wait little buddy"????

Mississippi Mud

Looking from my seat at Padres Game

0 = Number of games I have watched on TV
10 = Number of games attended this summer
0 = Number of tickets I have paid for

For a non-baseball fan I am doing pretty good. Somehow all my friends seem to have access to great seats through their company. The seats are always right on the field which makes all the difference. Fan or no fan when you are that close to the action you can't help but have fun.

Just before I took the above picture my friend in the seat next to me caught a foul ball.

Trivia: Did you know that game balls are rubbed with Mississippi mud before each game. Mud is shipped out in tin cans to the ball parks and some guy sits and rubs them before games?

3 Sessions

This past week we were asked to spend a day in the Temple doing Endowments as prep for Stake Conference. Multiple sessions is something I have never done before.

I loaded my pockets with candy and gum to fight the bobbing head syndrome I fully expected. Session one was tough, but then a few of us began discussing some questions/observations. Numbers 2 and 3 I paid more attention than I have in years. The best way to answer a question is to immediately turn around and go through again.

My insight: At the beginning notice the significant differences in what is said/promised to Men vs. Women

Language Acquisition - 3 yrs Old

Garrett: What's for breakfast?
Me: I don't know, how about Cereal?
Garrett: Are you kidding me??

Me: (giggling) What did you say?

Garrett: Are you kidding me??
Me: No I'm not kidding. What sounds better?
Garrett: Oatmeal!!

Mixing with the Proleteriat

Besides renewing your drivers license there are few experiences that expose you to the awful reality of everyday Americans. Jury duty is one of those experiences.

For 37 years I have side-stepped the many attempts by the government to donate my time to the courts. My skills failed me Monday when I reported at 7:45 am with 200 of my peers.

As the judge in our case began questioning the prospective jurors I was shocked to hear the many sad and sordid details that emerged about the lives of my "peers." Divorces, confirmed bachelors, childless couples, DUIs, incarcerated family members, etc. Ok maybe peers of the guy we would eventually convict. Initially I had assumed that I would have been a terribly conservitive and biased juror who would never be picked, but I can see how in comparision I looked pretty good.

The jury room deliberations played out like any generic movie involving a jury. We had the usual cast of characters. The loud bimbo, the strong silent type, the engineer, the doctor, the student, the very conservitive retired teacher, etc. We spent 3 hours on a simple case that I expected to take 10 minutes. But...I guess that might just be the point.

San Diego Cover Charge

Did I hear someone say it's
expensive to live in San Diego.
Yeah well....

To compensate we do Friday nights
cheap during the summer. We grab
some pizza and whichever neighbor is
in town and head to the beach to play
and watch the sun set.

Those few moments before the sun
goes down you really aren't thinking
about that mortage.