What is it?

There are seven wrapped gifts sitting under our Christmas tree already--one for each of us.  Olivia looks at them frequently.  Today she asked me what is inside her present.  I told her it's a surprise.  She asked, "Is the surprise stuff?"  I nodded my head yes.  She replied, "Oh, cuz I thought it was things."

MesmerEYES'd

Seven years ago this chubby, bright-eyed baby entered the world

and proceeded to take it all in.

She sees the world as her oyster.  Not such a bad view.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SWEET AND SASSY HANNAH!

Grandma

I lucked out in the grandparent department!  I got the best! 

It is bizarre to comprehend that none of my grandparents are still living.  Grandma James was the last to go, the day before Thanksgiving, and althought I'm actually relieved for her (no more loneliness and dementia), I'm feeling nostalgic and grieving the loss of my childhood.

Grandma's house was not large, and yet, there was always room for everyone to be comfortable there.  It was a reflection of her devotion to her family.  There were pictures of her children, grandchildren, sisters and brothers, and in-laws hanging in almost every room of the main floor.  In her bedroom, small frames and collages.  In the family room, a large framed family photo.  In the kitchen, an entire wall-size bulletin board hung with pictures of each and every one of her children and grandchildren, updated regularly.

Every bit of storage space was dedicated to those she loved.  In the small kitchen cupboard/pantry, there was Jell-o, Junket, and always a box of Twix--which probably helped make that my favorite candy bar!  The limited counter space was ruled by sweets to share: a variety of freshly baked cookies next to the stove, and candy dishes (always full) under the china cupboard.  The back door closet was stocked with several kinds of soda pop.  The hall closet hosted the "sugar cereals".  Her fridge held goodies like Knox Blocks and squeaky cheese, and the freezer was packed full of cake rolls and popsicles.

Grandma's kitchen was her canvas.  Everything she created there was superb.  Her cookies were renowned, her donuts (made especially at Halloween) were heavenly, and her meals were comforting to the soul.  Even when I follow her recipes, I can't seem to capture the magical perfection of Grandma's cooking or baking.  I remember a time she stayed with us in California while Mom & Dad were traveling.  One rainy winter Saturday, Grandpa took us kids out to play, and when we returned, Grandma had lunch ready: grilled tuna sandwiches and hot chocolate.  That lunch filled me with warmth and contentment.  Sunday mornings, waking up at Grandma's house, my senses were overloaded: Music and the Spoken Word on Grandma's kitchen t.v.; pies already cooling on the counter; and bacon, sausage, eggs, and pancakes being served up on the table.  Sundays were good days at Grandma's house.

Across the hall from the kitchen was another closet, with a hanging lightbulb and pull chain, where Grandma kept her purse, and more candy and stamps, always at the ready to send a care package.  The hallway cupboard was stacked with coloring books and crayons for the grandkids.  Even her bathroom cupboard wasn't off limits.  As a girl I loved to explore that cupboard for nail polish and perfumes that she always allowed me to use.  In her small bedroom, where the double bed stretched nearly wall-to-wall, Grandma dedicated her bottom dresser drawer to a collection of Avon trinkets and other gifts, ready to give.

The thrill of Christmas started early in our house, as soon as the JC Penney Christmas catalog arrived in the mailbox.  Every year, Grandma would give each grandchild a $25 allowance, and we could pick anything out of that catalog, and Grandma would order it for us, wrap it, and send it along with a package of sweets. 

Every major holiday was heralded by a brown UPS package from Grandma.  Easter, Halloween, and even St. Patrick's Day prompted a package from Grandma, filled with homemade, brightly frosted sugar cookies, and packed with popcorn.  Anybody's birthday was everybody's birthday.  A birthday package included a gift for everyone.  As a young girl, I would get a small toy for my brother and sisters' birthdays, or, as I grew up, I came to expect a package of Mambas, wrapped in a $2.00 bill, wrapped in white tissue paper, and finished off with my name typed on a white sticker label.

Grandma didn't write much by hand.  She had a typewriter in the spare bedroom, and she used it often.   The sound of hammering metal typewriter keys will always remind me of Grandma (not that anyone hears that sound anymore).

 Grandma's basement was a wonderful toyland:  Dress-ups, dolls, tea sets, board games, musical instruments, books and Mad magazines, even a first generation Nintendo!  Also in the basement was an extra fridge and shelves full of preserved foods, plus stacks of Tupperware, ready to send home cookies and left-overs after family gatherings.

I can't think of anything Grandma owned that she wasn't willing and ready to relinquish to her children and grandchildren.

In fact, I got so accustomed to the idea that everything in grandma's house (and especially her basement) was for the use and pleasure of myself, that I got myself into a bit of mishcief one time.  When I was a teenager, I had two of my close friends visit me at Grandm'ahouse one summer when we all happened to be in Utah at the same time.  Looking to entertain ourselves in the basement toy room, we found some clothes zipped up in a portable closet.  Being silly, we decided to dress up and take pictures of ourselves acting goofy in the backyard.  Grandma must have seen us through the kitchen window--wearing her winter dresses, which she had stored for the season in the basement.  When we came back in the house, we realized our mistake by the look on her face (and quickly returned the dresses to their hangers), but Grandma held her tongue.  She didn't chastise, and she didn't hold a grudge.  There was no passive-agressive retribution.  In Grandma's eyes, we could almost do no wrong.

When I started my first year at BYU, I was so thrilled to be living close enough to make it to Sunday dinners and special occasions at Grandma's house.   I never left those events empty handed.  Grandma usually sent me off with a container of cookies.  And once or twice, I came home from classes to find a container of Grandma's cookies on the doorstep of my apartment.  (At first, I couldn't solve the mystery of how Grandma got those cookies to my doorstep.  But I believe that happened when her brother, Merlin, visited her.  He lived in Orem at the time, so when he headed home from a visit, she would ask him to deliver cookies from her to me, "next door" in Provo.)

After I married Doug, Grandma often sent us (him) home with her banana chocolate chip cookies.  He had mentioned to her once how fond he was of that variety, and she never forgot his compliment.

Growing up two states away from my grandparents felt like a true disadvantage.  I always wished to live closer and have them more available all the time.  After being away from Utah for several months at a time, I can recall closing my eyes and trying hard to remember the exact color of my Grandma's hair, and the sound of her voice, the feel of her skin.  Now I find myself far away from her again.  In the last two weeks of her life, knowing that she was leaving soon, I treasured the moments I was able to spend with her. 

The day before Grandma passed, I spent the afternoon with her, while Mom took Aunt Janice out for her birthday lunch.  While Olivia watched a movie in the other room, I lay down on the bed next to my sleeping Grandma, held her hand, and just stared at her, knowing that soon I would struggle to remember exactly what she looked like in person, taking in her soft cheeks and her soft white hair and the soft skin of her hands.  When Grandma opened her eyes, turned her head towards me, and smiled, she actually glowed.  I hope to never forget that scene.

It's hard to accept that my childhood is really over.  But somehow, this week, I seem to have heard that door click softly closed.  Even with five children of my own, I still refused to believe that I was really grown up.  Grandma's passing puts time and life into perspective.  

Moving forward, I hope to create for my children the type of family life that Grandma exemplified.  What greater gift could I give them?

June 12, 2016
One more story I must record.
When Grandpa passed away, Grandma never really acknowledged his passing--whether that was conscious denial or dementia, I can't say for sure.  One summer evening, maybe a year or two after Grandpa's death, I felt drawn to Grandma's assisted living apartment for a visit.  I left my children and Doug at home, and made the drive to Bountiful, stopping to buy a boquet of flowers.  The summer evening was still warm and sunny when I arrived, but it was close to 8:00, and when I entered Grandma's apartment, I found that she had already been tucked into bed for the night.  Grandma's hearing aids were off, and she hadn't heard me come in.  I watched her sleeping for a minute, and I didn't want to wake her, so I quietly found a vase and sat on the floor in her main room, arranging the flowers and leaving a note.  While I was at this task, I heard Grandma's sleepy voice call from the bedroom:
"Dad?  Is that you?"  {"Dad" is what she called Grandpa, her husband.}  I didn't answer, assuming she was talking in her sleep.  She continued: "Make sure you get you something to eat..." and then she drifted back to sleep.  It brought me to tears.  Dementia made Grandma's waking words and behaviors sometimes unpredictable and unlike herself during the last several years of her life, but in that moment, it was obvious that the Grandma I had always known was still alive, even if sometimes hidden.  Still worrying about her loved ones, and wanting to take care of them.  Such a precious memory for me!

Oh Christmas Tree

Months after Doug and I were married, I bought our first Christmas tree, on clearance the day after Christmas.  Artificial, of course, which is what I grew up with and was used to.  Several years later, when that tree was ready to be retired, and we had young children, we bought our first live Christmas tree.  It must not have been very exciting for me, because after that Christmas, we bought another artificial one.  This time, it was pre-lit!  What a great idea! 

But last year, only half our tree lit up, and so Fake Tree #2 was also retired. 

This year, Doug tells me that I promised we could try another live tree.  I don't really remember that conversation or that agreement, but I don't have a very strong preference at this point, so a live it is.

Traditionally, we decorate our Christmas Tree the weekend after Thanksgiving.  So this morning, it was time to find our tree.

I had just come home from a quick early morning Black Friday shopping trip, where I had purchased new boots for half the girls.  (I know most people are doing Christmas shopping on Black Friday, but some of us really needed some new footwear today, so I just couldn't wait.)

As it turns out, going to a Christmas Tree farm in new shoes is not such a good idea.  Lesson learned.

Obviously, Doug has done this before.  Only he was properly attired!

But despite the mud, we discovered the joy of picking out our very own, perfect Christmas tree!

It was lovely at the farm, but I'm loving it even more in my living room.  It fits perfectly, smells good, and just looks....well, real!

I can't wait to see it at night...

Dressing Up

 Lauren and Doug had a Daddy-Daughter costume party to attend.  They went as a Prisoner/Warden duo.  I think they had fun with those roles!

 Olivia the mermaid (this wig on her cracks me up!):

 Hannah the vampire:

Lulu the hippie:

True personalities come shining through the disguises:

We already have more than one large bin of Halloween costumes from past years, but every Halloween it seems we can't escape a few new purchases.  Dressing up is just too much fun!


P.S.

Katelyn and Emily did not Trick-or-Treat this year, but they did dress up for school on Halloween:

Counting By Fives...

...Katelyn would only be three.

But she's really truly fifteen years old today, and she never hardly ever acts like a three-year-old anymore!  Sometimes it's hard to remember her as a little girl, it seems like so long ago; and yet, it's too easy to remember myself as a fifteen-year-old!  Go figure.

I love this teenage version of my sweet, adorable firstborn baby!  I'm so proud of her grace, her wit, her tender heart, her brains, her grateful attitude, her obedient nature, her lovely voice, her sense of self, and.... her dance moves!

Kate and I love to follow the t.v. show "So You Think You Can Dance."  When I realized that the Top Ten from the 2011 cast was performing in Salt Lake City two days before Katelyn's birthday, I started scheming about how to get us both there.   It was the perfect gift for her, and me!   At the last minute, I was able to secure some sweet second-row seats, and surprise Katelyn with 24 hours notice! 

We were both giddy with anticipation.

The show did not disappoint.

I could say the same about Katelyn herself.  I was giddy with anticipation fifteen years ago, to be expecting a baby girl.  I doodled her name, and oogled at pink, ruffly things, and imagined what a beauty she would be, in every way.

And, truth be told, she has probably exceeded my expectations.  She is a rare gem.

Happy Birthday Katelyn!

Fall Festivities

• Cruising through the canyon to see the colors close-up:

 

As we walked around the boardwalks at Cascade Springs, Doug said, "We should do things like this more often. It's fun; the house is not getting messy right now; and everyone is getting along." Less than an hour later, as we came out of the canyon, Doug was pulled over to the side of the road threatening Emily to get out of the car and walk home. But it was fun while it lasted.

• Flags spinning on the football field. Katelyn is spending hours nearly every day practicing with the Color Guard. Last week they performed for friends and family. It's pretty impressive, if I do say so myself.

Just think how dull a marching band might be...

without flags, rifles and sabers!

• Picking peaches.

Our second tree gave us a late crop of big beautiful fruit. These peaches are delicious to eat, but there's no way we can eat them all before they start to get mushy, and I really don't feel like bottling them. My freezer is already stuffed full of jam and frozen fruit from the last crop. So it's time to do some "gifting"!

Hoarder

Today I cleaned Hannah's room, and under her bed I found:

a shoe box full of tan colored rocks (from some neighbor's landscape?)
6 C batteries (3 Duracell, 3 Energizer), next to a battery cover to who-knows-what
a purse with a broken strap
two mismatched shoes (one of Lauren's, one of Olivia's)
3 doll shoes
a scarf
lots of school papers
lots of books
a golf tee
an empty DVD case
and.... an empty donut box

Scene 13

Emily is now a teenager.  To celebrate, she had a movie-themed party.

When each guest arrived, they were given a paper with their own lines to read, and we took them in front of the camera one at a time.  I think they were all confused, and many of them were kind of embarassed!  But it all paid off in the end.  While they ate pizza, ice cream and cake (which I decorated and was really proud of!) and played games, Doug and I rushed together a rough editing process, and to cap off the party, the girls all watched the movie they had participated in making.  (This idea started brewing after our Larson Family Film Festival back in May.  Thanks to Uncle Bruce for the inspiration and the script!)

Apparently there are only a few things that you gift a 13-year-old girl at her birthday party, and they are called: candy, bags/purses, and make-up.  Well, she did get a CD and a book, but she got two cute bags and enough sugary treats to fill them up!

As parents, gift-giving gets both harder and easier as the kids get older.  Harder, because a) they already have pretty much everything you want them to own, and b) everything they ask for is too expensive or otherwise not what you want to get them (like an iPad, for example).  Easier, though, because you'll most likely end up blowing the birthday budget on one big gift (a bike for Emily, for example), or the old standby of clothes or giftcards/money--of which they can never have enough!

Emily's 13 years have gone by, it seems, like a movie in fast-forward.  We took the family to breakfast on her birthday morning, and around the table we shared some of our favorite memories of the birthday girl: things she said in her cute tiny girl voice, and I think that was just the other day!

But I am so excited about Emily's real-life screenplay.  It is exciting, often tender, sometimes aggravating, but always resolving in great ways.  She is a beautiful character!

Dare I say these words?....  Two teenagers in the house feels....pretty darn good!  But then, I've always thrived on a challenge!

Three Little Words

End. Of. Summer.

I don't like those three words one bit!

So instead of telling you about how adorable my girls looked on the first day of the new school year,

I'd rather tell you about the really, really, really fun day we spent on the lake.  Ironically, the first week back to school was also the hottest week of the summer! 

We spent most of our Saturday soaking in that summer sun, gripping the season almost as anxiously as we gripped the handles of the "tube" (or whatever you call it):

That one kind of hurt.

Oh yes, we did a little bit of skiing and knee boarding, too.

I think we might all be feeling the effects of this day in a mildly unpleasant way tomorrow, but sunburns and sore muscles are a meagar price to pay for a day such as this.   It was glorious!

When it comes to my mental battle against the changing seasons, I'm not ready to surrender.