We scooted into a booth for a quick Pei Wei dinner in Golden, Colorado. My children and I were hot and hungry after a day of museum-going and site seeing with grandparents. I had just finished a twelve day stint of scout-camp-induced single motherhood, and although I didn't have a husband home yet, I had the next best thing: Grammy and Papa! And, now I had a full tummy and a fortune cookie in hand. I cracked it open and laughed out loud as I read:
"The love of your life will unexpectedly appear before your eyes."
"Wouldn't that be hilarious if Chad really showed up somewhere?" I said to my parents. Even though we'd tried our best to make our summer schedule jive, it ended up that Chad had scout camp and I was heading to Utah with my parents, and we weren't going to see each other for a whole month! Like ships passing in the night, I left home on Monday and he was coming home Tuesday. "We can talk on the phone once he's back in town," I'd consoled myself. Unsuccessfully.
After our dinner, we dropped Grammy and Papa off to go to a concert and the kids and I settled in for some hotel swimming and bedtime. Then, the phone rang. Chad! I answered and said, "Are you at your base camp? Did you manage to get a cell phone connection?" His answer: "No, I'm home! Where are you?" A few directions and a speedy 60 minute ride later, Dal and Kate were running in jammies through the foyer of the Holiday Inn with Daddy's open arms in sight!
Sweet reunion!
I couldn't stop the smile or the tears. Together is where we belong.
I sent a text to my dad while he was at the concert: "Don't underestimate the power of the cookie." Fortune cookie or not, I feel 'fortune'ate to have had the "love of my life unexpectedly appear before my eyes" and know he's mine forevermore!
Post Script: The "unexpected appearances" didn't stop at the Holiday Inn. Chad also made a surprise visit to Utah for the 4th of July weekend, catching up with us at Bear Lake! What a guy!
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Monday, June 22, 2009
re-created
From the time I was 5 to t he age of 11 our family lived in a darling, cozy home in East Layton. It was a small, split level, Tudor-style house and my parents were masters at finding a use for every nook and cranny. In the basement was one unfinished room. It was a utility closet that doubled as the laundry room and Mom managed to carve out a small space to be her sewing spot. From the backyard we could look down into a basement window and see our mom working on some kind of creation as we played the summer days away.
This picture, this snapshot in time, flashed through my mind today as I escaped to my cool, unfinished basement. I’ve also got a little spot, amid the food storage and the moving boxes, for my sewing machine. And, today I had a stack of hole-in-the-knee pants that needed transforming. As I cut off pant legs and hemmed ‘new’ shorts, I thought of my mom and the circle that life is. Once I was the recipient of the make-do creations Mom came up with in her cellar-dweller spot: homemade clothes; remade hand-me-downs; home-spun doll outfit and costumes and toys.
She was much more creative than I’ll ever hope to be. But, as I presented their ‘new’ clothes to Dal and Kate, they were excited to have more short pants in their drawers: summer clothes to play in and wear out and get messy. And, I was grateful for a mom who used whatever she had to create a childhood of wonderful.
This picture, this snapshot in time, flashed through my mind today as I escaped to my cool, unfinished basement. I’ve also got a little spot, amid the food storage and the moving boxes, for my sewing machine. And, today I had a stack of hole-in-the-knee pants that needed transforming. As I cut off pant legs and hemmed ‘new’ shorts, I thought of my mom and the circle that life is. Once I was the recipient of the make-do creations Mom came up with in her cellar-dweller spot: homemade clothes; remade hand-me-downs; home-spun doll outfit and costumes and toys.
She was much more creative than I’ll ever hope to be. But, as I presented their ‘new’ clothes to Dal and Kate, they were excited to have more short pants in their drawers: summer clothes to play in and wear out and get messy. And, I was grateful for a mom who used whatever she had to create a childhood of wonderful.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
life is not a straight line
I’m admittedly a Facebook holdout. I’m not sure why, except it is my own small way to be different. Like refusing to read “Breaking Dawn.” I’m such a rebel. But, I digress…
I think the real reason I can’t sign up with Facebook is because my brain cannot manage to be connected to any more people. What a problem! I’ve been blessed, in overabundance, with amazing friends, family, acquaintances, neighbors. People I really, really like to be in touch with. Christmas-card-writing season, while quite possibly my favorite part of the holiday, is downright daunting. I love it. I really do. But, Facebook would add to the crazies.
----
Friday night, amid a plateful of goodies and surrounded by the constant (wonderful) chatter of female friends, I was filled with gratitude for people. We were gathered to say ‘goodbye’ to two friends who are moving; two women who have managed, in only one year, to wind themselves into my heart. Maybe my moving three times in three years has made me good at getting attached fast. Maybe I’ve just been extra lucky to run into great people along the way. Whatever the reason, I think saying goodbye pretty much stinks.
---
“See you the next time you pass through!” I called out as we left the restaurant. We’d just spent the afternoon and evening reconnecting with a high school friend (and her darling boys) who were in town, waylaid for the night en route back home. A friend with whom I lost contact for about a decade, but who now (thanks to blogging and the common denominator of meeting up in Utah), I cherish as one of those “forever friends” Michael McLean crooned about back in the day.
---
“Life is not a straight line.” That’s what Lloyd Newell mused on this morning’s Spoken Word. Coming and going, moving and staying, passing through. I, for one, have been blessed by the lives that have snaked through mine.
I think the real reason I can’t sign up with Facebook is because my brain cannot manage to be connected to any more people. What a problem! I’ve been blessed, in overabundance, with amazing friends, family, acquaintances, neighbors. People I really, really like to be in touch with. Christmas-card-writing season, while quite possibly my favorite part of the holiday, is downright daunting. I love it. I really do. But, Facebook would add to the crazies.
----
Friday night, amid a plateful of goodies and surrounded by the constant (wonderful) chatter of female friends, I was filled with gratitude for people. We were gathered to say ‘goodbye’ to two friends who are moving; two women who have managed, in only one year, to wind themselves into my heart. Maybe my moving three times in three years has made me good at getting attached fast. Maybe I’ve just been extra lucky to run into great people along the way. Whatever the reason, I think saying goodbye pretty much stinks.
---
“See you the next time you pass through!” I called out as we left the restaurant. We’d just spent the afternoon and evening reconnecting with a high school friend (and her darling boys) who were in town, waylaid for the night en route back home. A friend with whom I lost contact for about a decade, but who now (thanks to blogging and the common denominator of meeting up in Utah), I cherish as one of those “forever friends” Michael McLean crooned about back in the day.
---
“Life is not a straight line.” That’s what Lloyd Newell mused on this morning’s Spoken Word. Coming and going, moving and staying, passing through. I, for one, have been blessed by the lives that have snaked through mine.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
brotherhood
I knew he’d be a great big brother from the moment I looked my very clingy 20-month-old in the eyes and said, “Mommy has to go to the hospital now so your baby sister can be born. Be a big boy and stay here with Grammy. You can come see me soon, okay?” Instead of tears and a death-grip around my neck, as was expected, he toddled over to Grandma’s waiting lap, waved good-bye, and somehow his young self knew he was stepping into, stepping UP to, a new role: Big Brother.
He has always been watchful of Sister; always aware of her needs and ready with a binky or a toy or a fun game to make her smile. When he was almost 3 (or maybe newly 3; I forget), I was loading the kids into the car after a trip to the library. As Dallin climbed into his carseat he noticed a wayward fruit snack, fallen from the bag he’d eaten earlier on our drive. This coveted treat was a surprise and the look in his eyes told me of his glee at this fortunate discovery. Instead of instantly popping it into his mouth he started twisting and pulling it with his little fingers. He was breaking it in half so Kate could have some, too.
Today was the last day of Kindergarten. As he packed his bag for school he carefully counted up his ‘blue tickets’: earned for good behavior and, today, to be used to ‘buy’ treats and toys from his teacher. When he came home bearing two new hair clips for Kate, I wasn’t surprised. His teacher told me he had carefully picked out something for her before he chose the treats and prizes for himself.
Dallin is the kind of big brother I always wanted; he’s the kind of older sibling I should have been (sorry K, P and J). He got this generous and loving gene from his dad, and I’m trying, every day, to be more like my boy.
He has always been watchful of Sister; always aware of her needs and ready with a binky or a toy or a fun game to make her smile. When he was almost 3 (or maybe newly 3; I forget), I was loading the kids into the car after a trip to the library. As Dallin climbed into his carseat he noticed a wayward fruit snack, fallen from the bag he’d eaten earlier on our drive. This coveted treat was a surprise and the look in his eyes told me of his glee at this fortunate discovery. Instead of instantly popping it into his mouth he started twisting and pulling it with his little fingers. He was breaking it in half so Kate could have some, too.
Today was the last day of Kindergarten. As he packed his bag for school he carefully counted up his ‘blue tickets’: earned for good behavior and, today, to be used to ‘buy’ treats and toys from his teacher. When he came home bearing two new hair clips for Kate, I wasn’t surprised. His teacher told me he had carefully picked out something for her before he chose the treats and prizes for himself.
Dallin is the kind of big brother I always wanted; he’s the kind of older sibling I should have been (sorry K, P and J). He got this generous and loving gene from his dad, and I’m trying, every day, to be more like my boy.
Friday, May 22, 2009
Saturday, May 16, 2009
The Dog Days
We have a bit of magic that resides at our house. It is the magic of transformation. The 4-year-old who lives here is sometimes a girl, but on occasion she can 'magically' transform into a puppy. The changing is simple and reminiscent of Wonder Woman: she does a little spin and [voila!] she becomes a puppy. Nothing you say or do can get English words out of our puppy. She does, however, communicate in a very Blues-Clues-like 'wroo roo roo.' If words are absolutely necessary, Puppy will do the Wonder Woman spin and change back into Girl. But only for a moment, then she spins again, falls on all fours, and gallumps along in her canine way.
The up side to all this schizophrenia is that Puppy is very obedient. I can get her to do almost anything, as long as I preface the request with the pronoun 'Puppy.'
"Puppy, stand up."
"Puppy, make the bed."
"Puppy, fetch the remote control."
"Puppy, change back into Kate."
;)
Oh, the joys of pet ownership!
The up side to all this schizophrenia is that Puppy is very obedient. I can get her to do almost anything, as long as I preface the request with the pronoun 'Puppy.'
"Puppy, stand up."
"Puppy, make the bed."
"Puppy, fetch the remote control."
"Puppy, change back into Kate."
;)
Oh, the joys of pet ownership!
Friday, May 15, 2009
Watch out VH1...
My sister turned me on to the crazy fact that the Mormon Tabernacle Choir makes music videos. Who knew? They have several out there, but if you'd like to see my beautiful and talented choir-member mom, this one has a good shot of her. She is in the first clip of the choir, the farthest one on the right whose entire face is showing.
Go Mom!
Go Mom!
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