Icky Padidddlekins

Okay, so technically my buddy Isaac turned 7 nine days ago, but hey who's counting? His actual birthday was the day of the Draper Temple Dedication which was a busy day to say the least, so we didn't get around to having his birthday party until a week later.

He wanted an Indiana Jones theme.

Huh?

So first to the guest list. Ideally, I wanted about 7 or 8 guests since they are after all 6 and 7-year-old boys, but it got tricky. There are 12 boys his age just in our neighborhood; there are 10 in his Primary class; there are 15 in his school class. There must have been something in the water back in 2001 that resulted in a surge of testosterone around these parts. So I asked him who he wanted to invite, and he of course picked the kids in his school class. Against my better judgment, I decided to let him invite ALL the boys from school. I figured a Saturday morning party would mean that several of them would have ball games and other activities that would conflict. And I was right. Only 12 of them managed to make it to the party.

If you're ever going to host an Indiana Jones themed party, just be warned. You're not going to find anything in the stores to help you out. So this is what we did. When the guests arrived, they were put to work making their own pizzas. We had delicious toppings for them like chilled monkey brains, and sliced baby cobras. We had "Raiders of the Lost Ark" playing in the background so that as they finished their pizzas at different rates, there was something to occupy their attention until all the guests had arrived. Ah, sweet television.

After the pizzas were done and cooking in the oven, we gathered and read the letter that Indiana Jones had left along with a piece of a map leading to a treasure. The map directed them to the first game where they had to wrap two mummies (with toilet paper) in order to discover the next piece of the map.

From there, they were directed outside to a hazardous obstacle course. If they were successful, the next piece of the map would be revealed. The obstacles included blowdarts, (q-tips dipped in paint and blown through a straw at a target) a walk across lettered blocks, (ala "Last Crusade") a snake pit, (the trampoline covered in rubber snakes they had to navigate around) a rolling boulder, (Cory with a beach ball) digging for diamonds in the lost "ark" (a cooler filled with sand and golfballs), and a run with a chalice. About halfway through, Zachary remarked, "This is a lot more fun than I thought it would be."

One of the "diamonds" had the clue to the next piece of the map. It led them to the first clue to a treasure hunt. The clues were all cut up into puzzle pieces, so they had to assemble the clue, read it, then search for the next puzzle. I left Cory in charge of this while I set up lunch. This turned out to be the trickiest part because as it turns out it is physically impossible for thirteen 6 and 7-year-olds to work together to assemble a puzzle. Somehow or other, they finally managed to find the "treasure" which was a treasure chest birthday cake.

(I forgot to take a picture until after the candles had been blown out and the cake had been cut.)

We had just enough time to eat lunch (pizza and "bug juice"), cake and ice cream, and open presents. All involved had a good time...with the exception of Anna who was mad the whole day because she was not allowed to participate.

Our birthday boy is such an easy-going, cheerful child to have around. He is purely a joy. He is a friend to everyone; especially his little sister, Anna. He is one of those people who it is always comfortable to have around. He is compliant and happy and good.

Happy birthday Isaac!

Ode to a Utah Spring

Oh March, you seductive vixen!
You bluster in with wild skies
a determined winter ready to make its last stand.
And when the tantrum is over
you turn shamefaced and meek.
And to atone for your brutish behavior
you tantalize us with a glimmer of freshness...
the scent of raw earth and early budding,
fair skies and mild afternoons,
peeks of early blossoms and daffodils.
Reluctantly I find myself amidst the enticement
daring to hope.
Casting off the shackles of a long, dark cold,
I'm persuaded to believe in flip-flops
and open windows
and fixed-up bicycles.
With tentative steps I emerge
from a weary hibernation.
You beckon me closer
with your clear countenance and winsome eyes.
And when my wavering hope is fixed and faithful belief,
You drop 4 inches of snow on my upturned face
on the 23rd day of your vindictive debut.

Mother's Intuition

Last Thursday morning, on the way out the door to school, Zachary asked me to come to his D.A.R.E. Graduation Assembly that morning at 11:00. Sure son, thanks for the notice. I told him that I had to take Anna to ballet that morning and the soonest I would make it there would be 11:30. On top of that, I had family coming to stay with us from St. George that afternoon, was baby-sitting a neighbor's friend, and to top things off, the garage door had just broken. Then I told him that the assembly would probably be really short, just a chance to hand out (meaningless) certificates. (Don't worry...I left out the meaningless.) By the time I got there, the whole thing would be over. (To be honest, I'm not a huge fan of the program anyway-- I think this contributed to my reluctance.)

He seemed resigned to my logic and left for school. Ten minutes later, the phone rang as I was heading out the door. It was Zachary. "Hey Mom! Mrs. Rose says the assembly will last an hour so you won't miss the whole thing." I told him again I had a really busy day, but I guess I could try to get there for the second half; I warned him not to get his hopes up. Then I started the mad dash of work and errands that is my life.

At 11:30, I pulled into the neighborhood in a panic of things left undone at home and decided to just drive past the school and go collect my neighbor's little boy and get home to my laundry. Something pricked my conscience as I neared the school, and in the last second, I pulled into the parking lot. After all, my nearly 12-year-old son actually WANTED me to come and participate with him in this. I should take advantage of this desire while it lasts.

I walked in with my gym clothes on and Anna still in her leotard, sat down, picked up a program and discovered Zachary's name was on it! Apparently all the sixth-graders had to write an essay about their experience in D.A.R.E. Then, the officer in charge selected one winner in each class who was awarded a medal and would get to read their essay to the group. Zachary's essay had won! He read his report with his typical uber-serious attitude, even going so far as to raise his hand in the air when he read his pledge to remain drug and alcohol free. It was SO completely Zachary...so full of his personality...so true to his voice. I found myself with many other parents in the room, chuckling at his examples and turns of phrase. This kid is just too good to be true.

I grabbed Zachary afterwards and asked him why he didn't tell me he had won. Apparently, he had been just as surprised as I was to find his name on the program. The officer just showed up to the assembly with the news. His teacher told me later, that the D.A.R.E. officer said it was the best essay he'd ever gotten; he made his entire precinct read it.

How horrible would I have felt if I had ignored that prompting to stop?

My Real Self

Just over a week ago, Cory made travel arrangements to go down to Phoenix for a hearing. Impulsively, I decided to buy a plane ticket as a birthday gift to myself and join him there. I engaged the services of my sister-in-law (thanks Kim!) and friend (thanks Bryn!) to keep my children supervised, and headed off fancy-free to the valley of the sun. It was a super-fast trip--I landed on Thursday night and left Saturday at dinner-time--but I did my best to pack a lot in a short time. I brought my camera, but was too busy enjoying myself to actually take any pictures.

It only took about 24 hours in town to realize this was maybe not a good idea. It was too wonderful! How would I ever go home again? February in Phoenix felt like that scene in The Wizard of Oz where Dorothy walks out of the black and white world of Kansas into the technicolor vision of paradise. It all smelled so wonderful! Everything around me was viewed through the rosy-colored lenses of nostalgia. As I drove the streets, I knew exactly where I was and had a memory for every corner. I chatted long with old running friends and preschool friends and play-group friends out in the glorious outdoors. I visited with another friend in her home while chopping tomatoes for Youth Conference the following day. I attended the temple with my old ward and saw many familiar, friendly faces. Cory and I kept good friends up VERY late talking and laughing just like old times. On Saturday, we ate lunch at our favorite downtown dive (almost painfully delicious in every bite), visited with dear friends for what will be the last time in their Phoenix home as they prepare to move to San Antonio, and enjoyed a perfect afternoon at a Spring Training game. Then we stopped in at the best used bookstore anywhere, and managed to escape with only 4 books--pretty disciplined for the 2 of us, and finished the day off with ice cream. Somewhere in the middle of all of this, I felt almost like I was re-discovering an old forgotten friend--myself...my Phoenix self. I flew home on Sunday both exhausted and refreshed.

I think I came home with fresh eyes. I came home that evening and had a wonderful time chatting with a fun and devoted sister-in-law. I spent Sunday afternoon visiting with two remarkable women in my Relief Society presidency. On Monday, I went on a preschool fieldtrip where I could rub shoulders with good and kind women who are wonderful examples and fun to talk to. That evening another friend stopped by to bring me a thoughtful birthday gift. I realized suddenly that I have been blessed to make good friends wherever I live. I don't think I have been grateful enough for that. It was good to go back and it was good to come home. I will always miss things about Phoenix, but I need to open my eyes to the good things that are around me in Draper too. And next time I go to Arizona, maybe I should do it in August.

Mamas Boys

I've been thinking a lot lately about the challenges of successfully raising little boys. Especially when they come in threes. All in a row. Because really, the biggest challenges I face in my household of boys stem from the dynamic of numbers...the sum of the whole is greater than any one if its parts. Now don't get me wrong, I love my sons. If, when I started this whole child-bearing enterprise I had been told that I could only have all boys or all girls, I sincerely believe I would have picked boys. However, there are certain things about raising lots of little boys that mothers of more mixed households simply will never understand. I'm sure that mothers of all girls could write a treatise on their own struggles as well; I would love to read it. It would be like learning about another country and culture.


We recently had dinner with friends who have 4 daughters. Much shrieking and melodrama resulted. Our friends explained that their girls, understandably, are a little intimidated/don't know what to make of boys. We were apologetic about our boys' wild rumbling and physical energy. Afterwards, I realized though, that my boys are every bit as intimidated/don't know what to make of girls. They just don't express their insecurities in the same way.

Here is what I wish everyone understood about families who have lots of boys. Boys are totally physical, and the more of them you get together, the more physical they become. My own children are getting older now and are not as much the pile of puppies they once were whenever I took them to a public place, but they still cannot seem to walk past each other without reaching out and touching, pinching, pushing, slapping, yanking, punching, grabbing, or spanking. So the next time you're at the grocery store or doctor's office and you see a mother with 2 or 3 little boys climbing, rolling, and pawing on everything and everyone in sight do NOT assume that she is totally out of control and should be reported to Family Services. Just smile at her encouragingly and reassure her that one day the same children who think of her as a jungle gym will become teenagers who hide out in their bedrooms.


Boys are sensitive too. Before my daughter was born and people would make misguided attempts at consoling me for my home's lack of estrogen, they frequently said things like, "at least boys aren't as emotional as girls." In my experience at least, this is completely untrue. My boys get their feelings hurt, wake up on the wrong side of the bed, mope when they're tired or hungry, and sometimes feel left out and lonely. This is part of being human, I think. The difference between boys and girls though, seems to me to be a difference of tenacity and expression. My boys can move on without holding a grudge; an admirable quality I think. And they are more likely to lash out physically when their feelings are hurt. My boys have gotten into trouble this way, by hitting a girl who was teasing them. If one had hit his brother, they would have just hit him back, or moved on to other things. I'm not condoning physical violence...it's an important thing to teach my children to work things out in a more respectful way. However, girls can be just as cruel with words as boys are sometimes with fists. This is a completely foreign concept to my children who have only two girls in their life--Mom, and baby sister. I'm hoping that they will learn more about how to deal with girls as their sister grows older, but for now, they don't have any real home-life experience with female peers.


Boys are freakishly independent...at least mine are. I don't know how much of this is nature or nurture, but all of my sons have gone through a needy infancy straight into a take-on-the-world childhood. This is both good and bad for me. I want all of my children to stand on their own two feet and be both competent and responsible, but every time they cut another apron string, I look back longingly to the days when Mommy was the antidote to every distress. I see mothers with daughters the same ages as my boys who still seem to be the chief source of consolation and confidence in the lives of their children. My boys seem to need less and less consolation and more and more recognition and acknowledgement of their independence.


Boys are less physically demonstrative than girls. Again, this is another debate between genetics and culture, but my little girl will snuggle and hug and kiss far more than her brothers ever did. I demand a hug and kiss every morning before school, and today I had to physically chase and hold down my middle boy. I guess it makes those unexpected gestures that show up from them every now and then just that much more priceless and sweet.

Boys don't want to talk about their feelings. As much as I want to talk things through with them, this is just not happening. It has taken me many years to figure this out. So, I am slowly learning how to "read" my children, understand their teachable moments, and discover the most effective way to communicate with them. My job is not for sissies or for quitters, that's for sure.

I guess the hardest thing for me to deal with on a day to day level is the obvious fact that I am not a boy. Whatever understanding I have acquired in my nearly 12 years of on-the-job-training does not change the fact that boys and girls are different. And I'm a girl. Not a psychologist.

But here are some of the jewels that we mothers of many boys alone get to experience:
-the day your 5-year-old tells you off-handedly that you are pretty--as if it has just occurred to him that his mother is someone more than the maid and the cook
-the preschooler who picks every last flower in the yard as a surprise bouquet
-the preteen who declines dinner at a friend's house because he firmly believes his mother is the best cook in the world
-the wrestling, clawing puppies who grow up to become loyal friends and brothers
-the "all grown up" second grader who shyly slips his hand into yours on the first day of school
-the look of pride and accomplishment on the face of a toddler who has just demolished his bedroom
-the endless supply of "collections" you would more likely term "landfill"
-that one day in a string of hundreds that the piano gets practiced without a reminder
-the unexpected and unexplained hug after dinner

These are the things that remind me this motherhood thing isn't so much a trial as a blessing. I am grateful for my sons. I was also grateful last weekend, when my boys were all playing together in a bedroom. My daughter walked in, came right back out and cried, "It stinks in there!" At last, someone who sees my world the way that I do!

Before and After

My 6-year-old son and I have kind of a role reversal when it comes to his hair. I always imagined there would be battles one day about getting his hair cut; I just never guessed I would be the one fighting to keep it long. He has such adorable natural curls that it breaks my heart every time I cut them off. He has been begging for literally months to cut his hair short like his brothers, so I finally had to give in.

This is how he feels about his curls. Personally, I think he looks handsome.

And here he is after I caved. He looks happier for sure, but he's just not my baby anymore.

Dizzy Disney

It has been a long time since I made an appearance on my blog. We spent a week in St. George and at Disneyland, and then I spent another week cleaning up my life from the chaos of travel. My kids are still off-track for one more week and Cory was gone all last week for business. Life is cuh-cuh-cuh-razy right now! Still, I thought I would post a few cute pictures from our travels for my family.


Zachary could not get enough of all the babies in our week of adventure. He loves to hold and cuddle McKinley, Joshua, and Xiana. Anna will not let him carry her around and baby her anymore, so he was in heaven.

This picture from Disneyland just makes me laugh. I think Noah was determined not to let me take a single decent picture of him all week. He looks either morose or crazy in every frame.


Our time at Disneyland seemed almost like two vacations instead of one. The boys will no longer consent to any time on the younger rides and Anna won't get on anything even remotely scary. That leaves only 2 rides in the entire park that the whole family would go on together--Autotopia and Buzz Lightyear.


Anna and I got to have a special lunch together with the princesses. She was equal parts shy and elated to meet one princess after another. It was the highlight of this trip for me.



A high percentage of every day in Disney for Anna is spent on the Winnie the Pooh ride. (It's right across from Splash Mountain which is the number one attraction with every member of the Talbot family with XY chromosomes.) Here Anna is with her favorite character of all, Eyeore!

The first day and a half at Disneyland there was not a cloud in the sky. We never waited in line longer than 5 minutes...it was ideal. The second half of our time it poured rain. Disneyland, it turns out is not as much fun in the rain...although it beats a sunny day almost anywhere else. In a way it was good because it forced us to stop and see a lot of the shows we have always ignored as just time wasted that could be spent on the rides. There are some really fun shows!

As usual, I was the saddest member of the family when it was time to leave. I just dread the day when there is no one interested on riding on Peter Pan with me anymore.