Help! I'm drowning!

There was a time when I dreamed about the day when all my children would be in school. Oh the things I would do! I would go out to lunch with my friends at places that don't have children's menus. I would slip over to the temple to do a session in the MIDDLE OF THE DAY! I would run all my errands without undoing a single carseat strap. Well the day has arrived...3 of my 4 are in school all day, and Anna has preschool twice a week. So where is all that luxury I had envisioned? That poor, pathetically naive woman who imagined this new life of ease! I wish I could find her and give her a good talking-to.

I spend every morning in a frenzy of signing planners, finding library books, sending my 6-year-old upstairs to get dressed at least 4 times, nagging, yelling, and begging my children to please just get their stuff together before they are late for school. I am a frazzled mess. Here is a verbatim quote of something I said 2 minutes before they left for school today: "That's it! I'm done telling you guys to get ready...just go to school when you feel like it! I wash my hands of the whole thing." (If I make a biblical reference, does that count as our morning scripture study?)

I then spend my days running errands, going to the gym (hey! I have to have an outlet for all this pent-up mania!), attending meetings for babysitting co-op, preschool co-op, Relief Society Presidency, helping out in 3 kids' classrooms, visiting teaching, and fulfilling other church assignments and responsibilities, taking the one child left at home to the park or the library or to play groups, and oh yeah, every once in a while attempting to do a little housework...eventually the children do need clean underwear. This week I finally decided that I just had to choose the 1 thing that I HAD to do that day because more than that was impossible. Monday was canning the peaches that are dropping out of my tree (I only am about 1/3 done). Tuesday was laundry (There are still 2 loads sitting in the laundry room) and catching up on all the back to school paperwork coming home every day (It took me literally 2 hours! 2 hours of form-filling, check-writing, and parent signatures! Can you imagine a bigger waste of time?) Wednesday was???...oh my gosh! I can't even remember what I did yesterday!

And then 4:00 comes around, the kids walk through the door and 3 seconds later, it's time for bed! Three kids in school means supervising an exponential amount of homework. Here's a little story problem for all of you math lovers. If there is 1 hour and 7 minutes between the end of the school day and your departure for child number 1's soccer game, how many minutes can be given to providing a snack for 4, helping child number 2 practice for their spelling test, listening to child number 1 read out loud (the teacher requires 20 minutes a day, but I figure if we read really fast I can cut it back to 10), helping child number 3 start their book report, listening to child number 2 and child number 3 practice the piano, finding glue and scissors for child number 2's pictograph, and making dinner to eat in the car en route to soccer game? I know it's a tricky one...you just might need to use calculus. I don't feel like I have any one child in too many extracurricular things, but the combination of schedules is burying me. Here's another fun little conondrum: Zachary has piano, scouts and flag football--that takes one afternoon, two evenings and a Saturday morning every week. Noah has the same three activities, but football is on a different night for him, and scouts is on a different afternoon. Isaac has soccer, which accounts for one weeknight practice and one weeknight game. How many days long does our week need to be to include every activity? And what do I do when Anna is old enough to be added to the after-school mix?

All right...rant over...for anyone loyal enough to have read through the math assignment, I promise to wake up with a sunnier outlook tomorrow and stop abusing my blog. Life is good. My children are all healthy. Soon they will be teenagers so I better stop and enjoy this stage of my life, frenzy and all.

In My Expert Opinion

Have you ever noticed that during the Olympics, everyone you know is suddenly an expert about things like, "form breaks," "butterfly half-stroke," "double-pump volleyball hit," "illegal inside lane touches," and "water polo power plays?" People are suddenly passionate about the U.S. swim team, never mind that they have not so much as attended a child's meet at the community pool in the last 4 years. You hear grown men comparing the nuances of Liukin's artistic style with Johnson's athletic presence. I love it.

And so, in honor of the couch potato expert, here are some of my powerful insights about the past two weeks of world competition:

Swimming: Michael Phelps is the most amazing athlete ever...and he's a mama's boy. How sweet! He comes across as a grounded and humble individual (albeit a little inarticulate). I hope he can survive his fame and status without doing something publicly humiliating. Of course, he'll only be famous for a few more weeks, and then we'll forget there is such a sport as swimming for another 4 years.

Gymnastics: (I have a little experience in this area...so pay attention...I know what I'm talking about.) This new judging system is designed to confuse everyone...especially the people actually implementing it by posting the scores. National bias aside, there have been some major U.S. rip-offs this year, and Bela Karolyi is the only one crazy enough to say it on broadcast television.

Beach Volleyball: Clearly a man is responsible for the design of both the mens' and the women's uniforms.

Track and Field: Isn't it interesting that when they interview swimmers after their races, they come across as educated and humble? Flash forward one week to the sprinters' interviews and all you want to do is wipe the smirk off of their arrogant faces. "Ugly American, party of 1!"

Diving: Is it just me, or is synchronized diving just a little bit creepy?

Marathon: Speaking as someone who actually enjoys running and distance training, I really hope that the guy who decided it would be great to broadcast the entire 2 1/2 hours of the womens' marathon is now unemployed.

And speaking of broadcasting...don't you think it would be possible to end the night a little earlier...Mommy is a little cranky when she's perpetually sleep-deprived. Also, note for the next Olympiad: maybe instead of showing every swimming, diving, and track preliminary, quarter-final, and semi-final you could show us one of the other 200 sports that are happening at the games. Also, do we really need to watch the gymnasts on their apparatus warm-ups? I for one, feel ripped off that I missed yet another heart-stopping table tennis final. And don't get me started on all the pistol championships that have yet again been overlooked.

I better go now...I'm expecting a call from Bob Costas any minute. He said he could use my input.

Patience is a Virtue

I was really hoping to update this blog every week at least. All I can say is there have been 17 extra people in my house this week--hi guys, it was great to see you--and today my kids went back to school (sniff). Did I mention I'm canning right now? I promise a really great blog soon...now just sit back and enjoy the thrill of anticipation.

Canning Season

Fruit is ripening on trees all over Utah and that can only mean one thing...time to get out the kettle and the mason jars! I love canning, and it has become something of a predictable fall cycle in my life. It goes something like this:

Phase 1-The romantic

There's something so wholesome and rewarding about preserving food in jars. It's like taking a step back into a slower-paced life and a simpler time--full of nostalgic reminiscences about standing at a kitchen sink between my mom and my grandmother.

Phase 2-The philosopher

One of the great things about canning is that it forces you to take a moment from a frenetic life pace to stand still. While you steam, peel, chop and process, your mind is free to meditate and ponder things simple and great.

Phase 3-The homemaker

I love to see the finished jars in all their jewel-toned glory lining my shelves. It must be the gatherer/preserver side of my genetic make-up. There is something so satisfying about opening a jar of summer that I have saved and serving it to my family in January.

Phase 4-The mother

Nothing builds my kids' esteem more than working. They are curious about all the apparatus and thrilled when mom entrusts them with a knife and encourages them to chop; or a spoon and depends on them for the stirring.

Phase 5-Mommy dearest

My children are hiding from me in the basement; I think I saw my eleven-year-old looking up child labor statutes on the Internet. There has been a household apricot boycott.

Phase 6-The housekeeper

I washed every pot, pan, spoon, spatula, mixing bowl, and measuring cup I own 7 times today. I mopped my floor with every product I could find at the supermarket labeled "for tough stains," and I still think I will have to paint my floor "tomato juice red." Our cat jumped up on the counter and found his paws glued there with jam...we removed him surgically.

Phase 7-The pessimist

Who was I kidding? None of my kids will touch this stuff anyway.

Phase 8-The feminist

This is yet another way to trap a woman in her kitchen for endless hours with only her own thoughts to drive her to insanity. Whoever invented mason jars was definitely a man.

Fortunately by the time I hit phase 9 (that's the one when jars start getting thrown at husbands) the harvest is over and I have all winter to enjoy the "fruits" of my labor. So where am I now? Somewhere between phase 3 and 4...I can keep this up at least through September.

City Beautiful

We are back from our final summer vacation. Part of me is a little melancholy about the end of summer, the approaching of another school year, the endless months of snow in my future. But after spending 10 hours in cars, airports, and airplanes with 4 children, I think I'm okay with a less jet-set life.(World-travelers at the airport, ready to set off on exciting adventures.)

Our final summer destination was my first foray into the Midwest. My mom is from Nebraska, but I have never actually been to this region of the country. My preconceived notions of the place were fulfilled by cornfields as far as the eye can see, humidity that created a frizz-fest with my hair, and an evening downpour complete with tornado warning. What surprised me was that the land is actually more rolling than I thought, that there are very tall buildings in Des Moines (you thought everything was up to date in Kansas City? you should see this place), and I never knew about the whole water tower in every town thing. It made me wonder what these people think about the land out west and southwest where I have spent my entire life. Do they assume we all wear spurs, grow cactus in our back-yards, or travel in oxen-driven wagons? Probably not.

(I was not the only one suffering from humid-hair.)

(Miles and miles of rolling cornfields)

Why Iowa for our end-of-summer rendezvous? For some of the 3 people who read this blog who may not know, my father-in-law is currently the mission president in Des Moines. This was our chance to reaquaint my children with their other grandparents, and see the mission couple in action. We had a wonderful time, and it helped me to be able to visualize them in their new sphere. They are both SO busy but clearly happy and willing to make this sacrifice. And the missionaries only drive them crazy once or twice a day.

(Grandpa in action in the mission office--certainly my children are no more distracting than 150 missionaries with cell phones.)

After spending 3 days in Des Moines, we all packed up (grandparents included) and made the 4 hour drive to Nauvoo, Illinois. We spent a happy two days exploring the sites of some of our early church history, and watching a number of fun plays and shows put on by the missionaries and other volunteers. I feel like we barely scratched the surface and could easily have spent another two days there, but fortunately this mission president gig is 3 years long so we will have another opportunity. The Nauvoo pageant itself was wonderful...definitely my favorite of the cultural displays, but don't underestimate the charm of a little evening performance by the name of "Sunset on the Mississippi." All the senior couples in the area put this little song and dance variety hour together...it is charming, silly, and downright hysterical to watch these sweet older couples dancing and singing along in pioneer garb. Grandma and grandpa had told me earlier in the week about plans after their mission, including going on another mission (where they don't have to be in charge of a lot of 19-year-old boys). Man I hope they get called to Nauvoo...I would pay good money to see my father-in-law doing the box-step in "Sunset on the Mississippi."

(Warming up for the show.)

The highlights of Nauvoo for me were the Nauvoo temple, Carthage, and the pageant. Cory and I were able to do a session at the temple while the grandparents bravely took on my 4 little ones. As Cory said, "They make all temples beautiful. They made the Nauvoo temple just a little bit nicer." It was wonderful to be there. The day we had planned to see the pageant, a huge storm came in around 4:00 in the afternoon. As we discussed other options for the evening, the people in Nauvoo kept reassuring us that the pageant had never been cancelled for weather. True to their faith, things cleared up and we were able to watch the event from the 4th row. It was inspiring.

(Here is a picture from my favorite scene in the pageant.)

Carthage, like many other things, was different than I have imagined it. For one thing, it's just right in the middle of town. I think there is a gas station across the street. Also, for someone who has grown up in the church, there were several details about the martyrdom of the prophet Joseph Smith that I don't think I had ever heard. Or maybe, they became more clear when I could visually place them within the building where they happened. It is a somber and peaceful place.

(A semi-serious moment in front of Carthage jail.)

It is hard to know how much my children got out of the experience. I feel like I went back and forth between explaining elements of church history and yelling at them to get off of things and to stop poking/chasing/teasing each other. They were relatively good for children that were expected to sit and be quiet so often. (The more active parts of Nauvoo we had planned to participate in the afternoon that it poured rain.)

(Anna and Grandma in the women's garden)

(This missionary sister works in the restored printshop and will forever be hallowed by Anna as the woman who taught her the true meaning of the word, "dingbat.")

Still, there were a couple of sober moments with children that made it seem they felt the spirit of the place. Zachary wouldn't really choose a favorite part, but he told me that next year his favorite part will be going to the temple because he will be old enough then. I think he can really sense the importance of the temple. After the pageant, both Noah and Zachary were smiling and for the first time in a long time NOT acting silly. I took a minute with Anna at the Christus statue, and she asked why the statue had holes in the hands. As I explained what wicked men had done to kill the Savior, Anna started to cry.

This post is way too long, but we have been gone so long that there is a lot to include. This really is the Readers' Digest version of events. After Nauvoo, we headed back to Des Moines for 24 hours and then flew home via Omaha, Nebraska. We crossed the Mississippi and Missouri rivers twice in one week, and I visited my mother's home state for the first time in my life. It is good to be home.

(Anna fell asleep on the plane on the way home in literally 12 seconds. She asked me a question, I turned to ask Cory, I turned back and she was asleep. A perfect illustration of our state of mind at the end of vacation.)

Run. Drive. Sleep? Repeat.

It has been nearly a month now since the infamous Wasatch Back, and a friend of mine just emailed some pictures from the race to me that made me feel strangely nostalgic. I guess it's time to make a record of my experience in the 180 mile relay. If you've heard this all from me already, feel free just to scroll through some funny pictures. For the rest of you, here is the play by play of a strangely rewarding, exhilirating and horrible life experience.

Here's the gist of how this race works. You have 12 runners on a team. Every runner runs 3 legs of varying distances between Logan and Park City, Utah. Van 1 takes the first 6 runners up to Logan...they run the first 6 legs, and then Van 2 meets them at exchange 6 and does the next 6 while Van 1 rests. You flip-flop vans at every 6th exchange, resting for a few hours when your van is "inactive." Your team has a runner on the road consecutively from the starting line all through the night until your last runner crosses the finish line. Sounds crazy? I thought so too, but still 545 teams of crazies managed to pay the $1200 entry fee and tie on their running shoes...including me. We christened our team "G.U.T.S." or "Girls Under Tremendous Stress" and at 10:00 a.m. on June 20th, runner 1 set off out the gate.

I was in Van 2...here we are (naive and uninitiated), waiting at exchange 6 for our first legs.

Because we were in Van 2, we met Van 1 of our team in Eden, rather than driving all the way up to Logan. We got there around 2:00 p.m. where we got our first taste of just how big this event really is. Essentially this is a 1000 car caravan across some of the most beautiful and scenic back roads of Northern Utah. We set the first of our runners (who by the way was 15 weeks pregnant at the time) out on the road at around 3:15--right at the peak of the heat on a blistering day.

There was plenty of beautiful landscape to see as we ran our first legs between Eden and Snow Basin...this was not part of it. But "Speedo Man" did serve to entertain us as we plowed through the heat...he passed his baton off to a guy over 6 feet tall wearing a Snow White costume, and their next runner had on a wig and Sleeping Beauty outfit. I told you there were a lot of crazies.

Look at that form! I was runner 10 and ran around 5:15...it was HOT, but fortunately only 3.7 miles.

Here is some of the beautiful country we covered.

We reached exchange 12 at Snow Basin around 7:00 and van 1 took over. We ate dinner, cleaned up a little bit in the bathrooms, and just enjoyed the beautiful view of the mountains for a while before we got back in our car and headed south to meet up with our other van at the next exchange. I would tell you where that was, but really all I can say is that is was in the middle of nowhere...outside of Morgan...and by now it was close to midnight and my memory was beginning to be clouded by drowsiness. At any rate, thanks to a little snafu in communication, we botched our meeting with van 1, but fortunately only lost a few minutes and were soon back on track with our first runner starting her second leg around the stroke of midnight. To keep runners safe, we were all required to wear reflective vests and headlamps from one hour before sunset until one hour after sunrise. One of my fondest memories of this race was how funny it was to drive along the route and see swishing reflective stripes every several yards. It was such a strange and alien sight.

Here are Heidi and Kristi sporting our late-night fashion.

Of all the things that I was worried about as I prepared for this race, nothing scared me more than the thought of my second run in the middle of the night. I was estimated to be in my gate at 3 a.m.! We made up time, and I actually got an early start at 2:30...this ended up being the highlight of the whole event for me. I can still vividly call up the pictures in my memory of this run...probably my favorite run ever. I ran along Pineview reservoir for a while--across a bridge with water on both sides reflecting a beautiful, bright, full moon. Then I ran through the quiet main street of small town Huntsville..where everything was closed up and silent. For nearly seven miles I was alone with the perfect night temperatures, the peace that belongs only to the wee hours of the morning, the occasional passing of another reflective vest and headlamp, and the cadence of my own breath and stride. When I finished, I felt the same kind of elation I feel post-labor. It was just amazing to me that I could do something like this...I felt so profoundly what a gift it is to have a working, healthy body.

And then I hit the wall.

Our last runner finished her leg around 5 a.m.; we exchanged with van 1 and drove ahead to our next starting point (Heber Middle School) to get a few hours of sleep. We parked, and hurried all the way around the school--now that I'd cooled down from my run, it was freezing. For the next few hours we lay down on the hard floor of the middle school hallway without a mat..(I had left my pillow in the car and was too exhausted to hike all the way back to get it. I scrunched up my sweaty running jacket and called that good.) I slept for about an hour and a half..two of the girls in my group didn't sleep for even 1 minute! And the best part is, the middle school charged us $2 a person for the privilege of NOT sleeping on their hard floor. Finally, at around 8:00, I gave up and went to the bathroom to clean off some sweat, pull my hair back and brush my teeth.

At this point, we were all ready just to get things over with...our last and final exchange with van 1 happened around 10:00 a.m. That put me on the Ragnar hill at around lunchtime.

*Ragnar (n) In mythology and legend, a man, often of divine ancestry, who is endowed with great courage and strength, celebrated for his bold exploits and favored by the gods.

The hardest leg of this race is leg 34 (or the Ragnar leg)...my final run. It's only 4 miles long, but has a total elevation gain of 1678 feet...basically, you are running over the mountain that divides Midway from Park City....and you run it with the sun beating down on you...and oh yeah, it's a gravel road. I trained hills every week for 6 weeks to prepare for this run. By the time I actually put my foot on the trail, my body was spent, there was nothing left to draw from. There were sections of the "hike" so steep that it was no longer a question for me if I would be able to "run" them...I wasn't sure I could walk them! Four miles took 60 minutes...I wanted to do better, I trained to do better, but the truth was, there are plenty of healthy people who could not have done it that fast on a full night's sleep without having already run 11 miles. When I finally came to the "one mile left" marker I found the energy to run to it and kiss it. Someday, I want to drive up there and try it again fully rested...but not yet...I think if I went there today I would just throw up.

This is the gradual climb at the very end of the leg...the picture just doesn't convey how very steep this run was. Did you notice I'm smiling? I must have been delirious by then.

See how eagerly I'm passing the wristband off to Jill? I almost literally kicked up my heels and yodeled when I finished, I was so relieved.

Our last 2 runners came down the mountain and through Park City, where we met our fearless team members from van 1 and all 12 of us met our last runner and ran together to the finish line. Of course, Sara, our last runner who was finishing up her final leg when we met her there at the very end, thought she would be cute and sprint the remaining distance...where she found the energy we will never know. We crossed the finish line at 3:20 p.m. June 21st.

Here is our complete team at the finish line. We finished 2nd in our division!

I came into this run to begin with when my running buddy Jeni invited me along. 1 month before the race, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. We decided as a team to dedicate our run to her, and she met us that afternoon at the finish line. She had just undergone her second chemo treatment and had cut her hair very short that day to prepare for losing it altogether. I almost didn't recognize her when she called to me in the parking lot. The instant I saw her, the whole day was suddenly put into perspective...I felt ashamed of all my whining about the Ragnar hill...I was reminded again what a privilege it is to have a body healthy and whole.

Would I do this crazy thing again? You bet...next year I will take Jeni along with me though. Right Jeni?

32 Days Since Last Accident

Zachary is officially sling-free today! He broke his collarbone in an intense kickball game at school a little over 4 weeks ago, and today he can officially start vacuuming again! If you want to hear all the gory details of the incident, you would be better served talking to him...I just can't do the story justice. Sufficeth to say that with Zachary, you can never compete half-way.

Timing is of course paramount. Here are a list of things that he had to give up right as the school year was ending:

• the end of year kickball tournament
• 5th grade puppet plays
• field day
• 11-year-old scout camp
• a trip to Lagoon with his cousins
• swimming
• riding a bike in the Primary parade
• fishing with scouts
• a birthday party at Boondocks

And here are the things he gladly forsook for the last month.

• practicing the piano with his left hand
• vacuuming
• walking the dog
• taking the garbage cans to the curb
• many other chores that might possibly compromise the left side of the body (the definition of such jobs became less and less liberal as the weeks passed)

(On a side note, we were thinking about sending some of the kids to Lagoon even though Zachary couldn't go, and then I had terrible flashbacks of the time my family went to Disneyland without me 1 week after I broke my leg. Yes, it pains me to reveal this cruel family secret. In retrospect, I realize what a great opportunity they blew. If they had taken me, they could have put me in a wheelchair and gone to the front of every line all day!)

I guess 11 years of life without breaking a bone is a pretty good track record in this family. Today we are going to celebrate Zachary's re-discovered mobility by going to piano lessons!