An Anniversary

This is us roughly 10 years ago:

Miracles then: Greg had finished his PhD (hallelujah!), we'd bought our first house, and had children who'd survived our parenting long enough to actually start school.

This is us today:

Miracle for today: Among others- such as having 5 children survive to start school and being done with post-docs and one semester from Greg finishing a Master's- I've made it 10 years (only missing a couple of times) of writing a family history every month. It's sent out in letter form to those poor souls we impose our lives on, but it's also printed and put in a book for each member of our family. For some reason it's easier for me to keep up with than a blog and there's a lot of joy satisfaction when we look back over the story of our lives.

I am blessed to make this journey with 6 pretty great people. Can't wait to see what the next 10, 20, or 50 years brings our way.

At the End of the Day

My mental calendar has been taking me back 17 years. There's no good reason, it just is. 17 years ago Valentine's Day fell on Sunday and we were blessed with a President's Day vacation the following day. Greg and I were approaching our 6 month anniversary and still students. If I'm not mixing up my visits, my sister and a friend spent part of the weekend with us and we dropped them off at the airport so they could spend the weekend at home in AZ. We'd learned that Les Miserable would be coming to Salt Lake City and we wanted to see it. Tickets went on sale at 6:00 Monday morning. No sleeping in for us that holiday. Being the "savvy shoppers" we were, we decided to beat the crowds and get up at 5:00 to be at the head of the ticket line at Smiths. Boy, were we outsmarted! We arrived to a sea of people outside the store, some of whom had been there for the better part of the night. I had only heard of that for rock concerts, and never experienced it for myself. Afraid we wouldn't be able to get tickets, we took turns trying to get through to buy tickets over the phone. This was pre- ubiquitous internet and cell phones, so it meant using a pay phone when we could while waiting in line. We were successful, though. By 11:00 we had ended up with 2 sets of tickets- feast or famine, I guess! We eventually sold one set to some friends and I remember having a great time at the show- despite the "morning" sickness that was in full swing (all day) by the time the play actually arrived in town.

I'm not sure why that particular event has been on my mind lately. It really isn't something I've thought much about in the years since. Maybe it's because we're back in UT. Maybe it's the long weekend sparking a memory. It has been interesting to see where life has taken us since then. In some ways we've come full circle. In others, we're miles away down a straight road. Physically, yes, we're back in the same town. We aren't really the same people we were then, though. For one, our little family is now 7, not 2. Schooling is pretty much behind us and our children are edging quite close to that brink themselves. This year I'm planning to sleep in and spend some fun time with my family no where near a Smith's.

I've learned alot about myself and life in general in the last 17 years. Back then, arriving at the point where we'd have children old enough to go to college seemed a world and lifetime away. I somehow hadn't thought about what kind of life existed beyond that point. By then, surely we'd be expert parents, have all the answers, be done "growing up" and be living life on auto pilot. Don't ask me where I got any of those ideas. They seem pretty crazy from here.

Now, I find us approaching that vague point. I've learned alot, but haven't managed the things I'd imagined- no expert parenting, missing a bunch of answers, still have tons of "growing up" to do, and if there's an autopilot button for my life laying around, no one has told me where it is. I do know that we're nowhere near the end of this learning process and we still have more of life before than behind us. At least, I hate to think that my current state is my finished product. There are too many corners that need to be rounded and too much polishing to be done. It makes me wonder what the next 17, 34, and maybe even 68 years will bring and how many of my current preconceived notions will turn out to be as off the mark as my earlier ones. Does the learning slow down or speed up as you get older? As they sing in Les Mis- "At the end of the day, you're another day older..." Hopefully that means you're a little wiser, as well. Only time and experience can really add up to that.

Not That You Care...

Several years ago, Spencer had to do an oral report on a famous person while dressed as said person. He chose Julius Caesar. I don't know why. Maybe he liked the idea of a toga and a leafy headband. Whatever the reason, we both learned several things during that report. One was that a red sheet from Wal-Mart was WAY less expensive than enough red fabric for a toga- and can be used again! The other was that Julius Caesar was killed on the Ides of March, (the 15th) which happens to be Sunday. I am pretty good with useless, trivial information so I tend to think about dumb little things like that as they roll around. This time, I thought I'd share the info so others could benefit from this "talent". So, happy Ides of March and stay away from any "friends" named Brutus, especially if you happen to be in the Roman Senate anytime on Sunday!

One of These Things is not Like the Others- and Someday Will it Really Matter?

I have been trying to think of something to post about all day and nothing hit me until just a few minutes ago. This is my bed. (Apparently my camera has a few dried droplets on it. It's not raining or snowing in my room!) I sleep in it every night and I make it every morning. It used to have more pillows, but we took them with us on our trip over Christmas and accidentally left them at the Grand Canyon Railroad Hotel in Williams, AZ. (It was sad, but not worth the drive to go back and get them.) I love my bed. It is very comfy and I like the bedspread because it reminds me of being out in the woods. Greg, or I, makes the bed every morning. Not a big deal- just pull up the covers and throw the pillows back on. 60 seconds, tops. I am not a "hospital corners" kind of person. I just like it neat and tidy. To be honest, Greg is better at the neat and tidy thing than I am.

Every person in my family also has a bed. Every person in my family also has the assignment to make their bed every day. I like having my bed made, but I also feel that if I am going to ask my family to make their beds, I should set an example. I was told this morning, as I am most mornings, that all the beds were made. This afternoon at about 4:30 I happened to be downstairs in one of the bedrooms and realized that someone(s) either had a different definition of "made" or had not been completely honest with me. (Not the first time, I know, nor will it be the last.) I visited other rooms and found that the same circumstances applied there as well.

I will leave the pictures random and somewhat anonymous, though dear daughter will probably be discovered as she is the only one with "girl" colors.






I must cut a teeny bit of slack because it has been cold at night, so there are extra blankets out. I also must admit that all the covers are actually on the beds and not on the floor. Taking those things into account, picture #2 did pretty well.

This reminded me of a class I attended with Greg yesterday on optimism. An optimist is not one that always find life 100% rosey, but is realistic in a situation without forgetting that hardships are not here to stay. As the Book of Mormon says, "It came to pass...". So, I am letting go of the frustration that I felt. Someday these little (and not so little) bodies will be grown and making (or not) their beds somewhere else. I will go down to a guest room with a bed that is made everyday and picture the toys and the blankets and have a happy little "memory moment". Then I will probably call a child or two and just say "Hi", maybe ask if they made their bed that morning, and tell them that I love them. Then I will go back downstairs and look at the still-made bed and smile. Maybe someday those children will bring little ones of their own and I can listen to them try to convince said grandchild that it really is important to make the bed, and most likely, it won't bother me one bit because it won't be my job to teach that anymore. After they leave, I'll make that bed with clean sheets (and no hospital corners) where it will stand ready to welcome the next guest to grace its' room. And I will smile again.