Not Quite Ready For This . . .

Yesterday my son turned 7. I haven't had trouble letting my RyLeigh grow up. She is independent, and strong. And really, I could send Amylee out into the world right now and it would never know what hit it. But, Duncan is my tender heart. He mostly has me wrapped around his finger. I think it's a mom/son thing. So here is the conversation that ensued in the bathroom before leaving for his birthday dinner.

Me - "Dunc, get in here so we can do your hair before we go."

Duncan - "WHY? Why do we have to do my hair. We are going to Hungry Bear, NOT church!"

Me - "Just indulge me, okay? Sometimes you have to let moms do things."

Duncan - "You do too much things."

Me - "What?"

Duncan - "You do too much things."

Me - "Like what?"

Duncan - "Like, my clothes. I want to pick out my own clothes." (yes, I pick out his clothes and put them on his bed at night.)

Me - (Shocked in finding out this was even an issue) "Okay. Okay. You can totally pick out your own clothes. That's fine."

Duncan - "Thank you"

So, he's 7 and all the sudden he's all big and wanting to do stuff. Which makes me think, what other too much things am I doing that's driving him nuts and he's just indulging me? He bears his testimony in church now all by himself. (Yes, break my heart wide open!). He wears his white shirt and orange tie and walks up there like he believes every word he's ever been told. And this is only going to get worse. Like, what the crap do I do with myself when he gets baptized and I'm bawling my eyes out? I mean, I can't embarrass the poor kids. Or when he starts junior high ( I swear if people are mean to him I will kick their butts). When he goes on his first date? When he gets his mission call and leaves!!! Or when he finds his bride, and marries her and then holds his baby for the first time?

I thought being a mom wasn't going to be hard this way. The emotional, rip your heart out, hurst so bad to love him so much kind fo hard. I thought it would be the laundry that would kill me. I guess it has: "Mom, I can pick out my own clothes."

Family Photo's! (Long time-no blog. I suck)

Lee-lee

She doesn't look to thrilled about this tender moment.

My son begs me to let him clean the toilets.

I love him.

Proof

Speechless

I will be here. At this very spot. In two days. I have never done anything like this by myself and I'm nervous. Anxious. Excited. Thrilled. I have to give a shoutout to people who have supported me and been so excited for me to get here. Kelly Oram, who has wanted me to do this for five years. Ryan, who told me it was now or never (probably) and has wanted me to do this for a whole year. Kristie, Dennise, Emma and Britney for helping take care of my little monkeys. To Bonnie, for being my travel companion. She has every reason to not go on this trip, and she's going anyway. Mom and DAd Thorne for helping me with the initial payment (and for being so excited to see me go.) And my Mom and Dad and sister, Shelly, who remember that huge poster of the Eiffel Tower I use to have hanging on my wall in my bedroom in the 8th grade.
So this post was titled speechless. Seems I did have something to say.

Davis Reads & Lady Macbeth

At Davis High School where I teach we are implementing a new reading initiative. To catapult this into place, each teacher was encouraged to bring their favorite book (s) and head to the photography studio to have their picture taken. These picture are placed in said teachers classrooms in 20x24 size frames (I think) for all to see. I thought it would be way too much fun to dress up as my favorite Shakespearean character and get my picture taken. My bestest friend Syd came and did my hair and make up. I barely fit into that dress (my ribcage is not the size it use to be) and I think I made my friend Kelly Oram who took my picture an eensy-weensy bit uncomforable because of how much skin I was showing. And plus, I just look damn hot! This is the closest I will ever be to actually being Lady Macbeth. And I'm okay with that. My favorite part of the picture is the blood dripping off the knife. Also a Syd feature. My other favorite part is having this in my classroom when my new little sophomores come in next year. I think I may carry around my blood soaked knife on the first day. Just for fun.

SAN DIEGO!!

I am so behind on blogging I don't know if I will ever catch up! Let's start with Spring Break. Ry and I used some tax money and went to San Diego. I love, LOVE San Diego. I love Mission Beach. I haven't been for 9 years and when we got there I just stood on the beach and cried. The beach fills my soul like I cannot explain. And my husband does the same thing. We had the best time just relaxing on the beach and going to some places we had never been too. The best day was when we laid on the beach for 6 hours and I fell asleep on his belly. I am so grateful we go to go to my favorite place. And more importantly, so happy I could go with Ry.

Pictures are of him and I at Cabrillo National Monument (so beautiful), my Ry at the beach and a sunset picture.

If I close my eyes, I'm back there. With the wind in my hair, the salt on my lips, and no stress in my shoulders.

For Amylee, Erin, Whitney and anyone else who may be . . .

Maybe I'm Watching Atoms Order
by David Thacker
In the ultra sound I see five fingers
stretching out. Stretching and back. Expand,
contract. What are they reaching for? Is it
a game babies play-practicing for catch.
Or are they thinking of what it will
feel like to grasp hands and be
ridiculously in love. As those
fingers form, do they look forward to that?
Or maybe I'm watching atoms order.
My physics book tells me that atoms
that make up a baby originated in
stars. Hydrogen, carbon, oxygen-
all atoms waiting and hoping to be
five fingers in the ultra sound-waving
to me. Feeling small and quiet, I wave back.

Take care of yourselves my friends. I love you.

"Thank you . . . You're Welcome"

My Amylee thinks that when you say 'you're welcome,' that means thank you. So, if I hand her a drink she says,"You're Welcome." We have tried to help her switch them around, but she just cant' get the hang of it. And when she says 'you're welcome,' it sounds like 'you're welcome,' with the inflection and everything. It made me think today. She says 'you're welcome' for thank you, and maybe I should be thanking her letting me serve her. Thank you Amylee, for helping me not be so selfish, to put your needs before mine. Thank you for making me stop and read books, or play soccer in the back yard. Thank you for forgiving me when I make really stupid mistakes. Thank you for letting me sing "Winnie the Pooh" before we go to bed. Thank you for rubbing your little face all over mine when we snuggle. Thank you for screaming with happiness when I come pick you up from daycare. Thank you for growing big and strong even though you started out weiging the size of a large potato. Thank you for looking at me with your little blue eyes and saying, "Huh?" whenever I ask you a question. Thank you for putting your shoes away the minute we walk in the door. Thank you for making Grammy and Pop and Grammie Sherie so happy. Thank you my Amylee. Thank you.

You're welcome.

I am sluffing Relief Society and drowning my sorrows in cheesecake my sister Vicki made me. She makes the best cheesecake ever. It's actually not even called cheesecake. It's cream cheese pie. That just makes it sound even better, right? She makes it for me when I get way busy or stressed at work. So I got home from my show last night and it was sitting on my table. And I'm not sharing.
I am sluffing Relief Society because I'm being non-religious today and pretending I haven't just been called to be the Ward Choir Director. I have now been this three times in my life, with Ward Chorister 5. I now will do both jobs at the same time. I have bitterness. Not because they asked me to serve. I can serve. I serve. It's just that it's the same thing over and over. Lead the music. I love music. My mom taught me to lead when I was 8. It's a gift I am grateful for. But seriously, it's the same thing over and over again. I looked right at the first counselor and told him this was a calling of convenience, not inspiration. And he said, You're right. (insert cheesecake here) I changed the time of choir practice and the location and you'd have thought I shot someone's cat. The ward organist, who I deal with weekly, is also the choir accompanist. He is very special. And I don't mean 'special, we want to be around him all the time.' I mean, special, in the way you are thinking. I had to talk him through the change. I thought he was going to have a nervous breakdown. I was standing in the hallway by the primary room scheduling the chapel for practice. The clerk wished my good luck, I said, "We'll see" right at the first counselor rounded the corner. He said, "Sister Thorne is excited. She just chooses to show it on the inside." I had to run out of the building before I unloaded on this poor man because my first reaction would have produced little pieces of him and me all over the wall. I have issues about this. I know I do. It will probably end up being the best thing that's ever happened to me. But right now, I'm just irritated about the whole thing. I guess it's because a monkey could do my callings. And I love doing music, but not when I feel thrown into it because no one else can be found. I'll keep you posted. Today should be interesting.

Priceless!

For those of you who know me well, you know how I feel about my son. He has me wrapped around his finger. He has to wake up at 6:30am every day to go to school with me where he plays in the day care until I take him to afternoon kindergarten. Everyday when I wake him he says, "Why are you waking me up in the middle of the night!" He is so patient with me and my job and the fact, as he put it last night in the van, "There are too many girls in this family!" (This kid needs a brother. Be patient, little man. All in good time.) Anyway, the other day I woke him up and he got right up, put his clothes on. I was shocked. I went to get dressed and came back to see what the shoe and sock status was for the morning and found him like this. He is sitting on top of the heat vent.

Priceless.

The "S L A B's" in concert, One NIGHT ONLY . . .!

Here we are, in our first official photo shoot. This evening was inspired by stress. These three women have had some stress in their lives as of late, and there's nothing like banging away on the drums to relieve said stress. Liz is inspiringly(I don't really think that's a word, but you know what I mean) good on the guitar. Bonnie rocks the mic and Syd is our drummer. (As you can probably tell, we didn't get a whole lot accomplished with Bonnie on drums). And, we were retarded for a minute and had to do "Band on the Run" like four times before we weren't booed off stage. And the costumes, well, I went to Wally to make us shirts with our band name and ran into these. And they sparkled. And I had to buy them. I mean, you have to have glitter to be in a band for hell's sake! Big shout out to RyLeigh who helped us all night long pick songs and change our difficutly level. The average age in this group was like 43ish, (that's if you average the three former D'ettes with the young, prettier version of them all. I'm actually guessing on that average because I have no idea how to really average it). Anyway, we were stupid and RyLeigh had to help us.

I love our band! And I love my band members. "Rock on, Rock on, today!"

D'ette's? What the . . .

Three of my favorite people on this planet. We took this in honor of all three of them, at one time or another, being D'ette's. I hear endless discussions of the splits and how they could never get all the way down, blah, blah, blah. They've goe some great arm action going on though.

American Airlines Flight 1980 . . .

American Airlines Flight 1980 with service to Dallas Fort Worth and on to Charles De Gaulle airport in Paris. Does that not sound like a flight you would hear about on the news crashing nose first into the pacific ocean, killing all on board?
That's my flight number to Paris on June 21st, at 11:45 am.

My Star DDR!

Here is my Lee-lee dancing it up at Aunt Vicki's house on New Year's Eve. She was pretty uptight that she wasn't getting a chance. I hope she dances like this forever.

Cupcakes

I really like cupcakes. They make people happy. It's like your own private dessert that you don't have to share, you know? I was having a brief conversation with someone the other day about cupcakes. Actually, I overheard this conversation. This person mentioned that cupcakes have to be an 'outside' treat because they make such a mess in the house. I have been thinking about that all day. I think little kids are suppose to make messes. They are suppose to crumble cupcakes, and spill their milk and wipe their hands on their shirts. They need to jump in puddles and play in the mud and take their straw out of their juice and flick it all over the kitchen. And they absolutely have to pull every book off their bookshelf to find that one book, that one special book they've read five times already today. I have been thinking about whether I let my kids make messes. I'm a 'just wipe it on your shirt,' kind of mom. I mean, serioulsy, it's just clothes. And if the stain doesnt' come out, so what. But I have been thinking if I let my kids make mistakes. Messes, as it were. Am I constantly cleaning up after them, or do I let them clean it up. Or, if it isn't going to kill anyone with E coli or some strange bacterial fungus, do I just let it sit so they know they are more important. This was a huge moment for me. If I dont' let my kids make a mess, how will they ever know that 1)It's okay when we make a mistake and 2) Messes are fairly easy to clean up when you ask for the right kind of help. Cupcakes may be messy. But they make me smile. There is nothing better than watching a little person lick the frosting off the cupcake. And then, of course, wiping their fingers on their shirt.