Pies

I have always called my children "pies." I'm not sure why. The oldest three were Luke Pie, Shulamith Pie, and Isaiah Pie. Then came "Eli, the Little Pie." He was the youngest for seven years (until Seth Pie was born), and I called him "Little Pie." For obvious reasons, I've been thinking about him a lot lately. We took him through the temple this morning. His MTC date is just over a month away, and hard as I try, I'm just not Trudy.

Trudy is a friend of ours from Billings. She sent three missionaries. Stoically and gracefully, she sent them off, each one, without so much as a single tear. When she hears about other missionary moms crying and carrying on, she asks, "What are they crying about? Isn't this what they wanted? Didn't they raise their sons with this in mind? Didn't they teach them and train them, all the while praying that one day they would make this decision? And now they cry about it? Why?" Well, let me attempt to answer. Yes, this is exactly what I've always hoped and prayed Eli would do. And yes, I wouldn't have him do anything different at the point in his life. And yes, I couldn't be more proud. But Trudy, let's get real. He's leaving for Arkansas, and I won't see him for two whole years. I'll get one email a week (hopefully!), and phone calls on Christmas and Mother's Day. That's it. Considering I bawled like a baby back in September when I left him at college for the first time, I think it's a pretty good bet I will cry at the MTC. Nope, I'm not Trudy.

A couple nights ago, Shulamith and I attended a fireside with Mathew's mom in her stake. The presenters were a husband and wife who spoke on a variety of topics including family life and parenting. The sister who spoke told of the angst her second-to-the-last child experienced when his baby sister was born. Consumed with conflicted feelings, this little boy hardly knew what to make of his life now that he had been replaced as the "baby" of the family. I was instantly reminded of our Eli, who faced those same conflicted feelings when Seth was born. The two of them have been fighting pretty much ever since; nevertheless, no two kids love each other more.

Eli was my greatest challenge in parenting. My first three children were so ridiculously easy as babies and toddlers that I had become just a bit arrogant. I would see these haggard, worn mothers carrying their screaming toddlers out of shopping malls, and I would sometimes make condescending comments privately to Gerald: "That child obviously isn't getting enough positive attention in the home." Enter Eli! Suddenly, I'm the haggard mom carrying the screaming kid out of the mall. Eli was passionate! He was. And as he grew and matured, so did his passion.

As a young adult, he has channeled that passion in positive directions as he reaches out in love to everyone he knows. Moreover, that passion has fueled in him an unshakable testimony of the Gospel and an unwavering desire to serve the Lord. I can hardly wait to see how that plays out in Arkansas. I know he will love the people there, and I know they will love him. I know he will serve with all his might, mind, and soul. And I know he will grow in unimaginable ways. But I also know it will be hard for him. He will struggle. I've already sent one missionary, so I am well aware how challenging a mission is. He will rise to these challenges just as Luke did and grow with each experience, but as a mom (and a wimpy one at that), I wish I could shield him from all the tough times. I wish I could make every moment joyous.

As I watched him this morning at the temple (pictured above), I thought how young he looked. He is only 18. How can I let him go? And though his name will change, and everyone will call him "Elder Webster," to me, he will always be Eli the Little Pie.

The Twilight Zone

You get out of your car and begin to walk toward the building. It is an otherwise normal day as you make your way closer to the entrance. Stepping through the threshold, you have just crossed over into (Twilight Zone theme playing in the background)....

THE FABRIC STORE

Okay, those of you who remember your parents watching the T.V. series "Twilight Zone" may be wondering, why the comparison? I'll tell you. That's exactly the way I felt when I entered Joanne's Fabrics this past weekend to buy the materials to make Shulamith's baby a quilt. Keep in mind that I do not sew. Not a single stitch have I ever sewn. I'm sure I went to fabric stores with my mom, who happens to be an excellent seamstress, when I was a child, but I truly can't remember much. Since then, I've been in only one, a very small store near here where Shulamith found the pattern for my mom to sew a blessing outfit using the fabric from my (our) wedding gown. This was a quick stop in a small store, nothing like what I experienced last weekend.

I decided to go to a big store because I thought they would have more quilt panels. How do I know about such things as quilt panels? Well, over ten years ago, when we lived in Washington, I had a friend who made baby quilts. They were so beautiful. I still have the one she made for Seth. I watched her make dozens of these quilts from start to finish; I watched the entire process over and over. And now, I'm determined that Shulamith's baby will have one of these quilts. Even if I have to sew it myself. Ha! This is a true exercise of faith, my friends, because I seriously don't do this type of thing. I suck at anything hands-on, other than typing on a computer keyboard.

But I do remember the basics, at least I think so. You need a quilt panel. That is like the front of the quilt, the part with cute baby stuff on it. Then you need a solid color for the back that matches the panel. Then you need this white fuzzy stuff to put in the middle to make it soft. So yeah, that's why I headed to Joanne's Fabrics in Taylorsville, aka "The Twilight Zone."

I walked into the store and was immediately overwhelmed. Like totally. It was so BIG! Oh my goodness. Rows and rows of reams of fabric were everywhere. How could someone as incompetent as I ever make sense of it? Does the image "deer in headlights" mean anything to you? That was me. It was so bright, and there was so much fabric I was practically frozen in fear. Hesitantly, I made my way up to the central customer service area and said sheepishly, "I, uh, want to sew a baby quilt. Do you have such things as 'panels'?" The saleslady pointed to the back corner of the store and said, "In the nursery area." Well that makes sense. They have a nursery in a fabric store?

I headed back in the direction I was given, and sure enough, there was a huge section of fabric, all with baby/children's designs. There must have been ten rows of it. I had no idea how to begin. How could I determine which were the panels and which were just reams of regular fabric? I must have looked just as helpless as I felt because this lovely human being came up to me and asked if she might help. Yes, she was an employee there, but get this: she had just clocked out and was off for the day. What do want to do when you finally get off from a long day at work? Help incompetent women find baby quilt panels?? No! You want to go home. And she must have wanted that too; nevertheless, she stayed and helped me find what I needed. She said the only way to tell if the ream contained quilt panels or regular fabric was to pull it out and look. Really? I have to pull all these out and then roll them back up? I must have looked even more frustrated because she pulled one out to show me. It was an adorable panel in browns and blues with monkeys and giraffes. "Perfect," I exclaimed, thinking the sooner I picked something, the sooner I could get out of there.

Since the panel was flannel, she then took me to the plain flannel section to select a matching back piece. By this point, I could barely function, so she picked out a nice navy, and I said, "Great." Then she asked if I had thread. And needles. And pins. No, no, and no. Why would I have that stuff? She gathered all of the above and directed me to the place where they cut up the fabric into the amount you need. I thanked her profoundly, said goodbye, and took my place in line to wait not so patiently. I really just wanted to get out of there. Finally, my fabric was cut, and I was able to go up front, pay, and escape.

That was last week. Thus far, I've done nothing with all this stuff except look at it and wonder why I ever thought I could do this. However, once this set of never-ending essays is graded, I will lay out the quilt pieces the way my friend used to and pin the whole thing together. I know that's the first step. After that, I will use the thread and needle to stitch around the designs on the front of the quilt panel. I think this much I can do. What do I do with the edges of the quilt? I have no idea. My friend used to put ruffles around the edges. I don't know how she did that. I'll worry about the edges later.

Do not adjust your television set. Do not attempt to control the dial. You are traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind. Next stop: The Fabric Store.

My Favorite Jokes from Last Night's Jay Leno Show

Let me first say that I love political humor. Of course, I like it best when it makes fun of Republicans, but honestly, I laugh either way. I am a dyed-in-the-wool Democrat, liberal and proud of it. As it turns out, though, most of my friends are conservative. Not sure why that is, and it doesn't matter anyway because, fortunately, they are also reasonable, intelligent, kind, and respectful individuals. In most cases. There was a time a couple years ago when a "friend" removed me from her Facebook because of my liberal politics. How utterly silly! How stiflingly boring life would be if everyone's views were exactly the same. I believe I've had this exact discussion with some of my most conservative friends (Hi Rachael and Amy!). Rachael (aka Raree) said something like "We may never agree on politics, but I think we are both still wonderful people." And Amy's comment was something like "We can disagree and still be respectful and kind." You girls rock!

Anyway, last night's Leno show cracked me up, and I just have to record the jokes, and what better place to do it than right here on my own blog. Keep in mind that I'm subjected to constant anti-Obama rhetoric scrolling down my Facebook wall regularly, so don't be offended, my dear conservative friends.

My favorite joke from last night's Leno show:

"After Tuesday night, Romney was so bad off he was praying he was covered under Obama-care."

My second favorite joke from last night's Leno show:

"After Tuesday night, Romney was so bad off that he might even start talking to poor people."

Ahh....still laughing.

Seriously, I hope the GOP can eventually find a candidate that they can unite behind, but the longer that takes, the better our chances of beating him. So let the drama continue!

Progress Toward Goals

I mentioned earlier my goal to walk 1,200 in 2012. After just over a month, progress is pretty good. I need to walk at least 100 miles each month, but in January, I took a 3-day weekend trip to Portland and didn't walk a single mile the whole time I was there. Once home, I had serious catching up to do, but fortunately, I finished January logging exactly 100.05 miles. That's how close it was. This month began well, but then I went to Rexburg last weekend and once again, didn't walk for three days. Now I'm once again in catch-up mode. I did six miles yesterday and five today. We got Ms. Kitty a choke collar in attempt to train her to walk next to us rather drag us along behind. It works great; it's like walking an entirely different dog. She's not crazy about the collar, but she lets me put it on her if it means she can go for a walk. She did three of my six miles yesterday, and she was one tired Kitty! She curled up on her favorite recliner right next to me and barely lifted her head when everyone started coming home from school.

I mentioned in the other post that this was really my only resolution for 2012. And that is correct. Sort of. I do have one other goal, although I wouldn't exactly call it a resolution. For some unknown reason, I had this idea that I should start cooking more in 2012, eating out in restaurants just a little bit less often. Why? I'm not really sure. But anyway, that's what I've been thinking. For those who may not know my history in that area, I was pretty much raised in restaurants. My dad was a fire fighter and worked one 24-hour day out of three. On that day, we'd always eat out, usually with my grandparents. I won't lie; I loved restaurants then, and I still love them today. When we had four very young children (pre-Seth), we ate out at least once a week, sometimes more. But the real transition (read: we eat out more days than we eat home) came when we moved to Billings 7-1/2 years ago.

It was then that Gerald began working swing shift. From that point until now, he has never been home in the evenings. I've been essentially a solo parent all that time, including during the dinner hour. And here's the thing: I'm a terrible cook. Seriously terrible. I don't enjoy one thing about cooking. I mean how many of you just love to do things you totally suck at? Yeah, I didn't think so. Even the supposedly simple recipes often fail when I try to cook them. It's ridiculous how bad I am. So without Gerald to participate in meal preparation, I basically opted for restaurants/fast food most nights.

And there are more obstacles than just my woeful lack of culinary skills. The people in my family have so many weird eating idiosyncrasies:

1. Gerald won't eat mammals. He's not quite vegetarian because he does eat chicken and fish, but no beef or pork.

2. Shulamith doesn't eat any fruits or vegetables. None. End of story. And she's even pickier now that she's pregnant, which I would have said was not possible, but it is.

3. Matt doesn't like onions or mushrooms.

4. Isaiah doesn't eat much of anything, and certainly nothing I cook.

5. Seth prefers Kraft Macaroni & Cheese or Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup over anything I could make.

So you can see the challenge here. To prepare a dish that might please everyone, it would need to be vegetarian (or include only fish or chicken), contain no fruits or vegetables (especially no onions or mushrooms), and taste better than mac & cheese and chicken noodle soup. This is no easy task. But I've been trying. My plan is to eat at home three out of the four weekdays (Mon. - Thurs.) It's against my religion to cook on Friday or Saturday nights, but we do try to honor the Sabbath by cooking and eating at home on Sundays. So that would be four nights eating at home, which may be overly optimistic, but we can try.

One thing that will undoubtedly help is that starting next week, Gerald will be working day shift. Yep, after 7-1/2 years, we will actually have him home in the evenings. This dynamic will be a definite change for all of us, but a good one for sure. Seth will get to see his dad more than just on weekends. Gerald will be able to attend Seth's evening activities, which he never could for Isaiah and Eli. Best of all, Gerald will be here to participate in dinner preparation. W00t! So here's how it's going so far. On Monday I made vegetarian lasagna. Everyone except Isaiah and Seth likes that, but as I said, they don't like anything I cook. Then last night, I tried Lindsey's recipe for meatloaf. It actually turned out good, but I used lean ground beef rather than ground turkey, which means Gerald won't eat it. And he's really the only one who eats leftovers. Face it...when the food is crappy the first time around, why would we want to eat it again?

On that note, we are now off to Rumbi, our favorite Hawaiian grill. Because after cooking two nights in a row, I'm pretty much over it. At least for now. Maybe tomorrow, I'll gather the energy to try again.

No Ordinary Week

Too much excitement for one week? Nah! We can handle it. But seriously, it's been quite the week. Two nights ago, I slept maybe five hours, and last night wasn't much better. All the excitement is good excitement, but it still keeps me awake, mind racing.

On Wednesday, just as I was finishing my third and final class at 2:30, a text arrived from Eli. It was a photo of him holding up a big, white envelope addressing him as "Elder." His mission call had arrived! I didn't think it would come for another week, so this caught me totally off guard. I told him to hang tight; I'd be home in 20 minutes. I immediately texted Shulamith and told her to leave school as soon as she could and to get home as quickly as possible, albeit safely. Eli had already texted Matt, who was on his way home, and called both Luke and Isaiah, telling them to be waiting for another phone call soon. Gerald was at work, which makes him totally inaccessible. He wouldn't be home until nearly midnight. Before we even knew when the call would arrive, he had graciously and sacrificially given Eli permission to open it without him.

I drove home, with the same level of excitement as back in October when Shulamith texted me a picture of her positive pregnancy test and told me to "Get home NOW!" When I arrived, Eli had just returned from walking Kitty. He said he couldn't just sit home and stare at the unopened envelope. Matt arrived, and we waited another ten minutes for Shulamith. Then we remembered little Seth. No one had thought about him. We looked at the clock and determined that he'd be walking home right at that moment, so we waited another l-o-n-g ten minutes. When he finally showed up, Eli called Luke, and I called Isaiah, and we put them both on speaker.

The time had come.

Eli opened the envelope slowly and methodically, taking care not to damage it. He put another piece of paper over the letter, so he could scroll down, reading line by line, rather than skipping ahead to the important part. Finally, he reached the part that announced that he has been called to labor in the Arkansas Little Rock Mission for the period of 24 months. He will enter the Missionary Training Center March 28th, just two weeks after his 19th birthday.

We all cheered in delight, those in the room, and those on the phone. Most of us have never visited the South, other than to fly in and out of the Miami Airport. We think it's the perfect mission for Eli. It just feels right. And he is one excited kid! From that point until long after I went to bed, he was on the phone. I mean literally (and you know I'm serious when I say that). He called family members and dozens of friends. He left messages for those who didn't answer, saying, "I got my call. So you should call me back." By our dinner celebration at Olive Garden, the phone calls were coming in one after the other. He managed to eat, but only taking small bites between calls. I had texted Gerald with instructions to "Call Eli ASAP!" He called on his dinner break, and Eli shared the news with him as well. Oh happy day!

That night Gerald came home with more exciting news. No, it doesn't quite parallel a mission call, but it's still good for our family, and (hopefully) for my anxiety management. He was offered a permanent job at the company where he's been temping since early November. It's far from his dream job, but it will provide steady income indefinitely and insurance benefits until he can find the job he wants. You can't imagine what this means to me. Let's just say that at the moment I feel healthy in every way, with only a few residual anxiety symptoms.

And if this wasn't enough for one short week, yesterday was Shulamith's ultrasound. Now the medical staff is quick to remind everyone that the purpose of the ultrasound is NOT to determine the gender of the baby; there are many more important things than that to check out. Nevertheless, it's a very nice side effect. Sadly, they would only allow one person to be there with her, and for some reason, Matt thought he should be that person. I've known her much, much longer, but whatever :-) :-) :-).

And the news is....

It's a boy!

And they are thrilled.

After Shulamith and I bought just a few cute outfits for the new baby, Eli and Seth and I took off for Rexburg late yesterday afternoon. This morning we had the privilege to attend Emma's baptism and celebrate with her wonderful parents, siblings, and extended family. It was lovely in every way.

And with that, we come to the end of no ordinary week.