Grrrrrrr!

I often say that I have the worst luck ever. And I do.

Don't misunderstand. I have a lovely life in all the ways that matter. I have excellent physical health, so long as my not-so-excellent mental health will let me believe it. I have a nice home to live in with my incredible family. I have smart, funny, delightful children who make me laugh every day. Yep, in terms of things that matter, I have everything.

However.

When it comes to the little things in life, no one has worse luck than I do. Plants die.  Recipes fail. And supposedly durable things break. All the time.

Like my phone. Grrrrrr.

About two months ago, we switched our wireless plan over to Verizon's new "Edge" program because it allows families to have up to 12 lines, when in the past the maximum was five. And it saves money, quite a bit actually. Because we switched plans, we all got brand new smart phones. Yay!

Immediately, I bought a protective case for mine along with a plastic screen cover. You can't be too careful. Other people? Not necessarily. I don't think Matt uses a case; I know Seth doesn't. Isaiah got one eventually, but not right away. And apparently, their phones fall on the floor "all the time."

Two weeks ago, I was sitting in the play area at McDonald's while Shulamith's little boy, Swen, played. Okay, no, he didn't really play; he threw things into the garbage, one at at time, over and over. Swen likes garbage cans more than just about anything, certainly more than slides and tunnels in a McDonald's play place. Anyway, other than his obsession with garbage cans, Swen is a typical toddler. He is learning all about the relationship between cause and effect. What happens if I do this? Or this? Or maybe this? I love this stage! So much. I love watching Swen, and other toddlers, because their sense of discovery is so thrilling. I love to watch them repeat an action over and over just to see if it produces the same result each time and then rejoice when it does.

But I digress...

This particular day, between trips to the garbage, Swen happened to pick up my cell phone and hurl it across the room, where it landed face down on the hard floor. And the screen shattered. Ahhh! I looked into several options to get it repaired and eventually took it to a little shop called CPR (cell phone repair), where they happily replaced the screen for $100. Easy come, easy go. Done.

At that point I decided to invest in a more durable case. I bought an Otter Box case for my phone. With such slogans as "The style you want, the protection you need" and "The road ahead is bumpy; make sure your technology is ready for it," I thought I had made an excellent choice. Perfect, even.

Until last night.

Shulamith and I were at Toys R Us, and as I reached to grab something off a shelf, my phone slipped ever so gently from my hand and landed quite softly on the floor face down. I wasn't even worried. Why would I be? My case provides "3-layer protection to withstand drops, bumps and shocks." Still, I let Shulamith pick it up and look at it first. I waited, KNOWING she would report that all was fine. But her expression quickly told otherwise. "It did crack," she said, anticipating my despair.

ARE YOU FREAKIN' KIDDING ME?????

Indeed, there are now three cracks on my brand new screen. In the moment, I was literally on the verge of tears. Over a broken cellphone. I know, right? But you see this bad luck of mine is getting a little old. And when others tell me how they drop their phones "all the time" and they don't crack, it doesn't help restore my happy disposition.

What will I do now? I'm not sure yet. I can't bring myself to spend another $100. I need a phone without cracks. I don't function well with broken things. But today was Sunday, and I opted not to concern myself with it for the time being. Tomorrow is a holiday, so maybe not then either. But Tuesday, yes, I will need to figure something out.

I often say that I have bad luck. And I do. Grrrrrrr.

Can your level of dysfunction equal ours?

This is birthday season in our family. Oh my goodness; every time I turn around, it's time to celebrate another birthday! Admittedly, most of this is my own fault. Eli in March, Isaiah and Shulamith in April, Seth in June - all my fault. We used to at least have a break in May, but then Mathew, born May 19th, joined our tribe, and THEN he and Shulamith had a baby in May, so now...well you get the idea. Birthday after birthday after birthday.

Last night was Matt's celebration. Several incidents of sweet family dysfunction made me laugh, so I thought I'd share them here.

1. First, when I told everyone that we would be celebrating Matt's birthday yesterday evening, Gerald, Eli, and Seth each independently asked, "Will Matt be here?" I told them that I thought he was coming although I didn't know for sure. We would celebrate his birthday either way; if he came, it would be the icing on the cake (his birthday cake!). Back story: Matt doesn't much like holidays or celebrations, and he works so much that he usually isn't here for them, and we're not sure he would come even if he were available more, because they are just not his favorite. But he was home last night (!), and he came. Yay! We love Matt.


2.  At some point in the evening, Shulamith was lamenting how "fat" she is becoming. As always, I tried to tell her the truth; she is not fat, but pregnant. And beautiful. Duh! But then the following conversation ensued:

Shulamith:  "Matt says even my calves are getting fat.

Gerald (her own father, by the way):  "They have to get bigger in order to hold up the rest of you."


 3.   Meanwhile, Seth was down in the living room showing Swen his card tricks (i.e. throwing cards at Swen while Swen giggled with delight).

Isaiah (quietly upstairs): "Finally, somebody can tolerate his card tricks."

Me (louder, so Seth could hear):  "Seth, Swen seems to like your card tricks. "

Seth:  "FINALLY SOMEONE LIKES THEM."


4.  Then the topic shifted to Isaiah's upcoming graduation. On May 31st, Isaiah will graduate with his B.S. in computer science. We are proud if him. Really we are.

Isaiah: "So Mom. What are you getting me for graduation?"

Me:  "In our family, you have to graduate with honors to get a present."

Isaiah (smiling): "I hate this family."

Shulamith: "You are the smartest person in this house, and you are not finishing with honors. Really, Isaiah?"

Back story: Isaiah will be our third college graduate (3 down; 2 to go!). Luke finished Magna Cum Laude; Shulamith, Cum Laude. Isaiah? Ahh, no.

Me: "Isaiah, exactly what happened between your sophomore and junior years? Just curious."

Isaiah: "I sorta stopped doing any homework after that point. Realized I didn't really need to. And I worked a lot."

So Isaiah was smart enough to pass all his upper level computer science classes without doing any homework and just taking exams. But not quite smart enough to do it with honors. Gotta love that kid.

I'd like to point out that I adore my family, dysfunction and all. But the question remains: Can your level of dysfunction equal ours?

Parenting Advice From My 13-year-old

Here's a picture of my sweet Seth dressed and ready to go to the temple this evening with the youth in our ward. Is he adorable or what?

Before we left to drive him to the church, he offered me some valuable parenting advice that I thought I would share with all of you. Keep in mind that Seth is 13. He is not married. He has no children. I am over 13. I am married. I have five children. Just sayin'.

He was supposed to be at the church at 5:00, and at 4:45, he was still sprawled across the couch wearing jeans and a t-shirt, plugged into his phone. So I said, "Seth, go brush your teeth and change your clothes." Seems reasonable, no?

But I guess there is a better way. A more perfect way. And Seth was quick to explain the error of my ways and demonstrate how I might do better. Thank you so much, Seth.
  
Why can't you be more like Eli? He would say something like, "Seth, so have you had a chance to brush your teeth yet?" And if I said no, he would say, "Hey man, do you think you'd be able to do that for me now? Because I'd really appreciate it."

And this is better because???? So he continued to explain:

It's the same with practicing the piano. You always say, "Seth, go brush your teeth and then practice the piano." But Eli says, "Dude, have you played some sweet tunes on that piano yet today? And when I say no, he says, "Do you think you could maybe go practice for me right now? Because I would love it if you would."

Once again, this is better because???? So he continued to explain:

The way you say it just makes me sad. Like all you care about is my teeth and the piano. But the way Eli says it makes me feel like it's my own choice what I do. And like he really appreciates me. It makes me feel better about the whole thing.

Hmmmm. Okay, then. May I point out that Eli is 21. Not married. No children (though I expect he will make an excellent father one day).

So yeah, there you have it, parenting advice from my 13-year-old. I sure love him!

Dr. Luke Erichsen

When Luke returned from his mission in May 2008, he faced what most newly returned missionaries face: uncertainty. "What should I do next?" Many are able to jump right back into college, wherever they left off. Others can at least jump right back into their social lives, reconnecting with high school friends who are still around. Neither of these was an option for Luke. He had already finished his undergraduate degree prior to his mission, AND we moved from Washington to Montana the year after he graduated from high school, so he had never really lived there. Instead, he spent the next year researching and applying to PhD psychology programs around the country. He wanted a fully-funded program; that is, he didn't want to pay any money or take out any loans. Needless to say, such programs are highly competitive. Who doesn't want to go get a PhD where the school pays your tuition and gives you a modest living stipend in addition?

It was a long and laborious process, including lengthy applications and cross-country trips for personal interviews, so when the acceptance letter arrived from Indiana University, we were over the moon ecstatic! Well, all except one of us, that is. There was a certain little boy, just shy of nine years old, who didn't quite share our excitement. Apparently, he missed the memo about Luke pursuing a graduate degree in a different state. Or more accurately, there was no memo. No one had bothered to tell him. In his mind, people go to college, and then they come home. Then they go on missions, and then they come home. And that is all! Luke had already done BOTH those things, so Seth was under the impression he would remain at home forever.

It was the saddest.

In the midst of our joyous celebration, our little Seth crumbled to the floor as the tears overflowed: "He already went to college!!!!! He does not need to go again! Why does everyone always leave?" Oh my. My poor little baby. He survived, and in the fall of 2009, Luke moved to Bloomington, Indiana and began his doctoral program, which would be three years of coursework plus two years of dissertation work and internship. The culmination of all this effort would be this past weekend at commencement exercises.

Gerald, Shulamith, Swen, and I traveled to Indiana to attend. And we faced what all those who travel with toddlers face: uncertainty. Swen is just two weeks shy of his second birthday, so this was his final opportunity to fly unticketed as a "lap baby." We had no idea what to expect. It could have been so bad. Here he is at the airport before boarding.

And then just after we boarded. It was all new and exciting at this point.

But even through two flights en route to Indy and another two coming home, he really did so incredibly well. I've flown with toddlers many times, and it's never been this easy. Sadly, we did have some less-than-enthusiastic co-travelers. Like the boy (maybe 8 or 9 years old) sitting in front of us on the first flight. He was apparently horribly bothered by Swen, who occasionally kicked the back of the seat. Really, kid? He's two. TWO! You were two not all that long ago. He kept turning around and saying, "Can you make him stop kicking?" to which I shook my head and replied, "No." Then there was the guy who sat next to us on our final flight from Dallas/Ft. Worth yesterday. I finally got Swen to sleep on my lap (because his mother doesn't really have a lap these days), and we were so relieved because he needed sleep so badly, but apparently my arm was half an inch over in this guy's "space." He kept nudging me. Like pushing on my arm. Be assured; I held my ground. We were not about to wake this sleeping child.

Can I just take this opportunity to tell you how I feel about all this? We were all babies once, and one day, most of us will be old. So while we are in the middle, if we can't have patience and tolerance for those on either end, we seriously need to reexamine our character. End of rant.

Besides earning his doctorate degree, Luke's five years in Indiana have been life changing personally. He met and married his sweetheart, Désirée. Here is a picture of their family.

And here are a few more random pictures taken over the weekend.

Swen and Mom (despite her very best effort to get him to call her "Mommy" or even "Mama"). Nope, it's "Da Da and Mom." Throughout the three days we were gone, Swen apparently missed just two people: his father and his dog. Several conversations like this occurred:

Swen: Badabadagagabadaba............Da Da?

Terrianne: Da Da is at home. You will see him soon.

Swen: Badabadagagabadaba.............Titty (Kitty)?

Terrianne: Kitty is home. You will see her soon.

Swen: Oh, Da Da. Oh, Titty. Oh no!

Swen and Désirée

Luke and Swen and Evelyn

Swen and I

Earning a PhD is no easy task. I would love one myself (Dr. Webster sounds way cool, ya think?), but in reality I won't likely ever put forth the tremendous effort required to have one. My master's degree will have to be enough. We are proud of Luke for this great accomplishment.

"The sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow that seemed hard frozen..."

Good morning, friends! I hope all is good with you this day.

I hope you awoke with joy in the hope of whatever opportunities await you.

I hope you feel peace.

I do.

Yesterday was the 34th anniversary of my dad's death, and today would be his 80th birthday. Yes, those two dates are 46 years, less one day, apart. I have written about him a couple of times, here and here, so I won't repeat. This year, the "season" between Easter and now has been typical. The best way to describe it is a struggle to navigate through water and fog simultaneously, making it difficult to move very quickly or see very clearly. I've learned over the years not to fight it, but to just let it be.

But today, I feel that fog begin to lift. At least a little. First thing in the morning, I took Shulamith's little boy to McDonald's to play, while she went to her 32-week prenatal checkup. We had the whole play area to ourselves. It was quiet. I had time to reflect. And the tears flowed. The past three weeks have been so busy; I haven't had time to cry. It was a much-needed release, and fortunately no one else came into the play area. I thought back 34 years to how I was feeling on that May 6th of 1979, my dad's birthday, the day after he died. I was so very young. At that moment, I honestly believed I would never be happy again.

I was wrong.

Just four years later I got married, and the following year I became a mother. I experienced joy like no other. I learned that the atonement is powerful enough to heal even the deepest most sorrowful wounds, and that God loved me enough to send me one, and ultimately five, of his most precious children. As Mother's Day approaches this year, I once again express heartfelt gratitude for the blessing of that divine role and destiny.

Through my tears, I began to feel peace.

As Swen played, I sipped my Diet Coke.

"Happy Birthday, Dad! I don't know if you celebrate birthdays in Heaven, and I don't even know if they have Diet Coke there (but they must have it, because it's Heaven, after all!). So drink a Diet Coke for me, and celebrate with Grandma and Grandpa. I hope it is the happiest!"

As we were leaving, I remembered this poem, one of my all-time favorites:



Sometimes  - by Sheenagh Pugh

Sometimes things don't go, after all,
from bad to worse.  Some years, muscadel
faces down frost; green thrives; the crops don't fail,
sometimes a man aims high, and all goes well.

A people sometimes will step back from war;
elect an honest man, decide they care
enough, that they can't leave some stranger poor.
Some men become what they were born for.

Sometimes our best efforts do not go
amiss, sometimes we do as we meant to.
The sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow
that seemed hard frozen:  may it happen for you.

The question becomes, "How could I not?"

So how is it having your missionary home?

It's an obvious question, and I get asked it a lot. Almost every day. And the expected answer is 100% correct: It's amazing! Really. Eli has been home five weeks, and I find myself more grateful each day that he had the opportunity to serve. My non-LDS friends frequently ask me how a mother can stand to part with her child for two whole years with such limited contact. "I really don't know how you do it," they say. But here's the thing: When you witness the incredible growth, the maturity, the increased faith the testimony that a mission brings, it is so clear. The question becomes not "How could I send him?" but "How could I not?"

Many of my ALRM mom friends will welcome their missionaries home soon; a whole slew of them return July 29th. It's gonna be a rockin' party at the Salt Lake City International Airport that day. So today, I thought I'd tell you a little about our experience this first month with our returned missionary. Not that yours will be exactly the same; it won't. But parts of it could be. Especially if you have elders. And even if it isn't the same at all, missionary moms just love to read about other missionaries. We eat this stuff up. And lastly, my anxiety is dang high today, so I need to write. Writing, for me, is the absolute best stress reducer. I know...I'm weird. We've already established that.

For starters, our returned missionary brought home the most perfect combination of humility and spirituality. He has learned so much, yet he is not boastful or proud. Instead, his desire is to lift us and make us better than we thought we could be, and he does. I am astonished by his knowledge of scripture. He has so much committed to memory, and what he doesn't know, he can find in only seconds. I wanna go on a mission, so I can be this good at it. Last week I was preparing my Relief Society lesson, and he asked what Conference talk I was using. "It's called 'The Moral Force of Women,'" I replied. "Oh, D. Todd Christofferson, October 2013. Great talk!" What?? How does he know all this stuff?

The other thing the mission has developed in Eli is an attitude of altruism, the honest desire to put others' needs before his own. Not that he wasn't a helpful kid before; he was. But not like this. He constantly seeks opportunities to serve, and if he can't find any, he asks. "What can I do to help you today, Dad?" For real. The other day he helped his baby brother shave the peach fuzz from his upper lip for the first time. I stood in the next room, eyes filled with tears. It was a "moment."

At the same time, I want you to know that he is still our Eli. In every way. He is still so funny and adorable. He makes us laugh. He jokingly calls people "piles." This is apparently mission lingo, and I don't think the term is complimentary. But now our 13-year-old is also calling people "piles," for better or worse.

Our house has changed a bit now that he's back. Did I mention in an earlier post that he has lots of stuff? Yep! And that stuff is, well, sort of everywhere. Yesterday we had this conversation: "So Mom, do you like having my stuff all over the place?" My answer: "I like having you home."  :-) At this moment, on the kitchen counter, are his watch, two pairs of sunglasses, a Nintendo DS, Chap Stick, keys, iPod, institute pamphlet, server apron and book, Garmin GPS, cell phone, a pack of 20 pens, and his scriptures. Ha!

Also, our TV habits have changed. Shulamith and I are WAY behind on our favorite shows. This is mostly because we'd rather talk to Eli than watch TV, but also Eli has a bunch of faves to catch up on, so the TV is often unavailable.

Now I almost hate to mention this... almost. But you are all my friends, right? I don't usually talk about such things, so don't judge me. The most annoying thing about living with only boys for two years is that apparently one forgets one very basic rule of etiquette: Bathroom seats go DOWN. Ahhh! I know I trained my son about this concept; I know I did. Let's just say we are going to have to do some re-training.

Lastly, I will tell you a little about determination. About discipline. About goal-setting and follow-through. Eli developed many of these character traits before his mission, and the mission only strengthened them. This is evidenced by his commitment to losing the weight he gained. According to our friend and former senior ALRM missionary, Tom Boatman, the average weight gain in the Arkansas Little Rock Mission is 40 lbs over the course of two years, the result of gracious Southern hospitality, which often includes fried "everything." Eli was pretty close to average, gaining 45 pounds in the two years. I knew he would want to lose that weight, but I thought he might wait a little while before beginning a weight loss plan. I was wrong. Literally the day after he came home, he started. That was five weeks ago, and I'm proud to report that he has already lost 25 lbs. He's over halfway there.

How is it having my missionary home? It's crazy wonderful. If I could go back two years, would I send him all over again? In a heartbeat.

How could I not?