Cuz I could always carry you

Today was a bit emotional. Not in a bad way, but emotional for sure. Today, Seth did two important things: he sat for the ACT exam, and he got his driver's license. On the same day. It's a lot to process for this attachment mom. Both these events represent a changing future for him, a maturity I'm not sure I'm ready for.

As most of you know, Seth is the youngest in our family of five children, and I've never been in a hurry for him to grow up. With firstborn kids, everything is so new. We tend to rush each milestone because each new accomplishment is so exciting. But with the fifth and final babe, there is no rush. None. They can stay little just as long as they want to. They never want to.

I remember when Seth was a year old and learning to walk. "Are you sure?" I asked him. "Are you sure you want to do this? Cuz I could always carry you."

He decided to walk.

And run.

And go to school.

And make friends.

And play the piano and video-games. He decided to join his high school choir and perform in musicals. I blinked, and he was a deacon, and then a teacher, and then a priest. Just like that, it was no longer I coaxing him to come for scripture and prayer, but he reminding me, "Mom, don't go to sleep; we still need to say a prayer."

Today, he took two more big steps forward, one that opens the door for higher education and one that brings tremendous freedom and independence. Whether I'm ready or not, this is happening.

So Seth, be safe out there on the road. Be safe, my baby. I'm right here by your side through the many choices the next year and a half will present. And if it ever feels too tough, if you ever feel like you can't take the next step by yourself, don't you even worry.....

Cuz I could always carry you.

Lack of Paradise

The scriptures tell us that when we pass from this life to the next, we will be "received into a state of happiness, which is called paradise..." (Alma 40:12). There we will rest. And we will work. It will be both peaceful and productive.

For me, a place here on earth simulates that same experience of peace and productivity. I'm sure it's only "through a glass darkly" (I Corinthians 13:12), but to my small, mortal mind, it seems parallel.  It's called Paradise Bakery, and I've always thought the name was perfectly fitting. I've written about this place before, once here in 2009, and again here in 2014. Paradise: my place when I truly need to be productive but also seek a restful, peaceful environment.

So yesterday morning, bight and early, I dressed in comfy clothes, pulled my hair back, gathered my laptop and backpack, and headed for Paradise with a mission. Last Wednesday, I received 45 essays, and I would plug through them, one by one, making substantial progress on this lovely Saturday. I would have at least seven graded by the time Shulamith came to meet me for breakfast and another seven by lunch. (And if you're wondering if my entire world revolves around food, yes it does).

But the minute I arrived, I knew my plan was thwarted:

Lack of Paradise.

That's right. Paradise Bakery on Ft. Union is closed down. How could this happen? Those soft booths, some hidden back away from the crowd, with electricity under each one. That marvelous fast Wifi. Those delicious cookies (Once you've read three essays, you can buy a cookie!). What ever will I do with lack of Paradise?

I left discouraged, but then some rain began to fall so at least there's that. I got in my car and texted Shulamith, the only one who would understand the magnitude this dilemma. She suggested I try Corner Bakery by Fashion Place, so off I went. Hmmmm. It was okay. Just okay. Definitely lack of Paradise. The booths are not very comfortable, and only two I could find had electricity, and none of them were hidden away. It was noisy. There were no good cookies.

I worked there anyway because by that point, I was woefully behind schedule, and even with lack of Paradise, those dang essays needed to be graded. May I add here that I don't much like working on Saturdays. I am a part time instructor. I am not a career woman. I should not have to spend my weekends working. Especially when I can't do it in Paradise!

Blah!

I had six essays graded by the time Shulamith arrived, and then made it to twelve by lunch. By that point I was really tired of lack of Paradise, so I went home and tried to work there. It's hard. Gerald and I are diametrical opposites when it comes to desired work environments. He likes either loud Spanish music playing in the background or the droll of CNN, reporting about the unparalleled sad state of our nation as a result of the clown we elected President. I need pin-drop quiet. He likes the window shades wide open, so he can see the mountains in the background. I like them closed, so I can see my computer screen. Diametrical opposites.

I didn't get much done. But here's the upside. Last night was Seth's first date, his first formal dance! For many of you, that is hard to believe. Me too. Seth cannot be that old. In Utah, they don't just go to dances; they do entire day dates. So in the afternoon, they went to the humane society to pet dogs, followed by Italian sodas at Fiiz. Then he was home to change for dinner and the dance. Here he is waiting (not so patiently) for his date and two other couples to arrive at our house to pick him up:

They finally arrived! I only saw Seth briefly when he got home last night, just time for a quick rundown on the evening and a prayer, but the report is he had a great time! Dinner at Chili's; followed by the dance at Rio Tinto; and then a movie, The Great Wall. All in all, a delightful first date for Seth!

The strange part? No one else was taking pictures. I'm serious. No other parents were taking pictures of their kids all dolled up for this dance. I didn't want to embarrass Seth, but on the other hand, I was not about to miss pictures of his first formal dance. Talk about lack of Paradise. That, my dear readers, was not happening. So when the group arrived to pick him up, as sweetly as I could, I ran outside and insisted on grabbing a few photos. All the kids were super adorable and accommodating of this mom, who needed pictures of her baby's first dance. Here they are:

The day began with unfortunate lack of Paradise, but ended with joy!

"Do you wanna go to Prom?" The networking of today's dating scene

I went to many dances throughout my high school years, and I don't remember all the details, but I do remember my senior prom. Most importantly, I remember my dress, because as I explained in this other blog post from only a few years ago, when it comes to prom, it's all about the dress. I also have a vague memory of how I was asked to my senior prom, and I'm pretty sure it went something like this:

Him: Hey, do you wanna go to prom?
Me: Sure!

Yeah, that was about the extent of it.

It is not like that anymore. I don't know if it's just being here in Utah (Utah has a culture all its own with some rather unusual traditions) or if it's true everywhere, but just asking someone to one of these high school dances is a giant ordeal. It involves all sorts of careful planning and networking and creativity. Just the "asking" part is a thing.

How do I know all this? Well you see, my baby is under the illusion that he is 16 and old enough to participate in such things as dates and dances. Which is beyond ridiculous because only just the other day, I was walking him up 450 E. each morning to Midvalley Elementary, our first year living here in Utah, when he was in 6th grade.

And now he is scheduled to attend not just one, but two (!) dances in the next two months. How'd that happen? As I said, it's complicated.

Hillcrest's Sweetheart's Ball is next weekend. It is a "girl-ask-guy" format, and a few weeks ago, Seth found a large poster outside on our doorstep, along with several candy bars. Glued to the poster was a combination lock. Lots of different girls' names were written on the poster, paired with different combinations. Seth had to try the different combinations until he found the one that opened the lock, which was next to the name of the girl who was asking him to the dance. How confused are you? Me too.

It didn't end there. "Will you text her and say you'll go?" I asked. Oh no, that would be way too simple. He had to do a thing. So he bought donuts and made a sign. The following night he coordinated with her friends to make sure she would be at home when he got off work, and then he doorbell ditched the donuts and sign on her doorstep. Okay, this is my Seth. Seth Webster Erichsen. Running around at night, leaving donuts on girls' doorsteps. What has happened to my sane world?

It didn't end there.

Just about the time he was all set to go to this dance, talk of prom began. Apparently there was a special day (D-day) when guys were supposed to ask girls to prom, but he totally missed that, so the girl he was supposed to ask (a different one from his date for next week's Sweetheart's Ball) was left waiting, the only one of this group of friends without a prom date. So last night he took care of that. She likes Hunger Games, so he made three large signs. Then he networked with her friends to make sure she would be home last night and left them by her door, along with candy and a Mockingjay pin.

Now, I guess, he waits for her to accept. "How do you know she got the stuff?" I asked. "She got it. Her friend just texted me."

Networking.

"Do you wanna go to prom?"
 "Sure!"

It's not so simple anymore.

A mirror selfie. Who would have guessed?

To most of you, this won't seem like anything special. It's just a mirror selfie, you might say. But to me, it was an accomplishment. You see, until recently, I was completely clueless about these things. I've seen many of them out on social media, and I've always wondered what the point was. Finally, one day last week, a friend posted one of these, and rather than wondering any longer, I texted Shulamith. Our text thread went something like this:

Me: Why do people keep taking pictures of themselves holding up their phones like they're taking a selfie, except they can't be because their phone is in the picture?

Shulamith: I don't think I've ever seen that before.

Me: Yes you have! People do it all the time. Go look at Angela's wall right now, for example.

Shulamith: Mom! They're taking a picture in the mirror. It's when people want to take a full-body selfie.

Me: So they're actually taking a picture of themselves?

Shulamith: Yes, silly!

Me: Which way do they face in the mirror if they want to do that?

Shulamith: Which way do you think?

Me: Probably backwards?

Shulamith: Yeah, if you want to take a picture of your butt.

Me: My brain can't process it. If you face the mirror, which way do you position the camera? Regular or selfie mode? Never mind. It's all too confusing.

At this point, the whole thread transferred to our group family chat thread.

Amanda: Haha!

Shulamith: I'm making her take a mirror selfie tomorrow.

Amanda: Oh good. Education is good.

Me: There might be a blog post here. Maybe.

Next post was a mirror selfie of Shulamith when she was maybe seven months' pregnant with Kennedy.

Eli: It's called a "mirror pic" Mom. Get with the times. They were super popular before cell phones and selfie cameras. It was the only way to take a picture of yourself while looking at the picture.

Shulamith: Hahaha, exactly. She's talking like this is all a new thing from the past few months.

Me: I am ALWAYS with the times. Don't you worry about that. But this whole mirror thing is totally confusing. I think you need to be more visual to understand it.

Shulamith: No, mirrors have been around a long time.

Gerald: Even St. Paul referred to a mirror in his letter to the Corinthians.

Me: "Now I see through a glass, darkly." One of my favorite scriptures!

Next came numerous mirror photos of Eli from way back in high school, which he was somehow able to access instantly.

Gerald: True. I was confirming Shulamith's comment that mirrors have been around for a long time.

Shualmith: Hahahahaha yes!!! You look so young, Eli.

Shulamith: Why are you holding up your phone in that picture, Eli? So weird.

Me: Yes, Eli. These! They've never made any sense to me. Which is why I asked you in the first place. I always thought people were just pretending to take pictures of themselves, which seemed so ridiculous.

Me: And just look at my adorable Eli!

Eli: You're funny, Mom.

So the following day, I tried to take my first mirror selfie. It's so hard. Like seriously hard. The picture above is the best I could do after 14 tries. I really don't think I'll do this again, but I'm glad I finally understand the whole deal, and that I have such an adorable little family to help me.

I love to watch you play!

I once read an article, whose goal was to temper over-the-top sports parents. You know, the stereotypical dad (or mom) who screams at his kid incessantly throughout the game, the one who screams at the coach, screams at the referees, screams at the parents of the opposing players, screams at everybody! If you've ever had a kid play sports, you've met this parent at least a time or two. It's always sad. And embarrassing.

The point of the article is that, really, the only thing you need to say to your kid after the game are these six words: "I love to watch you play." And by extension, I love to watch you sing, or dance, or swim, or ski, or cheer, or perform, or run, or jump. "I love to watch you play." It offers no judgment about how well the kid did; it simply expresses our joy in being present. It speaks to the process, not the product. And for me, at least, it's much more honest.

My five children have never been the superstars of anything. They're just regular kids, who participate in various activities of their choice. They will never be professionals at any of these activities, nor do they need to be. But to me, they are the stars. Always. And regardless of what they do, I love to watch them.

Yesterday, Isaiah played in a local DotA 2 (Defense of the Ancients) tournament. Now I should point out that I have absolutely zero understanding of DotA. Honestly, it's the most confusing, convoluted game I've ever seen. There are heroes and towers and ancients to defend. There are items and cosmetics and creeps. It's all very complicated. Isaiah taught Seth to play several years ago, and together, they speak an entirely foreign language all wrapped around this game.

Still, when Seth texted (from work) that Isaiah's team was in the finals, I asked Gerald to find it streaming on Twitch, and I was all in. Isaiah has used the gaming handle "Tehmop" for over a decade, so I know whom to look for. Every time I saw "Tehmop" fly across the screen, I cheered: "There he is! That's my baby!" Gerald and I tried to figure out if his team was winning its first game of the "best two of three" finals, but we were clueless. There's just no way to tell. Finally the sportscaster commented that he'd rarely seen a team coordinate so well as Team Classic was, so we thought that had to be good. The highlight was when the caster said "I'm not sure how Tehmop managed to escape that one, but he did."

"Did you hear that?" They mentioned Isaiah by name!

After winning the first game of the finals, they were on to the second, and Seth was back. I hoped he might be able to shed some light on what we were watching. He tried, but this game is seriously impossible to understand. You can't even tell when it's going to end, but Seth at least could tell us that Isaiah's team was playing well, and that Isaiah was busy "farming." Well, okay.

In the end, they won the tournament! They won eight straight games. Woo hoo!

But for me, the joy was just watching. Watching Tehmop's character swinging his sword, his pet armadillo following by his side. Because for me......

I love to watch you play!

"This is I" - Teaching grammar in the elevator

As many of you know, I teach a couple classes part time at LDS Business College, which is located in a 10-story building downtown. Three elevators move tirelessly up and down those floors all day long, transporting students to and from their classes. I'm not sure what our total student population is, but I can tell you for sure that three elevators are not sufficient to accommodate it. During the busiest times of the day, first thing in the morning and then late in the afternoon, it's not uncommon to find students packed into those elevators like sardines. The chant is always, "Come on in; there's always room for one more!" Except there isn't. But they go in anyway.

Nope, there is not a separate elevator for teachers. One semester I decided to forgo the elevators altogether. I make a goal not to ride the elevator once during the whole semester, and OCD as I am, I accomplished that goal. It wasn't easy. Classrooms are on the 5th - 8th floors, with the library on floors 3 and 4, registration on 2, student support on 9, and administration on 10. That means my mailbox, along with our supply room and break room, is all the way up on 10. Every morning (the three days I teach), I climbed those ten floors to check my mail, make copies, etc. Then I climbed up and down among the 5th through 8th floors the rest of the morning.

Yeah, I decided not to make that goal the following semester, and back to the elevators I went. The worst part is when I'm stuck in the very back of the elevator, with tall people squished all around me. Can you spell "claustrophobia"? The elevator stops at every single floor, as more students pile in because "There's always room for one more."

Finally, my escape is in sight as the elevator approaches the 6th floor, where my first class is, and I announce for all to hear: "Sorry! This is I," meaning they will all have to move so I can get out.

"This is I"? one student asks. "Is that correct?"

I then proceed to give a brief lesson on Predicate Nominative, explaining why the correct form is "I" not "me" in this sentence, and the response from students is stellar:

"Really? That's amazing. I'm going to say it that way from now on. I'll never forget this. I will always get it right."

Music to this English teacher/grammar Nazi's ears.

"This is I" - Teaching grammar in the elevator.

Finally February! Can I get an "Amen"?

Finally.

January (aka the longest month of the year) is over. And February, the shortest month of the year, is here.

And we've earned it. It's been a long one. And a cold one. It's been hard to find much hope this month, when day after day it is so cold, and here in Utah the air is so terrible that it's nearly impossible to breathe. No one told my about this Utah thing called the "inversion," until after I moved here. Seth would be quick to point out that he doesn't notice it at all, and if I weren't complaining about it, he wouldn't know it existed. But me? It totally kicks my trash. I feel so sick.

The other bad thing about every January is that I'm always on a sucky diet, the result of gaining a ton of weight after eating a copious amount of delicious food throughout the holiday season. It happens every year. And every January I swear I'll never do this again, and then I always do. No will power at all. At this moment, I have been full-on dieting for four weeks, and I'm making progress, but I still have a few pounds left to lose. Blah!

My annul diet, along with the cold temperatures mixed with the terrible air quality have made this January particularly despairing, and our newly-inaugurated President, who is the epitome of arrogant pride and narcissistic personality disorder combined, has made everything so much worse.

So yeah, I'm grateful it's finally February. Granted, not much has changed from yesterday to today. It's still cold, and the inversion is worse this week than I've ever experienced it in five years, but the end is at least in sight. A storm is brewing. Those of us who suffer from the inversion live for storms. We don't care if they bring rain or snow (well, I prefer rain, but I'll take either); anything to clear out this miserable air, so we can stop coughing is welcome. It's coming. Not for another five days or so, but yes, it's coming.

Wanna know what else is coming, or more precisely who else is coming? Eli! Yep, Eli and Amanda will be here Monday night, and I get Eli ALL DAY TUESDAY while hardworking Amanda is in a training seminar. Woo hoo! The air will be clear by then, and Eli will be here. February is good, I tell you.

This Sunday is our second annual Erichsen-Webster Super Bowl party. If you want to read about the first one, just go here. Plans are in the works for this year's party, and it should be epic. You should definitely come if you don't have other plans that day.

What else happens this month? Wait for it.......

...............my little baby is going on his first date to his first dance. I know. This can't be possibly be happening. I'd stop it if I could, but what can I do? Some girl asked him to the girls' choice sweetheart dance, and he said yes. Just like that. My baby, the youngest of my children has totally betrayed me and grown up, and now he's going to a dance. With a girl. So stay tuned for February 18th when I post a ridiculous number of pictures to document this momentous occasion.

January was long and cold, and for a number of reasons, this one was especially hard to get through. But take heart. It's finally February. Can I get an "Amen"?