The Night Before Christmas (Erichsen-Webster Style)

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not an Erichsen-Webster was stirring, not even a mouse (well, except maybe Kennedy and Shulamith downstairs. The Webster-Monsons welcomed a baby sister, Kennedy Webster Monson, July 5^th.)

The pictures were hung on the kitchen wall with care (Yep,Terrianne, the LEAST crafty person on earth, somehow created a family photo gallery),

In hopes friends and visitors soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds (including Swen, who at age 2-1/2 has finally figured out sleeping, much to his mother's relief!);

While visions of Diet Coke danced in their heads;

And mamma (Terrianne) in her 'kerchief, and I (Gerald) in my cap,

Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow

Gave a lustre of celebration to objects below,

When what to my wondering eyes did appear,

But seven Erichsen-Websters from far and from near,

With Isaiah in the middle, so lively and rad,

I knew in a moment he must be a grad (from Westminster College with a B.S. in Computer Science).

More rapid than eagles his family they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:

"Now, Luke! now, Shulamith! now Eli and Seth!

On, Mathew! On, Désirée! on, Mom and Dad!

To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!

Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!" (And dash away Isaiah does, all the time, in his new position with Lanyon Inc., where he travels the world as a tech support specialist at various events and conventions).

But Isaiah, not the only graduate this year,

Dr. Luke Erichsen soon would appear;

So up to Indiana a few of us flew

Terrianne, Gerald, and Shulamith too — (...possibly for the last time. The Erichsen-Valentines moved from Indiana to Maryland in August, where both Luke and Désirée secured jobs in their respective fields of psychology and business at exactly the same time, no easy task for a family).

As we landed in Indy, and were turning around,

Down the aisle of the auditorium Luke came with a bound.

He was dressed all in black, from his head to his foot,

Including a mortarboard, tassel, and hood;

A Ph.D. he had earned on his back,

And he looked like a scholar just opening his pack.

His eyes—how they twinkled! So thrilled to be done!

Through five years of hard work, the battle he'd won.

On his face was a smile, his countenance glad,

With Evelyn watching, so proud of her dad.

But before all that happened, and lest we forget,

The most glorious day of the past two years yet;

At the airport we waited for one flight to land

'Til we saw Elder Webster, Book of Mormon in hand.

We ran forth to greet him, for after two years,

Oh the joy! — and then Mom in a puddle of tears.

We touched him, we hugged him, we looked in his eyes,

It was really our Eli, a little more wise;

He spoke many words, then went straight to his work,

Serving pasta at Mac. Grill; then turned with a jerk,

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

Up to BYU-Idaho in Rexburg he rose.

Then there is Shulamith, home with her babes,

Terrianne helps her on most of the days.

Save three mornings a week when with strength, mind, and might,

She tries to help college kids learn how to write.

Matt works for Vision, supply chain his role,

Gerald helps people hablar español.

And last we have Seth, who in June turned fourteen,

Which is totally nuts if you know what we mean.

He is our “baby” and needs to stay small,

But he currently stands five feet, nine inches tall!

He sings in the choir, piano he plays,

He makes our lives joyful in so many ways.

Magic his favorite, with card tricks galore,

A freshman in high school, so much still in store.

From the twelve of us here to the many of you,

May the love of the Savior, bless through and through.

And hear us exclaim, ere we move out of sight —

“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”

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.

Oh yeah. Mother's Day. I almost forgot.

Mother's Day was kinda dwarfed by our trip. That was not the plan. We carefully scheduled our flight to arrive home at 10:30 p.m. Saturday. We would get a good night's sleep (assuming jet lag wasn't too bad), and wake up Sunday morning refreshed. We could attend church with our families, followed by a relaxing afternoon and dinner. Eli and Amanda volunteered to get all the food together and bring it to my house. It was a great plan.

But then, as noted in the previous post, our flight was 2.5 hours delayed out of Rome, causing us to miss both our subsequent connections in Toronto and Chicago. Ugh!! We were told that the earliest we could make it to SLC would be 3:30 p.m. Sunday, and probably not even then because that flight included a 40-minute layover at Dallas/Ft. Worth, which is not nearly long enough even if the flight were on time, and none of our flights had been on time thus far, so...... 

We were so discouraged. Shulamith's kids were literally counting the "sleeps" until her return. My kids maybe weren't counting sleeps (Amanda, were you counting sleeps?), but they definitely wanted me home for Mother's Day. But God is a God of miracles, big and small. And late Saturday night, as we approached the American Airlines customer service kiosk and met two angels in the form of ticket agents, well that was a tiny miracle. Tiny, but meaningful. They handed us boarding passes for an early flight the following morning that would land us in SLC at 11:00 a.m.

We would miss church, but we would be home for the rest of Mother's Day, and indeed we were! There were a couple other fun glitches, including lost luggage that contained my van key zipped inside, leaving us no way to get home from the airport. Eli graciously came and picked us up. 

We were home! After an amazing trip that we will never forget, we were home. Shulamith told her kids she was going to hold them all day, and I think she did!

After we dropped her at her house and drove around the corner to mine, I told Eli I was scared to go inside. I'd been gone 10 days, and I typically do at least 10 hours of home maintenance/cleaning in 10 days, so I expected a disaster. I asked Eli how bad it was, knowing he and Amanda had come over the day before to drop off the food. He was cool as ice: "Uh, I don't know, Mom. Not great?"

I braved up and walked inside. I immediately smelled the lovely scent of clean, you know, that amazing smell of freshly wiped counters, mopped floors, shiny appliances, dust-free furniture, sparkling bathrooms! I was shocked. A lovely rose in a vase sat on the counter with a note from Eli and Amanda explaining that they did some cleaning, so I could return to a happy home. They know me well. It was truly the best Mother's Day surprise. Thank you, Eli and Amanda!

The afternoon was relaxing. I unpacked, showered, and read a book. Once everyone arrived, we ate dinner and just chilled. It was good. I had three of my five kids with me physically, but Seth texted a sweet message from Japan, and Luke texted from Maryland. I know it sometimes sounds cheesy and melodramatic when moms talk about their kids, but that's because language is limited. Motherhood is divine, and it's hard to capture its fullness in words alone. 

So I'll be just as cheesy as the rest of them and tell you that these five people are my whole world. They are my heart. They are the reason I breathe. 

In case you don't know all of them...

This is Dr. Luke Erichsen. He is a psychologist for the Maryland Public School District and a dad to one daughter. He is also the one who made me a mommy!

 

This is Shulamith Webster. She is my only daughter and my BFF in the whole world. She is a full-time mom to three and starting in August, a half-day kindergarten teacher!

This is Isaiah Erichsen. He is world traveler, avid Utah Jazz fan, and political activist. He works as a software engineer and IT specialist for Cvent. He is also the smartest person I know.

This is Eli Webster. He is a 4th grade teacher, horror movie lover, and dada to one little girl (who is basically his twin). His kindness knows no bounds.

This is Seth Erichsen. He will be a senior at UVU this fall, majoring in sociology and criminal justice. He loves music and movies and Japan (where he is right now on a month-long study abroad). He is funny and smart and cares about everyone.

Post #500: Can it really be that many?

Seven years ago, I began blogging. A friend once said, "You can't swing a dead cat without hitting a Mommy Blogger," and seven years ago I became one of the many. A lot has happened in those seven years, and much of it is documented right here in this blog. I am grateful. Grateful for the medium with which to tell our family's stories. Grateful for a place to give voice to my thoughts. And mostly, grateful to you, those who read and enjoy.

This is the 500th post.

Wow.

That is worth celebrating, I decided! When I began, I never dreamed so many people would want to read my essays. Really, I thought it would be just my kids (and probably not even all of them) and Gerald. Maybe my brother, occasionally? My two best friends? And that would be just fine because my goal was to do my part to preserve some family history. Plus, writing is therapeutic for me and far cheaper than a psychiatrist, so there's that.

But how to celebrate? I decided the best way was to look back and attempt to pick my favorite post of each of the seven years. Every year, I have my posts published into a hardback book, so I've been leafing through the many pages of those books, trying to chose my favorites. It's not easy. I  will link each of my choices, in case any of you would care to reminisce along with me.

For 2009, I chose my Christmas post. It was last Erichsen-Webster Christmas before people started getting married, and I remember so fondly sitting in my living room the night after, so joyous, so content, so thankful for my sweet family. 

For 2010, I chose an essay I wrote in my mind as we drove home from Salt Lake City after marrying off our only baby girl: Wasn't it just yesterday? I penned it the very next day as I remembered some of the earliest experiences of "The days of me and Shulamith."

For 2011, ah, okay it's a tie. I couldn't choose. Sorry. First is this post, "Wealth" because it highlights my sweet Isaiah and his understated yet strong character, and at this moment he is on the other side of the world (Australia), so very far away from me. And I miss him. But then there is this other one about Eli and leaving my baby at college, and, well, go ahead and read it if you want. And cry along with me.

For 2012, I chose two posts about Seth, our funny and fabulous 15-year-old, who, just the other day, was an equally funny and fabulous tween: Tweens and Planners are a Waste of Time and Space. I've said it so many times, but if you decide to have a "capstone" child, seven years after the others, be sure Heaven sends you one as amazing as Seth.

For 2013, I picked two again. Yes, this is becoming a habit. It's hard, though. There are so many. This one, because it still cracks me up everything I think about it (think Matt and Seth) and this one because it speaks my truth.

For 2014, so maybe three this time? I know, I know; this post is spinning right out control. But it's my blog and my 500th post, so whatever. I couldn't leave out my essay about bringing our missionary home after two years: You came home. You really came home. Or the one about our trip to Indiana to celebrate the first "doctor" in the family: Dr. Luke Erichsen. But then there's this other one which highlights the crazy, beautiful dysfunction that is our family.

And for 2015, we shall return to just two, Friends are friends forever and You might cry a little. Just because.

So there you have it. Post #500. Eli just came in and asked what I was doing. When I told him, he said, "That's a lot of writing!"

Indeed. A lot of writing. A lot of joy. A lot of memories. I may be one of the hundreds of "Mommy Bloggers," but my stories are all mine. And my family is all mine. I love them so very much. 

"Were you consistent?" Mr. Gay wanted to know.

"Were you consistent?" my Honor's English teacher, Mr. Gay, asked me during the first week of my senior year of high school. He had asked me to T.A. for him, and he was teaching me how to evaluate and grade student writing from his freshman English classes. He gave me a set of essays to score, and when I finished and returned them, he read only the one on top. "This looks good," he said. "If you were consistent with all the others, then I don't need to look at them. Were you consistent?"

In that moment, I realized two things: (1) I had no idea if I'd been consistent in my scoring of those papers, and (2) that one day I would teach English professionally. I'm sure back then I was thinking high school, but thank heavens (!) at some point thereafter, I had a better idea. 

Education is a core value in our family. We were committed to helping our kids financially through their undergraduate degrees, and next May, our fifth and final kid will complete his bachelor's (Go, Seth!). So far, only Luke has moved on to earn a graduate degree (Ph.D in psychology), but I think both Shulamith and Eli will pursue master's degrees at some point, and Seth will for sure need grad school of some sort.

Still, I wouldn't have predicted that so many of us would remain in fields related to education. This week, five of us returned for the 2023-2024 school year!

As mentioned above, Seth began his senior year at Utah Valley University, completing a B.S. degree in sociology and criminal justice.

Eli returned to Ridge View Elementary, teaching 3rd grade. He says the kids are small! (Compared to his 4th graders last year.)

Shulamith made a roller coaster jump from teaching part time at Salt Lake Community College the past few years to teaching half-day kindergarten at her kids' elementary school. She teaches a morning class and is home by 12:30, and all three of her kids are so happy she's at their school.

I don't have a "Back-to-School" picture of him, but Dr. Luke Erichsen continues in his position as a school psychologist for the Maryland School District. 

And I'm still chillin' with my adjunct gig, teaching freshman writing courses at Utah Valley University, Salt Lake Community College, and (for the first time) The University of Utah! It's way too many classes this time around, but if I don't die, I'll try to pare that down spring semester.

Here's to the 2023-2024 academic year, everyone! I'm predicting awesomeness for all of us.

(One final note: Mr. Gay passed away four years ago at age 90. If you're watching from above, Mr. Gay, know that you were my mentor and hero as an English teacher, and to this day, I try hard to be consistent in my grading.)

And I told him about a little girl who wanted to be a princess

I grew up in Portland, Oregon, where a yearly event occurs called the Portland Rose Festival. It's a week filled with parades, amusement park rides, Navy ships, and I can't remember what else--keep in mind, I left Portland when I was 17 and haven't lived there since. One part of this Festival is the selection of a court of princesses, high school girls from around the city, who wear crowns and beautiful gowns and ride on floats and wave a lot. Along with this high school court is a Junior Rose Festival Court, made up of little girls ages seven to ten, who essentially do the same thing as the "big girls."

When I was seven, more than anything, I wanted to be one of those princesses. And I really thought I would be. I couldn't imagine that I wouldn't be selected; the thought never even crossed my mind. Naive? Absolutely. They select only eight little girls from the entire city! The night of the competition, along with dozens of other little girls, I put on my beautiful new dress and shoes. My mom curled my hair in ringlets, and with my parents by my side, I was off to a night that most certainly would end with a crown on my head and the title "Princess Terrianne."

I was wrong.

I didn't win. I got first runner-up, which my parents tried to convince me was "excellent," but of course that is a bunch of crap because at the end of it all, "first runner-up" means absolutely nothing.

I was not a princess.

And my little heart broke.

That was years ago, but I still remember the pain of that night. I remember taking my place as first runner-up, standing stoically beside the newly crowned Junior Rose Princesses, as the audience clapped and cheered. I remember holding it together just long enough to get into the car, then bursting into uncontrollable, breathtaking sobbing all the way home and long into the evening until I finally fell asleep from pure exhaustion. I remember taking off that dress, vowing never to wear it ever again (and I never did) and feeling so horribly, horribly sad.

And I have hated competition ever since.

Now before everyone yells at me all at once, let me say that I understand at least cognitively (if not emotionally) the value of healthy competition. I know about effort and sportsmanship and teamwork and losing with dignity. I get it. I don't enjoy it. But I get it.

Fast forward three decades from that fateful night when I was seven, and I'm the mom to five beautiful children. My only daughter was 14, and her passion was cheer. She had an extensive dance background just like me, but more than anything, she wanted to be a cheerleader. As tryouts for varsity cheer approached, she worked harder than I'd ever seen her work for anything. She spent hours preparing. The day of tryouts, I was so nervous I could barely breathe. My mom and I sat in a little Mexican restaurant across the street from the high school because it felt better to be close to her while she was trying out.

The following day, I stood by her side as she made the phone call to the recorded message that listed the names of the new varsity cheerleaders. She looked at me and whispered quietly, "I didn't make it." I didn't believe her. We all think our kids are perfect, but in this case, with my dance background, I knew this wasn't just my natural mom bias. I knew how good she was, and it made no sense that she wouldn't be selected. I made her call again, so I could listen just to be sure. But sure enough, her name was not on the list.

She cried just a little and was sad for about a day. We left the guys and went out for steak dinner, just the two of us. Then in true Shulamith form, she bounced right back with that incredible optimism that I can only dream about. As a very young boy listening to a talk by former church President Gordon B. Hinckley, Isaiah once remarked, "The only two people as optimistic as President Hinckley are Sponge Bob and Shulamith."Truth! She moved forward with grace and humility, telling all her friends she didn't make the cheer squad.

Monday morning, I received a call from the cheer coach: "Hello, is this Shulamith Webster's mom?" Uh huh. "Another girl came in to ask about her scores, which led us to review all the score cards. It turns out there was a mathematical error on your daughter's card, and she actually made the squad. I'm going to call her out of class right now to inform her, but I wanted you to hear it first from me."

Well great. A mother is only ever as happy as her saddest child. All the hurt in my heart for my daughter's disappointment could have been avoided if somebody had done his math correctly. Or even better, if every girl who wanted to, could be on the cheer squad. Yes, yes, I know; that is highly impractical. Ridiculous. Yes of course, how can I even say such a thing? But dang, I just think kids should get to do the things they want to do.

Fast forward eight years, and Luke has finished his undergrad degree and is just back from his mission. His goal? A PhD in psychology. His second goal? Not to pay for it. So he only applied to six schools, all of which were fully funded programs and hence, extremely competitive. As in only 2-3% of applicants are admitted. No worries, I thought. He's incredible. But one at a time, rejection letters arrived. Why hadn't it occurred to me to suggest he apply to at least one non-funded PhD program as a backup or even a masters program, both of which would be far less competitive?

When the final letter arrived from Indiana University, I was sure it would also be a rejection. It was a thin, regular business envelope, nothing to suggest extra paperwork, etc. that might indicate admission. I texted Luke at work to tell him the letter arrived. But did he rush home? Nope. He drove through Taco Bell first. Then he came home and sat at the dining room table and ate Taco Bell, as that flippin' letter sat unopened on the kitchen counter. I know motherhood is not for wimps, but I was never warned that it involved this kind of torture.

Finally, he decided to open the letter, and of course, the rest is history. He was accepted to Indiana U. and even selected as the one fellowship student from the incoming class, and five years later, became Dr. Luke Erichsen.

Fast forward three years, and my very last baby is a junior in high school. His passion: choir. He has sung in choir all three years, but for his upcoming senior year, he decided to audition for Vocal Ensemble, the select performing group. Auditions involved singing a solo in front of the director and another music teacher, and Seth was so nervous. Me? I do a little better now than I did in my earlier days of parenting, but I still get plenty nervous. Then we had to wait two weeks to find out if he made it, until last night when the senior VE members came around with personal letters to each student who auditioned. Seth made it (whew!), but two of his best friends didn't, and after all this waiting, I felt so sad for them. They just want to sing and dance in this group and make people happy, and I think they should be able to. Once again, don't yell at me.

While Seth and I waited anxiously for the letter to arrive, my memories were close beside us. I told Seth about how competition is hard for me, especially when my kids are involved. I told him about Shulamith's cheer tryouts and about Luke opening his grad school acceptance letter.

And I told him about a little girl who wanted to be a princess.