What Eli says...

So this is really just an addendum to my post from yesterday about missionaries, but when I received Elder Webster's email this afternoon, I couldn't resist blogging one paragraph in his own words. Lots of missionary moms create entire blogs just for their missionaries, where they post all their letters, along with pictures, etc. I don't do that; I just have this one blog, which Gerald calls a "mommy blog" although I don't always only post about my children, right? Anyway, even if I tried, I could not replicate the "voice" in Eli's letter today. He cracks us up:

 "Halloween is an awesome holiday, but at the same time it sucks. Because once Halloween hits, then boom! It's November already, then Thanksgiving, then all of a sudden it's Christmas season! Then it's Christmas, then bam!! 2013 is over. And then Elder Webster is sad, because not long into 2014 he goes home. It just seems that once Halloween hits, then the rest of the year just zooms by. It's crazy."

 

What is the deal, Elder? You NEVER want to come home? Shouldn't he be at least a little bit homesick by now? It's been 18 1/2 months! We miss him. Anyway, I thought you might enjoy Eli's perception of Halloween and why it's an awesome holiday but also sucks.

Gettin' My "Missionary" On!

Several years ago, around 2009-ish (?), we were living in Billings, Montana and members of the Skyview Ward. Back then, there weren't as many sister missionaries as there are now, so it was super exciting when two special young ladies came to serve our ward, Sisters Engstrom and Buchanan. Because they were female, they needed sisters from the ward to drive them places, go on exchanges, fellowship investigators, etc. Hooray! I happen to just love this sort of thing. They were both awesome missionaries, but Sis. Engstrom finished her mission and went home shortly after coming to our ward, while Sis. Buchanan was brand new, so we got to keep her a bit longer. I had the opportunity to get to know her family a bit (through Facebook), and just recently, I was able to attend her wedding reception.

Fast forward four years. With the change in age requirements for missionaries, the number of sisters serving missions is increasing dramatically! Pictured above are two amazing sisters, now serving our ward here in Utah, Sisters Faumuina and Gonzales. How cute are they!? And once again, sisters from the ward are needed to help them. Lucky for me, I'm available almost all the time! They invite me to go with them often, and it's always the best part of my day. Today we visited an awesome guy, who is working to get approval from the city council for his very large home to be used to house troubled teenage boys. What a worthy pursuit! I pray he is successful. Tomorrow evening, we get to meet once again with a family across the street from my house, a mom and dad and their 14-month-old little girl. Missionary work is the best!

Of course I'm not a real missionary. I don't have a name tag. I don't have a bike. I don't get up at 6:30 a.m. (thank heavens!). I can watch TV and use the Internet and go to movies and have a job. But in case you haven't heard, we do have a real missionary in our family, serving in Arkansas/Tennessee. I haven't written too much about him lately, and it's high time I did. Elder Webster has been out just over 18 months. In his words: "I'm at my 18-month point. That means I only have six months left. Which sucks." Yep, he really likes his mission, and he doesn't want it to end. He and I aren't exactly on the same page there; I, personally, CANNOT WAIT for it to be March.

Yesterday we received an actual snail mail letter from Elder Webster. Rarely does that happen; usually, we just get our weekly p-day email. He took the time to hand write us a letter this week because something wonderful happened that he wanted to share. Four individuals, whom he was involved in teaching and baptizing early in his mission, are now preparing to go to the temple next month. He asked the mission president if he might be allowed to attend with them, and President said yes! Elder Webster is beyond thrilled. How incredible for him to see firsthand the fruits of his labor. We are overjoyed for him and so proud.

Meanwhile, I keep trying to do my part right here. I love to help our sisters, and it means even more to me knowing there are kind members in Tennessee doing the same for Eli.

I Believe That Too, Seth.

I'd like to tell you a story of the faith of a child. Okay, he is 13 and would tell you he's no longer a child, but he is and always will be my child and my "baby" even. A little over a year ago, he began his first year of middle school, a 7th grader, wanting to be so brave, but anxious nonetheless about going to such a big school with so many classrooms, so many teachers, and so many kids. Not surprising, though, he jumped right in and was perfectly comfortable after the first day. He loved it! "This is 100 times better than elementary school," he declared. Whew! He was off to a great start, and this mom was grateful.

His enthusiasm continued through the year, with only really one exception: P.E. I should explain, if I haven't already, something about our family. We don't raise athletes. We just don't. It isn't in their genetic makeup to excel at sports or P.E. or anything requiring physical coordination and strength. At least not for the most part. Shulamith, like me, loved to dance, and her extensive dance training helped make her an excellent cheerleader in high school. Eli loved all sports and played most of them, but a star athlete he would never be. The other three boys struggled more. Every physical skill was a challenge. We encouraged them to try their best and leave the rest because what else could they do? We reminded them that some kids struggle to read or do math or understand science, but those kids still have to try. Giving up wasn't an option, but neither was feeling worthless because of the things they simply could not do.

Seth's 7th grade P.E. class was rough from the start. Children in public schools today are well educated about bullying. They know how to recognize it and call it out for what it is. This is a good thing. So when Seth told us he was being bullied in P.E. class, we took him seriously. Truthfully, I don't feel anyone was to blame. Twelve-year-old boys are by nature immature. They are ruthlessly competitive, and they don't have a great handle on empathy or diplomacy. As for the teacher, I'm sure he wouldn't knowingly allow bullying in his class, but it's not humanly possible for one man to control every word that comes out of the mouths of 50+ rambunctious boys during the course of an hour.

One thing I do wish he would change is the way he goes about dividing up teams for in-class sports. He uses the age-old method of selecting two team captains and then allowing those two kids to alternate choosing teammates, one after another. Day after day after day after day, Seth was the very last kid chosen. It was humiliating. But the reality was that if winning was the only objective, and with 7th-grade boys it definitely was, then Seth would not be an asset to any team. I would like P.E. teachers to rethink this method of team division.

As the weeks went on, we hoped the situation would improve. It didn't. We tried to empower Seth with positive coping strategies. "Tell these kids it hurts your feelings when they make rude comments about you." Or. "Simply walk away and remember that what they say about you has no bearing on reality; it takes nothing away from your true nature, a divine son of Heavenly Parents." When nothing worked and Seth began to dread P.E. class, all the while loving all his other classes, I decided to talk to the teacher. He was friendly and really quite nice, but his response was less than satisfying: "Yeah, you really have to have thick skin to be in a 7th-grade boys' P.E. class." Perhaps. A little. Actually, no. It's a required class, one he has no choice but to attend. He should not have to endure constant, daily bullying.

About three weeks before the end of the semester, I received a text message from Seth immediately following his P.E. class: "It was just awful today. I'm trying not to cry." Okay, enough. ENOUGH. I made an appointment that afternoon to speak with the assistant principal. Some of you might be thinking, "Why did you wait that long?" I've asked myself that same question. I think I kept hoping the situation would remedy itself, especially because he was so happy in all his other classes and with school in general. I probably should have intervened sooner. I'll never know.

Regardless, the assistant principal was fabulous. Rarely have I been so impressed with an educator as I was that day. She listened to me. She was understanding. She genuinely seemed to care about Seth. She told me that he had endured this long enough, and she offered me a couple different solutions and asked if either would be acceptable. We decided Seth would be immediately rescheduled into a student aid position for the remainder of the semester during the period he had P.E. I've never seen a kid more relieved. He hugged me tight and thanked me for caring about him enough to make this change happen. Fortunately, P.E. was only one semester, so we were free from worry for the time being.

Until this past fall. The start of 8th grade. As summer came rapidly to a close, I began to worry knowing Seth would be right back in P.E. class when school began. I talked about it with him; he was concerned too but less so than I was. Kids forget so quickly. I do not. A mother is only ever as happy as her saddest child. He was excited to start 8th grade. He was excited for his classes, especially technology (shocking, huh?). As the first few days passed, I asked about each class by name, and with trepidation, I asked the burning question, "How's P.E. going?"

"Great!" he replied. "I love P.E."  Seriously? I didn't probe right then; I wondered if it was just the "honeymoon" period? Surely it couldn't be that different from last year. Yes, it was a different teacher this time, but it was the kids, not the teacher, who were the problem. What had changed so drastically? His affinity for P.E. class didn't end. Finally, I asked more directly what was so different this year. He told me it was two things. First, this teacher doesn't do the team selection process. Instead, he just assigns teams, and the teams stay the same throughout the semester. And second, Seth loves his team. Apparently, they are terrific kids, who are all more interested in having fun than winning. What are they playing right now? Football. FOOTBALL! Seth, my Seth, is enjoying playing football. Hallelujah!

And then he added one more thing, the most important thing of all. He told me he believes this P.E. class and his particular team are the answer to prayer:

"I prayed that P.E. would be okay this year. I never thought it could be this good, but I just prayed it would be okay. And I believe this was a gift...like from God. I really believe it was an answer to my prayer."

I believe that too, Seth. I believe that too.

It's Way More Than Just Bowls. Really!

Tupperware. Most of us hear the word, and we immediately go back in time to the kitchens of our moms and grandmas. We picture bowls. Lots and lots of bowls. Giant storage bowls, medium-sized mixing bowls, small cereal bowls. And most of them are gold. Remember? I have a super large Tupperware bowl. It's not gold, but I think once upon a time it might have had a gold lid? I must have gotten it from my mom, but honestly, I can't remember. It's very wide, though, and our family lovingly refers to it as the "throw-up bowl." Whenever a kid says "tummy ache," I quickly grab that bowl. "Here. Throw up in this, NOT on the carpet!" I'll never forget Christmas of 2005. All four of our sons were sick with stomach flu, not all at once, but one at a time, each day from December 23-26. I remember rinsing out that bowl over and over and then disinfecting it just in time to give it to the next kid. Ah, Tupperware bowls. What would we do without them?

But is it still around? Like, the company? Do ladies still host Tupperware parties and invite all their friends over to socialize and see the newest products and eat yummy food? Yes, indeed, they do! And not only that, but Tupperware these days is way, way more than just bowls. Crazy more! It's an entire food preparation, cooking, and storage system. How do I know this? Well you see, I have attended not one, not two, but THREE Tupperware parties in the past week and a half. Why would I do this? Let me backtrack.

When Shulamith's baby Swen was born, more than anything, she desired to be a full-time, stay-at-home mommy. And she was blessed to be able to be just that. When Swen turned a year old in May, she decided it would be nice to have a little extra money for the little "extras" in life, but she still didn't want to leave Swen very much. So she returned to Macaroni Grill (where she has worked on and off since she was 19) to serve a couple lunch shifts each week. This has been okay, but not ideal. She doesn't like leaving Swen, even for short periods of time, to go to work.

Wondering what she might do instead, she remembered someone she knew a few years ago, a girl who also used to be a teacher but who quit to stay home with her baby and now sells Tupperware. Long story short, she called Kaitlyn, and after much discussion and thought, Shulamith is now officially a Tupperware consultant. Woo! Her initial training party was here at our house, and I watched as Kaitlyn made fresh salsa in less than five minutes using this chopper thing. It's sort of like a lawn mower? Except no electricity or gasoline. You pull a string, and the chopper circulates. It literally chopped an entire onion with two pulls of the string.

The following week, Mathew's mom, Dawn, hosted a party for Shulamith where Kaitlyn again amazed me with her delicious microwave caramel corn and monkey bread, both prepared in about 20 minutes using various Tupperware products. My own party for Shulamith was this past Thursday night. Here, she made an entire German chocolate cake in a Tupperware stacker cooker in the microwave. She put everything in the bowl, frosting and all (!), and cooked it for 9 minutes. Delicious! I don't even cook, and I want all this stuff.  :-)

Shulamith has four more parties booked in the next two weeks, so she is off and running. And the best thing about this endeavor: the parties are always around 7:00 pm, the exact time Swen goes to bed. She doesn't miss any time with him at all. So if you ever want to see what's new with Tupperware products, she is the one to ask...

...because it's way more than just bowls. Really.

Drug Addict?

I think I've mentioned before that my family has a history of addiction. Back as far as I can remember, my relatives struggled with any number of issues: alcoholism, compulsive gambling, overeating, excessive spending, tobacco dependence, and these are all situations I have witnessed first hand! Yep, I was genetically predisposed to inherit an addictive personality. And I have it. At least I think so. I'm pretty dang compulsive. And I do love my Diet Coke! Seriously, though, aware of this family history, I've been uber careful all my life about potential substance abuse and common addictive behaviors. I've often joked that I'm pretty sure I'd be an alcoholic, if only I drank alcohol.

I don't take any prescription meds, and even over-the-counter medication scares me. So I basically don't use it. I have to be hurting pretty bad to take so much as an Ibuprofen. I worry about the side effects of medicine; doesn't it all have to be processed through the kidneys and liver? I'm pretty fond of my kidneys and liver. Just sayin'. 

So here's what happened. Here in Utah, I struggle with allergies more than anywhere else I have lived. Meine Gute! Apparently, the pollen count is unusually high here? One day a month or so ago, Gerald said it was higher here than anyplace in the country, save El Paso, TX. And this summer, this nasty pollen has made me sick. Literally. My throat constricts, my eyes water, my ears itch, my head aches. If only I could cut off my head, I know I would feel just fine. Remember when I thought I had throat cancer? Yeah, turns out it was just really bad allergies.

So all summer Shulamith has been hounding me about taking allergy medicine. "You don't have to feel like this," she says. I resisted and resisted. I do not like to take medicine (see above). Finally, one night when I was suffering pretty severely, she brought up one tiny pill, one of Matt's over-the-counter, non-drowsy allergy pills. And I caved. I took it. Wow! Within an hour, I felt like a new person. Ninety percent of my symptoms were gone. Unbelievable!

That was about a month ago. Every day since then, I have taken one of these pills. Every. Single. Day. I can't help myself. This must be what it feels like to be a drug addict. Every day I tell myself, "Today I will not take one of these pills." But about 24 hours after I took the last one, my symptoms start to return in full force. It's awful! I start coughing. My throat becomes scratchy and constricted. My ears itch. My eyes water. And like a drug addict, I begin to think, "I could feel so much better if I just took one little pill." And what do I do? I go take a pill. Yes, yes I do. Zero will power.

So that's my story of the day. It's not good. Who knows what damage I'm doing to my internal organs by taking all these pills? People tell me that once the first freeze comes, it will kill whatever causes these allergies, and I'll feel better without medication. I really hope so.

You'll Be In My Heart

This afternoon Gerald and Shulamith and I attended our fifth Hale Center Theatre play of the season, the musical "Tarzan." Simply put, it was excellent. As always, the production was spot on in every area: acting, singing, choreography, set design, costume and makeup--all top notch professional. I had never seen the play. I didn't know the story of Tarzan, other than that he was a boy raised in the jungle by apes. I had no idea what to expect, yet I was captivated from start to finish.

Most especially, I was moved by the ape mother and her unyielding devotion to the boy Tarzan, so much so that I found myself weeping several times including when she sang the reprise of "You'll Be In My Heart" as she anticipated her "son" leaving her to join the human world. Okay, yes, I'm a wimp mom, a point we've already established many times. It's fine.

While her character caused me to think about all my children to some extent, I was particularly focused on Isaiah. Why, you may ask. Probably a combination of things. For one, he's been talking about possibly moving out this year, finding a house to share with some roommates. This is not a bad idea. It isn't. After a couple years in the dorms at Westminster, last year he moved home with us, but yeah, I don't blame him for wanting a bit more independence this final year of school. It makes sense. But you see, I like having him here. I like hearing about his adventures at school. I like laughing about all the restaurant drama at Macaroni Grill. I like hearing him sing. I like the way he interacts with Seth and Swen.  Essentially, I like him.

And I'm proud of him. Really proud. Can I brag just a little? This past summer Isaiah set two goals: (1) to learn Spanish and (2) to become more physically fit, fairly lofty goals, but he followed through like no other. He found a free program on the computer and taught himself enough Spanish that he qualified to take the 2nd year course this fall at Westminster. Impressive! And he developed an exercise plan that he followed religiously every day. I often came home to find him lifting weights or doing push ups, crunches, or squats. All this has resulted in some weight gain (very good for Isaiah!) all muscle, obviously. He looks great.

He would not want me to write this post. He does not like to be the center of attention. He is the classic middle child, happy to slide by under the radar, requiring very little, and never making much noise. So hopefully he won't see this? If he does, hopefully he won't be mad?

But Zay...here's the thing:

You'll be in my heart
Yes, you'll be in my heart
From this day on
Now and forever more

You'll be in my heart
No matter what they say
You'll be here in my heart, 

always.

"Like" the teacher's FB page, and stay on top of homework!

Here is our Seth, who began 8th grade two weeks ago. From what I can tell, his school year is off to a fantastic start. Several times in the past two weeks, he has mentioned to me his personal goal to finish the academic year with a straight 4.0 GPA, all three terms. Now generally speaking, I'm fairly opposed to the worship of the "Almighty A." When each of our four older kids entered high school, I was always relieved to see that first "B." It took the pressure off. Minus the stress of maintaining the 4.0, students are free to focus on learning rather than on grades. And that's a good thing. However, with Seth this year, I think this goal is reasonable, especially in light of the fact that last year, he only missed it because of a homeroom-type class that required students to fill out planners. And Seth, with all the disdain a 7th grader can muster, declared in no uncertain terms that "planners are a waste of time and space." You can read about all that here if you like; suffice it to say that he didn't fill out the planner, and the result was an "F" in the homeroom class, seriously damaging his otherwise flawless GPA.

Planners are not required this year. I don't know whether that's because he's in 8th grade or because the school, in general, has changed its requirement, but it's very good news for Seth. And he has decided he wants a perfect grade point average. Tonight he and I ate dinner at Panda Express, one of his favorite restaurants. As we enjoyed our orange chicken (Seth) and black pepper chicken (me), he talked to me about how he intends to make sure every single grade, all year long, is an A. And I have to admit I was shocked. Not in a bad way, mind you, but shocked nevertheless. I expected to hear such strategies as getting every assignment in every class completed and handed in on time (though he pretty much already does this). Or making sure to study for tests. Or doing any extra credit that's available. Or going to the teacher for additional help if there's something he doesn't understand. These are the strategies I would have used when I was in middle school, and it wasn't that long ago.

But no. None of those obvious strategies made Seth's list. Instead, he talked to me about various technological tools he will use. First, he will log into his Skyward account every couple of days. There he can access his grades in every class, his total percentages, and check on any possible missing assignments. Next, he will "like" his teachers' Facebook pages (not their personal walls, but pages created expressly for their students) where he can see assignments, due dates, upcoming tests and quizzes, etc. And just as he was explaining all this to me, he received a text message on his phone. It was his science teacher who had this to say: "A reminder that Using Properties to Classify Matter (blue) is homework if you didn't finish it! Should be quick homework so you can enjoy your weekend." What?? Yes, indeed, he gave his teacher his cell number, and now she will send texts such as this reminding him about various assignments. How totally cool is that?

Can I just say I am impressed. So good luck, Seth, in this endeavor. You are off to a good start, it seems. And may I add just one suggestion to help? It also involves technology. Maybe consider spending fewer hours playing video-games? Good idea, huh?

Love you, Seth!