Off to school we go!

When Seth was little, he was so jealous because it seemed to him that everyone else got to go to school, while he was stuck home with me. It was true! Luke and Shulamith were in high school; Isaiah and Eli were in elementary school. I taught one evening class at Skagit Valley College, so even I got to go to school! Seth thought "school" must be the most exciting place, and he felt terribly cheated that he couldn't go.

Fast forward 20 years, and it's surprising how many of us are still in school. 

Seth began his junior year at Utah Valley University this past week, majoring in sociology and minoring in criminal justice. Turns out he likes school as much as he thought he would when he was a toddler and too young to go. He loves his soc classes, but this semester, Intro to Criminal Law might be winning the "favorite class" award. 

Cutest college student!

Eli also began the school year this past week, teaching 4th grade at Ridge View Elementary in Herriman, about 2 minutes from their house. He has 24 kids and teaches in a portable classroom because this school is growing like crazy! "So far, so good," he reports. "Kids seem nice."

Cutest 4th grade teacher!

Shulamith is teaching two classes at SLCC, both ENGL 900, developmental reading and writing. She has mostly taught night classes in the past when Matt is home, but now that her youngest is in morning kindergarten, she is teaching four mornings. I'm so grateful she has been able to be home with all her kids through their pre-K years; it's been a sacrifice for her and Matt but absolutely worth it!

Cutest college instructor!

I don't have a picture, but Luke works as a psychologist in the Maryland Public Schools, so he's technically still in school too! 

Finally, my fall semester began this week at both UVU and SLCC. Sad that my UVU classes are opposite days from Seth's, so we won't ever see each other. I have three classes at each school for a total of six, which is ridiculous. (Emily, I know you are saying "Why did you do this to yourself again? Last fall you said you would never do this again?") I don't know the answer; I truly don't. I want to go to the Holy Land and I need money to do that? That's the best I got.  Anyway, all six classes are ENGL 1010: three face-to-face, two hybrid, and one livestream broadcast. I already feel overwhelmed by it all, but ready or not, here we go.

Final hair and makeup check before first class!

Education is important in our family. Gerald and I set a goal long ago to help all five kids through their undergrad degrees as much as we possibly could, assuming they chose to go to college. They did. We now have four college graduates (bachelor's degrees) and one PhD (Luke), and Seth is halfway to his bachelor's. Hooray!

And in other news related to education, our amazing President Biden just forgave $10,000 of student loan debt for Isaiah and even more for Eli's wife, Amanda. We are so grateful! We don't hear a lot about him; he's not up in the middle of the night bullying people on social media. He's just hard at work, doing what he said he'd do, making positive change for middle-class Americans. Very possibly the best president in my lifetime.

And there you have it, our fall 2022 back-to-school report and pics. 

Vegas mini-vacay, reimagined!

What happens when two moms take three kids ages 10, 8, and 5 to Las Vegas for an end-of-summer fling, and one of those kids has ADHD, but his mom leaves his medication at home because she is so focused on bringing all his Type 1 Diabetes equipment that she forgets the ADHD pills?

Chaos. 

Pure chaos.

And also, loads of loud laughter and fabulous fun.

(Mixed in with the chaos.)

Shulamith says this photo best represents the essence of our trip, as she holds Swen in a death grip, haha.

If you ever go to Vegas with kids, I highly recommend the Hilton at Resorts World . It's located on the north end of the strip, so a bit far from many of the fun attractions; however, the inexpensive bus passes work great, so it doesn't really matter where you are. You can easily get wherever you want to go. This hotel is only a couple years old and so nice. Here is the view from our room on the 54th floor:

The best part about this hotel is the pool, or rather pools. There are five of them! Lots of shallow areas for non-swimmers and one pool with spray park features for kids. For parents, there are lounge chairs that are literally immersed in water. Not even kidding. You sit in a comfortable lounge chair, and your legs are under water. So cool (both literally and figuratively)! I didn't get a picture of these amazing chairs, but here we are hanging by the pool:

We rode the bus down to the south end of the strip to visit two favorite places: the Coke store (fountain Diet Coke on ice, anyone?) and the M&M store. We all got bags of assorted M&Ms, including caramel, fudge brownie, mint, pretzel, crispy, and of course peanut and regular. 

The Vegas mini-vacay was definitely reimagined from when Shulamith and I go by ourselves. For example, we didn't go to any shows, and she didn't get to gamble away her usual $20. However, you can be sure we still ate all the Vegas food we like. Had to feed her kids McDonald's because they don't like good food, but we enjoyed Gordon Ramsay's Fish & Chips.

We also ate our favorite crepes from the New York - New York Hotel, and we discovered a new favorite treat: Siegel's Bagelmania. These bagels weren't quite as good as the ones we ate in New York City but a close second. Finally, we ate our standard yummy street tacos from Taco del Gordo.

I think Kennedy's favorite thing was watching the high wire flyers at Circus Circus. When I asked her if she would like to be a trapeze artist, her response was, "Yes! But no." That makes perfect sense, Kennedy. Here we are waiting for the act to begin:

I only got one airport photo, but I need to post it to document the adventure and to prove we did it! Two moms, three kids (one missing his ADHD meds) and a 2-day, fun-filled trip to Las Vegas.

One day I'm sure I'll put it away. But not yet, I guess.

On my desk sits a nondescript, brown, men's wallet. One day I'm sure I'll put it away. But not yet, I guess.

It is my dad's wallet, exactly as it was the day he passed away 43 years ago, the contents just as they were back then. I had not seen the wallet in all those years, until recently when my brother mailed it to me. He was looking through some old boxes, hoping to find pictures of our dad to show his kids. He found a few, but this wallet was the best find of all! 

He asked me if I would like to keep it safe for the next 43 years. Uh, yes!! I have so very little that was my dad's. A few snapshot photos, along with a professional picture of him with his coworkers on his fire department shift, are pretty much it. I was overjoyed when Tom found this wallet and asked me if I'd like to have it; I am so grateful.

"Is there any money in it?" my kids all wanted to know. Nope. Its contents are pretty much what you'd expect: a few credit cards, his insurance ID, pictures of Tom and me, a handwritten note with the address of his best friend in Tennessee, and a small 1979 calendar with the three fire department shifts identified in red, blue, and green. My dad was on "A" shift (red) for a long time, but later in his career switched to "B" shift (blue). Our lives were in many way determined by those fire shifts; holidays and other celebrations had to be adjusted to the days he was off.

There is something profoundly meaningful about holding onto a physical object that he held in his hands every day. I keep picking it up, caressing the soft leather, then setting it back on my desk. I can't seem to put it away.

I loved him very much and I miss him every day, but the memories are many. And now, I have this wallet to hold in my hands, just like he did.

One day I'm sure I'll put it away. But not yet, I guess.

"...to mourn with those that mourn..."

This morning in my Gospel Doctrine class, we discussed what it means to "mourn with those that mourn" (Mosiah 18:9), as we read about how Job's friends show up to comfort him in his suffering (Job 1:11). We talked about the covenant we've all made to do this very thing and how we might improve! It occurred to me that no one does this better than Shulamith's daughter Kennedy, who entered the waters of baptism yesterday and took her first step on the covenant path, leading back to her Heavenly Parents and her Savior. 

It was a joyous occasion!

Kennedy had looked forward to her baptism for a long time. She picked out a pretty dress and a wreath of flowers for her hair. She chose her favorite hymn and invited the special people in her life to attend. More importantly, she began to learn what it means to be accountable for her actions. Her parents taught her about the covenant she would make when she was baptized and what it means to "stand as a witness of God" and yes, to "mourn with those that mourn." This last part comes naturally to Kennedy. Whenever someone is sad, she feels that sadness, and she'll do anything possible to help. Her heart is kind, her willingness to extend grace, unyielding. I hope she always lives like this, so near to the One who taught ultimate kindness and grace. I hope maturity and the woes of mortality don't ever tarnish that spiritual gift that overflows in Kennedy's words and actions.

Kennedy shared the day with another 8-year-old, a boy from our ward named Joseph. It was equally sweet to see him descend into the baptismal font and begin his own journey on the covenant path, with his family and friends gathered, along with us. Here they were, two precious children of deity, only eight years from having walked with our Heavenly Parents daily. And we could feel it. We could see it in their eyes and in their smiles. It gave all of us who were blessed to attend these baptisms, hope! Hope for the future and hope for humanity.

Congratulations, Kennedy and Joseph! The angels are singing for sure.

Last week, Shulamith and I took some pictures of Kennedy in her baptism dress. Here are a few:

"He needs a pump and camp!"

It's 3:00 a.m. and a bright flashlight shines inside a cabin full of kids. "Who's going low???" a sleepy teenage counselor asks as he goes through the kids in the cabin, one by one, to locate the source of the alarm that sounded just seconds ago.

A year ago, when Shulamith's son Swen was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes, I immediately contacted my friend Teresa, whose son and daughter both have T1. Her son (the younger of the two) was diagnosed first, when he was only three, and her daughter when she was 14. Teresa was an immediate source of knowledge and support as Shulamith, Matt, and Swen began the diabetes journey that would last Swen's entire life. We will always be grateful to her, along with a college friend of Shulamith's with T1 and others within the diabetes community, who reached out in support of the Webster-Monsons as they learned to navigate this stupid disease.

When Teresa told her son, now grown with a wife and children of his own, about Swen's diagnosis, his response was, "He needs a pump and camp! That's what he needs."

Swen got a pump (no more shots!) six months after diagnosis, but all camps were canceled last summer due to COVID restrictions. This year, diabetes camps in Utah were back in session, and Shulamith was quick to register Swen. Swen was both nervous and excited. We were both nervous and excited for him. Before this past week, Swen had never been away from his parents overnight, other than to sleep at my house. But he braved right up and went to camp with high hopes and an awesome attitude.

It was a long four days for those of us left at home. We couldn't even monitor his glucose numbers because the goal of camp is to help diabetic kids become self reliant, teaching them to manage the disease on their own AND to give parents a much-needed break from all of it. Shulamith barely slept the three nights Swen was away. "What if he goes low at night and sleeps through his alarm? What if no one notices? What if he dies?" This is not typical of Shulamith, about whom I often comment that she's never had an anxious thought in her life. But with diabetes, the hard truth is all of those concerns are realistic. I worried more about Swen's emotional health. I figured a camp for diabetic kids that's been in existence for 60+ years probably has its shit together; they probably know how to take care of these kids. My anxiety was more along the lines of "What if he gets scared at night? Would he tell someone? What if he hates all the food there? What if he doesn't make friends and feels lonely? What if no one else understands his obsession with car washes?"

All our worries disappeared yesterday at 5:30 p.m., when Shulamith drove up to camp to pick him up. He was alive and well, and he LOVED camp!! He was so happy! They evidently structure these camps to give diabetic kids a fun-filled week to meet and make friends with other kids with T1. It's such a rare disease that kids can feel pretty isolated. No one else has to check glucose levels all day, every day or bolus insulin prior to eating almost anything. No one else has two pieces of apparatus attached to his or her body 24/7, a glucose monitor to track highs and lows and a pump to dispense insulin. Swen was the only T1 kid in his entire school last year; it's hard to always feel different.

At camp, T1 Diabetes is the norm. Everyone has it. Swen loved that they all checked their numbers together throughout the day and that other kids' alarms sounded periodically alerting them of highs and lows. That's possibly the part Swen hates most about diabetes; he gets super embarrassed when his alarm sounds right in the middle of school. But at camp, that happens to everyone! He made friends, got "crazy," went on hikes, watched movies, saw a snake (he was quick to tell me all about that), and enjoyed lots of unstructured time (his favorite!) The only part he wasn't fond of were the education classes, you know, where they teach kids how to manage diabetes. My guess is it felt too much like school. 

I asked Swen what he liked best about camp. In addition to the things noted above, he mentioned staying up until 11:45 p.m every night, all the free stuff they gave him (note: no one loves to collect free crap as much as Swen), getting to buy stuff every day at the camp store, no siblings around, and not showering even ONCE the entire week.

So there you have it. 

P.S. Swen loved diabetes camp so much that he's considering going again next week when the theme will be Pokemon. Jurassic Park was cool, but POKEMON!!

Summer highs and lows

I know I'm untypical, but summer is not my favorite. I find the sun to be highly overrated, and I'd prefer rain every single day. Feeling a bit meh this evening, I decided to acknowledge both the highs and lows of the summer of 2022. Just keepin' it real.

Highs

1. Frequent thunderstorms bringing lovely rain and the misty, gray skies I adore. And sometimes, I'm even free to enjoy this. Sometimes. Other times I'm stuck in a windowless classroom on the campus of UVU, helping students learn to write rhetorical analysis essays (but that would put this in the "lows" column, so let's focus on the times I'm not at school). Someone on our family group text will message everyone: "Rain!" If I'm not in class or asleep, I book it outside to feel the rain on my skin and to breathe in the cool, moist air.

2. A visit from one of my closest friends from Billings, Montana. Trudy was my walking partner the whole seven years we lived in Billings, and fortunately, she comes to Utah semi frequently to visit family. Last weekend, she and her husband were here for just 36 hours, but she still spent three of those hours with me Saturday morning, as we took a long and much overdue walk through the streets of Daybreak. Yes, we got lost. We always get lost. Keep in mind our walking trail in Billings was one, distinct path with no turns. We literally walked one direction for two miles and then turned around and walked the two miles home. No way to get lost. Daybreak, in contrast, has twists and turns, hills and valleys, little bridges, a big lake (pond?), and neither of us is familiar with any of it. But Trudy handled it like a boss, pulling up a map on her phone, leading us right back to our cars.

3. The opportunity to teach Gospel Doctrine to the coolest Sunday School class ever! I've taught adult Sunday School several times, but never in a year that we were reading the Old Testament. I'm seriously in love with the Old Testament. Like I'm actively looking for some way to get to the Holy Land and see these places in person. The stories, so rich in covenant language and messianic symbolism, are delighting my soul. The people in my class have brilliant insights and do a fabulous job applying the text to their own lives and to our common goals as followers of Christ. Thank you, Bluffdale 16th Ward Gospel Doctrine class!

4. The next four days! Yep, in the middle of the arduous summer session, I get a 4-day break. I never teach on Fridays, the temple is closed this Saturday for Utah's pretend holiday, Sunday is a Relief Society/Priesthood lesson (no Sunday School), and Monday is the day they actually observe the fake holiday, so schools are closed. Hallelujah! My plan? Thoroughly clean my super dirty house, make progress on my current Netflix binge, go see Where the Crawdads Sing, and read! Too many essays have cut my reading time way too short recently, and Imma kick ball-change that situation real soon.

Lows

1. Summer session. Is crazy exhausting. We condense a normal 16-week semester into just eight weeks, which means double the workload for students and double the time in class for both them and me. It's hard. What I get in return is all of May and half of June completely off, which makes it worth it but still not easy. As of this moment, there are two weeks left of class. I'm trying to remember the advice of Tony Horton, the P90X trainer on the videos I used once upon a time to work out in preparation for Shulamith's wedding: "Finish strong!" he would always say in the final 10 minutes, when I was dripping in sweat and about to die, kinda like how I feel right now.

Come to think of it, that's really the only summer "low." But it's a pretty low low. I'm tired of this schedule; I'm tired of essays; I'm tired of students who plagiarize (well, I only have one who did that, but he's causing me way too much angst and anger); and I'm really tired of my dirty, disorderly house.

That said, I get the next four days off to catch up, and then just two more weeks till done. Will I make it? 

What do you think?

Fourth, tonsils, and embracing change

Change. Have I mentioned I'm not a fan? I had a close friend when we lived in Washington who loved change. She embraced it with all her might. I remember once when we had a bishopric change, followed by what seemed like total reorganization of the ward, my friend's response was "Change is always good!" while my anxiety brain was busy imagining all the horrible "what ifs."

So you can pretty much guess my reaction when I received a call a couple months ago from the coordinator of my lovely Friday afternoon shift at the Jordan River Temple. "Hello my friend, I have to ask you a question, and I'm really hoping for a particular answer. Your address on file with the church says you live in Bluffdale. Is that right?"

"Yes!" I replied, which was not the answer she was hoping for. When I began working in the temple, we lived in Sandy, which is part of the Jordan River Temple district. A year and a half ago we moved to Bluffdale, which is in the Oquirrh Mountain district.

"Really? Because I was crossing my fingers you'd tell me Bluffdale was an old address, somewhere you used to live."

My dear friend Trina proceeded to tell me that I could not continue to serve in the Jordan Temple because I live outside its district, and I would be released the following day. I wouldn't even be allowed to come to my Friday shift one more time to say goodbye. 

Silence. 

Eeeek, this was hard for me. I didn't cry, but I was close. Blindsided, mostly. And so, so sad. Goodness, I loved my Jordan River Temple, my Friday afternoon shift, and all the people there. Sensing my distress, Trina instructed me as follows: "When we hang up, I want you to text your bishop immediately. Don't wait until tomorrow. Tell him what happened, and ask him to begin the process for you to become an ordinance worker at Oquirrh Mountain." That I did, and my wonderful bishop expedited that process, so I only missed one week of temple service. Thank you, Bishop Auna!

And now? Now I'm determined to be like Joanne and embrace change. I will adjust to this new temple, and I will love it! All will be well. Most importantly, I still get to serve in the temple.

On the heels of this big change came birthday season in our family, soooo many birthdays, and then the 4th of July. Right in the middle of that, Shulamith's daughter Kennedy needed to get her giant tonsils removed. The night before, Shulamith and I took her out shopping and for dinner.

Kennedy is actually intrigued by medical procedures, loves to get shots, and especially likes to go to the dentist, so she wasn't scared at all, but true to form, when the day came, she was entirely running the show. Because they knew it was her birthday weekend, the nurses who were with her just before surgery asked if they could sing "Happy Birthday" as the anesthetist put her to sleep. Now Kennedy is a bit of an introvert, much like her dad, and doesn't like to be the center of attention, especially around people she doesn't know.

"NOOOOOO!!" was her reply to the nurses, so they just said "goodnight" and she was out.

Her recovery has been relatively easy: lots of rest, low-key activities, and a diet of ice cream, yogurt, and eggs. Our Fourth celebration was also fairly low key; Mathew smoked pork all day, and it was so yummy! Matt should be a chef. For real. Recently, he baked Shulamith and me some sourdough bread, filled with white chocolate and pecans, just like they make at Harmon's only better because we got to eat it right out of the oven. Picture fresh, chewy sourdough bread, with white chocolate melting through it, together with crunchy pecans. Mmmmmmm. (Uh, total food digression right there. Sorry. Back to the Fourth.) We all enjoyed delicious pork tacos as we played a rousing game of "What Do You Meme?" and ended the evening watching the neighborhood kids light a few, smaller fireworks. Lighting fireworks is illegal in the zone where we live, so they couldn't do any big ones. Not one bit disappointed here. Those things scare the heck out of me, though I've never been able to win that battle with my three pyromanic sons.

July will end the birthday season in our family (hooray!), and we'll be good until October, which is of course, the very best month to have a birthday. 

Am I right, Jane?