"Butt Naked"

I wish I could blog my naked pictures of Elle and Cam, who were coloring contentedly at the kitchen counter on Sunday morning, post-tubby. But, I guess it's not the most prudent thing to do. And Elle is posing as if we do nude photo shoots all the time. Seriously, where does she get her personality plus?

I remembered the time when I passed the living room and stopped short at the sight of 7-yr-old Mia "butt naked" (her words) hard-at-work practicing piano in the buff.

Instead, I'll post these breakfast pics I took the other day. The lipstick was Elle's idea. Cam's a good sport, don't you think?

"Stressed vs. Happy" Update

It's been exactly 6 weeks that I've been tracking "H" for happy or "S" for stressed on my calendar. Stressed means I got mad and let someone (or everyone) have it.

So, in 42 days, I earned 41 "H's." The "S" happened just one day before an official month of "H's." It was about bedtime, just after I had marked an "H" for the day. (Geez!) It was all Rob's fault (actually, not even close). But I'm cutting myself some slack on that one, because it could've been worse. And Rob can take my guff.

If I had to estimate the number of times I wanted to freak out during the past 6 weeks, I would say about 30 :)

Three keys to success:
1. Eat humble pie (gobs of it)
2. Disengage for a sec and ask myself, "Why am I freaking out [in my mind]? What am I so afraid of/frustrated about?"
3. Tell myself, "I will not freak out, no matter what. Come hell or high water." (And sometimes it's plenty hot and floody around here.)

The kids insist on complete integrity with this goal of mine. One day Cam spilled something and then walked through it (not processing my pleas to "stop! stand still!") until he had tracked it far and wide. I swear, I gave just the slightest hint of a grumble under my breath, and he said in a kindly parental voice, "Mom, remember how you're working on not getting mad?..."

What has amazed me is I honestly have changed. To the point that I can't remember being my old self. I've turned the proverbial corner in my brain somehow, and I'm different. I don't feel defensive all the time anymore. I don't feel like I have to be in charge of my whole world anymore. I've surrendered. Not in a "giving up" kind of way, but in a humble, I don't know it all, I don't have to take the blame for everything that goes wrong kind of way. I've noticed I've developed (or more likely, was gifted) an attitude of acceptance when I face stressful situations. Acceptance was never something in my coping repertoire. I was always fighting reality with my expectations. Now, I can accept stressful situations almost immediately and move straight on to problem-solving.

At the same time I feel I've made a fundamental change, I also recognize I could slip back into my old habits/attitudes as easily as they crept up on me in the first place. So, I'll continue to track this.

I imagine this experience will always be a reference point for me in the future. A defining moment. The moment when I understood change is possible when it's accompanied by heartfelt and consistent prayer, humility, desire, accountability, and commitment. There's hope for me yet!

Bloch Exhibit

This is my newest favorite painting,"Christ Mocked by a Soldier." Christ's look is so piercing. So humble. So long-suffering and committed. And He looks grief-stricken. How does a painter capture that kind of emotion? It amazes me. The soldier grabbing His back is so hateful, yet that was nothing compared to what really happened. Christ's eyes looking directly into mine give me such a rush of emotion. His eyes seem to convey complete understanding of any misjudgment, unfair treatment, lack of appreciation, irony, or ridicule that I feel I suffer on some of my worst days. He shows me how to endure it. With dignity. Meekness. Humility. And rock solid commitment to and love of God. I love how Christ has turned away from the soldier. He ignores the worst in him. He loves him. I love this painting. It inspires me to rise above it all.

We couldn't miss out on the Carl Bloch Exhibit at BYU. Plus, it was free!

Here we are, all smiles. 

Two seconds before that picture... Elle is hopping mad.

There was a spot on the lense that showed up right on my bum. I tried to photoshop, but I just made it worse. Mia says, "Oh no you did-n't..." haha

 M&M have so much fun together.

 Another smiley pic

And two seconds before that picture... 

Cam's so patient with us. I love that boy.

Sweethearts with Jason

MK rushed in the door wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and a ponytail 25 minutes before her date was to pick her up. Gobs of time in her book. I frantically curled her hair, while she bobbed up and down getting dressed and doing make-up.
Then, he was early.
Mia didn't mind entertaining a tall, dark, and handsome stranger while they watched basketball and waited. MK was ready soon enough, and they would've been out the door in a flash, but her mom couldn't quite figure out how to pin the boutonniere.

Rob did his best but to no avail. So, we sent them off to the next date's house, where hopefully a more prepared mom could help.
Fun times!

Boys Vs. Girls

There's a difference, I think, between us girls and the boys we love. Case in point: Cam spilled his yogurt onto the floor, and Rob told him to clean it up. Cam said, "Can I just lick it up?" (first clue). Rob answered, "Sure" (second clue). Check out Elle's expression (third clue). Rob thought he'd capture this on film for Mom's sake. Last clue—see anything in the photo that a mom would've dropped her camera for? Yep—that tipped over yogurt is killing me. It's just on the verge of ... I can't look.
I rest my case.

The Evans Edition: The story of our stories

I finally got around to compiling an archive of our Evans Editions for each of the kids. It got me thinking about how this all got started.
About 11 years ago, I was visit-teaching a lady in our ward who wrote a full-page letter to each of her 8 adopted children every month, detailing what they had been up to and how she felt about them. I loved this idea but thought I'd better stick to a paragraph about each family member in a one-page newsletter. McKenzie was six, Mia was four, and Getty was just a year old.

I wrote about the time when McKenzie (6) wet the bed and then just pulled on some jeans over her soaked underwear and went to school for the day(!) (she's always been low maintenance :) I wrote that during prayers, a peeking McKenzie informed us that Mia (4) was silently flailing her arms around and making wild faces and then quick folding her arms and shutting her eyes just as we said, "Amen" (sounds like Mia). I wrote about how we'd moved 12 times in 9 years. I go back and read this stuff, and it brings tears to my eyes and melancholy grins and full-on belly laughs—all these details I'd for sure have forgotten by now.

 (These are pictures of pictures Mia took of her album.)

So, back to my story—around the same time I was inspired by my friend's monthly letters to each of her kids, my sister showed me a one-page monthly update her in-laws sent to each of their married kids to keep them informed of new addresses, phone numbers, and happenings in their siblings lives. All at once, I saw the beginning and the end of a family newsletter. It's creative, it's practical, it's genius. Love brilliant people who inspire me to copy them.

So now technology enters the picture. And suddenly, my scrapbooking is obsolete. Heck yes. But the blog hasn't replaced the Evans Edition newsletters (though they do overlap some). I still need a place to brag non-stop about the kids (which they love, but friends—not so much) and a place to talk about the nitty-gritty details the kids may be interested in when they're grown but don't necessarily want broadcasted on the blog here and now.

And so, those giant white plastic binders will get fatter and fatter. Makes me wonder what those newsletters will reveal about our lives 11 years from now. Rob and I will be in our 50's! MK will be 27, probably married with a couple of kids. Mia will be 25. Probably married with a baby. Getty will be 22. If he's like Rob and I, his wedding plans may be in the works. He could be at college trying to figure out a career he can be happy with. Cy will be 19 and hopefully on a mission. Cam and Elle will be the same ages M&M are now. Cam, "the professor" as we like to call him, could be a straight-A student, and Elle a spunky cheerleader. It could happen, but I bet reality will be much more interesting. SO much has happened in the last 11 years, and so much more is to come. Probably the best of times and the worst of times. Just how life is supposed to be. And it'll all be encapsulated on the Evans Edition. Of no consequence to the world, but fascinating to us in the world Rob and I brought together.

Valentine's, Part 3

Our traditional candlelight family dinner for Valentine's (inspired by Linda's "Dinner with Fire"—thanks!) It's your basic spaghetti dinner all fancied up on a tablecloth and china and served in the formal dining room with sparkling cider and topped off with a box of See's California Brittle.

Cam is behind Getty's Ranch bottle pouting about spaghetti. Cam prefers pouting to tantrums (9 out of 10 moms agree). Slumped over shoulders, head hung low, and pouted up lips. It's freakin' adorable.

 This is how Getty really feels about V-Day (haha). Elle's using her new mini-blanket as a napkin. I cut both of her 3-year-old receiving blankets into smaller squares (re-attaching for the 3rd time one of her beloved red tags). They're easier to tote and don't get as dirty (in theory :)

We almost forgot about the "candlelight" part.
Boy, was Elle impressed :)

Valentine's, Part 2

About 12 years ago, our friends Kib and Sara invited us over for Sunday dinner. She made us cioppino. Seafood stew. That meal has never met it's equal in 12 years and has since morphed into legend in our home. Not even Tuscany's famous pork chops and mile-high chocolate cake could hold a candle to this cioppino.
So, Rob decided 12 years had been long enough, and that for Valentine's Day, he would not disappoint. He found a restaurant with great reviews ("Chef's Table") and arranged for the chef to special-order the ingredients a day in advance and prepare some cioppino off the menu. Man, is he good or what?
We went the Friday night before Valentine's to avoid the crowds. And wow. That cioppino was awesome. Lobster tail, mussles, jumbo shrimp, halibut, salmon, crab, all swimming in an Italian broth. Mmmmmm. Table 34 ;)

Rob takes a picture of me while I take one of him on our phones. He emailed this to me today, but I haven't figured out how to download his photo from my phone yet. I need to get on that.

Valentine's, Part 1

This year, Rob decided to have my flowers delivered. Why is that so fun? Don't know, but it is. They came in a big box that Getty promptly converted into a casket for the school Valentine box contest. His 3rd grade Valentine toilet ("Sit on the pot and let your Valentine drop") was printed poster-size and is hanging in Mrs. B's room for inspiration. Getty decided he'd better top it this year. I love the details he thought of—there's a rose on top of the casket lid, his framed photo as a memorial... he's awesome.

 

So, he just got home from school and tried to hide that he'd won Most Creative, Funniest, Longest(?), and Overall Best Valentine box in the 5th grade (he has a thing about bragging. —I don't! hahaha. Cy fills me in).
Oh! And I just realized I haven't gotten Rob anything....crap! Maybe I'll tell him I won't buy anything except food and gas for a month. Yep, that should do it. (jk, but the fact is he'd worship me :)

Ding-a-ling, a-ling, a-ling, a-ling Dong

It was 11:30 p.m. on Saturday night when the doorbell rang (about 8 times). MK was home, because she was grounded for curfew violation (what else) the night before the 8 a.m. ACT(!) Rob and I were all snuggled up in bed. Rob had been asleep since 8:30 (unusual, even for him). I was just settling down (per my early-to-bed resolution), so I listened as MK opened the door, laughed, and then left the house...(?) Are her friends kidnapping her? Is she sneaking out? Not very quiet about it, are they? Hmmmm. I waited....

 And waited some more.

Finally, I heard the door open and shut. I hopped out of bed and crept downstairs. MK had found the message about PG's Sweetheart's dance on our driveway and the purple string, followed it to the end, didn't see anything, so she just kept on a runnin' a quarter-mile down the hill in the pitch black, 30-degree weather in her shorts, slippers, and a blanket. Typical McKenzie—spontaneous and up-for-anything-at-a-moment's-notice. A couple cars slowed down when they passed her, no doubt wondering if they should help the poor thing. They must've seen her bouncing along, smiley-faced, though, and figured it was all good. She decided to call Zona (one of the PG boys) for further instructions, turned around, and ran back up the hill til she found the guy's name on our next door neighbor's curb. She said, "It was so warm:) I'm pumped!"

 

(Is she fun or what?)

Cam, plus 10 years

When I saw this photo of Cam, I couldn't look away. Somehow I caught a glimpse of what his teen face just might look like (and what Elle might look like as Old Mother Hubbard). Can you see it? Wow.

A Great Grandpa

 Elle gives Great-grandpa Rawlin bams for
his 90th birthday.

Grandpa and his sisters, JoNell and Julene, and families along with Aunt Meme, Uncle Scott, Ash, and Jordan celebrated with us and Grandpa Rawlin in the rehab facility he's had to stay in since his fall.

Grandpa Rawlin always has a warm handshake and appreciative words for us. His hands are plenty shaky, but he still crochets like nobody's business and has donated several crocheted newborn caps and booties to maternity wards. (I love MK's classic full-on cheeser.)

Aunt Meme found NINE lip glosses in her purse and told Elle she actually had two more nearby. Elle was in heaven :)

As we said our good-byes, I leaned over and told Grandpa Rawlin, "Be strong, be good, and be happy—we're counting on you." He said, "Do I have to?" 

As he always says, "Ciao."

Best Christmas Gift

Rob decided for Christmas this year (-er last year) and every year hereafter to publish the year's blog (this year, he published the entire history of the blog thus far—3 years). It's just about impossible for him to keep gifts a secret, but he kept that one and only told me, "I'll never be able to top this one." He was right. I can't think of a gift that would top printing the history of our life together as a family in a full-color, hard-bound family book full of our stories.

So now, since I'm officially a published author (haha), I want to record the purpose of this blog, so I can refer back if I ever lose sight of it. First and foremost, I want to record a journal for my children and grandchildren of our family's life together. I want to record the humor and the individual personalities. I also want to write about life lessons and testimony. I want to talk about ideas (mostly that I've adopted from others) that have worked for our family or that have added value in raising our kids. I want to record the frustrations, too. I want the blog to enlarge my memory of these crazy-happy years. The best years (so far) of my life. I hope it can become a resource of perspective, inspiration, laughter, experience, and family bonding. (Dream big, right?)

Farewell Dinner for Rhiannon

Great food at Cheesecake Factory (Bang Bang Chicken & Shrimp is my new favorite) and great conversation to match. No matter the particulars in our lives (married, divorced, engaged, pregnant, moving back to Wales...), we womenfolk always have so much more in common than not. Why don't I do this more often?