We vs. I

So, this is how school drop-off goes for our little group each morning. . .I park at the opposite end of the parking lot from the school and we hoof it. This way we avoid all the traffic and have a nice little walk down the length of the building. Ben takes infinitely more time to just get out of the van than Todd, so Todd bids us farewell and walks in alone (I'm sure it's much cooler to walk in alone as well). Ben and I then have a leisurely walk together. He still lets me hold his hand (and occasionally his backpack), for which I am very grateful.

Our conversation this morning went something like this:

Turning the corner, Ben said, "Wow. Todd is already almost at the door."

"He sure is," I replied, "I think he secretly likes school and is excited to get to his classroom."

To which Ben matter-of factly stated, "No. We hate school."

"You hate school? I don't think so," I said.

Quick response from Ben, "Yes we do. Todd said."

I love the use of the word "we," and the fact that Ben had no input whatsoever into the reasoning. Yet he was quick to assure me that "We hate school." I guess they are like a collective mind.

I actually think they are enjoying school far more than they would care to admit. Todd, particularly has found a lot of satisfaction in seeing the things he is capable of accomplishing. The end of home schooling last year had become something of a battle of wills, and he got away with a lot because I was sick of the fight. So, school has been good for him. He was positively glowing when he came home to report that he had written four paragraphs during class. For my little non-writer, this was a major accomplishment. I was so happy for his hard work. It was very gratifying for me to see him take pleasure in accomplishing something that was challenging.

Ben is actually having a more difficult time with the adjustment. He is just

plumb worn out tired. But I volunteered in his classroom last week and he is a great little first grader. The kids in his class all like him, he does good work, and he has a great teacher (who also happens to be a family friend). I think once he gets adjusted to the new schedule, he'll be happy with his "new life."

Here's hoping "we" can learn to like school.

Glenn Avery McMillan

I have been waiting for a quiet moment to sit down and think to write this post. I’ve finally come to the conclusion that isn’t going to happen. So here goes. . .

Ryan’s dad, Glenn, passed away a little over two weeks ago. We had just returned from a family vacation with him in Hawaii on Friday. In the early hours of Sunday morning he had a heart arrhythmia followed by a stroke. He slipped away on Wednesday night, with his wife and older sons by his side. His passing has caused a complex mix of emotions that are still buzzing around inside my head.

Glenn was an amazing man. I have known him for nearly 15 years now and I count myself as blessed to have been part of his life. I count myself even more blessed to be part of his eternal family.

When Ryan was a little guy, Glenn and Kathy realized that something was missing. Kathy had been baptized in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, but hadn’t been active for awhile. She returned to church and Glenn came with her, asking the missionaries if they could possibly find time to teach him. They did, and he embraced the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. A year later, they took their little family to the temple, where they were sealed for time and all eternity.

The last Family Home Evening Glenn taught was directed toward five of his grandsons in Maui. He taught about the reality of the temple and he testified that it is the place we need to be.

I will forever be grateful for Glenn’s choice 34 years ago to embrace the gospel. If not for that choice, my life would be so infinitely different. His baptism has rippled out to change generations.

Not only did Glenn believe in the gospel, he lived it. He was forever doing kind things for people, including all of us as his family. He moved people, fed people, and loved people his entire life. Glenn was the kind of person that made you want to be better, to do more.

As I think of Glenn, so many random memories come to mind, some significant and some just fun and sentimental.

I remember one black Friday only a few years ago Glenn woke up in the early hours of the morning and headed out shopping all by himself. He had been listening to our conversation about a rocking deal on a Lego set, so he picked up not one, but two (one for Todd and one for Todd’s cousin Kyle, of no relation to Glenn). He had a huge heart and made two boys very happy on Christmas morning.

My sister-in-law Lucy and I remember one week when Glenn had decided to “refinish” the upstairs bathroom while we were visiting. I think it must have been midnight or later when we were painstakingly finishing up the painting and laying stick-down tile. Glenn was punch-drunk and utterly hilarious, dancing and singing.

Once for my birthday, Kathy had purchased a present and ordered a cake. While we were opening presents, Glenn pulled out an extra bag for me. Glenn had seen this necklace and earrings that he thought I would like, so he bought it for me. I was touched that he had personally thought of me.

When Todd was little, Glenn bought a spiderman sleeping tent with a blow up mattress so Todd would always have a cool bed to sleep in at Grandpa’s house. While we were there for the funeral, Todd crammed himself inside that little thing to sleep even though he’s outgrown it. He sure misses his Grandpa.

Every time we went to the beach, Glenn spent hours with my boys building sand castles. His knees haven’t been up to par for the last few years, but he did it anyway. Each sandcastle was a masterpiece.

Glenn always took us on fun adventures—to Disneyland, mini-grand prix, K-12 auto racing, Hawaii.

After dinner, Glenn would always say, “Just leave those dishes, Steph. You worked hard cooking dinner. I’ll clean them up later.” If I left them, he would end up doing the dishes at 10:00 at night, after a quick nap on the couch. No night was complete without Glenn falling asleep on the couch for at least a little while.

Whenever we visited, we could always know Glenn would cook breakfast—pancakes, French toast, waffles. . .and always lots of bacon.

Last summer, Glenn came by himself for one of Todd’s swim meets and spent the weekend with us. On Sunday afternoon he said, “I’m going to lay down for 15 minutes, then I’ll help with dinner.” He stumbled out of the room over 3 hours later with bleary eyes, commenting, “Those blackout shades are brutal.”

Another visit, Glenn came out of the restroom literally choking, coughing, and gasping for breath. It finally came out that he had used a bottle labeled “Muscle Spray” as an air freshener because he couldn’t find any Lysol. I explained to him that it was actually an herbal concoction made of super hot cayenne pepper designed to relieve muscle pain, hence the label. I have yet to know what he was thinking.

Glenn was scary to drive with—he was far too interested in what was on either side of the road and he wandered aimlessly. It took years for me to feel comfortable with him in a car and appreciate his interest in his surroundings.

He was also a little painful on road trips. That man could stop more than anyone I know. Even if it had only been 45 minutes since the last stop, and even if there was a sleeping baby in the car, he’d pull right on over if he had the hankering for a drink or some candy.

Kathy got Glenn a fancy camera for his birthday last year. He loved taking pictures. Everywhere we went in Hawaii we had to wait for Glenn and his pictures. Looking at them now is a blessing as we see the world through his eyes. He loved the simple beauty of this earth.

We were blessed with the tender mercy of sharing his last week with him. One day, we took a long and windy road to the little town of Hana. On a fluke, we ended up with Glenn in our jeep for the entire two hour ride home. By the time we got back, everyone else was done, so we got him to ourselves for a quiet dinner at the best pizza place in the world. He downed an entire brownie Sunday with coconut ice cream after all that delicious pizza. What a blessing that last week was. How grateful we are that we had that time with him.

The only explanation that makes sense to Ryan and me is that Heavenly Father really needed him Home. I hope that on the other side of the veil Glenn is engaged in a great work, because on this side of the veil he is sorely missed.

I hate pork

There are a million things I should blog about, and will someday soon when my brain can think and form a coherent sentence. . .my amazing father-in-law, who I miss already; our trip to Maui; the last four months of our lives, etc.. But I'm not going to blog about any of those things tonight.

I'm simply going to say that I hate pork. Before tonight, it was only a mild revulsion. As we've changed our diet and moved away from carnivorosity (can I invent that word?--I like it) pork has been the first thing to sort of become mildly repulsive. I still like a great piece of red meat twice a year and occasionally some beautifully crafted chicken or fish. But pork has fallen from grace.

Fast forward to today. Girls camp fundraiser. Cafe Rio style. Through a series of unfortunate events, I ended up with six crock pots of pork stewing in my house all day. They were even upstairs so as not to overtax the breakers downstairs. So, by 4:00 in the afternoon, when you opened the garage door you were greeted by essence of pork. I was a bit nauseous.

That, however, is not the end of the story. 5:00. Pork transport to the church. Crock pot overturns.

In

My

Van.

I don't think it's an exaggeration to say that at least a half gallon of pork juice is now saturating my interior carpeting. My van reeks of pork. It is sticky, nasty, smelly. I'm fairly sure that I even swore (and I don't swear). But I didn't swear in front of the girls, so that's something. I don't really have any tears left to cry this week, and I really don't need to cry over a van. But I do have to say that

I HATE PORK!

It might be safe to say that I will never eat it again.

Why we love Vegas (some of the time)

So, we don't always love it here. But on March 15, my kids were outside having a water fight. Good stuff (the weather has since suffered from a bit of manic depression, alternating between warm, windy, and nasty). But, spring here is a glorious season--one of the things we love about living here. These are our buddies, the K kids. We love having them over to play.

10 on the 10th

So, I haven't been trapped under a pile of elephants in Africa.

Nor have I succumbed to Indonesian swine flu.

I have not fallen off the face of the planet.

I just haven't blogged in ages.

I shall try to repent.

What better way to renew my ties with blogging than a post celebrating my double digit boy.

Todd's birthday was today, though we celebrated yesterday because a birthday on Sunday just wasn't going to hack it for our adventurer.

Todd is an amazing kid. Truly he is. He was a miracle ten years ago and is still a blessing in our lives today. I sometimes feel sorry for the kid that he has to be my first, because I feel like he gets all my practice and failure as a mom. I know I put a ton of expectation and pressure on him because he is my oldest, and because I haven't had enough kids that I can thoroughly spread my anxiety over many. So he gets the brunt of it, but usually holds up pretty well under all that weight.

I know I spend a lot of time thinking about, praying for, and loving this growing boy of mine. Hopefully he'll make it through in spite of my best laid plans. . .

Todd is a great reader, if he is caught in a book. If he isn't interested, no amount of persuasion could get him to read. If he loves a book, you can't get him to put it down.

Todd is a great aim with the B.B. gun. He loves shooting at a favorite little spot we've found in the desert. Last month we ran into a herd of wild horses while out there. They were beautiful. Todd shot our 9 mm a few weeks ago out in the desert and was quickly convinced that he's happy with the smaller caliber for now.

My medium man is a great swimmer, eagerly anticipating the start of this summer season. We're excited to see what it will bring.

Guitar is the latest venture for Todd. It has been exciting to see him find a new skill--he's always had an ear for music and melody, but he claims that singing is a "girly" talent. Little does he know that in ten years that talent will cause girls to swoon. So, it's been fun to see some practical application of his talent that he doesn't think is too girly. I hope he can be patient enough with the learning process to stick with it.

Those are some of Todd's "outward" talents, but some of his other gifts are what really makes him who he is.

Todd is great with kids. He's not all that interested with brand new babies, but once they start to interact, he loves them. A friend of ours has a little two year old who we occasionally watch. A few weeks ago, Todd and Ben were fighting over who got to play with Abby. They were both blaming the other for "hogging her." I thought that was so sweet.

Todd is an amazing big brother. These three years of homeschooling have been a gift in this respect--Todd loves his brother and is truly a fantastic protector and friend.

My boy is sensitive with a tender heart and a giving soul. He loves to have people over for dinner and take bread to friends. He is easily concerned when others are struggling. We're grateful to have him as part of our family.

It's a challenge at times to raise a growing boy. . .I'm glad I wrote this post to remind me of all the good I see in my boy and to overlook the things that are sometimes rough. What a blessing my Todd is in my life.

Witticisms from Ben

Tonight we began reading The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupery. I read the author page and was surprised to find that he had been shot down and died flying a reconnaissance mission for the French air force during WWII. So I shared that tidbit of information with my boys.

Ben exclaimed, "What? I thought he wrote that book. You can do two things?"

"Yep. He was an author and a pilot," I explained.

"What?" he repeated again in wonder, "that's crazy."

Here Todd chimed in, "like I'm going to play the guitar and sing when I grow up." Pause. . . "And I'll probably have a real job."

Ben sagely replied, "I don't want to do two things. I just want to walk around the house."

Traditions

This year marked our fourth annual Jones Gingerbread Decorating Party! We love that this has become a fun part of our Christmas tradition. Our designs have improved with each year. I have sort of worked myself into a corner, however. My kids now believe that it is possible to craft nearly anything out of gingerbread, a task which gets more and more difficult to live up to each year. This was Todd's "lighthouse" in progress. I've already thought of improvements we could make were we to do another in the future.I have a battle between wanting to make Todd do things on his own and loving the fact that he wants to work on things together. He's got a bit of his mom's perfectionism in him, so he likes having help. But I also know he needs to learn how to let things go. This mom thing is a balancing act, that's for sure.

Still not feeling 100% after the head-on collision

This is Ben's "castle", a much better design than last year's castle.

Ben is always surrounded by girls. His luck of the draw is that most of the kids his age that we spend time with happen to be girls. And cute ones at that.

Viola! The finished product.

Thanks, Jones family for your hospitality. We love this yearly event.