San Diego Status: ARRIVED

 Last night after dinner Mr. Dub gasped with delight in the dining room. I immediately turned towards him to see what happened.

An email had arrived in his inbox from the mission president of the San Diego mission, and he was reading aloud, informing me that our missionary had arrived, and there were pictures to prove that this was, indeed, a happy affair.

She did not arrive alone, as you can see. The mission president and his wife are seated in the front row, and all of the new arrivals are seated and standing around them. I spoke briefly with her on the phone in the morning, as she was waiting to board her flight from Salt Lake to San Diego. She was excited, a bit nervous and happy to be on her way. It was fun to hear her voice, and then even better to see these pictures.

Come in, MTC, do you copy?

It was radio silence for seven days.

I'm not going to lie and say I wasn't a teensy bit anxious about hearing from Sweet Mesquite--my mother heart needed confirmation in the affirmative that the eagle had not only landed, but that she was settling comfortably into her new routine.

I'm happy to report that I received the big 10-4 yesterday afternoon. Not only is there no need for a distress signal, the eagle is SOARING.

 Our little missionary sent several emails full of happy details and pictures about her days in training. She has been assigned to a district of eight new missionaries, and has been paired up with a companion from the local area, Sister Carlson. They became fast friends. During their second (and final) week in the training center, they will serve as the leaders of the sister zone. She said it's been exhilarating to walk around and say "Welcome to the MTC!" to all of the missionaries with orange dots on their tags, indicating new arrivals.

 They will both be headed to San Diego next Tuesday, along with three others. The remaining three of the group of eight have been assigned to the Washington D.C. mission. (not to the middle of the Pacific Ocean, as the next picture might lead you to believe)

She spends hours and hours in a classroom, but she assures us that time flies by. She reports that the food is good, gym time is fun, and she has even bumped into a friend from home.

 I know the relationships she is forming with these young adults who are commissioned and committed to the same ideals and beliefs she holds so dear will be forever friendships.

Mesquite was excited to report that as of yesterday, for the first time in the history of the Provo MTC, there were 52% sister missionaries, and 48% elders. Girl power!

Her next email will come from San Diego.

Signal is clear. Roger that.

XOXO

Mission Launch: a success

 Everyone left school or took off work to make the drive into Boston to say goodbye to S.M. at the airport.

It was FINE! MUCH easier than saying goodbye to Yonder all those years ago...

Maybe it was because she was not our first missionary. Maybe it was because she was SUPER excited to finally get started. Maybe we just felt like we were slipping on a comfortable pair of shoes. There were a few tears, but mostly we couldn't wait to launch our missionary onto her eighteen month journey.

Off she goes!

XOXOX

there's a SPRING in my step

There are no tulips, no daffodils, no forsythias in bloom. Green grass is not even a thing yet. Our yard is still covered in more than a foot of frozen white stuff. But the sun is shining, the roads are clear and there will be warmer days ahead.

It's coming!

I just know it.

Happy Spring!

#tirednottired

This morning I put on a skirt and some earrings and went calm and ladylike about my business. Mondays are typically harder than other days, and Mondays after a 10-day vacation when you've been driving for 22 long hours to get home to piles of dirty laundry and needs that must be met by the great and intricate web of family connected to your center are EXHAUSTING. Add in previously scheduled commitments and you've got yourself a prescription for combustion right there. 
Good news: I did not combust. 
(disclaimer: I know that combust is not a word. I don't claim to be an etymologist.)
Here's what I DID do:
-delivered tired 15-year-old to day one of band camp

-delivered equally tired 13-year-old to soccer practice
-tripped to the grocery store and escaped for less than $150
-put the groceries away
-picked up soccer player
-took nine-year-old along to collect 49 marching band uniforms from the dry cleaner
-unloaded 98 hangers-full of marching band parts into the High School band room closets
-felt grateful for a nine-year-old with muscles AND endurance
-returned home to make a few lunches and get shoo husband and oldest daughter off to Scout camp for the week
-spattered some encouragement in the general direction of the 21-year-old who was painting in a bedroom
-facilitated a trip to visit cousins in Northboro, and enlisted same painting son to drive nine-year-old to the meeting point
-had the thought that tomorrow will be MY turn to visit Northboro
-enlisted 13-year-old daughter to join me for my chaperone duties at band camp from 2-4 pm
-pulled the uniform closet at the HS together (this involved lots of pieces and parts of uniforms that needed to be put back together, and then hanging them in numerical order in a hot and sweaty classroom)

-threw my hands up in the air when my commitment to band uniforms was DONE for another year (Whoop!!!)
-brought the sweaty teens home and mustered up the oomph to make dinner: homemade mac and cheese and a pile of garden vegetables
-got nominated for the ALS ice bucket challenge
-thought about it. that was all.

-Looked at the large paper bag filled with summer squash and discussed possibly having a squash throwing contest tomorrow. Because really, how many ways can you keep eating yellow squash for dinner?

-Drove to the meeting place to pick up nine-year-old plus one seven-year-old cousin. #HOORAYforsummer!
-Spent way more than the "just one minute, boys..." talking to my mom in the parking lot of the meeting place because that was the BEST part of my day. She even told me I smelled good. #afterallthat
-Climbed back into the van to spy the cell phone I had given up for lost/stolen at Magic Kingdom two days earlier, wedged between my seat cushion and the mechanism into which you clip your seat belt. I squealed with delight. #Iwasntworried #worriednotworried #Ikepttellingmyselfitwouldworkout #itsurefeltgoodtobereunitedwithexpensivetechnology
-Felt gratitude. For so many things.
-Came home to a messy, messy house and felt okay about it
-Did the dinner dishes
-Tucked two tired boys into bed
-Managed to have the teenagers into bed before 10:00 pm
-Ordered a celebratory brightly colored phone case online
I'm claiming victory.
And a shower.
And the right to leave 15 pounds of yellow squash in the first unlocked car I find.
XO

it's still winter outside

Inside, we're forcing Spring.

(sometimes just knowing things will still grow makes all the difference)

a snowy voyage to the The Berkshires and back

Sweet Mesquite and I blocked off the better part of Monday to attend a funeral in Lenox. We planned on arriving in less than the two and a half hours travel time we had allotted. Too bad a nasty snowstorm decided to travel at EXACTLY.THE.SAME.TIME... "Oh, don't worry," I said as we left our driveway, "those little flakes are just in passing." Didn't turn out to be quite true.

 We sat on the Massachusetts Turnpike

(in Brandford... WHERE the heck is THAT?!?)

feeling like a semi-truck sandwich.

In no-to-slow-motion.

For 90 minutes.

Then we started to make some progress.

 The eastbound lanes were moving right along.

We were a little jealous.

 We passed the empty-but-scarred scene of what looked like it had been a very large accident. Once we got going again, the un-plowed roads were pretty slick, so our progress was slow.

 I told Mesquite (an hour after the funeral had started and we were still 14 miles away) that if there had been a spot to turn around, I wouldn't have hesitated. There was no way but forward. I drove  creeped along, and she got some homework done.

 Lenox is WAY out there. Almost to New York. It's one of the most enchanting little towns you'll ever see, and the snow made it magical. I wish we could have lingered a bit longer. We made it just in time to have a plate of food, hug our friends and head home.

 Thankfully for us, the ten mile back up on the turnpike on the way home was on the opposite stretch of roadway.

Those pour traveling souls might still be out there... we made it back safe and sound. Despite the weather, it was actually a delightful day with my daughter. (We'd do it again. But we're grateful we don't need to.)

don't ask us to deck your halls.

The tree is up.

Such a simple statement.

By reading those four little words you might never understand the BIG chaos that was caused by a seemingly simple event. That's why I'm going to tell you. Don't you dare think that decking the halls is simple over HERE.

Have a seat.

First, the back-story.

My parents down-sized.

Their big Christmas tree needed a home.

(right: me.)

The tree also came with a large metal stand.  Mom and Dad were pretty sure the stand did not belong to the tree in the box, but they were both going home.  With me.

My people revolted (a little).

They made it clear that anything besides a REAL tree would be less than desirable.

Because we're young and energetic and willing to put forth the physical effort it takes to haul in the tree, the hand-me-down stayed in the box. The old stand was on stand-by.

We're young and energetic and willing; however, we have schedules that rarely afford us more than 20 minutes at a time in one place together.  Therefore, Mr. Dub stopped at the tree farm on the way home from work on Friday and paid for a tree.  We weren't sure when we were going to be able to pick it out and cut it down, but it was paid for.

Fast forward to the moment when we are hauling the tree through the front door and cannot find our own sturdy tree stand.  "That's okay!" someone yells from the hall--"We have that old tree stand that Mimi and Grampy gave us!"

And so it went.

We were so happy to get the tree UP, watered and strung with lights

(all while festive Christmas music was playing in the background)

that we immediately called for an all-hands-on-deck decorating party.

Homework stopped,

ornament boxes were distributed,

people came

and we made  it to almost 100% decorated status.

I probably should not have felt like the most surprised person on the planet when

the tree.fell.over.

Branches cracked. Water spilled.  Ornaments fell. Lights went out.

That's when the cacophony of the varied responses to stress and surprise became an unsavory stew of things that don't mix well...  Shock. Stress. Laughter. Anger. Tears.

Hey--an extra hearty Merry Christmas to you and yours if you never have a tree decorating experience like this.  In our house?  It's just a contingency in the big plan.

It became a humbling dust-yourselves-off-and-try-again experience that happened to time itself perfectly with the start of the Christmas Devotional Broadcast blaring from the other room.

We soaked in the spirit of the evening, climbed into the garage attic to find our trusty tree stand, stood it back up and wired it to the walls so it won't fall over again.

Then, while visions of sugar-plums danced in our heads, we snubbed the mess and tucked ourselves into our beds; feeling peace on earth and goodwill towards men.

double bonus points

Once upon a time, [in our little world,] there was a mom who told her kids they could have bonus points for doing pretty great things.

I stopped by my parents house for an afternoon mid week, kids in tow.

I asked them to do something they weren't really clamoring to do.  I offered bonus points, and they all rose to the challenge.

My dad then asked me about cashing in the points: 

"What will they get," he wanted to know?

At that exact moment, I had nary an idea, and he laughed.

He's got stash, and he had my back.

On the ride home from Grampy's house, the kids enjoyed a pretty sweet treat.

This week Morning Boy and Leeli had swimming lessons at the town beach every morning.  The session is scheduled to run two weeks, but mid week I realized that we were not going to make the second half.  On Friday, I asked the swim instructors about the possibility of testing out of their levels with only half the session complete.  I asked with no expectations, and they said they'd do their best to observe during the last lesson, and let me know afterward.

When I signed them up for lessons, there had been tears.  Eight-year-old tears.  This caught me off guard.  I was not aware that there would be swimming lesson anxiety.  Leeli got the green light pretty quick.  She was welcome to return next week on testing day to earn her certification.

When Mr. Morning walked out of the water at the end of his lesson, he had on a smile that was wider than his face.  

"Mom, I passed," he yelled to me!  

I was confused.  

"You mean she said you come back next week to test and SEE if you pass," I replied?

"No... I PASSED!" he said happily."

Well... HOW-dee if the instructor hadn't tested him during his lesson on Friday, and he PASSED.  Right then and there.  Morning Boy's next question: 

"Do I get double bonus points?"

And he did.

And they were SWEET.

The end.

Our Christmas Eve Miracle

Our crazy crazy life seldom has room for the extras.

And by extras, I mean pretty basic extras

like taking the kids for a haircut.

Our last official haircut day was in late June.

Imagine my joy-to-the-world! when the Hair Whisperer was willing to fit us in for FIVE haircuts on Christmas Eve morning.  She is an ANGEL. It truly was our own little Christmas miracle.

The Good Ship Sleepover

No one was more surprised than me when I gave the green light for this little boy's first friend sleepover.  His maiden voyage was successful, and almost uneventful (he woke up the host mom at 1am to tell her he wasn't asleep).  I told him to hang on to the memories of this overnight adventure, because it might be 10 more years before I'm brave enough to let him sleep away from home again.

Another driver in the family

I know that Massachusetts has got to be on the top ten list of motor vehicle departments that cause the highest level of anxiety in drivers.  For this reason, Sweet Mesquite has procrastinated taking her permit exam since May.  Being forced to sit on wooden benches for hours at a time waiting for your number to be called is enough to give you diarrhea, never mind then facing the timed EXAM... I've had my driver's license for years, and I still get angst just walking into the RMV.

So a hearty CONGRATULATIONS!! to our newest motor vehicle operator.

We couldn't be happier!

Seven and a half (childhood spoiler alert)

I found out from a first grade classmate's mother that this rugged boy of mine is done believing in the tooth fairy.  They were talking over Legos one day at indoor recess.  
We had a conversation, he and I.  
It's true.  
He's done--fine with moving on.  
Although it caught me off guard, I guess I shouldn't be surprised that the caboose of six children has been paying attention to details.  And listening.  Intently.  He's okay with it.  So am I.  Now we're all in the club.  And look at those teeth!  Besides the fact that they're mighty handsome, they're still the original set.  Not a wiggly one to be found.  YET.

Even though his perspective has changed, he still plans on sticking to the culture and making some money when those baby teeth finally do fall out.

12

The number of hours I spent driving from game to activity to game to activity to try-out to activity... you get the picture.

We left at 8:30 am for our first soccer game, and got home at 8:30 at night after a trip to Kimball's.  I'm pretty sure the shape of my behind was very similar to the shape of the driver's seat in the car by the time the day ended.

And THAT's why we ended up at Kimball's.  It was the perfect way to round things off, if you know what I mean.

If not for the courage of the fearless crew...

When we set up camp this weekend, it was HOT.  There wasn't much of a breeze, and I never thought to close the tent because frankly, I was more interested in ventilation than privacy (in the middle of the afternoon).  However, when the sun went down (and the bugs came out), closing the door of the tent became more of a priority.  It was then I discovered: that at some point during the last few uses of our tent (by a group of teenage boys in the woods, on a beach and in someone's backyard) the zipper had malfunctioned.

Thank goodness for the Fabulous Dubster, who sent us off with some rain ponchos in case the weather became inclement, which in Vermont it is known to do; and also for my sister-in-law, who packed a bag of clothespins.