If I Were a Zombie

Topher has developed an obsession/paralyzing fear of zombies. He talks about them every night at bedtime to the point that he can't fall asleep. I've been trying to reassure him that Zombies aren't real and that we have a safe house, but it hasn't really helped.

Tonight Bryan started the bedtime routine while I was taking care of a few things. He was snuggling with Topher when I came in to take a turn. Bryan said goodnight to Topher, then turned and said to me, "We solved the zombie problem. Topher said he will hit them with his basketball and I'm going to get a sword."

"That's great!" I responded. "I'm so glad you solved the problem. You're such a great team!"

Of course, a few minutes later Topher came up with a new concern, "But what if you're a grandma and you walk slow like a zombie?"

Walk, Don't Jump

Tonight, as we were getting ready for bedtime, Topher decided to jump from the third stair into Sophie's open arms. She wasn't able to catch him and he fell. His neck landed hard on the edge of the bottom step. Topher is normally the kid that jumps up and announces "I'm fine!" after a fall. He did not do that this time. He started screaming instead.

I was there as it happened, I said, "Don't!" as he started to jump. But I wasn't close enough to catch him. As soon as he hit the step I rushed to him with two conflicting thoughts: don't move a spinal injury and you can't leave him on the stair. I gently scooped him up and yelled for ice. Bryan came running and took Topher to lay him on the ground. As I handed him to Bryan, Topher's head lolled as far back as it would go and he went limp as a rag doll and his eyes rolled up into his head. Bryan called his name several times and his eyes came back into focus.

Bryan told me to call 911 as he made sure Topher stayed still on the ground. All those cub scout first aid lessons I taught came back to me because I remembered to start with our location, gave Topher's name and age, then described what had happened. I gathered my purse and shoes while I talked to the 911 operator, thankful for enough presence of mind to know I would go with him when the ambulance arrived. Bryan gave Phoebe the job of holding the door open to wait for the ambulance, sent Sophie to her room to remove her from what was happening, then told Cooper to follow her and make sure she was okay. Peter happened to be at a movie with friends and wasn't home. Topher started to lose consciousness an additional two times while we waited for the ambulance.

The EMTs arrived within a few minutes and put a brace around Topher's neck, then carefully put a board underneath him. They asked him questions and had him wiggle his fingers and toes. He could do all of that and he said his neck and back hurt. They carried the board with Topher on it outside to a waiting gurney. Phoebe, from her post at the door, took this picture.

Topher was so scared during the ride to the ER. He had to be strapped to the board, then strapped again to the gurney. I told him a story about a boy named Topher, then I started listing family members that had taken rides in ambulances, all in an attempt to distract him. During that fifteen minute ride my phone was dinging again and again and again. I assumed it was Bryan letting the family know what was happening. There was some of that, but most of it was because of Phoebe. While she had been holding the door for the EMTs, she had also been texting people in our ward. She texted her two best friends, one of her Young Women leaders, my ministering sister, and the Bishops wife, asking all of them to pray for Topher.

I found out later that as soon as the police officer that had accompanied the EMTs left, there was an urgent knock at the front door. Bryan opened it and was surprised to find the Bishop and his wife, Kim. They said they were there to help. I suspect Bryan was in shock (I know I was) and he couldn't think of anything they could do. Kim looked at Bryan and kindly but firmly said, "You need to go be with Topher and Margot. I'll take your other kids to my house, Aaron will go with you to the hospital." By this point my ministering sister, Robyn, and her husband, Scott, had arrived to offer more help. Scott followed Bryan and the Bishop to the hospital so they could leave Bryan there with our van.

I had no idea any of this was happening, just that I kept getting texts about prayers for Topher from my friends and family members. I was confused how so many people knew, but also in such a state of shock that I couldn't really respond or wonder too much about it. I was focused on Topher. The hospital where he was born had converted the maternity ward into a children's hospital. He was taken to that brand new children's ER. He continued to move his fingers and toes, but now instead of pain in his neck and back, he said he just couldn't feel them. He was moved into an ER bed and the nurses began monitoring his vitals. The neck brace remained in place.

By this time I had looked at some of the text messages. I knew that Bryan was on his way. He was able to come back first, but the other two were told we couldn't have that many people back at the same time. I knew Topher needed a blessing, so I was willing to give up my spot to one of the other two. Bryan felt strongly that I needed to stay in case a doctor came in, since I'd witnessed the fall. Bryan gave him a quick and simple blessing by himself. After waiting for a little longer, Bryan went and asked the nurse that had been helping Topher. She said everyone could come back, she was fine with that. Topher then received a second blessing when they arrived. Scott anointed and the Bishop sealed the anointing and was voice for the blessing.

They stayed and visited for a bit, making sure we were okay. Our Bishop is a surgeon and it was comforting having his medical perspective on the situation. Then they left to get Peter from his movie and take him to where our other kids were.

By this point a doctor had finally come in to check Topher. She did a number of physical tests, then had another doctor come in and give a second opinion. They checked him for spinal injuries and signs of a concussion, prescribed pain medication, then an EKG to monitor Topher's heart. They also removed the brace. Topher answered most of their questions with a shrug or a whispered "I don't know," which was out of character. He watched The Disney channel while he waited. Bryan and I mostly watched Topher.

After the neck brace was removed and the pain medication was administered, Topher was much more his regular wiggly self. He was getting restless and was able to lift his neck up to shift positions. The doctors finally came back in and did a few more exams. These included having Topher stand and jump. They determined that the pain from the fall had triggered a vasovagal syncope which is what was happening when he appeared to be losing consciousness, and that he was well enough to go home, but with the caveat that we watch for a list of behaviors and symptoms over the next day to make sure he really is okay. I asked if we had overreacted by calling 911. The ER doctor was adamant that we had done exactly the right thing. 

It was after 10 o'clock when he was discharged and after 10:30 when we picked up the other kids. Topher fell asleep in the car and stayed asleep while he was transferred to his bed. When he was discharged I offered to carry him to the van since, in our haste, we had not brought shoes for him. The doctor had mentioned that there was no bump of any kind on his neck. When I went to pick him up, I saw that there wasn't even discoloration. I was perplexed for a moment as to how that could be. Then I remembered all the people that had been praying for Topher. I believe that all those prayers were answered and that our very active boy left the ER without a visible mark.

Words cannot adequately express how thankful I am that he is home and well.

Don't Fence Me In

When people at church comment on how busy Topher is, I usually respond with some variation of, "Oh, Peter was way more active, I'm used to this." Often that's true. And sometimes it's not. Tuesday afternoon brought a new adventure that we hadn't experienced with any of the other kids.

A sweet family with two boys Topher's age moved into the house next door last June. Between waiting to be fully vaccinated, finally being able to spend time running errands, and the cold winter that wouldn't go away, we haven't been outside much to wave at them in their yard. But over the last two weeks we've been out a lot more. Their boys have played in our backyard several times and Topher has played in their yard as well.

On Tuesday, after traveling in and out of our yard through their gate several times, the neighbor boys had gone back to play in their own yard for a bit. Their mom was working on an outdoor project that required her attention, so I told Topher he needed to stay in our yard. He was not pleased with this answer. I had my own project, but I looked up regularly to monitor Topher.

At one point I saw that he had taken off his hat and hung it just inside their fence. I thought he was going to throw the hat into their yard so he would have a reason to go over. I focused again on my work for a minute, then looked up again. This time, instead of just his hat on the other side of the fence, it was his whole body, except for his head. I watched as realization dawned on his face that his head simply would not fit through those bars.

Peter and I ran to Topher, so did the mom next door. Topher was starting to panic. So was I, but I was able to keep it on the inside. I tried to slide him back through, but he was solidly stuck. Peter crouched down and studied the issue from a different angle. He saw that Topher had twisted his torso and that made it impossible to slide back through. Peter gently shifted him back, then tugged and encouraged and coached Topher to suck in his belly as much as possible. Finally, Peter was able to get him back through.

I hugged Topher as soon as he was free and thanked Peter several times. Then I pulled up Topher's shirt to examine the damage. He had the beginnings of bruises on his chest and several marks on his stomach and back. He was very shaken by the experience and looked scared. I felt the same way.

I apologized to the neighbor, and offered to replace the fence panel when he discovered he had actually bent the bars apart when he maneuvered through. She said it was no big deal, that they could pound it back into place with a mallet, and that she just hoped Topher was okay. Then I took Topher inside, gave him a quick bath to wash away the sweat and dirt from playing outside, then sat him on the couch with an ice pack for those bruises.

I think it was a pretty traumatic experience for him. I asked him about it yesterday and he got really quiet and still when he talked about what had happened. He has told me that he won't do it again. I hope he remembers that resolve.

Everyone's Outside

It warmed up enough between Conference sessions and rainstorms on Saturday that we went for a walk. We weren't the only ones that wanted to enjoy the sunshine. Can you see who greeted us as we left our house?

Embrace the Change

As a family we made the prayerful decision to pull the kids from our local school district and sign them up with an established cyber school. We finished the applications a few days before they announced a cap on new enrollments. Last week we docu-signed the official paperwork. On Friday morning we got an email with the kids new user names and passwords and instructions on how to access the school website.

Since then I've spent several hours each day (and I didn't realize I had any extra to spare) learning how the new school will work, reading questions and answers from other parents on the Facebook pages, ordering supplies off the lists that we now have access to, urging the kids to plow through as much of the summer reading homework as possible, and continuing to prepare our house to become school on Monday.

I feel like I should be stressed and overwhelmed and nervous about how this is all going to go down. I mean, all the other parents seem pretty nervous. And, honestly, I am stressed and overwhelmed, but not about this. I'm approaching this school year with much less stress and anxiety than usual. When I realized that I started pondering why. Why am I not riddled with nerves? Why am I not freaking out with questions about how I'm going to effectively supervise the real schoolwork (the end of last year was rough on families and teachers alike and did not conclude with much real schoolwork) of four kids at four levels while still running the house and engaging Topher?

And here's the answer I've come to: because it's the right choice. This is the right thing for our family right now. Peter is adamant that this will only last a year. Phoebe is ready to embrace it long-term. I have no idea what will happen educationally for our children when this school year is done. But I do recognize that peaceful assurance that comes from seeking divine guidance, then following it.

A Public Service Announcement

If you're ever in the position of making a batch of crepes for dinner (a recipe that you've multiplied by six this time, because the people at your house really love crepes), be mindful about which burner you turn on, especially when all that batter is in your biggest plastic bowl that you use several times a week.

Otherwise, a few minutes after pouring the first two crepes into your two hot skillets you might look at the small skillet on the back burner and wonder why the crepe appears to not be getting any darker.

And then your eyes might fly up to the little orange indicator above the burner dial, at which point you'll see that the back burner light is off, while the front burner light is on.

Then, as your brain begins to understand what's happening, you might reach for that great big plastic bowl and two things will happen at the same time: you'll notice that the batter in the bowl is beginning to bubble and you'll attempt to rip the bowl away from the offending burner.

Alas, you will be too late.

It is at this point that you'll watch a dozen eggs, nine cups of milk, six cups of flour, and a little oil and salt pour from what used to be the solid bottom of your bowl, thereby covering your glass stove top (plus some of the floor) with what was supposed to be dinner.

If this happens, it's okay to take pictures.

And cry.

It's also okay to let your husband and oldest child begin the cleanup process while you do something else, like possibly comfort a child crying over a completely unrelated issue. 

If you ever find yourself in this position, it's okay to eat cereal or leftovers or something else for dinner while you mourn the loss of several hard to come by food items and that poor melted bowl.

But it's also acceptable to decide to show your kids that you can get back on the metaphorical horse and, after everything is thoroughly scrubbed clean, make another batch (times six) of crepes, this time in a sturdy metal bowl and with the correct burner engaged.

Catch

A few weeks ago, on a rare sunny day, Cooper decided he would finally learn to ride his bike. He could sort of ride it before, with several starts and stops, but he wanted to improve. When Bryan discovered that the tires were flat and the seat and handlebars were in the wrong places, then fixed those issues, Cooper's riding improved dramatically. Since that day Peter and Cooper have ridden their bikes together each day that the weather and the parents have allowed. 

Yesterday morning was chilly, but beautifully sunny. The big boys headed out to the garage to put on their helmets and take a ride. Topher, not wanting to be left out, climbed onto his trusty rolling horse and followed them as far as I would allow, to the laundry room. That's where I stayed with him while I also chatted with Peter and Cooper and loaded the washer.

As I checked pockets for trinkets before tossing jeans into the washing machine, I saw Topher inch closer and closer to the door to the garage. I thought that I was close enough to keep him with me. I thought that I could reach out with lightning fast mom reflexes and grab him if he attempted to roll down the step to join his brothers.

I was wrong.

As I saw his front wheel begin to cross the threshold into the garage time shifted into slow motion. I moved toward him and saw him make the abrupt transition to the lower step. I reached out as his horse made contact with the cement of the garage floor. And as I saw him begin to go head first over the front of his horse onto that hard floor I yelled, "Catch him! Catch him!! CATCH HIM!!!"

And in that moment Cooper's hands flew out and caught Topher's face and head, about an inch above the ground.

The slow motion version of my life ended and I finally reached Topher. I scooped him out of the safe arms of his big brother and held him so close. Then I threw my other arm around Cooper and said, "Thank you Cooper. Thank you so much! You just saved him from a possible concussion, or worse. Thank you for being there and for catching him." Then I shook from fear and relief and shock while I waved to the boys as they rode away.

Topher was totally fine, though still a little bummed that he couldn't ride his horse-bike down the street with the big boys.

It Will Be Okay

Remember when I wrote about not having any snow days? I lamented that I could really use a break and that an unexpected day off would be welcome.

Be careful what you wish for.

Because of the COVID-19 pandemic that is sweeping the world everything is canceled. Church will be held at home until further notice. The kids have the next two weeks off from school. There's no dance this week. Bryan will work from home until the end of April.

I think all of these cancellations are very wise. If we can do anything to slow the spread of the illness, then we should do it. And I'm certainly not complaining about having everyone at home. But there has been a heightened sense of anxiety at our house. We always have an undercurrent of anxiety, but this has kicked it up a notch. We've had lots of talks about what's happening and what we can do to help. The kids aren't complaining about being stuck inside, though I am really wishing we had a backyard right now.

We are safe. We have a fully stocked pantry and supply room. We have a daily schedule worked out. We're ready to do school and church at home, and that's good because we may be here for the duration. Aside from a case of the common cold, we are healthy. It will be okay. It's still scary, but it will be okay.

Working Nine to Five (And All the Other Hours Too)

I offered to speak at Phoebe's career day (which is really career month since the speakers are spread out over multiple weeks) on being a stay-at-home parent. Her teacher enthusiastically said yes and I felt great about my choice. Since then, Phoebe has come home and reported on hearing from an engineer who brought catapults for them to play with, a nurse that brought tiny newborn hats for each child, a contact lens rep that gave each child a contact lens, a police officer, a pilot, and a cardiologist.

I am suddenly feeling much less secure.

I know that I work hard everyday, but I'm finding it difficult to distill my job requirements into a 20-30 minute format that would be engaging for third-graders. And what on earth do I bring to give to each child? Laundry to fold? A calendar to fill in? A general and pervasive feeling of exhaustion?

That does not sound appealing.

This task seriously has me examining my life.

Here are my (real, no jokes this time) ideas so far:

• Explain what my day looks like, then setup some kind of relay race for the kids to act out a day in the life of a stay-at-home parent.
• Bring several hats to show all the different roles I fill.
• Tell them that this job might not last as long as other jobs, it might end when kids get older, or it might continue.
• Incorporate juggling somehow, though I can only juggle scarves.
• Sing...something, maybe a lullaby?
• Find joyful aspects of my job to highlight, not just the hard work parts of it.

I really don't have any idea of what sort of swag to bring. I could hit the Dollar Store and get everyone a measuring spoon? Maybe a wooden spoon? Dryer sheets? A sock that has lost its mate? A different hat for each kid? That seems expensive.

Any suggestions on either the presentation or the prize are welcome!

Old Dog, New Tricks

Part of the reason I was willing to let Peter go tubing this week was that I went tubing for the first time just a few weeks ago. That's right, this thirty-nine year old faced some pretty serious fears and joined in for a friend's birthday celebration.

I wasn't going to go at first. It would take me away during bedtime and it sounded dangerous and I was feeling anxious about the whole thing. Bryan encouraged me to at least go and be social, even if I didn't actually slide down any mountains. I begrudgingly agreed.

I didn't tell the kids what I was doing until I was about to walk out the door. Then there were tears and pleas for me to be safe. The last thing Phoebe said to me as I walked out the door was, "I love you Mommy, please don't die."

This was our adventurous group. The birthday girl is in the orange jacket. Two of us had never done this before, but I think I was the most vocally apprehensive about it, though I did try to come off as funny instead of just terrified. Fun fact: I knew two of these women while I was at BYU as a student. BYU makes the world a smaller place.

Behold, the slope.

I look happy, right? Not like I'm about to do something that scares me to the point of a mild panic attack, yeah? That my friends, is proof that I'm a good actress.

We were all bundled. I wore a base layer, regular clothes, snow pants and a sweatshirt, a scarf, a warm jacket, ear muffs, a hat, two pairs of gloves, cozy socks, and sturdy snow boots. And it was a warm-ish evening, somewhere in the high 40s, which isn't too bad for January in Pennsylvania.

I'm the one in the picture close to the camera, but turning away. For most runs we hooked our tubes together and slid down tandem in groups of two, three, or four. This upped the velocity significantly, but I opted for that rather than a solo flight. There was one run where all but two of us went alone. The chance of spinning while speeding down the hill increased dramatically when not hooked to another tube, and that didn't appeal to me.

I did not know this picture was being taken. Once we got to the bottom of the hill we would carry our tubes to a moving walkway and ride it back up to the top. Except for when it was turned off, then we carried our tubes and huffed and puffed back up the hill.

And those are my legs and feet. When it was almost time to go down the hill I would plant myself and hold on tight to the tube, ready. I didn't want to be caught off-guard, especially since I would be pulled down by the tubes I was attached to.

After the tubing we got pizza and sang happy birthday and laughed until we couldn't breathe. The talking was the best part of the night. It is a blessing to have friends to go and have this kind of crazy adventure with. I carpooled up and back and didn't get home until after midnight.

The next morning the kids asked how it was. I told them I was glad that I went because it was wonderful spending time with friends. Then they asked about the actual tubing. I told them that it was terrifying on every single run. As we started down the hill I would have thoughts like, "I really like my teeth, I hope they stay in my head" and "I am a mother! I have children depending on me! What am I doing?! This is insanity!" It wasn't until the last run that some of those anxious feelings started to fade a little.

That said, I'm glad I went. I need people and since I have made the choice to stay at home with kids, I don't have that many chances to be around people. Talking and laughing and listening filled my soul. And it's nice to know that during the year of my fortieth birthday I can still be adventurous and do new things that scare me.

If I Fits, I Sits

I snapped this picture as he finished climbing in, thus capturing the moment he realized he didn't want to be there anymore. Don't worry, he was rescued immediately.

Take Shelter

Today I am thankful for our basement. I'm also thankful that Bryan put together an exercise space in one corner of said unfinished basement and that he included a foam floor. These things made our tornado warning on Friday at nearly midnight much more manageable. Bryan and I were able to wake the kids up, grab pillows and sleeping bags, and head downstairs without much fuss or time wasted. Then, though no one actually slept, everyone could have if they'd wanted to.

I'm also pretty thankful that the tornado warning didn't turn into an actual tornado.

Facing a Fear

Peter gave his first talk in Sacrament Meeting yesterday. He was completely terrified. Peter is my only child with stage fright and apparently he got a dose large enough that it could have been shared among all the children. Bryan and I insisted that Peter write his own talk, though we were available for questions and edits. The process was torturous. He took ten hours to write a three-minute talk. He even asked if there was a backup talk if he didn't finish his in time. Nope, I told him, no backup.

When it came time for him to practice saying the talk on Saturday night, he wouldn't. It took at least five minutes of back and forth for him to even start reading it aloud, and I was the only other person in the room. On Sunday morning before church I found him reading a book. I plucked the book from his hands and told him he should be reading his talk instead.

After the Sacrament was passed in church yesterday, it came time for Peter's talk. I discovered, as I watched him climb the steps to sit on the stand, that I was incredibly nervous, probably more nervous than when I am the speaker. I had been praying that he would be brave and articulate.

He did a wonderful job. He looked up several times while he spoke and didn't stare at his pages as I feared he might. His voice sounded lower than it had before. He had one small snag near the end when his pages got shuffled, but he recovered nicely.

Here's the talk. We were happy that he was able to make it as long as it is since he wanted to stop writing at the one-minute mark.

The Covenants We Make at Baptism and Blessings They Bring

When we are baptized, we make sacred covenants with our Heavenly Father. We can find these covenants in Doctrine and Covenants, Section twenty, verse thirty-seven: “And again, by way of commandment to the church concerning the manner of baptism—All those who humble themselves before God, and desire to be baptized, and come forth with broken hearts and contrite spirits, and witness before the church that they have truly repented of all their sins, and are willing to take upon them the name of Jesus Christ, having a determination to serve him to the end, and truly manifest by their works that they have received of the Spirit of Christ unto the remission of their sins, shall be received by baptism into his church.”  

We covenanted to become members of the Church of Jesus Christ, to be called after his name, to serve God and keep His commandments, to serve each other and bear each other’s burdens, and to be witnesses for Christ and His Church.

The blessings of these baptismal covenants are that if we keep our covenants, then the Lord promises that we can have everlasting life in Heaven, that we can be forgiven of our sins, and we can have the Holy Ghost .

In Robert D. Hales’ talk in the October 2000 General Conference, he says: “ At baptism we make a covenant with our Heavenly Father that we are willing to come into His kingdom and keep His commandments from that time forward, even though we still live in the world. We are reminded from the Book of Mormon that our baptism is a covenant to “stand as witnesses of God [and His kingdom] at all times and in all things, and in all places that ye may be in, even until death, that ye may be redeemed of God, and be numbered with those of the first resurrection, that ye may have eternal life” (Mosiah 18:9).”  

Just over four years ago, on January 19th, 2014, I was baptized. When I was eight, I didn’t know how special it was to be baptized. Sure, I knew it was special, but I didn’t fully know why. I now have a better understanding that baptism lets us make covenants that allow us to return to live with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ again.

If we keep our covenants, Heavenly Father promises that we’ll have the Holy Ghost with us to comfort and direct us. There have been times where other people around me have been goofing off and I’ve really wanted to join them, but then I’ve had a prompting that I should walk away and do something calm. I’ve followed the promptings and left the room and a few minutes later the friends that were goofing off would get in trouble. If I hadn’t listened to the Holy Ghost, I would have gotten in trouble too. This is one small blessing of keeping my baptismal covenants.

I bear my testimony that I know that if we keep our baptismal covenants, we can have the Holy Ghost as a constant companion to comfort us and guide us and  we can return to live with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ again. I say these things, in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

Fire

I have spent lots of time the past two days checking evacuation reports and reading fire updates. One of the many fires burning in Southern California right now is in my hometown. My parents still live there and two of my siblings and their families are currently staying with them. The good news is that my parents house is outside the evacuation zone, on the other side of town from the fire. But they're only a few miles away from the boundary. Many of my childhood friends have been evacuated.

The physical distance between us and my family often doesn't seem like it's that great, thanks to technology. But on days like today, I feel very far away. Where I live now it is 29 degrees outside and we're expecting a few inches of snow tomorrow. Where more than half my family is they have powerful, hot winds pushing fire erratically around town. It almost feels like we're on two different worlds.

I will continue to check for updates and pray for their safety, as well as the safety of those fleeing and fighting the fires.

The Candid Mom

Sophie likes to grab my phone and take pictures while I'm busy doing other things. Last night, after church but before dinner, she took this picture of me and Phoebe. I had no idea it was being taken. This photo illustrates a major part of my role as a mom.

We were all pitching in to get ready for dinner. Kids had (mostly) hung up their church clothes, done some light tidying, and were about to gather items for today's school lunch. Cooper had a headache and therefore a pass at helping, but Peter and Phoebe each had tasks. Peter was making the scrambled eggs for our breakfast-for-dinner while I prepared the oatmeal and the bacon. Phoebe was asked to thoroughly wipe off the table.

Now, you can only see the back of Phoebe's head in this picture. That means you can't tell how she felt about her job. Several phrases came out of her mouth such as, "This is impossible!" and "I can't do this!" and "I'm not perfect you know!" This is her regular approach to chores, so I wasn't overly phased. What I did do, and this drove her totally crazy, was ask her to keep coming back into the kitchen, after she believed she was done, until the job was completed to my satisfaction.

I understand that she's seven and hasn't mastered all the jobs we ask her to perform. I don't expect perfection, but I do expect effort. I also know that if we accept unfinished or sloppy work, then we're not teaching our kids how to do the best job they can. I wasn't unkind, but I was consistent. Granted, she thought I was being terrible for calling her back repeatedly. I walked around the table over and over with her to show her the spots that were still there. This picture shows me indicating something that wasn't all the way clean. She huffed and grumped and complained loudly, but she did the job. And each time a spot disappeared thanks to her effort, I pointed it out.

I wonder what she'll remember, the suffering of having to do chores? Or the satisfaction of getting the job done and doing it well?

It Cuts Like Glass

A note of caution: be very careful when sliding your finger along the spout of your glass measuring cup. You may realize, with a shocking jolt of pain, that the glass is broken. This may lead to you canceling your plans for dinner, telling your kids they now get to serve themselves cereal for their evening meal, then sitting with finger wrapped tightly and held above your heart in a slow and frustrating attempt to stop the bleeding.

On the bright side, this may give your oldest child a chance to serve by fetching you bandages and alcohol swabs.

Yes, this is my actual blood. No, the 3/4 inch long diagonal cut along the inside/back of my pinky finger is not visible. The jagged glass can be seen in the background. Peter wrapped the broken edge in electrical tape (totally something Bryan would have done had he been home from work but something that never would have occurred to me), and threw it away.

This is going to leave a funky scar.

Nuttiness

Last night was our ward Trunk or Treat. There was a lot of rushing around beforehand to get ready since I had volunteered to bring both chili (I actually took Taco Soup because I figured my kids would eat it) and a dessert (cookie bars that didn't finish in time so I had to grab a few packages of store bought cookies from Bryan's stash) and wasn't able to start on either until a mere hour and a half before the activity began. The kids were so excited to put on their costumes and there was some concern when no one could find Sophie's costume that had just been on the couch. We finally discovered she had put it away in the coat closet and we all made it, relatively ontime.

Everyone had a grand time showing their costumes, admiring other people's costumes, eating, obtaining large amounts of candy, typical Halloween stuff.

The real adventure happened on the way home. Usually the kids aren't allowed to eat in the car, but I knew they'd all want some of the newly acquired sugar, and I definitely did not want them staying up to partake of said treats once we got home. So I made an exception and told them they could munch while we drove. We had taken two cars so that Bryan could stay to help with cleanup if needed, so it was just me and the children in the van.

As we drove home, I realized two things: I hadn't gotten any pictures during the evening (which meant no costume pictures) and Sophie might have gotten peanut candy at the event and is the only child that can't identify those on sight. I told the kids that we would take pictures as soon as we got home and instructed Sophie to show Peter ( the sibling sitting closest to her) each candy wrapper before she opened it to make sure it was peanut free.

For the record, Sophie can eat peanuts, but she was in close proximity to Peter and hasn't learned to eat a treat while only touching the wrapper and not making any kind of mess, so the chance of exposure to Peter would be high if she ate something in the van.

We were more than halfway home when Sophie announced, "I don't like this one."

This was quickly followed by, "Oh no! She's eating something with peanuts!" from a rather frantic Peter.

One sniff told me that yes, something with peanut butter had definitely been opened in the van. It took a moment to discover that she was halfway through a fun-size Butterfinger.

At this point in the drive Peter was panicking about the crumbs he could see falling off the candy still in Sophie's hand while Sophie was crying saying, "I told them not to give me peanuts. I tried to give it back." The situation was tragic from both sides.

I told Sophie to finish the candy, because at least then most of the dangerous material would be gone. Then I told Peter that as soon as we got home he was to jump out of the car, empty the dryer, and transfer the laundry. Once that was done, I carefully transported a still crying Sophie out of the van and into the laundry room, then pulled off her entire costume and dropped it into the washing machine. I gave her a thorough shower and we brushed her teeth. While I did that, Bryan inspected the van and wiped down the floor of the laundry room.

Finally, after the panic and trauma had worn down, the kids were able to fall asleep.

We did not take pictures.

This morning Sophie and I ( and by Sophie and I, I mean mostly me while Sophie watched) went through her candy bucket piece by piece with wipes to remove the surprisingly large amount of peanut butter crumbs. Then I washed her car seat, vacuumed the van, and put her Halloween bucket through the dishwasher. Sophie was much happier this morning about the whole episode, though she kept repeating that she had tried to give the offending candy back. I continued to reassure her that she wasn't in any trouble, she just couldn't eat certain things around Peter.

After so many years of handling the peanut allergy, this is the first time something like this has happened. Perhaps my detailed description of our peanut removal process seems excessive, but even a small bit of peanut can cause a reaction. And because of the portion of the peanut protein that Peter is allergic to, any reaction could turn anaphylactic. When dealing with a literal life or death allergy, we don't mess around.

All of the candy has now been sorted. Each item containing peanuts has been traded in for something that won't kill Peter. I did give Cooper and Phoebe the option to keep their peanutty candy and take them to school to eat during lunch (neither of them sit at the peanut-free table and the cafeterias allow peanut products), with the reminder that they would need to completely wash their hands and mouths after they ate, but they both opted for the trade-in.

Between Bryan's work party and the actual Halloween night, we have two more chances to get pictures of the costumes. That means we also have two more batches of candy to sort through for peanuts.

Ah, the joys of Halloween.

The Good Parts of Educational Advancement

Last night as part of Family Home Evening (yes, on Wednesday, we had to reschedule this week) we told the boys who their teachers for the new school year would be. This is the first time since we've had children in school that we've lived in the same place for two school years in a row, so it was a new experience for all of us. The assignments were just made and the boys have been eager to learn them.

First we told Cooper his teachers. In the Intermediate School, the kids have two main teachers, one for science and math and the other for language arts and social studies. Since he's going into fourth grade, the youngest group at the school, he wasn't familiar with the names. But he thought it was cool that both teachers are men, a first for Cooper's educational experience. Then I told him I knew of two kids from third grade that were in his class.

Me: Oh, and Gillian (his friend) will be in your class.

Cooper: (nodding) Anyone else?

Me: (thinking) And Lily.

Cooper: (gasping, then grinning) The blonde one?!

That gave us all a good laugh. Cooper is our little ladies' man, so I wasn't totally surprised. He tried to play it cool, but it was too late. Bryan pulled out his phone after Cooper's question and subsequent laughter.

Then I read the names of Peter's teachers. Because he's already spent a year at the school, he knew at least some of the names of the sixth grade teachers. And he's been anxious to hear about his math class in particular. Bryan had his camera at the ready this time for us to deliver the good news.

Peter made it into Pre-Algebra for next year. Here's his reaction.

A few minutes after this picture was taken his elation dwindled a bit when he realized what this advanced math class will mean: more homework.

The Very Hungry Caterpillar

On Friday I noticed that one of my tomato plants didn't look well. Upon closer examination, I found that something had been snacking on the tomatoes.

I looked even closer and found the culprit, or rather, culprits. There are at least three tomato worms in this picture, can you find them? They're green, nearly the same color as the leaves, and they have white stripes on their backs. I was trying to get a picture of the nearest, blurry one. It wasn't until I looked at the pictures tonight that I saw I had digitally captured the others as well.

Even after I saw it, I didn't know what it was. I was amused that our garden was so adored by the little creatures. I mentioned it to Bryan and he knew what they were right away. He also knew that they kill tomato plants.

Oh.

So on Saturday, after some research, I decided to do my part to save the garden. I went outside armed with a bowl of hot soapy water and a pair of sturdy tongs. My aim was to pull the critters off and drop them into the water. Peter was appalled and kept saying things like, "Okay, if you want that on your conscience." I was determined to remove as many as I could find.

It was awful.

Those suckers have a tight grasp. And when they are squeezed too tightly with a sturdy pair of tongs, they ooze green liquid.

See? Awful.

I don't think I got them all, but I got all I could find. Pesky bugs...

Come Fly With Me

Our flight to Salt Lake City was delightfully uneventful. We drove an hour and a half, parked at a hotel because the long-term rate was reasonable, then bumped along in the rain on this shuttle the rest of the way to the airport.

Each of us had a backpack, five of us had a rolling suitcase, and Bryan got to lug Sophie's car
seat and our toiletries duffle in addition to everything else. In spite of that haul, we felt we had packed pretty light. And we ended up checking everything but our backpacks, which made the traveling much easier.

Guess what? Kids don't have to take off their shoes at security anymore. They also don't have to go through the x-ray machines. Bonus, Bryan and I were able to stay with them and walked through the old-fashioned metal detectors.

Phoebe started to get nervous as we got closer and closer to the airplane. She began saying that she wanted to go home. Once we got on the plane and in the air, she was okay. In fact, while the plane was taking off, Phoebe called to Cooper who was sitting directly in front of her, "Cooper, this has to be a dream!"

Sophie's reaction? "I like the shaking!"

We suspended our little-to-no screen time rule and made sure that every child had access to audiobooks, ebooks, movies, and games. It was our act of kindness for the other passengers on the flight.

It's also why Peter didn't sleep at all on the way home. Minecraft from midnight until six in the morning? He wasn't going to say no to that.

Why yes, all devices have been safely stowed away and the kids are on screen detox, thanks for asking.

Things were a bit more difficult once we landed. After waiting at the baggage claim for an extended period of time (long enough that Bryan's brother Paul, whose flight came in after ours, found us still waiting), we discovered that Sophie's car seat had never been loaded onto the plane. That's right, the big red bag that said CAR SEAT- GATE CHECK was still on the east coast.

And that is why Sophie sat in a loaner car seat for more than half our trip until her much nicer car seat was delivered.

We finally made it to Bryan's grandparents' house after midnight and crashed in their cozy and wonderfully familiar basement.