Blame it on the Bug

Lately I've been feeling all pleased with myself for having gained so much wisdom by my 40th birthday. Don't mock me, it happens sometimes. But now I know that wisdom will leave you in a crumpled heap on the sidewalk if you lack the knowledge and ability to reason when faced with a bug in your eye at the wrong moment...

EARLY yesterday morning found me cruising around our beautiful planned community on my brand new, birthday bike. It was a perfect summer morning, by any state's standards and I was riding through the green belt paths and around the lakes at top speed, soaking up every breezy, bird song-filled, solitary moment. It was idyllic. It was heaven. I was even composing a blog post in my head, repenting of my hatred of Arizona and realizing that after two years I was starting to form a strange attachment to this place aptly named "The Valley of the Sun."

I was on my last turn around the lake and planning to head for home when (sound effect)... a bug flew in my eye. My eye stung and watered and I went into reaction mode. With no thought for the fact that I was cruising in my highest gear at a pretty good velocity I reached up to get the bug out with my right hand and squeezed my left brake with some force. It seemed that there was a moment where I thought, "No! I didn't just do that!" before my extremely effective front brake locked the front wheel and I flew over the handlebars. I can still see the sidewalk coming up fast and my right arm stretched out straight in front of me to "brace" my fall (hah!) That unforgiving slab of concrete first pounded the palm of my hand, sending shocks of pain up through my elbow and shoulder, then crashed into my right cheek. To complete the experience, in the next instant my bike flipped over and landed on top of me.

I was mad. Having no swear words at my disposal I yelled, "Dangit!" to the heavens and breathed in disgust at myself. I had ruined my perfect ride and now I was going to hurt. I hate pain as a general rule and I was sure this pain was going to be pretty spectacular. It was during these musings that I realized that stupid bug was still in my eye! Before I could extricate myself from underneath the bike of death, I had to find a limb that worked and get the stupid insect carcass off of my eyeball. I dug around for a minute or so, got the evil thing out and then slowly, tenderly got up and tested each part of my body to see what worked and what was starting to protest about my callous treatment.

My right arm was in bad shape. My wrist and palm were throbbing and I couldn't lift my arm at the shoulder without extreme pain. But I didn't want to prolong the agony by walking home, so I got on and rode the two blocks back to my house with my right arm cradled into my stomach and my left hand on the brake. I realize now how lucky I am that I didn't go over the handlebars again by having only the front brake at my disposal!

By the time I got home I was crying. I walked in on Hannah eating breakfast and through my sobs told her what happened, freaking her out, I'm sure. Gid seeing me in a state of distress, came over and said, "I sorry mommy," and kissed my leg. If only healing could be achieved by the kisses of innocent babes... My only thought (irrational as it was) was to get showered before the real pain set in, because I STUNK and I didn't want to go through the ordeal ahead feeling all stinky and sweaty. It was a tricky and painful process, but I managed the cleansing and the dressing before the real pain set in. I had to call my good friend Tracie for a ride to urgent care (Thanks Tracie!) because Ren was also on a bike ride, up in the mountains. Ironically, I had decided to stay in the neighborhood rather than go with him, partially because I thought his ride might be a bit dangerous. Nice.

So to finish off this tale of woe and sadness, I spent some time getting x-rayed in urgent care, spent some time getting a CAT scan at the ER and was eventually sent home with my sprained wrist in a brace, my sprained arm in a sling, instructions on how to treat a mild concussion in my hands and my bruised pride pounding in my breast. My family babied me the rest of the day and I got so many kind words from friends on Facebook, I felt very loved if not a little awkward about all the attention. (Not all the attention was on me though, my brother-in-law Jared did express concern for the bug.)

I woke up today thinking that this whole situation might look a little suspicious. To my shock and surprise, I have no impressive cuts, scrapes or bruises, even on my cheekbone, to prove my story. (Though, I do have a doozy on my lower cheek that Ren could vouch for!) There were no broken bones and no witnesses. Some might even question the veracity of my story. Well, maybe I have just discovered a great way to get a break from life for a day or two. (evil laugh...mwa ha ha ha!) Would anyone really blame me? In the end, it is the fact that I awoke feeling like I lost a fight with a slab of concrete and a heap of metal which keeps my conscience clear and my family hopping for at least another day.

Freedom and Pancakes

Just to preface...I just spent three days in an intense, eight-hours-a-day leadership education training workshop where I trained to teach a class called Key of Liberty to the homeschooling co-op three of my kids will be part of this year. As a simulation of the class, I participated in a condensed version of what the students will be doing over 9 months time, only I did it in 3 days. I wrote papers, prepared a lecture, was the delegate for Rhode Island in a simulation of the debates and vote for independence, participated in a book colloquium, did document study on Thomas Paine's The American Crisis #1, memorized a significant portion of the Declaration of Independence, and participated in a Constitution Bowl. It was incredible, really! There is no doubt in my mind that I need to educate myself on our history and constitution and I get to have fun doing it and share it with Jonah and Cody, my 12 year-olds.

As part of this experience, I earned the American Heritage award (which our students will be doing) by passing off a series of requirements, among which was one to write a paper on What America Means to Me. Here's the paper that I wrote:

Freedom and Pancakes

I behold him sitting there like a fixture,

At a table

Which has been dressed in patriotic bunting.

He wouldn’t miss it,

This moment,

This breakfast,

This chance to remember.

What do pancakes have to do with the signing of the Declaration of Independence? With freedom? Or our country’s founding? Nothing; unless, you grew up in my family and your Dad was my incredibly patriotic, blubber-like-a-baby-when-he-salutes-the-flag, dad.

He was the father of the Fourth of July Pancake Breakfast in our stake growing up in Salem, OR. He served there as Bishop of our ward in the 80’s. I was a teenager; but, even then during the most self-absorbed state of my existence, I knew how much my dad adored his country.

He’d get us all up early on the morning of the Fourth of July, shooing us out of bed so we could go eat luke-warm pancakes and greasy bacon and remember.

The tables were set up in the church parking lot with their crisp, white cloths and red & blue stars and buntings. Sometimes I was assigned to set tables or put out chairs. I don’t remember minding, though past whining tends to be forgotten more quickly than past deeds of service.

The boy scouts and their fumbling flag ceremonies are ever-present in these memories, but perfected when coupled with the vision of my dad, hand-over-heart, tears shining in his eyes, pledging fervent allegiance to the country he loves.

The program of the day varied but words were usually spoken about the founding of our country. Perhaps children would sing a song, giggling and squirming while they energetically waved miniature flags in their hands.

After eating our fill and chatting with friends and neighbors, we’d clean up and go about our day, possibly sick with pancakes and syrup, bacon and juice, but full of what truly satisfies: joy, respect, gratitude and love for our country, its founding fathers and the liberty they pledged their lives, their fortunes and their sacred honor for over two hundred years ago.

Twenty years later I haven’t been home on the fourth of July for well over fifteen years. But this summer I vowed to take my seven kids on a road trip to the land of my youth. I was so looking forward to seeing family, inhaling the sights and sounds of a town I haven’t seen in years and retracing the steps of my less wrinkled years. Mostly though, I eagerly anticipated the Fourth of July pancake breakfast and seeing my dad, still shedding tears of love for his country.

In this humble vision I was not disappointed. On the morning of the fourth, I rousted as many of my children out of bed as I could manage, dressed us all in a triumvirate of patriotic hues and made my pilgrimage to the pancakes. We ate, we sang, we pledged our allegiance with tears in our eyes – my dad and I. We listened to the children sing, then oohed and aahed and clapped as they put on a parade for us. Bicycles, tricycles, scooters and wagons rolled over the hot, black surface of the asphalt bedazzled with streamers, ribbons, stars and sprays of red, white and blue.

My Dad turned to me, his cheeks a little grizzled by whiskers and age, leaning on a cane he hates, and said, “I remember…” then choked out a sob. I waited patiently for the rest as tears threatened to spill on my cheeks as well. He gained a little control and continued. “I remember parades like this when I was a boy in Greenville, UT with the children and bands and soldiers in uniform…” he trailed off re-experiencing the full glory of that childhood remembrance without words, because words could not convey it.

It was then I revisited a truth I’ve always known. I love my country because my Dad does. He never fought in a war. He never lived abroad to experience life without its freedoms. But he didn’t have to. Freedom rings true to our spirits and touches us deep in our souls. Freedom satisfies where pancakes never could. Let freedom ring.

Things You Should NOT Say to Your Wife the Week She Turns 40

Tonight after dinner Ren looks at me and chuckles as I walk past. I ask him what's so funny and he says, "I was just noticing that the words 'Faded Glory' on your shirt are placed right over your chest (not the word he chose)."

Nice.

(Note: I'm really not offended. As he pointed out, I joke about my deflated assets all the time. But still...)

Humongo Road Trip: Part 2

After spending a day-and-a-half with our friends the Everetts (and filching a speedo from their dryer -- see the first post on my trip), we headed north for a five hour drive up to see our friends the Christensens. This friendship goes way back to our days in Rochester, NY when Zach was 3, Hannah was 1 and I still had a flat stomach with no scars and minimal stretch marks. (heh heh, that was 3 c-sections ago!)

Back when we first met the Christensens, Laurie and I had 5 kids under the age of four between the two of us and Hannah was the sole girl-chid. She played happily with all those boys, making up elaborate games like "going on a trip" where they packed everything she and Zach owned into bags, suitcases, and other sundry containers. They would then haul the baggage up the ladder to the top of the bunkbed and go on their trip. They loved this game. I hated it. But we all remember it well.

On the way up, I called my brother, who lives north of Provo, to see if they wanted to meet us for dinner somewhere so we could say hi. We would be seeing him in a few days in Oregon, but truth be told, we were all dying to ogle my cute nephew Wesley who turned 1 last week. Ben and his wife Sara being there was just a bonus! :D We met them at a park where they brought us fried chicken and lots of other junk food that my kids inhaled happily. We chatted and played and oohed and aaahed over how cute Wes is getting, then hugged and headed out for the last bit of our drive up to Fruit Heights.

We haven't seen the Christensens in a few years, and now all those boys Hannah played with as a little girl are gi-normous specimens of manhood (I'm sure they'll appreciate that!) Hannah was a bit shy about hanging with them at first. They all warmed up to each other eventually and had a good time. This picture of them on the trampoline is humorous to me because I know I must have pictures of them jumping from when they were little. Things have changed a bit since then!

The BIG kids on the trampoline:

Ethan, Jacob, Wesley, Zach and Hannah

*****

Laurie eventually had her own girl and another boy and I of course, had five more boys, so together we have quite the crew. They wanted to just hang out, but I had other plans and insisted on dragging everyone to downtown Salt Lake City to see Temple Square and the Conference Center. There was plenty of groaning and whining, but notice they ARE smiling in all of the pictures. The conference center roof was amazing with fountains and trees and fields of wild flowers on top of it! I was glad we went even if they were less than enthusiastic about the adventure.

The Whole Group on the roof of the Conference Center

*********

Inside the Conference Center, looking up at the chandeliers and skylights

*****

Walking the path on the roof -- I love the grassy field they planted to recreate the prairies as they were when the pioneers first came to the valley

*****

On the steps of the Salt Lake Temple

*****

Hannah and the Boys:

Zach, Hannah, Ethan and Jacob

*****

Gid on the roof (he wanted to jump the rope and run in the field!)

*****

Inside the Conference Center with the organ in the background -- that is one BIG room!

*****

The best part of Laurie's house for the littles, Curtis and me was her garden. She told me that she and her daughter Robin regularly go out and eat sugar snap peas to bond as mother and daughter. We happily joined the ritual and ate peas to our stomach's content! They also have a huge patch of strawberries which they'd eaten so many of, they were sick of them. The horror! The little boys and I ate plenty of those too and relished the cool evenings and the sweet smell of grass and garden and giant old trees in her mature neighborhood.

Curtis relishing a strawberry

*****

Curtis and Robin picking peas

*****

Gid in the peas

*****

Eli working hard to get his own peas out of the pod

*****

The Christensens also have a sweet cat named Smoky and perfectly mellow, loving dog named Dottie. My kids were absolutely enamored with the pets. Gid and Eli spent many hours seeking them out and mauling them as only a 2 and 4 year-old can. Smoky and Dottie were totally patient with them, impressing me to no end. This was only the start of the pet campaign that evolved on this trip. More on that to come.

After spending 2 nights with the Christensens, we headed out once again toward Oregon, this time with a scheduled stop in Umatilla for a short stay at Ren's little brother Aaron's house. Where is Umatilla? We didn't actually know either. It's near Hermiston and across the river from Washington in the tri-cities area.

Aaron's family was already in Salem and he would be joining them the next day after work, but it was too far for us to drive all the way to Salem in one day, so he put us up for the night. Aaron's house also boasted a cat: one that plays fetch and likes to sleep on 15 year-old girl's heads (or so Hannah claims!) Aaron very graciously made us homemade lasagna (tasty!) and tolerated our noise and chaos. He was gone in early in the morning, so as soon as we were up, we embarked on the last 4 hours of our drive to Salem.

How can I possibly catch up?!!!

Here I am, finally home and suffering from my usual malady -- too much to say and not enough brain power to think about it. Dang it sucks to be almost 40. I've come to realize I have traded wisdom for mental agility. It is a pretty decent trade for the most part, but I long for the days when I could have 5 different things zipping around the neurotransmitters in my noggin and not break an intellectual sweat. Well, despite my whining and procrastinating, there are grandparents who are waiting to hear how our trip went, so I'm going to forge ahead, come what may. Tally Ho! and all that good stuff... here comes the first installment of:

The Byers Summer Roadtrip 2009.

One score and 5 days ago, I set out on a much anticipated trek to the wilds of Oregon; not the land of my birth but of my coming of age (and some of the stuff in between.) I had determined that 5 years was much too long to go without having seen my parents and siblings on their home turf and I felt that my children needed to experience the thrill of shivering with cold in the middle of July. (which we did!) I planned the trip there with several stops to see friends and family along the way, putting us in Oregon 5 days later. Ren has been enjoying/enduring the busiest summer teaching he's ever had, so he flew out to Oregon to meet us after we drove up. The first stop was with our friends the Everetts in St. George, UT.

The Everetts served as our family-away-from-family while we lived in Murrieta, CA for 5 years and they moved away the same week we did. They have a child counterpart for Hannah (Lauren), Jonah/Cody (Addison), Curtis (Jacob) and Gid (Cole). Only Zach and Eli don't have a direct Everett buddy. That's pretty good for us since our childspread is 14 years apart and we really never find a family that has a friend for all our kids. We only spent one night with the Everetts, but had a ball playing with them and enjoying a great indoor waterpark in St. George.

Here are a few of the pictures of the kids at the park:

Zach and Gid

Lauren and Hannah who are like twins sometimes

Jonah's amazing swimmer hairdo

Addison and Jonah

Cole

Eli having a blast, obviously

Gideon loving the froggy waterslide

Curty splashing down

I don't know how I missed getting pictures of Jacob and Cody -- sorry guys! One funny anecdote that came from this leg of the trip: When we were getting ready to leave, I noticed that some of the swimsuits were still damp so I threw them in the dryer with some of the Everett's clothes. When they were dry, I sorted through the clothes and made sure I got everything, then we left. The next time we were suiting up to swim, Hannah yells for me to come and see something. I go in and she is laughing because her swimsuit bottom has been magically transformed into a Speedo! Yikes! Somehow I had left Hannah's cute little black, boyshort bottoms in the Everett's dryer and she had acquired a lovely Speedo to go with her swimming ensemble. Sorry Heather! I'll send it back soon, I promise. We're still debating about who it belongs to...

Stay tuned for our next stop: Fruit Heights and our Rochester friends, The Christensens.

The Summertime Disclaimer

It has been AN EXHAUSTING WEEK! (Caution: Whining about to commence, read at your own risk) I have spent the last week simultaneously working on:

* Curty's 8th birthday (a party for friends and a party for family)

* Curty's upcoming baptism which will be in Oregon with our family

* Cleaning, decluttering and organizing the entire house to prepare for all 4200 sq. feet of carpet and tile to be cleaned the day after Curty's birthday.

* Putting the house back together after the massive upheaval of the carpet cleaning.

* Doing laundry and gearing up to pack tomorrow for a 3+ week trip through Utah and Oregon.

* Preparing for Father's day (but forgetting that I have a FATHER not just a husband who needs some recognition!)

* NOT blogging.

I hate neglecting my blog, but that's the way it goes. I have many pictures, garden success stories, funny anecdotes, not-so-funny-gonna-get-turned-into-Child-Protective-Services admissions and witty commentaries that may or may not get written in the future. Hopefully, you're having such an entertaining summer, you aren't checking my blog (or writing in yours) for a while anyway. So, I'll see you in a while -- but I'll leave you with a few snapshots from our busy June. Happy summer everyone!

Curty's Birthday Party

Eight year-olds are apparently crazy!

Curty and Jonah spent two weeks in a musical theater workshop. The theme was School of Rock and they had a blast learning seventeen different rock songs complete with choreography and solos. Being two of only 5 boys, they got their fair share of the spotlight and had a blast!.

Cody opted to try a community dive team this summer. He's learned a front one-and-a-half flip, back dive, back layout, and an inward. He's working on his front double flip.

Here are the spectators at the first dive meet (from front: Eli, Jonah, a friend Noah, Ren, Curty and somewhere back there was Gid) ...still happy because they've only been there 15 minutes. After 2 1/2 hours the natives became restless. The dive meets since have been adult-only affairs!

Zach turned 17 on June 1st. We invited another family with seven kids to come and celebrate with us (although only four of the kids came). Zach has been a full-time chauffeur this summer, running kids to dive team, musical theater, the library, the store, the mall...

We got the idea to do an egg drop experiment from my sister Becky. The challenge is to construct a shelter for an egg that will keep it from breaking when dropped off a roof. Zach was more than happy to get on the roof to be the chief egg dropper. Hannah stayed on the roof of the car to transport the eggs.

The winners: Hannah and her styrofoam sphere and Jonah with his tupperware container packed with (hmmm...can't remember) attached to a parachute. The losers, Zach's egg in a ball of yarn and Cody's egg wrapped in egg crate foam (ironic). Curty just bein' cool doing karate.

I seem to be lacking in pictures of the littles. Well, you can picture them... they're running naked all over the house, yard and neighborhood. I can't keep their clothes on and I'm sick of trying. On the plus side, Gid has just about potty-trained himself. He's especially well trained in the pooping area. If he's naked and needs to go, he runs and gets a diaper, makes me put it on him, poops in it then runs back to get changed. How much more trained can you get?!

Gid the Glam Rocker

Gid is very good at entertaining himself these days -- often to my frustration and chagrin. It would seem he's also preparing to entertain the rockers of the world, if his new "look" is any indication. I think Adam Lambert may need to guard his new throne because here comes Gid the Glam Rocker.

He's even got the tongue thing down.

And he's very thorough! Even after a long bath, he still looks like this: