It's all relative - Part I

These people:
 

 

are related to me.

They are my step-brothers, Doug and David (with their wives Michele and Stacie), my Aunt Eileen, My great-aunt Adeline, my dad (John), my mom (Sherry), my step-father (Hiram), my great-aunt Flo, and my Uncle Joe.  And each one of them brought unique and amazing pieces to help build the whole of who I am today.

Doug was the straight man in the family.  He has the best deadpan sense of humor of anyone I know.  He showed me that it was okay to be goofy, to take things less seriously (and those of you who've known me for a long time know that I was a little too serious for a kid), and that even the jokester of the family had a tender heart.  I love my brothers.  

David was the baby of the family.  He let me torture him and he laughed about it.  We'd lock him in hampers, closets, and toy chests.  He let us comfort him when he was afraid of the thunder.  He was gentle, sweet, and kind-hearted.  He was the ideal kid brother.  Cute, easy-going, and happy, and eager to please.

Greg is not pictured here.  He left us in 1992.  We were eight months apart and were terribly jealous of one another.  We swam together, played together, and thought we saw a UFO together.  We weren't close as teens, but he had such a tender heart.  I wish I had seen it then and had known how to honor it.  

I met these boys when I was five years old.  Without these three boys, my step-brothers, I wouldn't know what it is to have siblings.  And even though we didn't grow up in the same house, we spent time together on visits and during the year I lived with them in Florida.  Doug and David married great ladies, and I am honored to include each of them (and my adorable niece Julia and cutie-pie nephew Jackson) in my family.

Also not pictured is my step-mother, Mary Kay (because I do not have a picture of her on my computer and she stubbornly refuses to get on Facebook [my #1 source for pictures]).  We've spent a lot of time at odds, and it is only as an adult that I've come to see her as who she really is.  She doesn't pull any punches.  You always know exactly where you stand with her.  She is 100 percent Italian, and if one could be a higher percentage than that Italian, she would be.  She is an amazing cook, has the hugest heart, and holds the fiercest sense of protection for the people she loves.  She is a wonderful artist, extremely bright, and steady as a rock.  It is only after becoming an adult that I realized that many of my holiday traditions are those which she taught me to own.  I am so grateful to her for teaching me what it is to be a core family.  She and my dad made sure that we kids were a part of everything.  From Tuesday night bowling leagues, to soccer, to getting ready for Christmas Eve dinner, and cleaning the nightly dishes, I understand family togetherness through the context of the experiences she gave me.  She taught me that kids deserve to be kids and that they only get one childhood.  More importantly she taught me that it is a parent's duty to guard that childhood and make it memorable.  My kids benefit from that lesson every day.

My dad.  My parents separated when I was three years old.  I lived with my dad in Houston while my mom tried to re-establish herself in New York.  My dad was always my hero.  Some of my very favorite memories of are of the time we spent together.  He taught me how to swim and we spent tons of time in the pool.  He took me to movies.  He sat with me in the steam-filled bathroom combating my recurrent croup, patting my back while I hacked my lungs out.  He put calamine on me when I had chicken pox.  He made amazing crock-pot meals and the best lasagna in the world.  When we lived far apart, he would just show up for a visit out of nowhere.  He stayed involved.  He stayed connected.  He made sure that I was always his daughter and always a part of his life.  Not long ago I commented to him that I really admired him for staying such a part of my life even though we lived 1300 miles apart.  In the '70s, it was relatively socially acceptable for a divorced dad to leave the ex and kid behind and start anew.  I mentioned that to him and told him that I admired him for sticking around.  Know what he said?  "It never crossed my mind to do anything but."  My dad is a man of few words, but I don't need a lot of words from him to know how much he loves me.  His actions tell me, even now.  All the time.

My mom.  She is the toughest to write about.  She  was the single person on this earth who knew me best.  She taught me (and boy did I resist it) the strongest work ethic.  She taught me to be generous to everyone.  She taught me to be a friend to people from every walk of life.  She taught me to be a chef.  I can honestly say I learned more in her kitchen than I did in an entire formal culinary arts program.  She was one of the most courageous people I've ever met, and also the most determined.  She died eight years ago, at the age of 53,  after a very long battle with a very aggressive form of cancer.  Her death changed me forever.  If I had to choose one thing that I miss most about her it would be that I would give anything for her to know my children.  Anyone who knew her knew how amazing she was with kids.  She loved children.  She would have been an incredible grandmother.  I don't have adequate words for how deeply I mourn the loss of that grandmother for my children.  But, this is a grateful post so I will move forward.  I am grateful for all the mommy-daughter dates spent walking around Greenwich village, eating chicken teriyaki at Teriyaki Chicken and Burger World, buying stickers for my sticker collection.  I am grateful for summers on Fire Island, decorating my bedroom together, and making sure that I had amazing birthdays.  I am grateful that she encouraged me to explore the things that interested me, taught me the value of a good garage sale, put me to sleep with "The Man in the Moon" and woke me with her off-key renditions of "You Are my Sunshine" and "Lazy Mary Will you Get Up?"  I am grateful that she tortured me with CBSFM oldies and early Sunday morning drives to get bagels.  I don't think anyone can fully verbalize all that a mom is.  There is no substitute in the world for a mother's love, an I am grateful to her for the love she gave me.

My step-father is impossible to describe, but I will do my very best.  I have known him since I was almost four years old.  I've known him through his hippie stage, his Yuppie stage, and now his (as he calls it) senior citizen time.  He views the world uniquely - with his own innocent cynicism.  I know that's sort of contradictory, but he's sorta contradictory.  He has a child-like enthusiasm for new friends, new experiences, and possibilities.  He soul is exquisitely sensitive.  He's an artist, a gentleman, and a gentle man.  He was my advocate when my mom was too harsh.  He helped me clean up from dinner when it was too much work.  He always made sure that he was my friend, even when I was not a friend back.  He took me to Coney Island.  He took me out of school once or twice to celebrate beautiful weather and join him for a special beach excursion.  He brought fun.  I cannot entirely describe the joy of the connection we have.  He is just my parent.  And even though we're not biologically related, he is my family.  I know of no other way to describe him.

There are a few people mentioned that I have yet to write about-- namely, my aunt, great-aunts, and my uncle.  I'm saving them for my next post.  So stay tuned, my truly dear readers.  More to come.  More to come.

At last... one of many overdue gratefuls

It has taken me so long to be able to sit down and post the grateful post follow-up that I've been wanting to write. So without further adieu, allow me to introduce you to some very special people who helped shape my life. 

Most of us have been blessed by the loving influences of others.  Often, those people tend to be related to us.  Some of them are not.  Some of these friends, acquaintances, teachers, colleagues, and so forth come into our lives for only a short time.  Some are part of our lives forever.  Whatever the amount of time that passes within the relationship, they leave indelible marks on who we are and who we become.  Today I want to write about just a few of the people who have forever changed me for the better.

Maura McGovern was my high school guidance counselor.  I can remember sitting in her office (which was loaded down with cards and letters of gratitude from former students-- and for good reason) on so many days.  She was an anchor for me.  She listened.  She didn't judge.  She was always there for me.  She was not just doing her job.  She did her job with compassion, empathy, and genuine love.  She was a big part of my ability to get through the day-to-day drama of being a teenager.  I am not sure that I would have made it through high school without her.

Irma Galarza was my junior-high Spanish teacher.  It is solely because of her that I love the Spanish language.  She was fun, fashionable (uncommonly so for a teacher in that time), stern, and kind.  Her birthday is the day before mine and I think of her every year on that day.  She was one of those teachers who, for me, made learning truly fun.  She praised me and gave me the extra attention I craved. I am still in touch with her via e-mail today.  In fact, she is building a retirement home in Puerto Rico, and has invited my family to visit her there.  And the best thing is, she means it.

Collen McCabe Lucas and Karen Manzi McCabe O'Brien, are my best friend from childhood, and her mom.

Colleen was the sister I didn't have.  We spent endless hours playing hand clapping games on the mailbox outside my apartment, making forts out of cardboard boxes outside her apartment, roller skating, playing on the beach near her mere mere's (whom I also love dearly) house in Connecticut, tickling each other's backs when we were supposed to be going to sleep.  We traded clothes, even when she was a foot taller than me.  She was the only guest at my wedding (other than my parents).  Since the day we met (the first day of first grade), she has always been a protector of people.  I cannot count the number of times she stood up to my mom for me (and trust me, NOBODY did that).  She is still that protector of people today.  I have no doubt in my mind that those who know Colleen could easily attest to her genuine concern for the well-being of others.

She is truly beautiful in every way that counts, and even in some that don't.  Although as a child I always envied her Barbie-doll good looks, it is as an adult that I admire her giving heart, inner strength, and her core beauty.  She gave me the gift of an amazingly flexible part-time job that allows me to contribute to my family's income without leaving home.   She cannot begin to know how much it means to me to be able to add much needed funds to our monthly income without having to feel the terrible pain and guilt of leaving my babies at home each night.

There are many, many other significant things I could tell you about the ways she has blessed not only my life, but the lives of my parents as well.  But she is humble, and I know that she knows what I'm talking about.  And I truly hope she knows how grateful I am to her for all that she has done and still does for my family.

We live far apart.  We have incredibly busy, incredibly different lives.  Our opportunities to connect are rare.  But so is the love we hold for one another.  My mother used to call us "naked souls" because we knew one another before we became the people we grew up to be.  I truly believe that those people are most precious, and I treasure them dearly (as I do her).  I miss her.  I wish we lived closer.  But above all I am better because of her.  I will always love and appreciate her for that.

 
Karen was my second mom.  There are so many memories of life with her in Brooklyn, Connecticut, and Mameroneck.  I couldn't even tell you where those memories begin and end, but I can tell you this:  I have never known anything but love and kindness from my Kar.  She is responsible for introducing me to the notion that Jesus Christ is really the son of God.  She went out of her way to ensure that even after she moved out of Brooklyn, my best friend and I still had each other.  She is responsible for a million happy memories.  And even though we don't get to speak as often as we wish, the love we have for each other never wanes.  We can always pick up where we left off.  She, like Colleen, knows me at the center of my soul.  These two women know me by heart.

Hilda Gootenberg, Lloyd and Michele Gootenberg

Hilda was the mother of my aunt's ex-boyfriend.  Long after they stopped dating (and even married other people), she stayed involved in my life.  She was kind to me.  She made sure I was entertained.  She took care of me.  She didn't have to at all.  We weren't related.  There was no future possibility of us being related.  She was just a source of light and love in my life.  I can't remember a specific memory where she showed me some special kindness; rather I remember many small moments where she made me feel a part of her family.  I will always be grateful for that. 


Lloyd and Michele are Hilda's son and daughter-in-law.  Long after Lloyd and my aunt stopped dating, Lloyd continued to include me in his life.  He didn't have to.  There was nothing "in" it for him.  He was a bachelor in his late 20s/early 30s, who was just good and kind to this kid.  He took our family out on his speedboat many times (some of my favorite childhood memories).  Even while he was dating Michele, he still made me feel included.  Truly, he had no reason to keep some random kid who wasn't even related to him in his life.  And not only did he include me, he went out of his way to entertain me.  He took me to see Annie on Broadway (front row seats too), to Buddies (a kid's funland that couldn't have been to fun for him), to Benihana, and Little Italy. And Michele embraced me equally.  These two people had absolutely no reason to stay involved in my life.  But I am so grateful that they did (and do today).

There were others - my third grade teacher, Mrs. Schwed, my kindergarten teacher at Washington Square kindergarten, Tanya (how I wish I knew her last name), my pre-school teacher in Houston, Mrs. Ducotay (I have no idea if I'm spelling her name correctly), my parents' friends, Claire and Jerry Warga, families that I babysat for (the Sorels, Hirschorns, and Porters), and Sheryl, who worked at The Store in Brooklyn Heights, and let me help her even though her boss didn't like it.

Each of these people opened their lives to me and not just took me under their wings, but embraced me and held me close.  None of them had to look out for me.  None of them had to go to the extent they did to validate the worth of my soul.  And although none of them are related to me by blood, each will always be kin in my heart because they made sure I knew that that I knew I had value.  I now know that it is no small feat to take on someone else's child.  It is even a bigger feat to not just take them on, but to love them, treat them kindly, and unselfishly sacrifice their time for that child.

There are many, many more people that shaped me.  But that post is for another day.  Hopefully, now that the holidays are gone, it will be another day in the near future.

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Gratefuls are coming

I have several gratefuls in the works but have not had everything I need to post them.

Rest assured, they are on the way.

In no particular order, and coming soon to a computer near you:

Growing up in NYC
Extended family
Parents
My JOBS
My church
and others...

Stay tuned...

Today's grateful (11/16/10)

Today's grateful is a brand new one.

Today, I am grateful for my husband's brand new job.

See, the last two days have been horrible.  My two youngest have both had fevers of 103.5.  They have been listless, miserable, sleepless, exhausted, coughy, vomity, in pain, and sad.  Thomas, especially, has been in a lot of pain, with a sore throat so painful that it hurts even to swallow.  My babies have been so clingy, only wanting comfort.  It's been extraordinarily challenging just to use the restroom.

Which makes me very, very sad (and exhausted).  The hardest part of parenthood is watching your children suffer and being helpless to stop it from happening.

And to top it all off, Michael started a new job a little over a week ago, so naturally he (and I fully agree) wants to make a good impression.  It would not look good to take time off when he's only been there for a week.

But his supervisor, upon hearing that his babies were so sick, made an exception for this brand-new employee.  They gave him work to take home (which is not officially allowed) because they said, "family comes first."

I have never been so grateful to a company in my entire life.

Today's Grateful (11/15/10)

I'm gonna keep this short and sweet because it's been a long night with two sick little boys.

That being said, I'm grateful for autumn.  It's my favorite season of all.

I love the harvest of September.

I love the newness of a new school year with all of the excitement and refreshment of getting back to a schedule.

I love the resplendent colors of changing leaves.

I love the crunch of leaves under my feet.

I love the crispness in the air.

I love that a cozy sweater is the perfect amount of additional clothing.

I love Halloween and Thanksgiving.

I love the first smells of wood-burning fireplaces.

I love freshly picked Honey Crisp apples.

I love hot cocoa and herbal tea weather.

I love fall so much that I decorated my first floor in its most prominent colors without even realizing that I was doing so.

I just love fall...
most of all.

Today's Grateful (11/14/10)

Tonight, I have a little two-year old with a fever of 103.6.

So tonight, I am thoroughly grateful for the wonders and availability of modern medicine in this country.

And...

for the grocery stores and drug stores that are open 24 hours for the purchase of medicine, soup, and pretzels (that make sick little boys drink more).

for the Tylenol and Ibuprofen that allow us to bring his fever down, make him more comfortable, and giving us far better odds than those who lived even 100 years ago.

for the tubed oxygen that, without which, both Thomas and Max would certainly have died at birth.


for the pulse oximeters that allowed us to know how long they needed to stay on extra oxygen.

for the suctioning device that made it possible for Max to heal from RSV not even a year ago.

for the CT Scan that diagnosed my pulmonary emboli.

for the interventions that helped my mom outlive her prognosis by three and a half years.

for the doctors, nurses, radiologists, lab techs, janitors, pharmacists, and all others who keep hospitals running and who care about the experience that each patient has while facing their mortality.

for the pioneers of medicine who made this all possible.

Tonight I am grateful that I can care for my feverish little boy.  And I pray that the time will come that each person, no matter what nation they live in, will be able to say the same about their own children.

P.S. Four hours after writing this my 11 month old popped a 103 fever as well.  And I am even more grateful for Tylenol than I was when I wrote this.

Today's grateful (11/13/2010)

These women:

Are not related to me.


Inspire me daily.
Humble me because of their own humility.
Give graciously to the world around them.
Amaze me with their talents, hearts, and kindnesses.
Set an AMAZING example for me.
Teach me to be a better mom, friend, wife, and person.


And some of them

don't


even


know it.

Today's grateful (11/12/10) posted a day late

My daughter met her best friend, Kami, while they were both in Mrs. Richard's fourth grade class.  They are now in 11th grade together.  Their friendship is more of a sisterhood, and Kami is a second daughter to me.

 

 

Kami has grown into a beautiful young woman, both inside and out.  It has been my joy and pleasure to watch her grow into herself.  In the past year, I have watched her blossom - her confidence has increased, she has become a more centered young woman, and as a result, she is absolutely ready and willing to stand up for what she believes in.

What really makes me grateful for Kami though, is her heart.  She shares so much of herself with the people she loves.  She is not afraid to give me her opinion on what's normal for a teenage girl and what is not.  She's not afraid to tell me when I need to give my daughter space.  And she's not afraid to tell Frankie when she needs to buck up and do what's right.

She also loves my little ones.  And they love her too.  Every time someone comes to the door,  Thomas starts saying her name, hoping it's her.  He talks about her at random times.  "Kah-mee", as he calls her in his husky little voice, is his first little crush.  And there's a reason for that - she's good to him.  He will run up to her and kiss her more often than he is willing to run up and kiss me.

Kami has a beautiful spirit.  She genuinely wants to help people.  From being the go-between for my daughter's first relationship, to helping Frankie do her hair for special events, to helping me clean my kitchen (what teenager does that?), to babysitting and playing with my kids, she has been a lifesaver for us time and time again.  In fact, even as I type she's getting ready to come over and babysit so we can work together as a family to clean.

I am so excited to watch her continue to travel on the beautiful path she is on.  I'm looking forward to watching her future unfold.  And I am grateful, so grateful, that she is my daughter's truest friend.  These girls are what my mother used to call naked souls.  They know each other as who they really are - with the pressures of the world stripped away.  They know each other by heart.  And I truly hope that they will remain BFF because there's really nothing like those people who knew you when. 

P.S. I couldn't be grateful for Kami without also being grateful for her mother, Beth.  Beth has molded so much of who Kami is, largely, just by example.  They have an ideal mother-daughter relationship-- not without bumps or hiccups, still very real, but ideal in all the ways that count.  Beth and her husband Tony have big, kind hearts.  And I am thankful to them for raising this daughter who impacts our lives in ways beyond measure.

Today's grateful (11/11/10)

It's impossible to imagine that this little girl:

turns 17 next month.

My daughter may have had a bumpy start, but she has always shown an indomitable spirit, even from a young age.  She's always had her own way of doing things and saying things.  It wasn't frozen -- it was "ice melted."  It wasn't inside out -- it was "inside wrong."  Our cat wasn't named Callahan.  He was Callafoot.

I cannot speak to my gratitude about her without speaking about her attitude toward life.  She has always been a sassy girl, and her name fits her perfectly for that reason.  Heaven help the person who tries to get in between her and what she wants to accomplish! 

Frankie is truly a jack of all trades, and she constantly surprises us with her hidden talents.  She loves to knit.  She loves to garden.  She loves to make pretty cupcakes, homemade cards,  and hair flowers.  She is happiest when her hands are engaged in creative endeavors. 


Life would not be the same without her.  Her spark, her spunk, and her voracity for life bring an energy to our home like no other.  The times that we've had to be apart, I have unquestionably felt like our family is incomplete.

I am amazed at how far she has come.  I am amazed at what she has overcome.  Her road is steeper and harder than so many others, but that spirit-- that indomitable spirit is her saving grace.  She has a mountain where many only have a hill, but that girl keeps aiming for the top.  I am so very proud of the beautiful woman she is becoming.  I am so very proud of how hard she is working at changing what she came from into where she wants to go. I am so very honored to be her mom and have the opportunity to guide her and watch her as she learns to spread her wings.

She is truly my butterfly, and she is learning how to make her colors shine.  And I am better for being able to witness her metamorphosis.

Today's grateful (11/10/10)

Michael hoped that Adam would arrive a week earlier than he actually did.  I'd like to pretend that he only wished for that so that he and Adam would share a birthday, but actually Michael was really hoping to deflect some birthday attention from himself.

Didn't work.

Adam James Hooten came into this world on June 13th, 2002 (exactly one week after his dad's 33rd birthday) at 7:01 pm.  He could have been born much earlier in the day but I chose to take a nap rather than make my doctor deliver on his lunch hour.  The nurses actually had to wake me up and tell me it was time to deliver (how I love a good epidural).  Then they had to hold me off because my doctor was stuck in traffic.

Adam made his way into this world kind of quietly (which is ironic because today that kid talks... a lot).  He didn't cry when he was born.  He just kind of looked around and seemed content to be here. 

Being my firstborn, everything Adam did was a new and amazing discovery to me.  Watching his amazed and perplexed face as he pulled tissue after tissue out of the never-ending box is a memory that still brings a smile to my face.  He was addicted to Baby Einstein and we couldn't rewind the tapes fast enough.  When he ate solids for the first few times, he gagged, made a face as though we had poisoned him, and then calmly opened his mouth for more.  His first word was "Please."  He quickly developed a love for pasta (making the Italian side of me very happy), and to this day it is his favorite thing to eat.  He also loves salad, especially what he calls "cute-lettuce salad with nu-lett dressing" (iceberg, cucumbers, oil, vinegar, and salt). 

He is obsessed with Scooby-Doo, Mario, and Yoshi.

Anyone who spends a little time with Adam knows that he's remarkably intelligent.  If you've followed my blog over the years, you've read some pretty funny "Adamisms".  If you haven't already read them, click here, or here, or here (my all time favorite), or here (my second favorite).  There are a few more peppered throughout this blog, but these are some of the most recent, and some of the best.  He has an amazing gift for language, and has had that gift from an awfully young age.  He is also playful, and creative, and goofy, and has so much enthusiasm for life.

Above all, I am grateful for his sweetness.  He is a gentle soul.  He has been in love with the same girl, Bella, since kindergarten.  It is a red letter day at our house when he and Bella have a play date.  He wants to marry her, and has told me so several times.  His devotion astounds me.  His sweet personality extends well beyond his crush though.

He still loves to snuggle, and will think of any reason why he should have to sleep in mommy and daddy's room. It breaks my heart a little to always turn him away because I know that the time will come when I will achingly miss that snuggly little boy.  But I also know that for him to be a healthy man he needs to learn how to sleep in his own bed.

He tries so hard to please his family.  He is remarkably obedient (most of the time), extremely helpful with his brothers, very perceptive about his sister, and rarely complains.  He gets genuinely sad when he feels he doesn't have enough play time with his friends.  He loves people, and is an open little book.  When he was little I had to train him to stop inviting strangers over to our house to play video games.  In fact, at one year old he already knew how to play a snowman bowling game on our computer.  At the time I didn't think it was all that extraordinary that a one-year old knew how to control a mouse.  I know differently now.

I so completely love this boy.  He is an extraordinary little soul with a beyond his years capacity for empathy and kindness.  He constantly surprises and amazes me.  From bringing leaves and flowers to me, to drawing pictures and creating elaborate paper craft gifts for his friends, to jumping for joy for the smallest of treats, I am privileged to watch this boy grow.  I am privileged to be his mommy.  And while I want to freeze him in time and never allow his innocence to dwindle, I am so eager to see what his future brings.  I have no doubt that I will continue to be amazed and astounded by him.

And I am eternally grateful to be his mommy.

Today's Grateful (11/9/10)

I'm sitting here listening to him wailing for daddy (who had the nerve to go to the bathroom).  He sounds as though the world is ending, right now, as I type.  I could hire him out for Irish wakes.  And though I hear this particular sound at least once a day, my little Thomas never fails to make me laugh, smile, and feel very wanted and needed.

A little bit about Thomas:

Thomas John Cazier Hooten was born August 19th, 2008.  He very insistently came into this world five weeks early because, we think, he had a lot to get done and he needed to get started as soon as possible.

He has laughed to himself since the first day he drew breath.  He is an exuberant little boy who has what we affectionately like to call his "man hands."

He is my only Italian looking baby.  I am grateful that I have at least one baby who looks like I may have contributed some of my DNA.

His first word was, "Hi" which makes sense because he happily talks to anyone he meets.  Of course, for the most part, they don't know what he's saying.

He is in LOVE with Blues Clues.  It's the only thing he really wants to watch on TV.  Boo Boo, as he calls it, is his favorite.  He knows all the appropriate hand motions to every song.  He sings all the songs, and he loves Steve.

He loves to play the piano and sing along to his own musical um....compositions (?). 

He loves to talk on the phone.  Most of his conversations are gibberish, peppered with "hi, aye you, (I love you), and bye."

He also loves to jump... on the trampoline, off of the furniture, on daddy.

And he loves to color... on paper, doors, windows, walls, everything.  (which reminds me, as a bonus grateful, I'm grateful for the Mr. Clean Magic Eraser).

He has a propensity for stripping down, even removing his diaper.  And if we don't catch him quickly enough, he deposits said diaper on the dining room table.  (Also grateful for Clorox wipes).

He loves putting on shoes (any shoes), going bye-bye in the car, or to the backyard, and once to the front yard without permission.  We now have protective covers so he can't open the door by himself.  He is one of the children that helps make baby proofing a profitable business.

It only took him about a month to figure out how to scale and vault our safety gate.

He doesn't settle down for naps.  Rather, he just goes and goes until the moment he falls asleep.  I have seen him fall asleep in the oddest of positions.

He is a busy, busy boy.

He said his first clear, full sentence last week.  It was, "I need to go bye-bye."  I responded with, "You need to go bye-bye?"  He nodded his head and said, "A Sas-ee." (which means either and/or with Max).  "You need to go bye-bye with Max?" "No," he said, "With Daddy."

He is a joy and a wonder to watch.  I love his little fishy face kisses, his knock me over hugs, and his obsession with his bum-bum.  I love how when you call his name, he responds with a long, drawn-out, "Yeeessshhh?"

He insists on calling me, "Mom" even though I always refer to myself as "Mommy."

When asked, he will accurately tell you what cars and monkeys say, but thinks it's very funny when I ask him what a cat says, and he emphatically responds with "cat."

He has so much to say and I understand very little of it.  But it is getting clearer and clearer by the day, which is amazing to witness.

He is that boy who will probably end up with more broken bones than all of my other children put together.  He is fearless (except when it comes to sitting on the potty-- that's scary).  He is tender.  He is snuggly, and mischievous, and very, very two.

He just came in to hug me, say goodnight, and drool on me a little.  He melts my heart.

And I am very, very grateful to be his mommy.  And I can't wait to see what adventures lie ahead.

And he is still laughs... a LOT.  I hope someday he will let me in on what's so funny, but I have a feeling I just might not really want to know. :-)

Today's Grateful (11/8/10) It's only natural

It's only natural that today's grateful would be about my children.  It would be impossible though, to do them justice by lumping them all together.

So tonight, it will be youngest first, born December 1, 2009. Tonight's grateful is my little Max.

Today, Max clapped for the very first time. He's clapped knuckles before, but this was the full on joyous, open-handed, making noise first clap of his entire life. He was so pleased with himself, it made him clap even harder.  It was such an exciting moment that Thomas joined the ovation.  Adam and I were compelled to follow.

Max has been such an amazing blessing.  He's a mostly cheerful baby with a knack for screaming the second mommy or daddy gets on the phone.  He has the cutest little toothy grin. He's got beautiful blue eyes with just the right amount of sparkle.

And he is so snuggly.  He loves to climb mommy's or daddy's leg and cling on like a little monkey until he gets picked up.  He likes to examine my teeth and gums with his oft-sharp nails.  He loves to have one of us hold a hand to his mouth while he vocalizes so he can make a "whooping" sound.  And he delights in returning the favor to us.  And when I run my fingers through his hair, his eyes can't help but close in sheer delight.  He loves all of his siblings, but he has an extraordinary bond with Thomas.

He LOVES Thomas.  And Thomas loves him right back.

My mornings start with one of these two little boys earnestly seeking the other.  If Thomas gets up first, he looks for Max.  The second he makes eye contact, he delightfully squeals. "A  Sass-ee" (how he says Max).  Max responds in kind with a coo of delight.  It is a beautiful way to start my day.

It is a gift to watch this baby grow.  My heart always gladdens and my smile always widens when I watch his cutie little bottom crawling away from me.  The world is wonderfully, perfectly still when he falls asleep on my chest and I run my fingers through his sleep-sweated hair.  I love watching him learn how to stand, and scoot, and discover his voice.  He already knows how to shake his head, "No," which amazes me to no end.  He loves to chew on paper and just about anything else he can get in his mouth.

I am in love with his big blue eyes, his six little teeth, and the grin which (just like his brother Adam's did when he was a baby) takes up half of his face.  I am in love with how very much this little soul is in love with me.

The heart's capacity for love and growth amazes me.  Parenthood is one of the greatest gifts that God has given us, His children.  It helps us to understand just a little bit of what it must feel like for Him to watch over each of us.

I am beyond grateful that He entrusted me with this perfect little gift from heaven.  I am beyond grateful for this little soul.  I am a lucky, lucky woman to be his mommy.  And I am grateful for all of the people in my life who help me to be a better mom.  But that's a grateful for another day.

Today's Grateful (11/7/10)

This man:

Takes amazing care of me.
Rubs my feet even if they don't hurt.
Waits for me to fall asleep first because he knows that if he falls asleep first, I can't fall asleep second because he snores too loudly.
Pretends I don't snore.
Makes dinner for me...a lot (and he's an excellent sous chef too).
Puts up with me even when I don't want to put up with me.
Keeps me anchored.
Is my safe place.
Loves me and accepts me for who I am.
Makes me feel loved, wanted, appreciated, and desired.
Tells me I'm beautiful.
Changes diapers.
 Takes the kids out so I can have a quiet hour.
Is an involved father.
Lets me nap on weekends.
Knits blankets for our children
Keeps me sane.

And for many, many, many other reasons he is my grateful for today.

Because I don't know how I would do any of this without him.

He is the love of my forever, my split apart, my voice of reason.

I don't have adequate words for how grateful I am to my Father in Heaven for the gift of this man in my life

every

single

day.

Aunt Eileen

When I was a child, my extended family was a very important part of my life.  I spent many weekends with my Aunt Eileen (my mother's sister), Uncle Joe (my mother's brother), and Great-Aunt Flo (my father's aunt, and yes, that's her real name, and no, I don't mean that special monthly gift).  As I got older, for many reasons, I saw less and less of them.  By the time I was a teenager, I hardly saw them at all.  Yet, each of these people holds a very dear place in my heart.

My Aunt Eileen taught me to call children, "sweetie." She introduced me to chocolate croissants, to the notion that you could be a mom and listen to hip music, and how to play Mille Bornes. 

My Uncle Joe taught me that I would not actually *die* from having a cup of milk with my ham.  He also left me with the indelible memory of the sign on his pool - "Welcome to our ool.  Notice there's no "p" in it.  Let's keep it that way."  And he taught me that Rottweilers can actually be very sweet dogs.

My Aunt Flo taught me to enjoy scrambled eggs with pepperoni in them.  And she taught me fantastic poems such as Annabel Lee and The Pobble Who Has No Toes and the classic, "Poor Little Kristin sitting in the tub.  Her mother forgot to put in the plug.  Oh my goodness, what a shame.  There goes Kristin down the drain."  She was (and is) an amazing source of unconditional love an acceptance in my life.

Each of these beautiful, wonderful, amazing people cared for me, shaped me, set an example for me, and most importantly, loved me.

But as I got older I spent less and less time with them until eventually I hardly saw them at all.  My Aunt Eileen and Uncle Joe had moved to upstate New York, and so we didn't see them all that often.  My Aunt Flo was in Queens, and I spent most of my time as a teenager hanging out with my friends in Brooklyn.  As I grew into a young adult, and got married, I began to feel the lack of these particular people in my life.  But by that time I was living in Chicago, newly married, and not really sure how to go about reconnecting.  So I didn't really try to.

Over the years I thought about them often.  Periodically, I even had conversations with each of them.  When my mom was dying, I saw more of my Aunt Eileen and my Uncle Joe than I had in many years.  That was one of the hardest times of my life, and honestly, it was too emotionally charged to really bring about big changes in these relationships. There were some hurt feelings, and my Aunt and I parted not on bad terms, but not on good terms either.

And then,some seven years later (spring of 2009), something happened.  I found an old family friend who had known my Aunt Eileen when I was a child.  He talked about her sometimes and I started to awaken to a desire to have her in my life.  I didn't know how to go about it though.  A few months ago, I remembered thinking that she might have some family photos and decided to call her and ask her for copies.  I honestly did want copies of the pictures and I hoped (but didn't admit this to myself) that asking for this favor might open a door. 

Asking didn't open a door.  It opened a floodgate.

Ever since my mother died (eight and a half years ago as of this writing) I have had a mom-sized hole in my heart.   She and I had relationship issues, but she was my mom.  She knew me better than anyone on the planet, even my amazing husband.  And we never got to heal those issues.  And after she died, I finally allowed myself to be mad at her for what was missing in our relationship.  So much so that for many years I didn't even want to mourn.  I knew that allowing myself to have those feelings would be the only way to begin to move past them.  And then this past Mother's Day, for the very first time, I missed her achingly.  Just writing about her now has me wiping tears away.  I am 38 (almost 39) and still, sometimes, life gets overwhelming and I want my mom.  And truthfully, although I cannot have her back in this earthly life, I have been given an amazing gift.  A gift of grace.  A gift from God.  And that gift is my Aunt Eileen.

She is mentoring me.  She is teaching me to be harder on myself in healthy ways, in ways that matter, and to be kinder to myself and the world around me.  She is teaching me to be more aware of my relationship with myself, with my children, with my husband, and with my Heavenly Father.  She is actively cheering and guiding me as I exercise and revamp my entire eating philosophy.  She is directing me toward taking charge in a no more excuses kind of way of the things in my life that I have identified as lacking. She is filling that mom sized hole in my heart.  And for that, I cannot thank her enough.

I can do this though:

She has asked me to be more aware of my blessings, and to focus on the things I am grateful for. So, for the rest of this month, every day, I will post a new "Grateful for" on my blog each day.  There are many, many gratefuls in my life, but today, I will start with her.


I am grateful for my Aunt Eileen.  I am grateful for the guidance she is giving me, for the time she is investing in me, and for the lessons she is sending my way.  I am grateful for our renewed relationship, and that she loves me enough to stand up to me and for me. I am grateful that she is helping me to heal that hole-- that missing piece.  So today, Aunt Eileen, my first grateful is you.  From the very bottom of my heart, thank you so, so much.

Homecoming 2010

Scrapbook design generated with Smilebox

Man is in the forest - the final chapter, but not the end.

So, on Saturday after returning home, I gathered up my reciepts and necessary paperwork and headed to the filing station that the National Guard had set up at our city offices.

Upon arriving, I was escorted to a tent to fill out paperwork.  It was surprisingly little paperwork (considering it was a government issue).  After filling it out, I was brought into a room filled with Guardsman.  Every person there was so humble, so contrite.  They were gentle with every resident of Herriman, taking accountability for the fire.  They were gracious in their treatment of us.  I was signed in, and after a short time I met with a paralegal, whose job it was to review my receipts.  The guard looked over everything I had.  He wrote up his total estimate for what they owed us, and brought me to a JAG officer to review the work he had done.  It was actually very emotional to see all these guardsmen and women in uniform just being so gracious to those of us who had been affected by the fire.  They paid both Michael and me for the time we missed from work.  They gave us a generous per diem.  They refunded us for the few clothing items that we had to buy.  I walked out that day with a check. 

As of this writing, I still have to finish filing our insurance claim. 

Our soft surfaces (all fabrics and shoes) were laundered by a professional remediation service.  We had so much laundry that it took THREE weeks to get it all back.  The bill came to over $17,000.00 just for the soft surfaces.  We have boxes and boxes piled up and I still haven't found the kids' Halloween costumes.  It will take us weeks to get it all put away.

The dust is never ending. Wildfires make a ton of dust, and it seems that we dust our home only to have it look (a week later) as though we haven't dusted in a month. The ripple effect of this fire seems to be ongoing. Little things, like the amount of time it will take to put away the laundry, the extra dusting, the long wait to get our clothes back, keep popping up and will continue to. That being said, I want to share the words of a friend, who really summed it all up very, very well.

Our friend, Carl Wimmer (and local Representative for the Utah House of Representatives) summed everything up very well when he said this:

"At around 2:30am Governor Herbert, Congressman Chaffetz, Mayor Mills and I were driven close to the fire line to view what was occurring. The flames were extremely hot, very high and showed no sign of stopping. The foreseen devastation was horrible to imagine, as we were once again told that they had 0% containment on the fire.

Governor Herbert had arranged for he, Congressman Chaffetz, Fire Chief Jensen and myself to go up in a chopper at 6:00am to view the damage. We decided to leave so we could sleep for an hour or two before flying. Mayor Josh Mills stayed. He was not about to leave his city to go sleep, when so many were still in desperate conditions.

The next morning we met and boarded the chopper. All of us on board were prepared for the worst. We knew how devastating the fire looked just three hours before. Nothing could have prepared us for what we were about to see...Not another house had been destroyed, not one. Yes, some were damaged. But not a single home had burned to the ground with the exception of the three which had occurred earlier. Chief Jensen explained that after we had left the fire line around 2:30am, the winds had changed direction, the firemen had been able to do “back burns” to stop the fire, and one brave bulldozer driver had helped by making fire lines next to the homes.

The black charred earth was next to many homes, but the homes were still standing. The vast majority of the flames were out. Governor Herbert called it a miracle, and it was. Our prayer in Mayor Mills’s office had been heard. Not only did He change the winds, but He buoyed up the men and women who worked ALL NIGHT to help save people’s homes. There were no serious injuries reported.
The loss of the three homes is tragic, and the devastation to those families cause my heart to ache. I do not diminish their loss in any way, just to say that it was a miracle that more were not lost...God moved on Herriman that night. Of this I am certain."

Our whole town has rallied (and continues to rally) to thank the brave men and women who fought this horrific fire.  Our friends and neighbors have volunteered in the re-seeding of the mountian (to help prevent runoff and landslides).  This whole experience has been an absolute modern day miracle.  We are so very, very blessed that so many homes were spared from this atrocity. Carl was right. God moved on Herriman that night. I, too, am certain.

Now, pardon the cheesy music, but the slides show everything - from the start of the fire, through the awful night, to the next day, police barricades, National Guard restitution, sandbags being made, and the mountain being reseeded.  It's amazing to watch.

We interrupt this fire to bring you to the Adamism of the day.

I can't start this post without providing a little background and back story. 

First, a little background on an activity we hold in our home on Monday nights.  It's called Family Home Evening, or FHE, and it's an event that many members of our church strive to hold each week.  It's basically an evening that we dedicate to being together as a family, but it's an evening with an added purpose.  Family Home Evening consists of several components, and these components are assigned out to each member of the family.  Components consist of choosing a lesson topic, choosing appropriate hymns or children's church songs which support the lesson, having an activity or a game, and then having a treat.  We have found it to be a wonderful bonding experience, and it has opened some great dialogue in our home.  Topics can range from the importance of family, to lessons on various virtues, to fire safety, to budgeting, to scripture stories.  Each person takes turns in choosing and preparing the various activities of this weekly event.

Now that you know how Family Home Evening works, I'll tell you the next part.

Twice a year our church holds a conference (which is called General Conference) in which church leaders speak to us about a variety of topics.  We really love watching conference, and we provide activities for our children to do during conference because, honestly, it's hard for them to watch a bunch of grownups talk using big words for eight hours over two days.  We hope that they glean a little bit of what is being said, and we provide them with activity packets that help them look for details (such as who's speaking, what color their tie is, what day a particular person spoke, et cetera) in order to help them pay attention.  Truthfully though, we don't really expect them to retain a whole lot of it.

Okay, now you know how General Conference works.  I want to share with you a small bit about one of the talks that was given at our most recent conference (held two weeks ago).

A gentleman named Russell Ballard, an elder and leader in our church, gave a talk about addiction, and about how people become ensnared or trapped into such a dangerous and difficult place.  He talked about Lucifer's role in such matters.  Understand that in our home, Satan, Lucifer, the devil, whatever you call him, is not really a topic of conversation, well, pretty much ever.  We talk a lot about choice and accountability.  We talk about free will and agency.  We talk about the love that God and Jesus have for each of us.  We tend to focus on the positive, and generally only discuss the adversary (as we call him) when we can see that influence in the world around us.  We really honestly rarely discuss him though.  This is part of what Elder Ballard spoke said:


"Like the fly fisherman who knows that trout are driven by hunger, Lucifer also knows our hunger or our weaknesses and tempts us with counterfeit lures which, if taken, can cause us to be yanked from the stream of life into his unmerciful influence...and unlike a fisherman who catches and releases the fish unharmed back into the water, Lucifer will not voluntarily let go. His goal is to make his victims as miserable as he is."

Adam had to choose a topic for an upcoming Family Home Evening.  The rest of us had already chosen topics for other FHEs  in the month, and they were fairly simple.  I chose healthy eating.  Michael chose Thanksgiving.  Frankie chose honesty.  It was Adam's turn to choose.  "Well," he said matter-of-factly, "How about hooks that Satan has all around us?" 

Wha--at??? Who are you?  Hooks that Satan has all around us?  Where did that come from?  "Yeah, Adam," I said, laughing, "Where did that come from?" "You know," he said, "Like in Elder Ballard's talk. Like the artificial snares that Satan uses like fly fisherman use."

Little pitchers.  Big LISTENING ears.  Grateful mom.

And I will finish the fire story soon.

Man is in the Forest -- the next to the last chapter

Shortly after re-evacuating I was relieved to find that my allergy symptoms were dissipating.  This made me very happy. 

I stayed on the phone with our insurance company that afternoon for quite awhile.  I also called our city, the local animal control (to see if they could take our pets), and our vet's office.  There are a lot of mundane details in this entry, but since I'm also recording this for my posterity, I felt it important to include more of a play-by-play.

Here's what happened:

I explained to our insurance company that it seemed I am allergic to whatever burned.  I was exhausted. I was emotional.  The first time we evacuated, I had plenty of support.  This time, it was just me, the kids, and all the pets.  And it wasn't new.  Any sense of adventure was gone.  This time, it really just sucked.  There were two bright spots though:  Frankie was incredibly poised and helpful and our insurance rep was amazing.  She was compassionate, kind, understanding, and empathetic.   I cannot give them enough credit - we have USAA and they are incredible. I called several hotels, and, after consulting with Michael and our nanny, finally decided on Little America.  They offered a very reasonable evacuation rate, had spacious rooms, and were a decent commute for Michael's work.

That left the issue with the pets.  Little America (like so many hotels) is a pet-free hotel.  Honestly though, I could not imagine having that many pets cooped up in a hotel room with us.  It would have been awful. I knew I had to find placement for them.  I called the city animal shelter to see if they were still boarding evacuated animals, but they weren't able to help.

I spoke with our city and they made a call and found out the status of the fire relative to our home.  They assured me that it was highly unlikely that our home would have to be re-evacuated.  This helped, because I didn't want to bring my pets home and fear that they would suffer smoke inhalation from the re-invigorated blaze. Since the risk was almost nil, our nanny kindly brought the pets home.  She also took Frankie with her, and the two of them got some dinner on their way back to the hotel. 

Where are we?  Tuesday night.  So, Michael had gone to work, met me in Salt Lake, took the boys and me to dinner, and then we headed back to the hotel.

On Wednesday,  I called our insurance company again, concerned that I wouldn't be able to return to the home until the fire was a) completely contained and b) we had a smoke remediation service come to remove all of the smoke (from our house) and soot (from our garage).  Incidentally, I'd had a smoke remediation company come to our home on Monday, and I had gotten an idea of what needed to be done, but I didn't have a warm fuzzy feeling about that company and decided to explore other options. Again, USAA to the rescue.  They referred us to preferred contractors, and I made more calls.  Michael went to meet the contractors at our home, and grabbed more of our clean (but smoky) clothes while he was there.  He cleaned out the garage (which had needed it anyway and now really needed it so the work could be done) and met with the smoke remediation company.

The smoke remediation company came out and assessed our damage.  They told us they would bring ozone machines to rid the house of smoke, and a team of cleaners to wipe down all horizontal surfaces.


We had to make arrangements to have the pets go the vet to be boarded because smoke remediation involves using an ozone machine which essentially depletes the air of oxygen.  No living thing can be in a home while the ozone machine is in use because it is lethal.  In fact, had we owned plants, they would have been removed too.  He took the fish, the dog, and our two cats to the vet.  Thanks again to USAA (I sound like a commercial) for approving that expense as part of our displacement.  Our nanny took her cat to her cousin's house, and the outside cat stayed, well, outside.  Michael dropped the pets off and came back to the hotel and we all went to our favorite Thai place (conveniently located just blocks from our hotel) for dinner.

After dinner, I started to sort through our laundry and began experiencing all of my allergy symptoms again.  It might sound weird, but it was kind of reassuring to know that I really was allergic, and not just imagining things.  I hadn't anticipated having allergy symptoms from sorting the clothes that had been at home, but there's no doubt that that's exactly what was happening.

I spoke with USAA (again) the next morning.  They arranged to have a laundry service come and take every scrap of fabric out of our home.  Turns out that due to my allergies, we also needed our linens to be sent to a special cleaner (who deals with fire damage).  Michael took Thomas and went out to the house again (so much for staying downtown to give him a better commute) and made all of the arrangements.  He also brought our laundry home so that the laundry people could take care of it.  We had sorted bags into priority (meaning a week's worth of clothes that would be returned the next day) and everything else.

I took Adam and Max to our downtown, beautiful outdoor shopping plaza via Trax (our lightrail train system).  I discovered that the only outfit I had was ill-fitting.  I went to a store and bought a new outfit, on mega-sale.  It's funny, I suspected that I would be reimbursed for clothes I might have to purchase, but it mattered to me to be as frugal as possible.  I never once felt like it would be okay to live it up on my insurance.

Adam, Max, and I had lunch, and then we picked up a rental stroller.  We walked around for awhile and then I took Adam for ice cream at Ben & Jerry's.  Max was fussy too, so I got a little bit of mango sorbet and fed it to him.  By this point, Frankie and the nanny were almost back to the hotel from Herriman.  They met up with us for ice cream, and I returned our rental stroller.  I carried a dead-weight, completely asleep Max to the Trax station.  I never knew that a child could be quite that heavy.  Michael met us half-way through our journey and took us back to the hotel.

I forgot to mention that our nanny had been driving Frankie to school every day, going to work at her other job, and then picking Frankie up and taking her back to the hotel.  Frankie was missing her first period class every day, but it was far better than her missing so much school. Honestly, had Devin not been there I think we would have just kept Frankie out of school for the week, which would have been tough on many levels.

We all went out for dinner again that night at a place called Skybox.  They have a fairly run-of-the-mill menu but their kids meals come with tokens for their little arcade.  The kids and adults had fun playing skee-ball, pinball, and air hockey. 

I went to our local Smith's marketplace and bought a few necessities.  In my hasty sorting of laundry, I missed a few items we needed and shopped the sale rack to get them.

On Friday, Michael went to work.  Luckily, it was his early day and he finished at 2:30.  I mostly stayed in our room, having no stroller.  Eventually, I gathered up my courage (taking a two-year old and an infant anywhere by yourself without a stroller is a huge challenge) and took the kids downstairs for lunch.  We ate at the Little America Express Lunch Buffet, which sounds kind of fast-foodish but is actually the opposite.  It's a rather fancy buffet complete with linens, cold gourmet salads, several hot entrees in chafing dishes, a carving station, and almost no children.

Little America dining room (and yes, this is what it looks like at lunch time).

You may wonder why I would choose to take my toddler and infant to such a lovely place instead of taking them next door to the Little America coffee shop:

Coffee shop - if you look out the window you can see a Trax train blurring by as mentioned above.

I would claim temporary insanity and you might believe me, but the real reason is that the lunch buffet takes place in the Little America Steakhouse and Adam was dying to eat in the Steakhouse.  He had been such a great little helper and I felt he deserved a reward. He was so excited.  "We getta eat in the Steakhouse??? Wow!" The prices were actually fairly close in both places and honestly, I had eaten in the coffee shop a few times and was ready for a change of pace.  Plus, with a toddler to entertain, I liked the idea of being able to choose a variety of foods I knew he liked.

I ordered chocolate milk for Thomas and asked the hostess to remove our tablecloth.  She was reluctant to do so, and simply folded it in half, away from Thomas.  That worked out well, since five minutes later he spilled his entire cup of chocolate milk all over the tablecloth.  Cream colored tablecloths aren't that absorbent or that pretty when loaded down with chocolate milk, but they are more absorbent than the wooden table underneath. 

We went back to the room after lunch, and I settled Max down for a nap.  A couple of hours later, Frankie, and the nanny arrived, and we all went for a swim.  Michael was supposed to meet us at the pool but he got hung up at work.

We swam for awhile, and then Max fell asleep in the nanny's arms, in the pool.  We went back to our rooms to shower and start getting ready to go to dinner.

I spoke with the smoke remediation folks and they let us know that we could return home the next day.  I was so excited.  The hotel wasn't bad at all, but it certainly wasn't home.

We waited for our clothing to come back from the cleaning company.  It arrived around 5:30 and after getting it sorted, we went to an early dinner at Red Lobster.  It was Shrimpfest or something like that where everyone could get their fill of shrimp for $15.00 per person.  It was a little bit of a splurge, but we had been fairly cautious all week and it was within the budget that our insurance company gave us for our per diem.   And it was Friday, and we would be going home the next day, and I wanted to at least have what felt a little bit like a vacation now that our hotel stay was coming to a close.

After dinner, I went to Shopko and picked up diapers (an obvious necessity) and some Ghost Dots (a treat).  The Ghost Dots were a big hit.  They're all the same sort of glow in the dark kind of green (although they don't actually glow in the dark.  That would be scary since they're edible). 

When we got back to the hotel, Max was asleep but Michael wanted to go for a swim.  He took Adam and Thomas with him.  They had been gone for about 20 minutes when Max woke up.  I changed us both into our swimsuits and we headed to the pool.  Michael played with the babies and I gave Adam a swimming lesson.  We swam for about an hour and then headed up to bed.

The next day, Saturday, Michael and I got up early and took the boys to the Farmer's Market.  I was the only one that got out of the car since we had no stroller and I really only wanted to pick up a few things.  We took our wares back to the hotel and packed up our room.  Frankie and the nanny decided to head back to the house, and Michael and I took the boys for another swim.  Adam and I spent a little bit of time in the sauna, and then we headed back to the house.  I came home and started to gather receipts and paperwork to file with the National Guard, and Michael took the boys. 

Filing with the Guard will be the next and essentially final chapter.  It was an amazing experience.  I hope I can adequately describe it.

P.S.  I save all of Adam's clothes for hand-me-downs.  With eight plus years of his clothing, all of our seasonal wardrobes (Michael, Frankie, Adam, Thomas, Max, the nanny, and me) plus our towels, blankets, curtains, and other linens, we had 203 boxes of laundry.  We'll get it back this Thursday.  That's gonna be like Christmas, with a ton of gifts to put away.

Man is in the Forest - part II (coming home)

As we drove to home to Herriman that morning, we wondered what we would encounter.  Would they let us in to our home?  Would the air still be smoky?  Would the mountain still be on fire?

This is what we saw:

This is what the mountain looked like at the start of things on Sunday as well.  The only differences then were that the smoke was on the right side of the picture and the mountain was still green.

If you hadn't known that the smoke on the mountain was actually smoke, this might look somewhat Utopian.  What we knew though was that part of the mountain was still on fire, and most of the mountain was black.  And rows, upon rows, upon rows of homes were still, miraculously intact.

Although the fire was somewhat contained by this point, as we drove into our community, I could feel my throat starting to burn from the lingering smoke, (which had been much worse the night before) my eyes started to water, and I started to sneeze.

We drove to the first major intersection in our neighborhood.  The guardsman read our address from my driver's license and didn't want to let us in, seeing as how they were letting families in up to 14100 and we lived at 14172.  I told him we really only wanted to check on our pets and then we would leave again.  His buddy said he wasn't sure if the next checkpoint would let us through, but he let us give it a try.

We saw the next checkpoint as we were almost to our home.  My clever husband drove 3/4 of the way around the block in order to avoid him, and we pulled up into our driveway.  The garage smelled awful.  The house smelled smoky, but not terrible. We walked in, noticed our disgusting hastily abandoned dinner dishes, and headed to the basement door.  We let our cats out, and they made a beeline for upstairs.  I picked up Falfie, our tiger-striped boy, and held him for a moment.  He was pretty agitated, so I let him go.  Knowing they were no longer in danger, we left.

We talked to some of the law enforcement who were blocking the way to the homes a block east of us.  We asked them if they knew when the evacuation would be lifted.  They didn't. 

We drove over to the evacuation zone (the local high school) to see if we could find people we knew who might have more information.  We couldn't find them.  What we did find, though, was that volunteers from the community and the Red Cross had a plethora of food for the few people there.  It actually brought tears to my eyes to see how many in the surrounding areas had jumped to aid the evacuees.  Several fast food restaurants, Wal-Mart, and even some nicer restaurants all heeded the call to bring food up to the evacuation zone.  The volunteers insisted that we leave with food, and they loaded us up with snacks, salads, and bread.  We headed off toward Salt Lake City to plan our next move.

I was completely worn out.  Not having had even an hour's sleep the night before had caught up with me.  I knew everything was safe, and any adrenaline that had been keeping me going, was gone.  Michael dropped me off at a hotel that was about 15 miles from our home, and went to retrieve the kids.  I don't remember anything other than turning on the air conditioning, and dropping into bed.  I woke up when Michael brought the kids to me.  He and Frankie went to do something-- get more clothes from the house, I think.  And I entertained the boys.  Thomas was a little wild man, completely out of his element, and off his schedule.  I was grateful when Michael finally pulled back up the hotel.

Not long after Michael came back, we learned that our home had been cleared for return.  We still had to pay for the hotel, but they were kind and gave us a discount.  We headed home.  We ate leftovers for dinner, marveled at being home, and went to bed early.

The next day, Tuesday, my friend and co-teacher, Sherry, came over to school with me.  The whole time she was with me, I was blowing my nose, itching my face, and wiping my eyes.  I was so allergic to whatever had burned.  It was awful.  I didn't know how I was going to live this way.  My hope was that once the fire was out, the allergens and smoke would clear, and I would be okay again. 

Shortly after Frankie got home from school, (around 3:00)  I found out that the wind had shifted and the fire was heading back our way.  The air outside was smokier and had turned gray.  Since I was the only adult home with the kids, Frankie and I gathered up everything we had evacuated with, loaded up the car with the kids, our stuff, the dog, and four cats (my two, my nanny's one, and the outside kitty we feed), and drove back to Salt Lake.  The cats meowed the whole way.  They were not happy at all to be in the car.  Michael and our nanny, Devin, were both working in Salt Lake at the time, and we arranged to meet back at the home we stayed in on Sunday night.

At that point, I had no idea where we were going to go, or how long we would have to be gone. I got on the phone with our insurance company, and started explore our options.

This mountain used to be green.

Stay tuned for part 3...

(photos by Clayton Tycksen and unknown pilot)