Be Still My Soul

This is the newest addition to our family.

It was being sold at an estate sale.  As I pushed my way through a crowd of people rifling through every blessed thing this family owned and bargaining to take home a piece of it, I felt sad for whomever once owned and loved all of this stuff. 

I stood quietly and observed for a while. 
Somehow by some tragic event... in life or in death... all of these beloved treasures became property of the estate.  No longer being treated with love or possessed by memories of another time. 
They had tags.
They were for sale.
and if you break it, you buy it.

I definitely wanted to know more about the family that lived here and the tragic events that led to this horrible day.  Not because I felt like I wanted to pry, but I wanted to reassure somebody that I would take a piece of it home and love it and treat it with kindness and love and gratitude and respect. 

While we waited for our receipt I looked through a stack of books sitting outside on a table.  The table was being completely ignored as books have little or no resale value.

a large stack of antique medical dictionaries... probably a doctor...
a thick, antique scoutmaster's handbook...
crafting to build a beautiful home...
and... The Miracle of Forgiveness by Spencer W. Kimball.. written on the inside cover: "To my son... 12/24/1970.

this family, completely unknown to me, were likely my brothers and sisters.

Jr. played this song on Youtube over and over while he type type typed away today.  He must have felt he needed to hear it, I felt better that he knew just what to do to calm the tension of this eventful day.  One time, when it ended, I asked
"hit play, I want to hear it again" 


Be Still My Soul

He Gave Selena Voice Lessons

My Tiny turned four years old.
At four years old
Joseph loves trucks, cars, taking things apart, making a mess, and working with Daddy.
When asked what he would like to eat for his very special birthday dinner out, he picked "pizza at Costco".

Joseph is way smarter than we are.
He proves this time and again.

He has figured out how to break things on my smart phone that I didnt even know existed.
He told me watch out because when he gets up from the table, daddy will eat his pizza.
He called Tita on the phone - out of ear shot from me - told her that I was napping, and that she should pick him up at 4 and take him to McDonalds. Which... of course... she obliged.

But this is why we love our Tiny son most of all -

Birthdays are a time for Redemption

Dear Daddy,

Happy Birthday.
You are our super hero.

Remember when you cut your thumb so badly last week, and needed a lot of stitches. It was hard for us to see our super hero injured.
... you redeemed yourself when you cut the stitches out with a pair of my craft scissors.

Remember when you worked on winter lawns for so many hours in October we thought you might have moved out, but couldn't really tell?
... you redeemed yourself when you agreed to take the day off for your birthday.

Remember when you used your superpowers to squish, squeeze, torture or annoy any one of us to death?
... you redeemed yourself by being hilariously funny and making all three of us feel like we are your best friend.

Remember when you dismantled, rearranged, "improved" or "Tim Allen-ed" anything else that belongs to me?
... you redeemed yourself by being the handiest husband I know and fixing everything that ever breaks.

Me and the kids think you are the best thing since round tortillas, but don't let it go to your head.
Happy Birthday, Daddy!

My New Secretary

Yesterday Joseph (let me remind you - three years old) and I were sitting and eating lunch, watching some afternoon PBS.

He was sitting right next to me, playing with my new phone. Suddenly, I hear my mother-in-law's voice.

"Hello, Nicole".
"No, it's JJ"
"AAAAYYYY chiquitito, pedrazo de que que que... como estas nino bonito, hermoso... (Honestly I have no idea what she is saying...)"
"Hi Tita,... you go in your van, you come to my house, you ring my door and I will open it and you take me to McDonald's"
"Aye chiquito, you come over to my house"
"No, Tita, you come to my house, you take me to McDonalds"
...
fast forward about fifteen minutes... when despite all of the plans I had for the day - I am at Tita's house... with Joseph.


I complained to his father about his new found ability to undermine my parenting, my plans... my ability to cook... Guero laughed.


At about seven p.m., I called somebody on the Stake High Council that I barely know. He is in another ward, and I can just say that I have a great deal of respect for him and his wife...

He was not home, but his wife said that he would TRY to call me back before 8:30.


Guero got home at 7:45, and we were busy. I made him some sandwiches, we talked and watched our show. At 8:15 the phone rang twice, and then that person hung up.


By the time I got up to get the phone, it was no longer ringing. Since I was up - I started the washer, the dryer, the dishwasher... we locked up, and I went upstairs to put the kids to bed.

When I went in Karina's room, we put fresh sheets on her bed (her bunkbed - took extra time) I tell you this just to illustrate how much time passed after the phone ringing)


Finally, I got to JJ's room. I picked up some toys, and got him ready for bed. I could clearly see something under the sheets - it was the house phone!


If there is a soundtrack that plays in the background of my life... cue the tires screeching or the Psycho music.


"Joseph, did you pick up the phone when it rang?"
"Yes, Mommy"
In my head... I'm thinking, "NOOOOO!!!!" (but by that time Guero was already sleeping, Karina was down for the count... and I am too pooped to punish)
"Son, who was it?"
"It was Daddy"
"Son, it was not Daddy. What did you say?"
"I said, HIIIIIII Daddy, when are you coming home?"
I checked the caller I.D. - and sure enough - Anonymous Stake High Council Person that I do not know.. from another ward... had called at 8:15. It was now 8:49. Too late to call back and attempt to redeem myself.


Strangely, my secretary and my mechanic work for chicken nuggets.


You get what you pay for, I guess.

aged to perfection

Our princess daughter turned 8 years old on Saturday Sept. 10.

She was very excited, and I think she had a really fun day.

some things to know about our princess at 8:

She has started Activity Days. She absolutely loves it! I am so grateful that two of my best friends are her leaders.
She has already memorized all of her scriptures - the entire quad, and next week she will teach her group needlepoint.

She will be baptized two weeks from Saturday.
She has hand sewn one million crystals onto her gown already.

She took her first piano lesson last Wednesday.
She has been regaling us with Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker ever since.

She is in the second grade.
She is preparing for her SAT's in her free time.

Baby brother is her best friend.
They play Barbies and do each other's hair.

She is incredibly helpful around the house.
She painted a replication of Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel ceiling in the stairwell of our home.

She wants to be a seamstress when she grows up.
Project Runway called and asked her opinion on the most recent contestants.

She is unusually tall.
Statuesque and graceful, just like her mom.

She is uncommonly clever.
a Patented genius, just like her dad.

She is our princess,
perfectly humble in every way.
this picture was taken last week on our camping trip. It is not good quality, because the trailer was pitch black other than the light from the dvd player. I just think this is an image that daddy is not going to want to forget. These days are just too short, and quickly slipping away.

Love you, Hubband

Outside the Temple, Aug. 11, 2001
...and our song...

Too much cheese

Guero hates cheese. I love it.
He will eat eggs for breakfast if I feel the need to put cream cheese on something else.

Guero hates taking time off from work. I love vacations.
We bought the camping trailer. (It actually means, "we just went camping ten times - now it is my turn to go to San Diego... in a hotel!!)

I hate fake violence. He likes fake reality tv.
If I feel the need to watch something remotely feminine, I have my DVR upstairs, he has his netflix down.

He wants to mark his territory, I hate change.
When we bought this house - we agreed - the outside belongs to him, and the inside belongs to me. I don't tell him to stop bringing home orphan cacti, he doesn't mess with the nest.

I can't help but think that the number two reason that I love Guero more now than I did ten years ago - is that we had to make it work, and we did.