A Musing Mother 6

Last day in San Francisco and I was finally starting to relax. Nobody had tugged on my arm to ask me to do something (except for the homeless people outside the hotel who wanted my spare change. Huh. I guess that's not much different than at home). I guess I was feeling a little bit uninhibited as we were waiting for the elevator in the hotel to go get some breakfast. We'd watched WAAYYY too many Michael Jackson music videos. I started singing "Beat It" and doing my Michael Jackson dance pop and lock, hipping and hopping. I was too caught up in my own performance (which, in my own little mind, was amazing) that I didn't hear the elevator door open. I turned to a captive audience who were looking at me, wide eyed. Some were giggling. What puzzled me is that two blocks away, there were thousands of men dressed in drag. Downstairs in the lobby you could find men in suits wearing plastic rainbow necklaces. On the street outside the hotel I had seen men and w

I have no pride. It’s pretty much a known fact. When I was a little girl, I loved Donny Osmond and I was going to marry him. No surprise. He was a darling Mormon boy and I was a darling Mormon girl. He broke my heart when I was 13 and he got married. He never gave me a chance to grow up and know me. When I was 40, I saw Donny Osmond in a parade and screamed, “I love you, Donny!” My husband and children scattered and pretended to not know me and I realized I still hadn’t grown up. I went to graduate school at BYU at the same time Steve Young, NFL Hall of Famer and 49ers quarterback was getting his law degree. Although I never saw him, I knew he would be the father of my children. Alas, our paths did not cross until it was too late for him to marry me and let me have his children. We boarded our plane from San Francisco to Utah in the early afternoon. In the middle of the flight, Mr. Taylor leaned over and commented that someone on the flight looked like Steve Young. He pointe

How many essays can I write about San Francisco? Oh, so many. The trip was blogspot fodder. I'll start by educating those who don't often travel, like myself, by airplane. Delta charges $15 per bag to check. No big deal. We were traveling light. No containers over 3 oz. are allowed in carry-on luggage. All of my hair care products were confiscated. I was sentenced to three bad hair days with no hope of parole. Upon arrival at SF airport, I was immediately greeted with a young man carrying a "Hello Kitty" blanket, beautifully waxed eyebrows, and a deep cut t-shirt. But what really bothered me is that his hair was in the style of Friends Rachel Green (Season 2) plus three inches in every direction. How did he get to keep his hair products? So. Not. Fair. It soon became apparent that we had scheduled our trip to SF at the most colorful time of year. Yes, that's right. All the rainbows would be out on Sunday morning for the annual gay pride parade. We ch

I didn't think I'd do it and I can't believe I am. I'm going to share a story that I shouldn't. Playing doctor with my four year old son. He's poking me, prodding me, flossing my teeth and sticking a Q-Tip into my ears. All the while he is talking to me about how I have a "fuction." Say that word out loud. Go ahead. See what I mean? After a lot of guessing, I finally came up with the real word - infection. The game continued and his dad came home. I then encouraged the boy to fix his dad. He explained to his dad that he had the same malady I had. Oh, how I enjoyed the look on his face!

In honor of Father's Day, my husband's other child was exposed. I would call it poor taste except for the fact that I'm quite proud of this illegitimate child. It's actually his brain child. When he became the program manager for the youth shelter, he gave it an overhaul and facelift. He created levels and a more manageable system of reward and education. It has transformed into an entity in its own right. And here he goes again. Encouraging his brain child to grow further to meet the needs of other people's children. http://www.heraldextra.com/news/local/north/american-fork/article_11da5bf2-64ba-5849-93e3-8cf3d4cc9d00.html

My husband is the luckiest man in the world. For Father's Day, he received the usual tie. Some people believe bowties to be old-fashioned. We adamantly disagree. Unfortunately, before he could decide which bow tie to wear to work today, they disappeared (he started out with three). Today is his 43rd birthday. It's so exciting to think that he is now 14 years older than I am. Last year he was only 13 years older. The year before it was 12. It must be tough to get older every year. He was given a book he's wanted for a long time. He also received various home made creations and treasures, two airplane tickets to San Francisco, two tickets to see "Wicked" in San Francisco, and two night stay at a hotel in San Francisco. There is a possibility I am exploiting his birthday for my own purposes. Did I mention he also got a Pilates ball? Best of all, though, is he gets these great kids! What a lucky dad. I would be remiss to mention the creative and exuberant daughte

Do you think it will last? I think 50 years qualifies as "lasting." Tony & Anna Lu LaPray of Highland, Utah will celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary on Thursday. They were married in the Logan Temple, June 18, 1959 and have made Highland their home for the past 36 years. They are an example of true companionship and love, during difficult times and happy times. We are proud of you and love you very much. Thank you for all you have done for us. Mike, Suzy, Nancy, Joey, & Jene (spouses & 18 grandchildren) We love you!

There is a slight possibility I might be crazy. It was a typical day, really. There were swimming lessons for the three younger kids, requests for friends to come over and to go to someone's house. A child who insisted that someone come over and see his cat (which we've had all his life) so his sister went out to the neighborhood and invited a three year old boy over with his mom who came in and had a popsicle . The cat had disappeared, of course. There were meals to prepare, snacks to find, a nap to take, a couple of games of Chutes and Ladders, the telephone to answer, the door to ignore, the books to look at longingly, picking up this and that, ordering the children to pick up that and this, and finally a trip to Costco. That great big superstore that overloads all the senses and turns the most organized person into an anxious wreck. But not me. I walked into Costco and inhaled. Sweet freedom. Can you love your children and your life and enjoy being alone without feeling gu

A little piece of me died two years ago. My oldest son proclaimed that girls are gross and have germs. This included all girls - even his mom. He refused to hug me. He refused to kiss me. Redundantly, he informed me I had germs. I tried all the arsenal a loving mother has in her reportoire; bribery, blackmail, and trickery but to no avail. On the rare occasion I could get one little kiss out of him, he had that disgusted look on his face like he'd just ingested rat poison. In defeat, I retreated into my figurative corner to lick my wounds. Then something amazing happened. From my new vantage point, I saw what I had missed in my singular quest to get the coveted kiss or hug from my boy. He was asking me to wrestle with him more. If I am not mistaken, that's how boys hug their parents. He now slides into bed with me more often on lazy mornings and we talk and talk about whatever he wants. He doesn't cringe when he lays his head on my arm for support. He finds me any

My 9 year old son found me reading a book on my bed. " Raising Cain ," he read aloud. "Who's Cain?" "He's Adam and Eve's son," I replied. "What did he do?" "He killed his brother, Abel." "Why?" he continued, still interrupting my special reading time. "He was jealous," I answered. "What's your book about?" "Raising boys." For a moment there was silence then, "You think I'm going to kill my brother?!" "No," I said, "I think your brother might kill his, though." ********************************************** I won't introduce my daughters to the literary tragic figure of Hamlet, Ophelia. After this experience, I will read Reviving Ophelia in the safety of my closet or office. Ophelia contains too much symbolism for one mother to explain. Not to mention, how could I explain her demise? What would Dr. Spock say about this?

Conversation at our house is not necessarily for the polite, outside society. My sons and I have necessary conversations regarding anatomy and function. When my husband and I contemplated how we would teach our children about their body parts, we agreed to use the proper name for them. We do not cringe nor get embarrassed by calling those parts by their names. Others do, and for you, I shall refrain. One of the conversations from yesterday: 9 year old boy: Mom, I think my briefs are giving me a rash on my p****. I'm going to go change into my boxers. (A few minutes later) Ah! I feel much better! Conversation from today: I yell from the bathroom where I have sat down to do whatever I am doing. I come out. "Son, you have GOT to lift up the toilet seat when you go the the bathroom!" Before I had children, I thought that all discussions would be relegated to the proper parent; girls to me, boys to Dad. I now see that 90% of those discussions fall on my shoulders. A

Church was great today. I entered the chapel and found a bloody and crying 4 year old boy. He is the third out of our four children to tear his superior and inferior labial frenulum. This is not a naughty word. It's the little piece of skin that connects the upper gum to the lip. Bloody injury. After my husband and I high fived each other for our awesome parenting skills, I took the boy home where he sucked on an ice cube and I read him stories from The Friend , a children's Christian magazine. We then took a two hour nap. No doctor co-pays. No after hours. At least with this one we are experienced parents. Post-script: He has a loose tooth. May be going to the dentist. This summer is just getting expensive.

Tonight after dinner, as the children drifted away from their partly eaten food, I took advantage of the partial privacy to tell my husband something that I didn't want little ears to hear. I spoke in a low voice. He responded in a low voice. Being astute parents, we realized that the children had gotten painfully quiet and each had their heads tilted in our direction, trying to grasp the nature of our conversation. We stopped talking. Our 9 year old boy let out a gasp. "You're talking about my secret adoption, aren't you!" In the meantime, his four year old brother adamantly insists he came from Costco. Indeed.

Day 1: Swine F lu doctor co-pay Day 2: a. really gross knee injury b. doctor co-pays (two planned, one not) Day 3 : a. bored kids find window markers b. said culprits wash car c. friend reads blog and believes all cowboys need a real cowboy hat. Thank you Catherine (Keep Your Sunny Side Up) Fedoras d on't count. d. cowboy says, "yeehah!" all through dinner e. yard work with a "helper." f. no nap g. tantrum h. a bath i. a shower. j. tantrum. "I'm not tired!" k. little cowboy goes to sleep in the buff wrapped in a blanket. l. teenager calls home m. Mom goes outside and sings to her plants. n. Mom comes in and checks the words to Les Miserables. o. Mom realizes she's not going crazy. She's already there. Day 4: Can't wait.

My oldest daughter got the flu on Thursday. She was completely miserable with the body aches, sore throat, dry cough, and horrible headache. I hate to see her suffer but I loved being the one who could make her feel better with administration of meds, back rubs, water, chicken noodle soup or whatever. Motherhood gives me a purpose greater than any I have. I fear I may suffer from Münchausen syndrome by proxy except that I don't make her sick, I just enjoy taking care of my children when they are sick. I enjoy the symbiotic relationship we share. I registered this daughter for EFY at BYU months ago. It starts today. She has been miserably sick every day. My dilemma was that I didn't want to send her for a week long camp to a place where I couldn't take care of her. On the other hand, I had paid quite a sum for her to go and a refund was not looking likely. She spent the day resting and we assessed it this afternoon. She was feeling tired but not sick. She was going to EFY l