It's In the Bag

Our Relief Society is working on a service project. They want us to make small afghans out of baby yarn to give to the little ones who are still-born at the hospital. First, let me say that I'm very busy! But quite a few years ago my sister-in-law had a little one that she lost at seven months. I'm pretty sure I told you at least part of that story once before. Her baby died the week before Taco was born. Anyway, because we had shared a small amount of her pain, I really wanted to help make one of these afghans.

I learned to crochet when I was about 10 years old. We did it for a primary project and I was pretty proud of my hard work. But when I showed my project to Grandma, she was not very happy. First she told me I was holding my crochet hook wrong and I would have to relearn how to hold it correctly. Then she told me every stitch I made was too tight!  And she was right. It was extremely difficult to get the hook back through for the second row of stitches.

I was devastated. I wanted to make her so happy! She loved crocheting and I swear she could do it in her sleep. I finally completed a project that was a pink baby cape. I know, it was very impractical, but what did I know, I was just a kid...

Grandma said all the right words, but I could tell that she was still disappointed in my apparent lack of skills. I tried a few other projects, a couple of baby afghans out of broomstick lace which is sort of crocheting, but not really. I made a full-sized afghan, but it was using another tool that looked like a couple of knitting needles. I also started another baby afghan just before Bossy was born...it's still half-done in a bag somewhere. Overall, I'd say I was pretty much a failure when it came to crocheting.

But I really wanted to support this service project. Two weeks before Grandma died last fall, Teach bought several skeins of baby yarn so that Grandma could make her some baby dresses. Sadly, the dresses were never made and the yarn is just sitting.on a shelf. So today during General Conference, I pulled one of them out, dug in my junk drawer until I found the right size crochet hook, and got started.

After I had done about three rows, the Drama Queen decided she wanted to help too. Unfortunately, she couldn't find another crochet hook that was the right size. Being the awesome mom that I am, I handed her my project and let her have at it. But first I had to teach her how to crochet. It's funny, but she held the hook the same way I did until Grandma made me change. Of course I pointed that out right away...no sense in having to break bad habits.

After the morning session was over, she handed the project back to me. She had done about three more rows, and you know what? Her stitches were tighter than mine! Finally, now that Grandma is no longer here to see them, I've figured out how to crochet. After I finish this afghan, maybe I'll even pull that old bag off the shelf and finish Bossy's afghan...it will be a little small...

Some Awesome Fun at Classic

Curly

Monday was a special day for us. My elementary-aged kids are all off track, so they are home. And it was the end of term for the older kids so they all got the day off while teachers figured grades. That meant that other than my poor sweetie who had to work, we were all ready to play!

Scout

I had originally planned a trip to the zoo with my sister and my sister-in-law and their little ones, but the weather ruined that idea. So I pulled out my coupon envelope and started looking for an alternate activity.

Teach

That little guy in yellow is Curly.

When the Dog Walker made his personal appearance at the Spooka Palooza in October, we had been given stacks of coupons for food and fun. This seemed like an appropriate time to use some. As soon as Crafty got off work, we headed for Chick Fil A for lunch. I fed eleven of us full dinners including drinks for less than ten bucks!

Prima Donna

Sport

Then we piled back in the van and headed to the Classic Fun Center in Sandy. Three of our passes were for unlimited access so we put them on the kids most likely to use them...Crafty, Sport, and Scout. The others all had one free activity. After some discussion, we signed them up for an hour of bouncing in the bounce houses. And yes, adults are allowed and even encouraged to participate! (Sorry for all the pics, Teach insisted you had to have one of everybody!)

Drama Queen

Drama Queen

Teach

Because of my bad knee, I did not sign up to bounce (I know, I probably would have been fine...), but somebody had to take pictures so it all worked out. I loved watching my big kids act like the little ones. Curly could get up the big slides quicker than anyone else. Baby Doll had no fear! She just giggled and giggled as they sent her down slide after slide.

Princess Free Falling

Prima Donna and Crafty

When our hour was finally up, we cashed in all our free token coupons and headed to the arcade. Teach and Drama Queen earned a pile of tickets playing skee ball and the little kids rode on the rides. Then we discovered the Deal or No Deal game. I have seen that show a couple of times on TV and the game was basically the same. It cost 5 tokens to play, but if you were really good, you could win a hundred tickets for your investment.

Crafty, Baby Doll and Drama Queen

Dog Walker

We decided we were never going to make a deal and we played it all the way to the end four times. The first time we earned 20 tickets. Then the Drama Queen came over and after listening to her advice, we managed to get one ticket! The next game was the best. We won 40 tickets! The last time we played we pulled out 8.

By the time we were finished, we had a cup stuffed with tickets and we headed to the exchange counter. Baby Doll has recently learned the word "dog" and to her every animal is a dog. But she was very excited about a particular brown one that cost 400 tickets. Since we only had 325, the Drama Queen handed over $2.25 to make up the difference and Baby Doll got her dog!

By then Princess was getting nervous about being late for dance but our unlimited pass holders wanted to stay a little longer and skate. The Dog Walker agreed to stay with them and I handed him one more pass for free skating and $3 to rent all of their skates. Then we ran all the other kids home. An hour later I picked them up.

We had an awesome time as you can see from the pictures. And the entire day cost about 15 bucks including lunch...not bad!

My First Kiss (sort of)

Since it's almost Valentine's Day, I thought it might be fun to share some of that family history that has become legendary. This story begins way before I was even born. My grandma's first husband drowned when my mom was just a baby. So my grandma remarried and her widowed husband already had two children. These kids all grew up together but were not blood relatives (pay attention, that part is important!).

My aunt had three children, and the youngest was a couple of years older than me. He grew up in sunny California and we only saw him during the summer when he came by to visit. When we were young, he didn't have much to say to me. He hung out with my brother just older than me and I was the annoying little sister who always got in the way of their hunting and fishing and boy stuff. That all changed the summer I was 13.

It was 1978, and Ron showed up with his family like he did every summer. At 15, he looked a lot like Justin Bieber with his long wind-swept hair and dark eyes. I had only recently started paying attention to boys and he was definitely a boy.  I had been working on perfecting my flirting techniques and I decided he was a good specimen to practice on. And you know what? He didn't seem to mind!

One afternoon, we walked together to the store where Grandma was working. I don't know how we managed to lose my older brother, but for once we were alone. Ron was telling me about California and the beaches and his friends. It all sounded like one big happy party all the time. We got to the store and shared a soda with Grandma. It was pretty easy for her to take a few minutes away from the furniture store and she almost always took her break between three and four o'clock.

When our drinks were gone, we waved goodbye and started walking the 3 or 4 blocks back to Grandma's house. On a whim, we decided to cut through what was affectionately called "Lover's Lane" even though it was still mid-afternoon. As we were walking, Ron suddenly took my hand and started swinging it. He helped me through the fence and we made our way through the weeds until we were along the ditch bank. This small stream was much slower than the one I fell into when I was little. We liked to wade in it and cross on the large stones without getting our shoes wet.

I took off my flip-flops (although we called them thongs then), and slipped my feet into the cool water. There was a slight breeze, so it wasn't terribly hot, but it was August in small-town Utah so taking a minute seemed perfectly normal. Ron threw himself down on the ground beside me. After a few minutes of chit chat, he asked me if I had ever been kissed. I had to admit that other than children's games, I had never really been kissed. That's when he started telling me about something I had never heard of before...French kissing. I guess it was all the rage in California and he suggested that he would be happy to teach me how to do it.

There didn't seem any harm in this little game, so I agreed. He put his arm around me and I turned my face to his. I don't know what I was expecting, but it was NOT his tongue down my throat! The kiss didn't last very long and as far as I remember, it was never repeated. We simply gathered up our shoes and walked the rest of the way to Grandma and Grandpa's house.

Strangely, things were not even awkward between us after that and when I'm asked about my first kiss, that is not the one I think of. But I still giggle every time I hear the phrase "kissin' cousins." Yeah, I had one of those once...

The Dentist

I grew up visiting the dentist once a year. Dad had pretty good insurance through the school district, so Mom made sure we always got our checkups. You all know I grew up in small-town Utah, so when it came to having someone drill our teeth, there was only one game in town...Doc __. I absolutely remember his name, but I'm leaving it off on purpose and I'll tell you why.

I never like the smell of the dentist's office, but not the same way I dislike it now. As a kid, our dentist's office smelled like alcohol...and I don't mean the rubbing kind! He was generally pretty drunk when he was working on our teeth.

I was about 9 or 10 years old the first time I had a tooth pulled. It was pretty decayed and the dentist said it would fall out soon anyway. So we scheduled a time and when that day came around, Mom wasn't able to go with me for some strange reason. The dentist's office was about 2 blocks from my house and since it was in the mid 1970s, no one even considered that I might not be safe. I walked over by myself, sat in the 6-seater waiting room, and when it was my turn, I climbed in the chair.

I was not happy! Doc numbed me up (or so he thought) and then waited for a few minutes for the medicine to kick in. Then he started twisting and yanking. When I protested...LOUDLY!...he gave me another shot of Novocaine and a few more minutes. When he came back, he again pulled out the pliers. I wiggled and squirmed while he assured me there would be no pain. (He was wrong!)

When he was finally finished, he handed me a little envelope with my tooth in it. He had packed my jaw with gauze since it kept seeping blood everywhere. I bit hard on that little cotton roll, grabbed the envelope and literally ran out of the office. Tears streamed down my face and I promised myself I would never step foot in that torture chamber again. At least I had the reassurance that the tooth fairy would be visiting later. I opened the tiny envelope and peaked inside. That tooth was broken in half from the effort of pulling it and it still had two long roots that had stubbornly refused to leave my mouth.

We love our pediatric dentist now! He does a great job with the kids. Baby Doll had her first checkup this week. Scout and Curly also visited with the dentist and neither one had any cavities. Curly was very cooperative, but Scout did NOT want her teeth brushed. I guess I'm the meanest mom ever, because I insisted they brush her teeth even though she would have been more than happy to just leave. Maybe it's the way I was raised, but you don't get out of the dentist's chair without experiencing a little pain...and the smell of alcohol.