It was "Wicked"ly Fun

Yesterday I told you about one of the cheapest family outings we have ever been on. Today I'm going to tell you about the most expensive one. In 2007 my sweetie was working an awesome job with good pay when he was asked to help a little start-up company with some hardware design stuff. This is not uncommon for us. We have had our own consulting business since 1994 and whenever he is approached, we set up a contract. The thing that was different about this one was the scope of the project and the fact that it appeared to have no ending date.

The money was awesome! So we started saving up for a real family vacation. Originally we had planned a trip to Wyoming with my sister to go whitewater rafting and to the Tetons. But then her MIL passed away and they cancelled on us. Two weeks before we were to leave, we decided that since we didn't know that area well enough to go alone, we would take the kids on a vacation they thought would never happen.

For years we had sworn off Disneyland as being too expensive and it pretty much is for a family of our size. But with the help of those CityPasses, we found something that worked within our budget. It just so happened that my BFF had recently returned from New York and couldn't stop talking about a Broadway show she had seen there. She recommended we try to find tickets in Los Angeles. I knew her tickets cost her nearly $200 each and that was not a possibility, but I had heard that we could see it cheaper on the west coast, so I hopped online.

I was so excited to see that Wicked was playing at the Pantages and even more excited to see that floor seats were $95. Now trust me on this one, I have never paid $95 for any show in my life, but after her gushing report and one from the Drama Queen who had also seen the show and brought the music back home for the kids to enjoy...yes, they pretty much knew the entire score by heart...I bought the tickets.

Poor Baby Scout...Missed being Wicked

Sweetie is a great sport!

The only problem was that at nearly 2, Scout was too little to see the show. That meant someone would have to stay behind at the hotel and watch her. My sweetie graciously volunteered except that meant we needed a way to get to Los Angeles. I certainly couldn't drive our big van and all the kids into downtown LA. We looked into renting a cab, but we would have had to take two of them because we couldn't all fit in one. Then someone suggested that occasionally you can get a limo cheaper than a cab for a trip that far and certainly cheaper than two cabs.

I started calling around. I finally convinced the All Star Limo Service that they could make the round trip from Anaheim to LA for $300. My sweetie and I decided not to tell the kids about any of this, so as they were packing, we told them to put in some nice clothes in case we decided to go out to a fancy restaurant.

Flash forward to the trip...we all got dressed up and headed to the lobby of the hotel. While we were supposedly waiting for my sweetie to come down, the kids saw this long black limo in the parking lot. They thought it was awesome and they wanted a closer look. Of course I played along and we stepped outside. The driver got out and opened the door for us. The kids were confused and totally started to head back into the hotel. That's when I told them that the limo was waiting for us.

They were so excited! And even more so when they found out where we were going. We absolutely loved the show, all of us. And even though the evening was Wicked'ly expensive (and will never happen again in this lifetime) it created memories that will last forever.

Our Christmas Date

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My cell phone rang… “Hey, Mom!” It was the Gym Rat. “What is going on Saturday night?” he asked. I was still in bed and my brain was a little fuzzy, but I tried to focus on my internal calendar. “Nothing,” I mumbled. “Why? Do you need something?” I rolled over and snuggled up with Baby Doll. My sweetie had long since headed off for work. “No,” he responded. “But my friend, Jake, has some tickets to see The Forgotten Carols and Amanda can’t go so I thought I’d see if you and Dad want them.”

I was listening now! I had seen commercials for this show on TV and it looked pretty awesome. “That would be fun!” I enthused, not knowing for sure that my sweetie would think so. “But I think you should try to get a different date first.” (My ultimate goal is to try to convince him, rather unsuccessfully, to find a wife.) On Saturday morning he brought over the tickets. I’m not sure how hard he tried to find a date, but at that point I was just excited for myself. My sweetie seemed a bit reluctant, but an evening alone without any kids (regardless of the activity) appealed to him.

We dressed up in our Christmas finery and headed for Cottonwood High School. After a significant hike from the parking lot on the wrong side of the building, we finally entered the school. I couldn’t believe the size of the auditorium! It had 3000 seats, more than three times the size of our high school. Our seats were in the balcony, but we still had a fine view of the stage. I leaned forward in anticipation as the lights dimmed.

Michael McLean is an amazing entertainer and we were not disappointed. The story was actually a musical that he had written about a nurse who didn’t have the Christmas spirit. Like A Christmas Carol, by the time the story was over, she became the happiest one around. The music was awesome and I even convinced my sweetie to plunk down twenty bucks to buy the DVD so we could watch it with the kids.

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We headed off for dinner at Sconecutter and even though we showed up well before 11:00, they insisted that we take our food to go. That was a little disappointing, so we ate in the Smith’s parking lot. It seems that every date we go on has to end with a quick trip to the grocery store! We only had a gallon or so of milk left and that isn’t enough to get us through to Monday.

We wandered the store until nearly midnight, talking and laughing about the show and other Christmas plans. I tossed in six loaves of bread, some peanuts that were on sale, and  my sweetie hauled in six gallons of milk and some Froot Loops so he could take a break from his usual job of fixing breakfast on Sunday morning. Seventy-five dollars later, we headed to the car. As we were driving home, I pulled out my cell phone to check for messages. There was only one from Teach, it read, “I picked up some milk.” I now have 13 gallons of milk in my fridge! I wish I could say that will get me through the week, but my sweetie did buy Froot Loops…

The Invitation

Teach at a high school dance

You all know we’ve had an extremely busy weekend! So Monday was kind of a down day. We took all the kids to Mt. Mikes for pizza. I tried to unbury and I canned up three boxes of pears. It was way past bedtime when the Dog Walker wandered back in and casually mentioned that Saturday is the big Homecoming Dance and he’d like to go. As you can imagine, this is a “date” dance with flowers and fancy dresses and a nice dinner. Five days is barely enough time for planning, let alone executing…but I try to be a supportive mom, so we discussed for a while who he might invite. A sweet girl from the neighborhood came to mind.

Now I’m not generally a meddling mama, but I didn’t want him to be disappointed, so I called her mom on the phone. Unfortunately, said girl answered. Undeterred, I picked up the phone again and rang up another friend who might be a good source of information. She called me back a couple of hours later with the green light. No, this girl didn't have a date, and yes, she wanted one.

It was time to get creative. In Utah, it is customary to ask the intended date in an unusual way. My best thoughts always involve food of some sort. When Teach was in high school, she took an entire homemade layer cake like we have for birthdays with her name stuck between the layers. With the Dog Walker, I wasn’t sure an entire cake was appropriate. Maybe his girl was on a diet or being silly about her weight. With guys it’s much easier, they never seem to care about stuff like that when they are in high school.


I definitely knew I didn’t want him to do some of the things we had seen over the years. Bossy had a boyfriend who was extremely creative, but unconcerned about making messes and gross-outs. One year he floated a dozen plastics ducks in the toilet, each one with a letter of his name. Another time he shredded three large garbage bags full of newspaper and dumped them all over her bedroom. We still found bits and pieces when she moved out and married her hubby several years later!


My BFF’s son asked his girl by buying a bag full of ball-pit balls, you know, like at McDonalds, and presented them to her with the saying, “I finally got the balls to ask you to the Homecoming Dance.” My friend was completely appalled that he would use such a crass idea. But apparently it worked, because the girl said “Yes.”

The Dog Walker and I bounced around a few ideas, and then I remembered the leftover pears. I had a couple of dozen that were too green to can yesterday, so I kept them back for the kids to eat. They seemed like a perfect idea. We found a cute little Tupperware bowl, lined it with tissue paper, and filled it with pears. The invitation read, “Will you go to the Homecoming Dance with me? We would make a great pair!”

I'm so excited...and I just can't hide it...

I had Teach take it to her door. She accepted the gift with a huge grin on her face. Perhaps she already knew? Several hours later, a gift arrived on our own porch. A piece of paper sat under a box of rainbow sherbet ice cream. It read, “If I were Ernie and you were Bert, I’d say Sure-Bert!” So the date is set! Now we need a plan. At least we don't have to worry about a dress. Tell me the best way you were ever invited to a dance…silly? crazy? messy? or was it something about balls…don’t worry, I won’t tell my friend.

Free Falling

Not Baby Doll's actual piano

I am NOT a natural klutz although today somebody might want to argue that point. A couple of days ago I was gathering my purse and talking to my sweetie on the phone. I had a couple of errands to run and I was focusing on them. Not paying attention, I caught the toe of my shoe on Baby Doll’s toy piano. It totally laid me out! At least I didn’t land on anybody on the way down. I woke up the next morning sore and bruised, but otherwise none the worse.

So tonight Teach and I walked over to her friend’s house to pick up a Tupperware order so we could close out her party (she got lots of free stuff btw!). But we got visiting and didn’t get away until after dark. It was only about six blocks away, but in our little hamlet some of the sidewalks are rather narrow. During one particularly dark stretch with trees on one side and a high fence on the other, I stepped off the edge of the sidewalk and for the second time in two days, I found myself smacking the ground. Only this time I didn’t land on carpet…I hit the concrete and skinned myself in a few obvious places. But the worst thing I did was try to catch myself with my right hand…I know better.

Not my actual Denny's

Yeah, I have another story for you. It was mid-September in 2000. I was extremely pregnant with Crafty and I was hot and miserable. My sweetie and I went downtown, I’m thinking for a doctor’s appt, but it could have been something else. When we were finished with our errands, we decided to go to dinner, sort of a little mini-date.

We chose a Denny’s-style diner and headed inside. We spent an hour talking and eating and planning. Crafty was due in about a week and the doctor had already promised to induce if she didn’t come on her own. We finished our food and gathered up to go. When I stood up, I guess it was a little too quickly, because the next thing I knew, I was sprawled out on the ground. For the first time in my life, I had fainted.

Not my actual Instacare

When I came to, my sweetie and the manager and a couple of servers were standing around me. My sweetie hauled me to my feet and placed a protective arm around my swollen body where my waist should have been. “Are you OK?” He glanced worriedly at my belly. Still a little confused, I managed, “I think so…” We stood there for a moment, not knowing what to do. The manager offered his apologies and I ducked out and headed for the restroom. At least some things never change…

I backed my way through the door like I always do when I’m pregnant. After I had completed my business, I went to the sink to wash my hands. I reached for the faucet, and that’s when I noticed that my right thumb was hanging rather uselessly from my hand. It absolutely refused to grip the handle. I turned on the water with my left hand and carefully washed the injured limb. As I rejoined my sweetie, I whispered, “I think we better stop at the Instacare on the way home.”

Not my actual cast

Several hours later I was sporting a temporary cast that immobilized my hand and thumb. I hated what it did to me (imagine being 9 months pregnant and going to the bathroom with a cast on your dominant hand), but the worst part was the day my babe was induced. As they pumped me full of Pitocin and fluids, my hand became swollen inside the real cast I had received several days before. Since I had an epidural, the pain in my hand was way worse than the pain of having the baby. You would think that someone could have opened up the cast for me, but they refused!

Crafty was born (to read her birth story, click here) and I left the hospital the following day. On our way home we stopped at the orthopedic specialist’s office and he cut open the top part of the cast. Finally the pain eased.

Now, almost eleven years later, I’m not excited to report that my thumb is swollen and painful…at least this time I’m not pregnant (and I'm pretty sure it's not broken). I can still type...sort of...

Food for Thought: Mom's Banana Nut Bread

I don’t think my mom really enjoyed cooking, but she loved to bake. The cookie jar was always full when we got home from school, but it didn’t take long for her eight kids to empty it. She made an amazing Toll House cookie with just the right amount of chocolate chips and her applesauce cookies were to die for! When the milk cows were producing and she had plenty of cream, she made chocolate and white sour cream cupcakes by the dozens. I loved candy bars and cookies from the store, but I never missed them at home.

There was one treat I know Mom made just for me because I could eat an entire loaf by myself and that was her banana nut bread. Since I grew up with this tasty sweet bread lovingly made by my mom, I can’t find any in the stores that tastes quite like hers. Using her recipe always makes me melancholy for the rest of the day as I eat slice after slice and remember the sounds and smells of her busy kitchen.

 I spent many days during my crazy high school years curled up in a kitchen chair with a generous piece of warm bread in my hand while we chatted about boys and homework, friends and the future. I never imagined then that I would lose my mom when she was only 68. I’d give almost anything for one of those chats now…maybe I’d better find a couple of my teenaged daughters and slice up another loaf.


 Mom’s Banana Nut Bread

½ cup shortening
1 cup brown sugar
2 eggs
2 bananas, mashed (approx. 1 ¼ cups)
½ cup walnuts (coarsely chopped)
2 cups flour
1 tsp baking soda
¼ tsp salt

Cream shortening and add brown sugar gradually.

Add eggs one at a time. Add bananas. Now put in the dry ingredients and mix thoroughly. Add nuts.

Spray loaf pan. Bake for 45 minutes at 350 degrees. Makes one large or two small loaves. When I double this recipe I can get three loaves out of it.

Falling in Love: Courtship

We are going to skip this week's Friday Freebie to continue the courtship story in honor of Valentine's Day.  Please come back next week for another free activity.  

I would love to be able to say that we both immediately knew we were right for each other and we got married and lived happily ever after.  Unfortunately it was much more complicated than that.  I was only 17 and even though I thought I was all grown up, I was self-centered and selfish.  I was still a senior in high school for at least half my waking hours.  I wanted to participate in high school activities like the prom, but most importantly, I still wanted to chase boys and have fun!  I really wasn’t ready at that point for a serious relationship and given my split personality (college co-ed vs. high school senior) it was easy to live a dual life.  I was also getting an incredible amount of pressure from home to not get serious with anyone.  My parents were excited about my 4-year scholarship to BYU and they were afraid that getting married might jeopardize that opportunity.  The thing we didn't realize then was that there seemed to be a force, like a strong magnet, pulling us together and no matter how hard we tried to break those bonds, we were unable to separate.

John Travolta and Olivia Newton John in Grease

My lab assistant accused me of mind games and he was probably right.  In my mind it was all a game and the seriousness of the possible outcome didn’t really occur to me at first.  I was so flaky it's a wonder we ever got married!  Like one time when I was angry with him for some silly little thing, I immediately went home and called another guy and invited him to pref.  Shortly after that I went on a high school trip to Washington DC and spent the week chasing and then running from a boy from South Carolina (Stalker!  He didn’t give up quickly…he wrote to me for months and I don’t believe I ever even held his hand!)  After I was back from my trip I would often go out with another guy and then call my sweet and incredibly smart Lab Assistant to help me with my homework.  Each time I broke his heart he got so frustrated that he took all the broken glass in the lab and threw it into the recycling bin with such force that it shattered into tiny pieces.  

None of my high school friends even knew I was seeing someone until my lab assistant and I showed up together at the New Year’s Eve dance.  Then they gave me a lot of crap because he had a less-than-missionary style haircut.  I was a bit embarrassed by that and the next day he immediately cut his hair.  I should have known then that he would do anything for me, but it took much longer for that fact to sink in.  He gave me some wonderful gifts, a large stuffed teddy bear for Christmas, a heart-shaped crystal necklace for Valentine’s Day, and green M&Ms for St. Patrick’s Day.  He never neglected an occasion to show me how he felt.

That winter was very cold and the snow hung around for weeks without a ray of sunshine.  One night we were parked in front of my house.  We had been sitting in the car for a long time and the windows were pretty fogged up.  The snow was also piling up on the windshield, but we were talking and laughing, totally oblivious to the storm.  That’s when my dad showed up. 

Stock photo WCBS2

My parents were negative about any guy I went out with more than once, but did I ever mention that my dad was extremely unhappy about this developing romance with a college boy?  Even after I turned 18 in January, he thought I was way too young for the amount of time we were spending together.  Anyway, that night he wrenched open the door and the snow fell in little piles onto the seat of the car.  “What are you two doing in here?” he demanded.  Before either one of us could answer, he yelled, “Get out!  Don’t you know the power lines are down?”  We quickly climbed from the car and into the deep snow.  The power lines were sparking right above the car.  The snow was so heavy that they couldn’t take the weight.  It wasn’t long before the emergency vehicles arrived, but by then we were safely inside the house, drying out and warming up. 

Several days later we were once again sitting in the car when my lab assistant put his head in his hands and told me he didn’t know what he was going to do.  Concerned, I snuggled closer, “Why?” I questioned.  “Because I can’t live with you and I can’t imagine life without you.”  I was stunned and didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything.  Then he continued, “I think I’m in love with you.”  Now I have heard this line from guys before; the first time was when I was in 7th grade, but he seemed serious.  “Why do you think that?” I asked.  “Because even with all of these people trying to tear us apart, we seem to be stuck together,” he said.  I was surprised and scared about what that could mean to our future.  “Why don’t you think about it for a while?” I suggested.  “Maybe you’ll want to take it back.”  I hadn’t really thought about how I felt at that particular moment and I was certainly not ready to confess my undying love just then.  He shook his head.  It took me a couple of weeks to realize that my feelings were the same.  Tune in tomorrow for the proposal.

Happy Valentine's Day

Happy Valentine’s Day! Or should I say Happy Single Awareness Day?! That’s what the Drama Queen calls it. One of those days when you are the only one not getting a flower at the middle school or the only one not getting a smootch from your sweetie in the main hall of your high school. Or maybe you’re the only one not going to the Sweethearts Dance or the only one who has a blind date to the Institute Dance. (Hey, Teach, was he in an accident or was he blind at birth?) Seriously though, Valentine’s Day can be hard even if you have someone. 

Our church has a custom called the Adult’s Sweetheart Dance (not to be confused with the Youth Sweetheart Dance). Both are held at the church on the weekend before Valentine’s Day. Paying attention to the posters is critical! You would be in real trouble if you showed up at the wrong one. We have spent many happy hours at these dances, some nights just sitting and talking; taking a break from the kids, and sometimes dancing until our feet hurt. Often we show up near the opening song and stay clear through until the last slow dance. 

So this year we made our annual appearance, danced only two dances (the band was not my favorite), ate an éclair, drove back home to pick up Baby Doll, and then went out to dinner. We were trying to remember if we had ever missed one of these church dances since we moved to this area and we are pretty sure the answer is "no." Although it’s hard to say for sure since they are all pretty much the same. Except for the one in 1997. I had my knee surgery in the fall and I was still not completely healed. We spent most of that one sitting against the wall and just listening to the music. 

It was just before Valentine’s Day in 2001 that my sweetie was diagnosed with Type 2 Diabetes. We had to skip the eclairs that year and only help ourselves to the carrot sticks and fruit. Then there was 2005. Scout was born the end of November so she was still really small. We took her with and she danced most of the night between us. 

One year they really threw us a curve! There were no eclairs, just ice cream and sundae toppings! Another year somebody got the bright idea that they were having a dance so they needed to take dance pictures. They accosted people at the front door and before they could say anything, they were thrust onto a couch, coached to smile, and their panic-stricken looks were immortalized for all time. Last year they actually put card games out on the tables so those with two left feet would feel like they could participate in some of the activities. 

 They always set up tables so couples can sit around and visit and eat goodies and just think about dancing when a slow song comes on. And this year they added something else…they put huge candy bowls on each table and filled them with conversation hearts, chocolates, chocolate covered pretzels, and gummy bears. We were supposed to get a little cello bag and fill it with stuff from each bowl. It was really just a ploy to get us to talk to people at each table, but we were smarter than that. 

We waited until they played a slow song. Most of the couples got up to dance and that left the tables empty. We quickly visited each candy bowl and scooped up a ton of goodies for our babysitters at home. Then we took our bags out into the hall and stuffed them into the pockets of my jacket. We headed back into the gym, once again giving the photographer the slip, and finished out the last part of the song. We stopped at the refreshment table for another éclair (stocked by my own Prima Donna), and ducked out the door. 

It wasn’t moonlight and roses, but the candy put all the little ones in a sugar-dazed stupor so we were able to spend the last tiny bit of the evening alone in our room. Well, if you call "alone" Curly in the little racecar bed and Baby Doll asleep in the crib…I’d call that a Valentine’s Day success.