Did I blink and miss it?

Sometimes I look at my kids and wonder just when it all happened, the being independent, the growing taller than me, the leaving home. I recall so vividly, my days spent wondering what a luxury going to the grocery store alone might be. I tried it once at 6am, yeah once was enough, over rated. But to be able to hop in and out of a car without checking for buckled seat belts or missing shoes, to carry a nice handbag instead of a wipe-able duffle chock full of everything, those were things I only dreamed about and now they are my reality. While I'm pretty stoked about having a nice bag, all the other stuff seems like my distant past and I miss those days already. As I dropped my babies off at school for a new year, I insisted on the first day photos.

They roll their eyes but already appreciate the memories they have in their scrapbooks that quickly become such a long time ago. Asha seems like she'll be my buddy forever but I am pretty sure every Mum of a tween will tell me, my days are numbered. I love that she clutches her school supply list all day, everyday until we have every last thing on it. A new pencil case and freshly sharpened pencils was one of my favorite things to get when I was her age. School uniform doesn't get you excited for clothes but shoes, well this girls got a little bit of a thing....I'm leaving at that, lest ye judge.

Ronan on the other hand, couldn't care less about school supplies because every pen or pencil he has, would need to be carried and we all know that any kind of physical exertion is unnecessary when you are 13. He did however, go back to school with a smile on his face and a good attitude. Even when I took shots like this driving along in the car.

I told him I needed a picture when he got out of the car on his way in and he said "no Mum!" but I persuaded him with "if you don't look back at me, I'm jumping out of this car with my bedhead and sweats and yelling your name whilst waving I love you's...." he agreed.

I love that my last 2 kids have unique names, If I had yelled Jordan out of my car , at least 15 boys and 3 girls would've looked at me.True Story. So there I was, all alone in the silence, full of free time but as I slowly pulled away, I snapped another shot and wondered for a second what it might feel like when my last baby drives away from my house to be with their new forever family.......

Then I turned the radio on, started singing loudly and got busy with my day.

Lost in translation

After 16 years across the pond, I have finally learned all the lingo of the land. The word "cute" is used to describe, well just about anything you like the look of, for example "That boy is cute" or your hair is "cute" (English readers- I am deadly serious! the word cute is not reserved for puppies and babies so do not take offence at someone describing your outfit as cute, they mean pretty, glam, sexy or something similar)Also when someone asks for the age of a child, I would expect a number in response but was often given a grade in school which left me puzzled as we didn't have grades in England, only Marks? I realized on my last trip back to the mother land, that I have lost a lot of my language skills and I find myself fumbling for words like a tourist with a sort of weird accent that is often mistaken for Australian (Really people, that is like saying Colin Farrell sounds French in stead of.....a sexy, bad boy Irish man)

Anywhoo, while I try not to stare, as young lads on a train, bicker back and forth, in the most adorable little accents ever, I am reminded that I actually sound that funny to some people. It's not always the accent but the words or phrases I use that I don't realize are different until someone giggles at me. Last week, I took Asha with a couple of chums to the Pioneer Day Parade and as I was considering a blog about it, it dawned on me that in England a Parade was called a Carnival and a carnival was called a fair and a fair was called a show and a show was only at a theater but here a theater could play a movie but going to a movie was called The pictures and...and..... It had flown past me, just how different the two languages are. Boyd spent the first several months of marriage, sweeping up after me when I made statements like "I can't be bothered" which in England would be a polite way of saying "I'm too tired" but here would be more like, "your not worth my time"! Likewise, when someone described my kids as little "buggers" or referred to a "fanny"whilst speaking in church, I looked all shocked and well, you can look those ones up. It's just funny to me that we consider our nations to be so similar, just one is bigger than the other and yet the differences are vast. Seeing the actual Queen, communicate with James Bond (a fictional character)was shocking and awesome to me. This is not your President, who does interviews and has a Facebook account. I'm not sure she ever speaks directly to anyone besides her family and the Prime Minister and that my friends, is the British, stiff upper lip.

If asked "how are you?" you must simply reply, without any thought of your recent accident, ailments or financial stresses that "I'm fine thank you" You may also vary this with "mustn't grumble, yourself?" and then you go merrily on your way, minding your own business. This whole ramble, sparked by a question of what to call my next blog. We all love parade/carnival?

Sharing a room

When I was a kid, I wished I had a sister. There was one main reason for this, I wanted to share a room. We mostly lived outside back in those days, a million years ago. It was considered the ultimate punishment to have to "go in". I had never heard of "sleeping over" and culturally it was quite strange to even go in someone else's house, let alone their bedroom. If you were waiting, you politely stood at the front door, trying not to notice every detail on the wallpaper or floor mat because that would be deemed "nosey". You can imagine the shock when my first day in the US, ladies came by with treats, stepping in my door and wanting a tour!! I remember being in a friends room one day while she got some things together and being in awe of the fact that there were two, single beds. How cool, a best friend to stay up late with and share stories of boys with and swap clothes. That's how I envisioned it, until I had kids of my own who shared rooms and while I'm sure there were occasional late night bonding sessions, there were also many fights over who's "stuff" was on who's side etc and the mountains of excuses as to why the other room mate needed to clean up. I had my own brief taste of sisterhood when Boyd's younger sister stayed with us for a few weeks after a mission. She borrowed shoes and rummaged in drawers for tweezers and things I guess sisters do but for me that was enough to convince me I had been blessed by having my own room growing up. Why am I sharing this thought? Well sometimes I realize my cultural cross overs have caused me a little confusion. I love the fact that I am more open to visits and neighbors but at the same time, wish everyone didn't feel it was their right to know all my business. Confusing. I also wonder who decided we had to share a room with our spouse. LOL. Two adults who are happy to give kids their own space whilst we have to share. One of us is a thousand degrees whilst the other is frozen, one snores while the other DOES NOT. One gets up at the crack of dawn and the the other at noon yet we somehow think this makes for a good roomy. I'm laughing as I write this because I wouldn't have it any other way (although I've heard many successful marriages do have separate rooms)but today my post was sparked by this:

Since my man got home from scout camp, he has been super busy and then he went and pulled a muscle in his neck. I have spent the last 72, or so hours in my room watching the Olympics (or at least, NBC's "Americans at the Olympics")and can no longer ignore the chaos which surrounds me. How am I supposed to lay motionless on my bed, except the odd movement to get food in to my mouth, when there is piles of stuff every where? So, I have found it necessary to break down and clean the room, even though it's not my stuff.(Not this time anyway) I actually laughed as I did my room sweep this morning, that Jordan has switched from, total slob, messiest room mate ever to:

Asha, who really is the messiest...

informing me, the rocks are purposely placed, because she doesn't like the room too tidy. Then, the reason I suspect her room is tidy at all is...

She sneaks in to Ronan's to sleep. Most teenage boys would tell their little sister to get lost but I hear him reading to her late at night. I guess not everyone want's their own room.

Go on you Britain

Every once in a while, I am reminded that I am in fact a foreigner.

Last nights, Olympic opening ceremony in London, had me in tears within seconds as the beautiful imagery of a home of rolling hills, a village fete, maypole dancing (in P.E.)and of course the Hymn "Jerusalem" which is maybe the most, if not only, hymn known by most Brits. The music of my generations, the little red brick "basset" home and the NHS hospital beds, where I had 2 babies drug free! I loved it all. I of course posted my support for my team on Facebook, whom I know will fight for medals and not even come close to the great USA where I now reside but an immediate response, suggested that I should maybe be cheering for team USA!! If there was ever a time to cheer for your home land, it is during the Olympics and anyone who has ever emigrated knows that. It's not about politics, money, fame or gratitude for the country you reside in but about heart, work, determination and some form of spirit that lifts a person to be a light to those who watch. This is perfectly represented by Gual Marial, who won his right to compete in the Marathon with just 11 hours to spare. He also resides in the USA as a refugee from South Sudan, A country that took the lives of all his family members. He runs as and Olympian, an independent. He represents that which the Olympics is all about. A desire to rise above and be a part of something greater. So I don my Official team jersey and eat my bangers and chips and cheer loudly for all Olympians but hope, so much, that the underdogs get to see some hardware.

DIY

In my early 30's, I was full of energy and extreme optimism towards spontaneous DIY projects. There's the time I decided after returning from Thanksgiving dinner, that our master bedroom needed painting. Thankfully, the people at home depot, felt their employees family time was less important than the possibility of a crazy like me doing a project and so I was able to buy paint. We prepped, taped, primed and painted and had our room back together in time to go to bed, a little late but the same day (a true story)

Or the time I decide yet again on a bedroom redo, only to decide the same day, that I didn't like it and a re- re-do a day later.

(Blue tape still on the wall) It seems, as the next few years rolled on, my brain kicked in somewhere and started showing me the bigger picture. These projects became overwhelming. Effort required plus costs, meant I just didn't start many projects at all. You can imagine my excitement, when Monday, after a busy day of nothing much doing, when throwing a dirty towel in the dark, crowded, brown, laundry room, I got this.... URGE to fix it!! The laundry room was top of my list of my requirements for my house. No more basement dungeon, I wanted bright and spacious and if pinterest had been around then, I might have felt a chandelier was necessary to clean clothes. Everyone knows, whites are whiter with a chandelier and a cute phrase, appliqued on the wall. Anyway, thanks to pantry changes and ducts being moved etc, I was left with a huge wall in my laundry room and my monster machines wouldn't even fit side by side, so I am left with this.

and it has been a negative space ever since. My organizing skills have made it very functional but just not nice to look at, so I got busy with some leftover paint I had from the homeschool/loft area and voila.....

I'm still on the lookout for a mirror to go above the hampers(trash bins) just for a feeling of space and I plan on making a beaded chandelier to hang from the fluorescent light fixture (maybe in the next life)I may even cut some vinyl words for my sorting sake. I did save one part of the old room.

Our precious "Height Chart" (again, created before a human sized ruler, made from old palettes, was necessary to keep track of growing kids). So, anyone else, to tired for DIY? I wish I wasn't, I LOVE the results.

Wordless Wednesday

Perfect Day.

Holidays around here are usually planned at about 4 hours notice and most often include movies. We have never been huge planners. It makes it easy to have a good time, knowing you might have just done nothing at all, which also happens on occasion and nobody seems to care much about that either. The 4th is obviously a holiday I didn't grow up enjoying although I think the Brits should have another day off to maybe celebrate getting rid of Americans saying "I love your accent" :-) Just kidding. Boyd got out of work early Tuesday and so we had an impromptu hike up to Bridal Veil falls. I love that we can be so close to such beauty just minutes off the main road.

There is just something spectacular about being this close to a rushing, natural waterfall. It's a quick easy hike although I wouldn't be thrilled with a little tike running along as there are some decent drop offs and loose rocks. After moving from Provo in 2004 we hadn't seen much of the Freedom festival and since our 2 older boys had gotten to the age where they were happy to never see another parade and we didn't feel the need to sit through another country music concert aka stadium of fire, we had skipped such traditions for our own things. Last year a sudden fact dawned on me. My younger two kids had never seen a real parade and had no idea who Chuckee Cheese is. I know, I am a negligent parent. We fixed that last year and I have forked out for the Stadium tickets twice. (Am I the only person alive who didn't know who Brad Paisley is? and I hope my kids never know who chuckee cheese is.) Anywho, on to this years fun. It started early, as we have to trek from the deep, darks of Salt Lake County and it takes a bit of effort, to break through the veil of righteousness at the point but we made it in good time and watched the balloons.

They lift off one by one and then we and the masses, all stand around, hoping they'll come back. We headed on to the parade route to get a great spot. I was amazed last year on finding a spot on the curbside, that people just plonk right in front of you up to 10 feet in and so this year, with our new, experienced Provo Parader status, we sat right out on the line and had a great view.

There's always a great variety in the procession and I love it, the horses, the bands, the royalty and the pooper scoopers but I was a little stunned that the BYU Football truck, yes their vehicle, not one of the team present, got greater cheers and standing crowds, than the WW2 veterans and firemen. HHmm.. it was no surprise then that the U of U float go boos, really people? I know I have personally benefited from some medical care there and I understand I am in Provo but boos? .

We spent the next few hours at sevenpeaks. Being wet is just about the only way to survive the 100 degree outdoors.

Can you guess who held the camera today? We then headed home for a healthy grilled meal. Boyd's favorite, Santa Maria Tri- Tip with grilled veg and fruit.

Our final planned event, was to hike the Y by twilight and watch the valley fireworks for free but over excited superhero fans in my house convinced the majority (that would be everyone except me and I get 3 votes since I'm the Mum, still lost) that we had to see Spiderman, right this minute. So we piled in the car and that was what occurred and we were able to catch a few fireworks on the tail end of the night, from a great parking spot, on the hill outside the Oquirh Mountain Temple.

Looking across the valley, we could still see the latest alpine fire burning and Herriman was quite void of any skylights, thankfully. But certainly more than ever, this year I feel gratitude for all those who serve tirelessly so I can spend the day, completely care free with those I love.

A perfect day really.