Guess what happened...

Blogging was going along famously until something  happened in January...
LIFE!!!
Let's back up.
I was nominated for the Utah Mother of the Year at the end of 2013.  I was really stoked about it.  I was going to present a speech, put together a little portfolio type of deal, have an interview, etc... I thought it would be a good opportunity to stand up for Motherhood in general.  I called a couple of women I knew who had previously been involved in the organization and was advised to pray about it and figure out what was best for me,  So I did.  And the answer was a peaceful NO.  Which was a little disappointing.  Then our year quickly became one of the craziest, awesomest (I don't care that awesomest isn't a real word, folks) year on the books.  We are going to take this one month at a time.  And you will see why blogging just wasn't at the top of the list in 2014.

January

Our oldest son proposed to the girl of his dream and she said YES!

The date was set for May 10, Then we set out on our second family dream vacation (first family dream vacation took place in 2010 in Hawaii): DISNEYWORLD!  After honeymooning at Disneyworld, we hoped to get the entire family there one day.  It happened. It was epic.  If you ever want to talk Disneyworld planning, shoot me an email.  We can talk magic bands, Disney dining plans, hotels, fast passes, the whole bit.  Here are a few of my favorite pics:

It was pretty cold (bummer) but an AWESOME trip!  

February

This was pretty much a down month.  And I turned 43.

(Have I ever told you I like cookies a lot more than cake?)

March

This wasn't too crazy either.

We celebrated our 24 anniversary (hint, hint, we've got a big one coming up), and did A LOT of planning!  

 Jeffrey was in the Oz Lollipop Guild in the school play

We managed to get one day of skiing in at the beginning of Spring break.

April

I ended up in Africa?  My Dad had a three year assignment with the Africa Southeast Area for the LDS church as Area Legal Council, and they talked Nate into sending me for a visit.  CRAZY.

I did things and saw things I never imagined possible!  I learned a ton (my dad is like a walking historical/scientific encyclopedia), ate lots of GREAT food, and enjoyed lots of laughs with Jane and Clark and my parents.  They are wonderful hosts.  THANKS MOM AND DAD!

We were able to see the BIG 5 in Madikwe. The Bush House is the best. If you are ever in that direction, do it.  It's worth it.  

May

I became a MOTHER-IN-LAW! Joe and Adrienne were sealed in the Salt Lake City Temple on May 10, 2014.  It was fabulous.  I had my first opportunity to help with wedding plans (wedding dinner the night before).  If you haven't heard, one of the hardest things for the mother of the groom is finding SOMETHING TO WEAR.  It was a glorious day and our hearts soared to heaven.  Here are few of my favorite shots from the day.

 The next few are actually from the wedding dinner.  

We put the table assignments on mini Martinellis!

 Happy Parents!

This pic really shows the girls' personalities!

Brandon Burk Photography above

 Glad we had a dance. But it was COLD!

Oh ya, then Lucy graduated from Millcreek and Mary graduated from Bountiful High School.  How did I end up in charge of the All Night Party again?

FIVE MONTHS OF AWESOMENESS!!!!

The crazy thing is that after those 5 months, we had MORE!  Tune in next time for the continuation of LIFE HAPPENS! brought to you by Sixlittlechicks.blogspot.com!

.... A Very Good Place to Start

I missed Lou's class in January because we were in DISNEYWORLD!  YESSSSS!  When I came home and found out our assignment was to write our birth story, I thought, "How can I write my birth story when I don't even know it?!!!"  Thankfully, though my parents currently reside in South Africa, they were home for a conference so I was able to ask them in person about my birth.  I've decided I will write each of my six's birth stories this year.  Everyone ought to know how they got here, right?

My Birth Story
     Heather and Tad were soundly sleeping as the tiny sliver of the new moon shone down on Elizabeth Street.  Mom, over nine months pregnant, was desperate and more than ready to get labor going.  You’d have to be desperate to drink a glass of orange juice with 2 teaspoons of cod liver oil added—and that’s just what she did; however, nothing seemed to be happening.  Mom and Dad climbed into bed hopeful that tomorrow could bring the birth of their third baby. 
     Suddenly, Mom sat up with a jolt.  “Jeff!  This is it.  This baby is coming!”  She said.  Like a good husband, Dad got up and started tidying the house and packing a bag for Mom while she called her friend, Connie Zwick (Allen), who lived two blocks away on Douglas Street.  Within five minutes, Connie arrived and Mom was already bent over in pain.  “Hurry, Jeff!  We’ve got to go NOW.”
   Dad dropped Mom off on the steps of Holy Cross Hospital where the staff insisted she ride to the room in a wheelchair.  It was obvious the nurses didn’t realize the baby was ready to come.  By the time Mom was on the table, Dad had joined her in the delivery room.  After a few short pushes, I was born. 

And yes, happy birthday to me!  I'm a whopping 43!  And I was able to stay home AND enjoy lovely weather.  I'd say that about 40/43 birthdays have been accompanied by a snowstorm.  I'm considering the blue sky, sunshine, and 62' as a personal gift from Heavenly Father this year.
Happy Tuesday!

Finger-lickin BBQ Chicken

It's one of those "shoot myself in the foot" kind of days-- too much going on, and figuring out how to make it happen is giving me a headache.  The reality is that even though I have too many places to go, my family needs to be fed.  And I'm not in the mood to fork out cash for fast food fries. Luckily, I have an easy recipe for days like this.  It's inexpensive and fast and I can put it in the crock pot in the morning and forget about dinner (except that I usually throw a few foil-wrapped potatoes into the oven mid-day).
Gather the following:

1 cup bbq sauce (your choice)

1/3 cup apricot jam/preserves

2 teaspoons mustard

15 drumsticks

 

 

I always begin by removing the skins from the drumsticks.  It's so easy to do, I figure it takes some of the fat out of the recipe, so it's worth it. Stir the sauce together and pour over the drumsticks in a crockpot.  Cook on low for 8 hours or high for 4 hours.  After removing the drumsticks to serve, you can boil the remaining sauce in a small saucepan if you'd like to use it for dipping.  Here's what it looks like when it's done cooking:



 

Easy and family friendly, and if you want, you can sneak a few more drumsticks in and double the sauce.  If you HAVE to make something on a busy day, make something that doesn't make you want to shoot yourself in the foot.
xo

PS: I wrote this last week and forgot to post it.  Happy Sabbath!

Three

Most writing teachers encourage their students to have a place to keep a running list of ideas, whether on a phone, in a notebook, or on the backs of envelopes on the kitchen counter.  One day last summer I remember being in a grumpy mood, but unfortunately I had promised to take Jeffrey and a friend to the pool.  I picked up my notebook on the way out the door and after lathering up the boys with sunblock, sat down on a lounge chair and examined my list.  Most of my ideas were for little narratives from events, but nothing struck my fancy.  I started thinking about things most people don't know about me such as my favorite color, my favorite foods, and my favorite number.  Doesn't everyone have a favorite number at some point in life?  Some kids like #1 because they want to be the best at everything.  Others like the #13 because they want to defy the odds and superstition.  Many choose a favorite number because it was on their lucky jersey.  I chose my favorite number when I was so young, I didn't even know why.  Here's my favorite:

I started brainstorming about why in the world I liked this number so much, and as I did, I miraculously started cheering up.  I remembered spending alone time with my Gram as a little girl and feeling incredibly special because we were both the third-born in our families.  When I showed Gram things I liked, she would lean close to my ear and whisper, "I like it too!  It's because we are both threes!"  I remembered how I felt when I realized my parents were also the third-born.  The more I thought about the number three and why I liked it, the more my spirits lifted, and while the boys splashed in the pool, a poem was born. 


Three.

I am a 3.

Mom was a 3.
Dad was a 3.
Gram was a 3.
Three is the perfect number.
It is mother, father, child.
Three is ikebana.
It is the sun, moon, and stars.
It is the best of the seasons—
         the winners of a race.
It is the beginning , middle, and end.
3 is naptime,
and the date that earns a kiss,
a trilogy, a three-peat, and a triple-threat.
It is on your mark, get set, go!
and how many tries it takes to learn something new.
Three is my number.
I am a 3.


Do you have a favorite number?  Do you know WHY it's your favorite number?  Think about it; write about it.  It's all part of the puzzle called YOU.
 

Gritty

I am a positive, happy person, so writing something somewhat gritty or poignant is not necessarily my forte.  I started journaling at age 7 and continued quite faithfully until I was 31 years old and my older brother, Tad, passed away at age 32. 

 

We took this picture together at a high school dance for fun when he was 17 and I was 16.  His death was unexpected and tragic and I wish I had been able to write then.  Every time I tried to start, I would put my journal away with another blank page.

Before his death, my writing was pretty flat, cheerful, and mundane.  I wrote a lot about what I did that day, what the kids were up to, and recent events.  Now that I am working on personal history, I've realized that much of that is useless.  I'm a little sad that one could easily choose a single entry from each year and get the gist of what my life was like as a young mother. 

When I look to parents' and grandparents' histories, I want to know what was inside their minds and hearts, and what made them tick.  That means sometimes I want to read the hard stuff; therefore, I have to write hard stuff too.  I'd rather stick to rosy vignettes and picture perfect moments of parenthood, but that's not all life's about.... which leads me to the post of the day.

Writing class began with the following prompt:

Once I was.......      Now I am......  (example: Once I was young, now I am old)

This was a fun exercise.  I came up with:

Once I was enthusiastically ambitious.  Now I am happily practical.
Once I dreamt of motherhood.  Now my dreams are coming true.
Once I thought sleepless nights would not end.  Now I'm ecstatic because they actually did!

We moved on to:

Once I believed....     Now I know.........

This naturally led to heavier thoughts.  Here's the one I started with:

Once I believed I was inferior for not having a university diploma.
Now I know the education I've earned raising a family is worth more than any degree.

I decided to go home and write something more complete.  I prefer to keep my writing brief when I can, because I think my reader might get bored with something long and wordy.  Once I sat down to write this one, it didn't take long (when I write from the heart, it usually comes quickly).  I'd like to preface this piece with a reminder that just because I chose this subject, doesn't mean I was depressed.  Most of my writing stems from prompts, and not because of a mood.  I do think the gritty stuff is incredibly valuable when it comes to a personal history.  I want my posterity to know who I am, what I believe, and in some instances, how I got to where I am.  Here goes.

Once I believed druggies were twenty-something losers in hoodies hanging out in dark alleys, determined to corrupt poor, innocent youths.  They were men with facial hair, tattoos, and piercings.  Druggies smelled bad and were uneducated, parentless, and evil.

                Life taught me otherwise, through my brother.  Bright and curious, Tad took the path of experimentation, pursuing now and then adventures yet to be discovered.  One day, a little pill connected his neural pathways like puzzle pieces, and he knew he might never be able to turn back.  Tad graduated high school, served a mission, married, became a father, and a social worker—reaching out to those who, like himself, ached for understanding and direction. 

                He was on the brink of losing it all: his wife and family, his job, his reputation, when on an early June morning, he broke down in my arms as the sun rose.  “Do you think this is fun?  Do you think I’m enjoying this?” he sobbed.  I tucked my bloodshot-eyed brother in the guest bed.  Chemicals had trapped him with sharp teeth and clenching jaws.  It was likely he was not be equipped to navigate the way out of his current situation, and Tad knew it.  Days later, his life was over, at age 32.

                Now I know users are not druggies.  They are mothers, sons, grandfathers, aunts, and brothers.  Some, like Tad, innocently happen upon substances at parties on weekends.  Others are merely searching for relief from physical pain or emotional wounds.  Educated or not, rich or poor, they are human beings who love, and ache to be loved in return.  Users are not evil, though sometimes they are lost. Tad taught me that judgment won’t end drug abuse.  Knowledge, compassion, and charity are the weightiest tools to begin this battle that must be valiantly fought.


 

Creed

January always invites the process of self-examination.  I hate January.  But I love a new beginning.  In December, Mrs. Bean invited us to create a personal creed, prayer, or mission statement for January's class. 


CREED: an idea or set of beliefs that guides the actions of a person or group


An example of such is "The Prayer of Eusebius" (a pagan who lived some two thousand years ago, as quoted in Gilbert Murray, Five Stages of Greek Religion, p. 188)
 
May I be no man's enemy, and may I be the friend of that which is eternal and abides.
May I never devise evil against any man; if any devise evil against me, may I escape without the need of hurting him.
May I love, seek, and attain only that which is good.
May I wish for all men's happiness and envy none.
When I have done or said what is wrong, may I never wait for the rebuke of others, but always rebuke myself until I make amends.
May I win no victory that harms either me or my opponent.
May I reconcile friends who are wroth with one another.
May I, to the extent of my power, give all needful help to all who are in want.
May I never fail a friend in danger.
May I respect myself.
May I always keep tame that which rages within me.
May I never discuss who is wicked and what wicked things he has done, but know good men and follow in their footsteps.


Awesome example.  Mrs. Bean always comes up with great prompts-- what a woman.  How do you write after reading something profound like that? 
I got going on mine soon after the year started.  My goal in writing was to be honest and not preachy, and to inspire myself and remind myself what is most important to me.  What I've written isn't perfect, but it's a good start. 


The One I Strive to Be   
I believe in the goodness of others

I rejoice in music, art, and laughter

I refrain from criticism and judgment

I seek knowledge each day

I strive to be aware of others needs

I value obedience, honesty, and integrity

I fulfill my responsibilities

I understand a healthy mind reflects a healthy body

I put people before things

I need alone time

I feel deeply

I love my family; they are my world

I know my Heavenly Father and that He loves me

I have hope in my Savior Jesus Christ

I believe, I serve, I hope, I dream.


We sat down as a family after the new year and wrote down ideas of what our family is and believes in... that is one of my next projects.  It's tricky collaborating with seven other people!  The fun part about it is that there were such common themes.  Time to get crackin!  You've got one week until January ends.  I dare you to start today. :)

Grandma, tell me a story

My lovely Gram passed away in 1988.  She had striking red hair, blue eyes, and always wore pink lipstick and polish.  She loved the opera, the symphony, and the ballet, and made delicious roast beef and potatoes and homemade biscuits for strawberry shortcake.

 

Grandma Jay passed away in 1996.  She became a widow when Mom, her youngest, was just 5 years old.  Grandma was a nurse in a pediatricians office during the day, and a nurse in the admit nursery at night.  She told us funny stories when we slept over on New Years Eve, and we played Candy Land until the ball dropped in New York City with Dick Clark.  Grandma Jay labored over Berlina Kransers (Norwegian cookies) every December and shared their buttery goodness with us from a blue tin she reused year after year.

 

I lost my grandmas before I had the chance to ask them many questions other than "Can I have seconds?"  Yesterday, a dear childhood friend (40 years old) had a heart attack and is currently undergoing 6 bypass surgery.  How I pray today that she will have the opportunity to answer the questions of her children and grandchildren.

 

In writing my personal history this year, I hope to answer some of the questions I wish I had asked my grandmas...

 

Grandma, what made you happy?  What made you sad?

Did you like being a mother?

Grandma, did you have a favorite season?

Did you like drinking milk? or eating chocolate cake? or cheeseburgers?

Grandma, did you believe in God? Did you pray?

Did you have a favorite song?

Grandma, what did you do when times were tough?

What was the happiest day of your life?

Grandma, tell me about your wedding day! and your wedding dress!

 

Let's be honest, when I think about describing my wedding with big 80's puffy sleeves and big 80's puffy bangs, it doesn't sound very charming, at least not like a description of my grandmas' weddings.  But does that make it less important to my posterity?  Maybe they will enjoy hearing the story about how when I modeled my wedding dress for our neighbor, she thought it deserved more beading and stayed up late in the night carefully applying pearls one by one until it looked complete.  Even if the sleeves were puffy.

 

Start writing your story.  Someone out there, or someone who is yet to be born, is waiting for it.