Anniversary

Last week we were shoveling snow. This week the shovels are a lot smaller and we're shovelling sand with them. Eight hour beach days make you forget the date, so Scott and I had two days of anniversary. Happy 13th, Scott! I decided we might as well just keep thinking it's our anniversary. It's more fun than a regular day! Although no day is a regular day with this guy. He makes all of my days shine like beach days.

Happy Birthday

For almost as long as I've been celebrating my own birthday, I've been celebrating Sarah's. Ice skating parties, tree trimming parties, Festival of Trees parties...I have to hand it to Sarah's mom for putting on such wonderful events in December! Happy birthday, Sarah! I hope you're in for some snowy fun today. Thanks for giving me a definition of friendship that few ever get to experience. You are amazing! Love ya!

Elmeda's Magic

All my childhood memories of Christmas are lit by soft, hazy, multi-colored lights, Bing Crosby's silky voice and ice cubes clinking in glasses of spirited cheer. At some dinners and parties, we kids could be under the table for hours, asleep or awake, it didn't matter. With the Christmas classics playing and our parents' voices floating around, we were having fun. We were safe, Santa was coming soon, and the grown-ups were oblivious to the fact that we had our own festivities going on under the table. I remember the same feeling on Christmas Eve at my grandparents' house. I'm sure I got some great gifts, but the thing I remember is that we burned all the wrapping paper in the old, iron fireplace. I can still see the bright paper and the ribbons going up in flame and disintigrating to ash floating up the chimney.

When all the celebrating was done, we always went home and read the story out of Luke from my family's antique Bible. No matter what the year, whether I was a small child, an emotional teen or a conflicted college student, the story was always the same, read in my dad's deep voice. Some years, we had guests who read the story in their own language: Dutch or Spanish or Japanese. Or Portuguese, when my brothers returned from their missions. There was still the same comforting cadence to the story, and it seemed to put just the right light into Christmas Eve.

For years and years, there was one Christmas party that was just as important as Christmas itself. We called it the Elmeda Party, because it was Aunt Elmeda's house in Provo. Elmeda was Nana Ruby's sister, so the party included all five of my grandmother's siblings and their descendents. It was a big party, and nobody would dream of missing it. Ever. One year there was a raging blizzard the day of the party. It looked like we wouldn't be able to get to Provo, so my parents bought a four wheel drive, and we made it through the storm on time. You didn't miss Elmeda's party.

The invitation arrived in the mail well in advance, revealing the theme of the party. Elmeda always went completely overboard on the theme, and it was incredibly exciting to find out what it would be. One memorable year, it was A Dickens Christmas, where we all got pretend money to shop for gifts at a Victorian Christmas Shoppe. Elmeda made all the gifts by hand, and there was a clothespin doll for each girl. Each one had an exquisite handmade dress and yarn ringlets. I looked and looked at each doll and finally chose the very best one, a brown-haired doll with a pink satin dress trimmed in colored lace.

And I haven't even told you the best part. Downstairs, a whole room was decorated as a child-size dollhouse that you could walk into. There was a parlor, a kitchen and a living room, as well as a front yard where you could have tea. Another room housed a train track that went all around the room and had mountains and a ski tram. And the room where we had dinner had a velvet swing suspended from the ceiling. After eating a meal that Elmeda prepared (corn she had picked and bottled in August, chocolates made from scratch, Elmeda's Chicken Roll-Ups...), we had a musical program and waited for Santa Claus to arrive. Everyone could hear him walking on the roof - he really did! - and then he'd be there in the living room, right next to the baby-blue piano. (Are you getting a feel for Elmeda's Baroque style!?) He brought presents for everybody, then he vanished.

Elmeda died several years ago of a heart attack she suffered while preparing Thanksgiving dinner. It was fitting, yet far too soon. There was never anybody like Elmeda, and I was fortunate to be a small guest at those parties where wonder and fantasy never ceased. Christmas Eve and Christmas Morning have a magic all their own, and Elmeda somehow took that magic and extended it to a family party that became legend.

Share the Love

Everyone knows how much I adore my Lovebox collection. Last year, I started a tradition of giving each of my kids a Lovebox for Christmas. Scott and Santa Claus do all the other shopping around here, so this is my thing. It's so much fun to peruse the Lovebox shop and choose just the right box for each kid. This year, Tiffany made a new box with a Chinese girl on it, wearing Chinese pajammas, so I knew right away which box Xanthe would love. For Ruby, I had to get the owl box because of the cherry blossoms on it. I fell in love with the red Matroyshka box and chose it for Golda. Our collection couldn't be complete without the black cat box, in honor of our own black cat, so I chose that one for Araceli. Freestone got a deep red box with a beautiful green Christmas tree on the lid, which he hid in a special place before I could take a picture of it. It's probably full of rocks or snow by now. The dove box is the one that Tiffany gave me for Christmas. Each one is my favorite, just like each of my kids is my favorite!

I wrapped each little box in a big, fluffy bag and let all the kids open them one at a time. They are proud to have their own little box collections, and I'm happy to share something so fun with them. Thanks for your art, Tiffany!

'Tis the Season

This time of year is why we have January. We're going to need it to recover from all the Christmas festivities! This morning, we all traipsed through the snow to Coco and Bill's house to see what they brought the kids from Paris. They shopped all over and came home with an adorable outfit for each kid. What fun to have something special from so far away! Thanks, Coco and Bill!

This afternoon we descended on Roland and Sarah's beautiful new house for dinner and the King kids' gift exchange. Since 5 of the 9 kids are ours, we included Tricia in the exchange to even out the Dopp/Non-Dopp ratio. She and Golda gave to each other while the rest of the adults sat out the gift marathon this year. I appreciated being able to concentrate my attention on the kids, who are much easier to buy for than adults! After gifts, we bundled up and braved the crowds at Temple Square to admire the lights. It is beautiful and there is a peaceful spirit there. Great idea for a new family tradition, Sarah. We forgot the hot cocoa, though! We had gifts waiting on our doorstep when we got home and more fun to look forward to tomorrow. 'Tis the season!

Visit from St. Nick

We thought we heard a sleigh landing on the roof...and we did! Santa Claus came early this year, to see if all the little DeBry kids were being naughty or nice. He reported that they were all mostly nice and gave each of them a present. It was one of my favorite traditions of the year: my Mom's side of the family gathering to celebrate Christmas. I have so many cousins, I don't see most of them often enough, and I don't get enough time to visit with them the few times we do get together. This party, we hired my niece, Lexie, and two of her friends to run a kids' camp in the basement. My mom amd I transformed the unfinished dungeon into a winter wonderland with trees, lights, craft centers and red tablecloths covering the walls. The kids loved hanging out down there, and I loved having them busy and supervised while the adults visited. The star of the show, as usual, was Santa. Xanthe has been working up to his visit all year, talking about how she's not going to head-butt him and collapse to the ground screaming this year. When Santa called her name, she bravely ran to him all by herself and sat happily on his lap. Now it's Golda and Ruby who resist the Santa visit! I'm so thankful for Nana and Opa, my grandparents who grounded this family in love that continues to unite us through distance and time. Cousins, aunts, uncles, I love ya! The "DeBry Party" can't come around often enough!

Are You My Mother?

In a car full of rowdy kids on our way to a swimming party last night, Araceli asked me, "Mom, why didn't Xanthe's mom in China want to keep her?"

Xanthe knows Scott and I loved her so much that we went all the way to China to pick her up. She knows that before we got there, a nanny took care of her in the orphanage, and her nanny loved her very much. We have never taken little Xanthe in our arms and told her that somebody left her at the gate of the orphanage in a t-shirt and a hat with a bottle of sugar water when she was four days old. That information, let alone the reason why, is way beyond a three-year-old's comprehension. None of the other kids in our family got left outside on an April morning, all alone. Xanthe's brother and sisters have been safe and warm and fed every day since the very beginning. They never had their legs tied to their crib, and they never had to drink a bottle while it was scalding hot, for fear of it being taken away too soon. And you know what? It's not fair.

And then there is the fact that somebody left her. We will never know why. We can blame the government, or poverty or ignorance, and we can feel tremendous compassion for Xanthe's birth mother. But I wonder if there will ever be an explanation that will make it OK that Xanthe's mother didn't keep her. And does it make her wonder if my love will ever change? One has to wonder when one has been abandoned.

I never wanted to hide the truth from Xanthe. At the same time, I never pictured myself answering these questions in a car full of kids in parkas and swimsuits, crazy to get to the pool. There are all kinds of platitudes and soothing words, but is there a good, solid explanation for a question that we just don't know the answer to? The hardest part right now, at this age, is Xanthe imagining that she has a mom in China who didn't want her. My belief is that Xanthe's mother did want her, and desperately. Her father, too. In the space of time between now and when Xanthe is old enough to understand that, how do we explain such a primal loss while still engendering love for China and her past in Xanthe's psyche? You never want to see your kids suffer, and the thought that Xanthe will have to open and reexamine this wound throughout her life is painful to me. I think that only through the spirit can we express to Xanthe that we felt her presence in our family long before she got here, that Heavenly Father's plans seem convoluted at times, and that everything she has been through brought her to her forever family. Is is enough?

Dear Santa

Dear Santa,

Thanks for all the years of generosity and perfection. The whole time I was a kid, you never disappointed me. I always knew you would bring me something special, and you always did. I peeked one time, you know. I looked down into the living room and saw the baby doll stroller I had asked for. I was so excited! But I learned that it takes away the magic to peek, so I never did it again.

Do you remember when Trajan's new pajamas fell out of your sleigh and landed on our roof? It was so funny to watch my dad trying to get them down! It confirmed for us kids that you really had come down the chimney! Who else would have dropped something on the roof? It was a couple of years later that you surprised us all with a giant puppy. If I had any doubts about you, they were all erased when I saw that furry little thing. I knew my parents would never buy a puppy who would turn into a 150 pound dog who hated to be away from people! Only Santa could know how much we would all love that dog. I think that was before my mom got a picture of you creeping around with your big toy sack. You looked skinnier than I though you would be.

Now that I have my own kids, I appreciate you even more. It's nice to have someone else do all the shopping and keeping track of presents. Since you deliver to all the children in the world, keeping everything even for just 5 kids must be pretty easy for you. I could never do it, but you always seem to leave the perfect gifts. You always know what is in their hearts. The joy you inspire in my children is, by far and away, the most precious gift you have ever given me. Better than the much-wished-for ferret you left in 1983, better than the skis and the dolls and the Swatch watch and the oranges and nuts in our stockings.

Just the fact that after all these years, you still care enough to brave the cold December sky to grant us all our hearts' desires, shows how much you love us. That's all we need, really. That's what lights up the childrens' faces. It's because they know you love them. Thanks, Santa. I love you, too.

Chicken Roll-Ups

Who can't use an easy recipe for something everybody craves? Especially this time of year. Here's mine:

Put a couple pounds of chicken breast in the crock pot in the AM with a dash of oil and 3 or 4 tbsp of ranch dressing.

Later, when the chicken is cooked, shred it with a fork, add a block of cream cheese and maybe some diced mushrooms, cover and turn off the crock pot.

Later, (can you tell I have a short attention span?) stir the chicken mixture and spread about a teaspoon of it on each triangle of Pillsbury Crescent roll dough. It makes about 5 packages worth (40 rolls). Melt a cube of butter in a bowl and pour bread crumbs in another bowl. Do this part as quick and sloppy as you can, because it doesn't matter! You can even skip the bread crumbs and butter. Dip in butter, roll in crumbs, set on cookie sheet. Bake at 350 for 10 minutes, or until the rolls look golden.

When I make chicken roll-ups, my kids say, "Finally! A good meal!" I guess it is better than apples and cheese or cold cereal. Only chicken roll-ups and General Tso's chicken from the freezer at Sam's Club constitute good meals at our house. The rest of the time, they're just grateful for sustenance.

Industry

The Utah state motto is "Industry," no doubt inspired by the first Mormon pioneers to settle in the Salt Lake Valley. It certainly took some industry to get to the desert from the midwest, following the Oregon Trail through the snow and scorching sun. Once they got here, the pioneers created gardens and crops and houses and schools out of nothing. They learned the art of painting ordinary wood with grain to make it look like expensive fir. That's industry that few of us today would be able to replicate.

But the Latter-day Saints are still anxiously engaged, from what I can see, in making life beautiful and enriching it for those around them. Yesterday, I had to go to the church for a sound check. I'm playing in a quartet for the Stake Night of Music tonight. This production involves professional sound guys who just happen to live in the area, as well as dozens of musicians who have been practicing to meet the high standard of the Night of Music. All morning, choirs and instrumentalists were coming and going, lugging equipment and toting children. Simultaneously, a group was setting up tables for 200 in another room, preparing a meal in the church's kitchen.

After making gingerbread and lentil soup for our own ward party, I took my kids to the church two hours before the party, to set up Christmas trees and snowflakes and tables and chairs for a Scandinavian Christmas. Others on the party committee brought their teenagers who got right to work carrying heavy stuff. In the chapel, a steady stream of organists came and went, practicing their hymns for Sunday. Meanwhile, Scott was at his office putting together a roster for the church's basketball tournament. He still arrived in plenty of time to string snowflakes all across the cultural hall.

The party consisted of a dinner for 300, a program of music and storytelling and a craft room for the children. Father Christmas came and left a wrapped gift for each of the 100 kids who left a shoe out for him to fill. Afterwards, people with kids up past their bedtime stayed to help vacuum and put chairs away. This morning, the same people were up early at choir practice and meetings. Two of our neighbors are plowing our driveway and everyone else's right now, on Sunday morning. Scott is at the church. Golda and Ruby are getting ready to rehearse with their pianist for a song in sacrament meeting. It's not just us and our neighbors. (Scott and I have two of the easiest jobs in the church.) Latter-day Saints all over the world are preparing for three hours of church today. My parents went to church in Paris today, and it was the same as it is here; people teaching lessons, leading music, welcoming visitors. Mormons aren't perfect, for sure. And we don't have a monopoly on charity or hard work. But still, it's great to be part of a culture where everyone around us is anxiously engaged in service and industry, all predicated on one idea: that we do it all because we know the Gospel of Jesus Christ is true.

Trouble in River City

Roll out the seventy-six trombones. Golda has been cast as a River City Kid in The Music Man. She is so excited at the prospect of being in a play. I'm sure it will call for lots of driving, scheduling conflicts, ringlets and late nights, but Golda was built for that kind of lifestyle. Scott took her to both the audition and the callback. I had sold the job to him as "running Golda to an audition really fast right after flute." As he waited for hours with the other parents, he texted me, "I am not a stage dad."

We'll see. People grow into their roles. He's whistling "Wells Fargo Wagon" again.

Housekeeping

You can either have kids or a perfect house. You can't have both. Even if it's a gingerbread house. Try making a gingerbread house with 5 kids and see if it turns out neat and tidy, with all the beautiful candies lined up in rows with perfect icicles hanging from the eaves. If it turns out like the picture on the box, you're not letting the kids help. Or your kids are idiot savants whose specialty is icing. Like Rain Man, but with gingerbread. My kids aren't prodigies with the frosting, but it's fun to see their personalities come out. They each did a side. Golda laid hers out first and made it colorful and symmetrical. Ruby did the roof with a neat red and green pattern of rows. Ari did a wall with solid red chocolate chips to replicate bricks. Freestone used ALL the candy and stacked it several layers deep. He worked at it long after everyone else had finished.

I think the gingerbread house did turn out perfect. Just like the piles of boots and backpacks by the front door are perfect, and the never-ending crumb fest under the kitchen counter, and the blankety doll beds I find everywhere, and the stacks and stacks of artwork and letters and ideas for plays and tiny notes. It's all perfect. At some point during every day, I clear it all away, but it comes back. I have a note from Freestone in front of me that says, "Circe from Freestone." He wrote it all by himself. That's the kind of perfection that looks like a mess unless you really take a good look. Just like the gingerbread house!

You Are Invited

My kids are having a recital tomorrow. It's mostly Araceli, who has been working hard on several pieces to perform, with a few things from the other kids. We planned the recital, booked the venue and practiced with the pianist. So, all systems "go," except I'm not sure we'll have an audience, due to my procrastination. Ari gave invitations to all the kids in her school class and ballet class, but most of them don't have a drivers' license, so I'm not sure anyone will venture out. I meant to invite all of you, just to torture you with kids wielding musical instruments, but...uh...I forgot.

So, if anyone can come to a recital Thursday from 5:00 - 5:30 at Academy Music, you're welcome to bring your noisy kids and wiggly babies. Mine will be there! Thanks.

Angels Among Us

My favorite phone messages are the ones that say, "I'll be bringing you dinner tonight and I'll be around all day to watch your kids if you need me." Most phone messages aren't that amazing, but Jennie called today and that's just what she said. Scott had Ruby at the hospital most of the day getting a CAT scan to see what, exactly, is wrong with her neck. With the stress of trying to get Ruby well, it was a great feeling to know, all day, that dinner was taken care of. Jennie showed up right on time, looking fabulous and laden with warm, delicious soup and all the goodies to go with it. Thanks, Jen! You're a life saver.

A little bit later, Aunt Michelle came and asked Ruby how she was feeling. She brought a bag of gifts; a manicure set for Ruby and surprises for all the other kids as well. Aunt Michelle knew exactly what the kids would love: chap stick for this dry Utah winter and work books to practice their school skills. Thanks for thinking of Ruby, Michelle, and for including the other kids!

I had friends calling and offering help, and asking how Ruby was feeling, all day. It's nice to know that if something really did go wrong, we would not be alone. We found out Ruby doesn't need surgery on her neck. She just has a nasty infection of her lymph nodes, tonsils and saliva glands. No wonder she's been in such constant and intense pain for the past week! Thank heavens we have such a great doctor and friend, Dr. Scheuller. He even recommended Sour Patch Candy to flush out her saliva glands. That's a treatment plan Ruby can live with!

Thanks to two of the best aunts ever. When I was looking for a picture of you two, I found countless pictures of your amazing children, but no pictures of the women in the background who make it all happen. So when Uncle Jeff showed up with a case of oranges to boost Ruby's immune system, I got smart and took a picture of him. Thanks, Jeff and Richelle! It was fun to see all those little boys in the car! I think Ruby is feeling better already, with her nails painted, soup in her tummy and a week's supply of oranges to keep her going. There's no better example of the Christmas spirit than has been shown to us today.

Best Friends

Who has friends who make Baked Alaska for fun, who learn new skills and hone old ones to make Christmas gifts, who bring hostess gifts to parties and call the day before or an hour prior to a party to see what you've forgotten? Me! I have friends who do all that and more. These are girls whose wardrobe choices I remember from second grade (Allison's Perfect Person shirt!) They are girls I stood behind at the barre for years on end, whose birthday parties I ice skated at, who carpooled with me to violin lessons, whose sketchy college boyfriends I remember, the girls who threw wedding showers and baby showers for me and continue to support me in everything I do.

Last night was another baby shower/birthday party/Christmas dinner. Sarah's birthday is Christmas Eve, so we have to stretch out the celebrating. Happy early b-day! As we await Tiffany's new baby girl, we laugh about how far we've come since high school, when the thought of keeping another human being alive was beyond our grasp. Now we have 27 kids between us, and they're all alive and thriving. And that's not even counting the kids of the girls who couldn't make it last night. Who would have thought? :)

Scott took all the kids to dinner and a movie so my girlfriends and I could celebrate late into the night. (Thanks, Scott!) We all came away with a big pile of gifts, each one of which is perfect. Thanks, Davis Girls! Love ya!

Night of All Nights

Night of All Nights was the theme of the girls' voice recital tonight. For Ruby, it was a night she would just as soon forget. All week, the poor girl has been in excruciating pain on the right side of her face. We were lucky enough to get her in to see Dr. Scheuller, who diagnosed a swollen lymph node, which was affecting a nerve in her ear, and put her on antibiotics, not a moment too soon. She's still miserable, but she managed to rally just enough for a two-hour dress rehearsal/dinner at her teacher's house, then the recital. Golda and Ruby both amazed Scott and me with their beautiful solos. They were sweet in their matching Christmas outfits, singing a duet of Gentle Jesus. I knew Ruby was in pain, but she hid it well, even when Xanthe sneaked up to the front row to put her head on Ruby's lap. Ruby patiently held Xanthe and her teddy bear and stroked Xanthe's head while waiting for her turn to sing. That was the part, more than the music, that gave me a glimpse into Ruby's future, perhaps as a patient and wise mother, and a strong and brave woman.

Immediately after the recital, Ruby broke down in sobs and said she was ready to go home and she needed some medicine. She was so disappointed to be feeling like this for her first voice recital. It's a good lesson to learn, that you prepare to do your best, and then you overcome whatever trials you didn't plan for or prepare for. It's what you do with the obstacles that defines you. Watching Ruby sing, you would never know she was in great pain. I'm proud of little Ruby, and proud of Golda for taking care of her tonight. These girls have a long way to go and "many rivers to cross," but they are already an example to their mom. Well done, girls.

Wrapping it Up

OK, the neighbor gifts have been delivered. I was going to say "successfully delivered," but I have my doubts. I had a rowdy bunch of 5-year-old boys and two boxes of undelivered gifts yesterday, so I combined the two and had boys jumping in and out of my moving car, hurling wrapping paper at all our neighbors' houses. While I didn't have to actually do any work, the quality of the delivery might be sketchy. If you're my neighbor and you didn't get a roll of wrapping paper with our Christmas card attached, it's because 1. You didn't look in your bushes or 2. I ran out with 4 houses left to go. I strategically skipped 4houses that don't blog, so maybe they'll never find out. :)

My Favorite

There. This should keep my mind off cheese tots. This should keep my mind off pretty much everything except keeping the kids away from the chocolate chip cookies so I can have all of them.

This Is Going to be a Problem

This looks disgusting, doesn't it? The sight of all these fresh, crisp veggies makes me want to gag.

This, on the other hand, I HAVE to have. All that greasy goodness is irresistible. The lady at Taco Maker gave me cheese tater tots by mistake the other day, and she had a hard time prying them out of my hands when I told her about the mistake. I had to go back for some the next day, and now I'm addicted to cheese tots. I might gain more that my usual 40 pounds this time. What are the rest of you craving?

My B. M. F.*

*Big Mormon Family
These are the people I chose when I married Scott. Man, did I get lucky when I married into the Dopp family. I love each one of my in-laws. I love them individually and collectively; they're great one on one and as a package deal. Tonight was our first annual adult Christmas party. It was eerily quiet as we ate our Chinese food with no kids clamoring for special orders! The opportunity to talk to all the grown-ups in relative calm was really fun. The gift exchange turned out perfect; people liked my gift of a cabin-themed Christmas tree, and I scored a battery-powered screwdriver and air pump. I'm sure the kids will need the pump as soon as tomorrow. Now I don't have to give away bikes when they get flat tires.:) Thanks, Ryan


And here are some people that I didn't choose: My side of the family. Even though I didn't choose them, I'm so glad we ended up together. My cousin Sarah and her husband, Roland, blessed their baby on Saturday. As the Godfather, Scott had the honor of performing the blessing. Roland's family flew in from all over the country, so it was a very special day. The boys, Alex and Lincoln, have a special place in our hearts and we love them.

So, as if Thanksgiving wasn't enough to make me reflect on what I'm truly thankful for, we got to celebrate the baby blessing and start Christmas a little early, all in one long weekend. I have lived away from family alone and with Scott, and while it was formative and exciting and good for me and I loved it, I was often lonely. Whenever I'm surrounded by family, in a warm room bright with conversation, I never take for granted the privilege of being home.

Ho-Tales

Our brief overnighter to Salt Lake this weekend reminded me of one of my most memorable road trips. I was 23, going to violin making school, and the Violin Society of America convention was in San Francisco. There were only about 15 students at my school, and we all wanted to go, of course. We couldn't imagine anything more stimulating than talking about varnish into the wee hours with fellow afficionados.

I had a friend from China, Yanfu Tong, who had saved money he earned from making violins in his tiny apartment to bring his wife and twin sons here. They all lived in a one-bedroom apartment across from mine at the school. Yanfu and I decided to drive together to San Francisco, along with his family. We barreled along I-80 West toward the Bay area, me listening to the family shout in Mandarin the whole time. Mandarin isn't a quiet language. At the convention, Yanfu and Yaqing and their boys stayed with Chinese friends in an empty apartment, save for several giant bags of rice and some sleeping bags. I didn't spend much time in the hotel room I shared with about six of Yanfu's Chinese friends, but I did save a lot of money by spending my few sleeping hours on the floor. For one meal, I went to Chinatown with the Tong family, never saw a menu, and had one of the best meals of my life. I don't even know if we paid. Hey, it never hurts to have Chinese connections in San Francisco!

The last day of the convention, we left in the evening and had to stop on the way home at a Motel 6 somewhere in Nevada. Being in poor student mode, all five of us shared a room. Yanfu and Yaqing slept in the bed, the twins and me on the floor. The room was ridiculously puny, and I was right next to the bathroom with a sheet and what felt like a thin layer of astroturf separating me from a slab of concrete. Mandarin warnings flew around the room as Yanfu tried to get the boys to settle down. It was finally quiet. Then somebody tooted and we all giggled, just a little bit. Then a lot. The language barrier was down and the floor didn't seem so hard. One of the funniest nights of my life, for the sheer absurdity of me bunking with a Chinese-American family, three of whom had just arrived in this country and didn't speak any English, in a Motel 6 in Winnemuca. That's a memorable trip.

Friday night, for a minute, I doubted the sanity of seven people sleeping in one hotel room. Seven Chinese violin makers, maybe. But Freestone...That's a different story. He has a routine that he HAS to go through every night before he falls asleep. It requires singing and story telling on Freestone's part, and it must be done in its entirety. Freestone had staked out his spot under the desk in the hotel room and was set up in his "office/bed." The rest of the family, camped out around the room, patiently listened, giggling frequently, as Freestone went through several renditions of his song, "Mimi Mouse! Mimi Mouse! Minds her manners in the house! When she drinks her milk she never makes a mess! Mud pies never stain her dress!" He sang with gusto, stopping to highlight every "M" sound. By the time he had moved on to "Annie Apple," he was winding down and we all had a song that would forever make us burst into fresh laughter.

Since we may never fall asleep together around a campfire, the cramped hotel rooms of our family vacations will have to serve as the glue that keeps us together. Every family has different glue, and this method of adhesion may not work for some. For me, I love it. I would never trade the giggles that only happen at bedtime for anything as paltry as sleep. I'll sleep later, when the giggling has stopped.

I Should Explain...

So some of you noticed that the title of our blog changed. Yeah, Scott and I felt like somebody was missing. Without divilging too much unnecessary detail which you probably know already, we went to great lengths (reconnected great lengths?) to get that missing person here. Then nobody showed up! Just as we had given up hope, the missing person surprised us. So if all goes well, I'll have a baby in July. It's been an exciting journey already with this mystery baby, and the journey has just begun. So there you have it...the party continues! And we're so thankful.

Time-Honored

For thousands of years, families have been gathering around the kitchen fire, sharing stories and preparing food. Sometimes, even today, the kitchen is no more than a certain area of the dirt-floor room a family shares. It's the area that contains the fire and the food, two vital components of survival. Although we didn't gather for survival yesterday, we still gathered around the kitchen, preparing food together and sharing life's best moments. I love my parents' kitchen for all the momentous events that have happened there. My brothers opened their mission calls there, I said goodbye there when I left for college, it's where I lured a skunk inside to give it an oreo...Scott proposed to me in that kitchen. Fortunately, all those events had happy endings, and yesterday's impromptu Thanksgiving breakfast turned out just as happy. My dad even wore his traditional Thanksgiving tux.

Bruce and Marlene's kitchen is exceptionally special to us. It has always been the single most inhabited room in the house, thanks to Marlene's cooking and her good company. Last night, we laughed over some of the crazy episodes that have taken place in the Dopp kitchen. Marlene throwing pancakes at the ceiling...Scott being lectured for trying to drive to Jackson Hole in the middle of the night...Nikki moving a baby Golda away from the kitchen cabinets moments before the inexplicably came crashing down where she had been standing.

I bet if you think about it, some of the biggest moments of your life have centered around the kitchen, because that's where life happens. Yesterday's Thanksgiving was another in a long line of perfect holidays. I'm thankful for our families' kitchens.

Pilgrims

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. I wish all of you a rich and peaceful holiday. I'm thankful most of all to live in a place where we can provide abundantly for our children. This is my Thanksgiving prayer, that parents everywhere will someday be able to protect and nurture their children as we can, here in this blessed land.

Gift Ideas

Xanthe came out of preschool today bursting with pride and overflowing with enthusiasm. She still can't get over how cool it is that she gets to go places by herself. The rest of us don't miss a thing, however, because she tells us all about preschool and nursery and violin in great detail. When I help her practice violin, sometimes she says, "What you doing? You not a vi-lin teacher!" Yes, I'm completely unqualified.

So after school Xanthe asked me, "What preschool you go to, Mom?" Like maybe I was at preschool at a different place while she was being independent at her preschool. I would love to go someplace where I could fingerpaint turkeys and come home wearing a pilgrim hat, actually.

I answered, "I don't have a preschool."

Xanthe looked genuinely dejected and said, "Oh. That's saaaaaaaaaad." After a minute, she brightened up and suggested, "We could buy you one!!"

If anyone is wondering what to get me for Christmas, I need a preschool that takes 37-year-old moms who can't teach violin and generally don't know much of anything, according to their three-year-olds. If you know of such a preschool, just bring it over to my house for Christmas. Wrap it first, though. Thanks!

And The Winner Is...

We have an ongoing battle between uncles. A winner is never really declared because the stakes get higher all the time. In an effort to clinch the title once and for all, Uncle Trajan brought over his karate pads for the kids to try out. Sanctioned punching and kicking! Awesome! The whole thing screamed "Favorite Uncle."

But Josh sends over real, live cousins to play with. That's hard to beat, except that cousins aren't as much fun to punch as karate pads. Actually, I might have to rethink that one. It might not be true. In any case, the Favorite Uncle Competition continues. The contestants might need to step up their games. I hear the nieces and nephews like hundred-dollar bills, giant bowls of cookie dough and gift certificates to Barnes and Noble.