The Stakes are High

My brother Josh showed me this article that I thought was funny, and appropriate this time of year, as seniors make plans for college.

To (All) the Colleges That Rejected Me

It's true, too.  College prep is a full-time job, starting at a very early age.  Ruby is in 8th grade and has already been thinking about which scholarships to prepare for and what classes she will have to take to qualify for certain ones.  For example, anyone who meets certain qualifications can receive a Regents Scholarship, provided funding is available.  You don't want to drop the ball and be short one of the requirements you need to get free money.  Also, Sterling Scholars are selected each year from our school, one from each of about a dozen categories.  Which ones do you want to prepare to apply for?  You have to decide by 9th grade.  Golda is already earning college credit, and both she and Ruby are planning the best way to graduate from high school with an associate's degree.  And they're not unique.  All the kids are doing this.  My friend's daughter has a 3.9 GPA and is ranked 81st in her class at Davis High.  That's not grade inflation.  Teachers are not handing out A's like candy.  There are just that many students who know the stakes, and whose parents know the stakes.  Golda and all her friends got AP study guides for Christmas.  Golda reviews flash cards whenever she's in the car, and when she's on YouTube, it's to listen to things like this.

When I was in high school, the extent of the counseling I received was a brochure and the comment, "Yeah, you should probably go to college."  Now, 7th graders know the exact grade requirements for all of the schools in our state.  They know their strengths and weaknesses, and they know all the options available to them.  With so much information, it would be irresponsible not to prepare and grab some of these scholarships and opportunities.  Ruby has been looking into a school (Naval Maritime Academy?) that Scott heard about.  A friend of his told him that four scholarships a year are available to Utah students, and he usually has only two applicants.  So yes, there are ways to pay for college, but you have to do your research, on top of studying, filling up your resume with skills, talents and community service, and - oh yeah - having a life.  I don't know how kids do it.  My one piece of advice when I look at the empty spaces on my kids' resumes is, "Be a good writer."  I can't help but believe a good college essay will get you places.  In fact, I wonder if the girl who wrote the Wall Street Journal article snagged an acceptance letter or two with that essay!

Ten Things You WILL Think When Watching Modern Dance

Are those costumes or street clothes?

Is this a dress rehearsal?  Where's the scenery?

Does every piece of choreography have to include dancers walking across the stage in a zombie trance?

What the...

OK, we get it!

I don't think I get it.

Is the sound system broken or is this John Cage?

Why are they all wearing blonde wigs and dragging one leg behind them?

When did I get so uncool?

What IS art?  Like, really.

Tonight at Ririe-Woodbury, the last piece took me from, "We don't need this crap.  What if we just walked out?  These people are delusional..." to "That was...moving?  Confusing?  Awesome?  Powerful?  It was...something.  And I want to see it again."

I guess that's art.  Plus, it compelled us to come home and act silly.  What's not to love about that?
Ruby's spoof of Ririe-Woodbury.

And the blooper to Ruby's spoof of Ririe-Woodbury.

I don't know if modern dance takes itself too seriously, or if I'm just missing the joke sometimes.  I do know that after this week, I really needed to be taken away somewhere where life's ridiculosity couldn't touch me.   The ridiculosity of art is far more bearable than the ridiculosity of life.  And yes, I know that's not a word, but sometimes life requires fake words.  It's called art. (insert sardonic smile.)

Ruby's Guitar Recital

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jr6VYtBtP5o&feature=youtu.be

Great job, Ruby!  It's exciting to see all these guitarists that Roy Johnson has raised up from scratch.  They started with Twinkle Variations, and now some of them almost aren't kids anymore, and they're playing beautiful music!  Love it, love it. 

Overheard

Overheard on Oxford Street today: 

"XANTHE, COME BACK!"

"WHY?"

"BECAUSE IT'S SCHOOL PICTURE DAY AND I WANT TO BRUSH YOUR HAIR!"

Or at least give her a sign to hold in the picture that says, "My hair may be messy, but I did finish my practicing this morning!" 

Plyuo

Why is it that I can NEVER find a pen and Ptolemy can ALWAYS find a pen?  He says Abe did it.  I said, "Kid, if you're going to blame it on Abe, you need to learn how to spell Abe."  PLYUO is suspiciously close to the name Ptolemy.  And also, Abe wasn't there at the time.  Sooooooo....

I Need Your Input

This will come as a surprise to nobody, but I am thinking about our summer trip.  I have the route west to east mapped out, with hotel reservations and a rough itinerary.  Want to hear about it?  If you said no, you may be excused now.

For those of you who stayed, I shall reward you by telling you about my latest obsession.  Almond coconut milk!  Even the sweetened version has half the calories of milk, all the vitamins and nutrients, all the creaminess and approximately a third more deliciousness.  Go get a glass of it, and then we'll talk about my trip.

OK, here is the plan:  (I can't get the links to be a different color than the other text, so just know they're there.)

Day One, leave home at 2:20 AM, like we do for the beach, and drive to Omaha. (13 hours) The kids were NOT excited when I described it like this:  "It will be like when we go to the beach, only when we get there, instead of the beach, we'll be in Nebraska!"  It's a long drive, but it gets us through the most boring part in one fell swoop.

Day Two:  Leave at 7 am, drive to Chicago (7 hours)  Stop along the way for lunch.  We'll stay in an awesome hostel near the zoo, which has a BBQ grill outside.  We'll hit the free zoo to stretch our legs, and then Freestone will be in charge of grilling us some hot dogs for dinner.

Day Three:  Walk to the Art Institute of Chicago, which is free for kids.  Later, cool off at the Lake Michigan "beach," which is near our hostel.  Have dinner at Pequod's Pizza.  You can't leave Chicago without having pizza.

Day Four:  Drive to Bloomington, Indiana, (4 hours) to show the kids where I went to college.  The summer semester will have just ended, it will be dead in town, so we'll carry on to Lexington, Kentucky, where we'll see a horse farm and a Shaker village.  (3 hours) This part of the trip is still a little hazy for me, because I've never been to Lexington or the little town where our hotel is, and I haven't researched it at all.

Day Five:  Drive to Gatlinburg, TN (3.5 hours) and Great Smoky Mountains National Park and camp!  Yes, I am hauling a tent all the way across the country.  Yes, I am hauling sleeping bags all the way across the country.  Why?  Because I can.  And because the kids are ultra-excited about camping.  And because camping only costs $14.00 a night, which will offset some of our hotel stays.  And..s'mores.  Or, maybe I won't camp.  I know I don't like camping, but right now, it sounds fun.  We'll be right next to our car and right by a general store, so I won't need too much equipment.  On the other hand, it will be hot.  An air conditioned hotel sounds nice! :)

Day Six and Seven:  Continue our drive through the park to Asheville, NC, and on to Kingsport, TN (1.5 hours) to stay with my cousins!  We are all so excited to see them and see where they live.  And we'll have our tent, so we can camp in their backyard if they get sick of us! :)

Day Eight:  Drive to Shenandoah National Park (4.5 hours) where we'll stay in a hotel and swim and relax.  We'll be in an absolutely gorgeous part of the country, but the kids will be so freakin' tired of beautiful vistas by then, they'll probably want to stay inside and play with the hotel ice machine.

Day Nine:  Short drive (2.5 hours) to Bethesda, invade my other cousins' house, and finally, pick up Golda and Ruby at the airport, coming in from Lisbon!!  We are all going to be so excited to see them!

That will conclude the first leg of the journey.  After that, Scott will join us with Tziporah and we'll do all of our planned activities for the D.C. area.

So, enough about me, what do YOU think about me?  Specifically, my trip.  Help me decide how to pack, what to see, how to pace ourselves, etc.  I'm going to try to do most of the driving in the early morning or evening, leaving us time to have fun during the day.  Most days, we can have all the driving out of the way by noon.

As far as packing, I am a classic under-packer, which is not always a good thing.  My plan is to have a big bag packed for each night to take into the hotel, with all of our clothes for the next day in it.  Each night, I'll put the clothes we wore in a laundry bin.  When we get to D.C., I'll wash all those clothes, and that's what we'll wear in D.C.  I'll also have a pj/toiletry bag to take into the hotel each night.  That's my plan, but for all I know, there is a much better plan out there that I haven't thought of.  Please share!

While you're all giving me copious, helpful, enthusiastic advice, I'll be planning the return trip.  Ruby will be along for the ride, so we thought we'd stop at some college campuses.  Any thoughts? :)

Cache County, by Freestone

 I journeyed to Cache County on Monday.  The drive was about an hour or longer.  It was really fun because Tizzy and Ptolemy were there.

We ate lunch at KFC overlooking the Logan Temple, which you can see from all over Logan, the county seat of Cache County.

After lunch, we stopped to ask directions from a guy who asked us if he could have a ride.  He was going the same direction as we were, and he was walking.  So we drove him to his destination, which was the library on the Utah State campus.  He showed us where the famous Aggie ice cream shop was.  They had many different flavors and we got mini cups.  The girl behind the counter let us have two different kinds in our cups.  I got raspberry sherbet and cookie dough.  Ptolemy got the famous Aggie Blue, blue mint with Oreos and white chocolate, and he got orange sherbet.  My mom got chocolate almond and chocolate cookie dough.  Can you tell who likes chocolate the most in my family?

Me in front of Utah State University

We visited several different landmarks and historic buildings and ultra-mega historic buildings and the temple where my grandparents were married.

 The coolest part was when we went to the honey shop, Cox Honeyland.  They had honey sticks, crystallized honey, fudge, normal honey and finally, they had giant honey bears.  Inside the gift shop, they had a bee hive!  The bees had only been working on the hive for two weeks, so it wasn't as big as it will be.  The lady told us to come back at the end of the summer, and the hive would be up to the top.  See how there is only one row of honeycomb so far?

 On the way home, Tizzy thought the honey bear was her bottle.  We drove home and picked up Ruby from junior high and the adventure was over.  I will definitely be visiting Cache County again!

Bringing Up Bebe

I just read a book by this title, and loved it.  It was written by an American woman living with her husband and three kids in Paris.  She saw so many differences between the American style of parenting and the French style, she decided to research the topic extensively and write a wonderful book about it, including her own experiences. What I love about parenting books, now that I have found my groove and feel confident as a parent, is that I can take what I like from each book and discard the rest, whereas before I had any parenting experience, I tended to take each book's philosophy as gospel.

This book, I found a lot that resonated with me, namely as far as expectations adults have for children.  In France, parents have vastly different expectations for their children as far as sleeping, food, leisure time and education.

Food, I found to be the most fascinating.  First of all, there are no kids' menus in France.  Kids don't eat bland chicken nuggets and mini corn dogs while the adults dine on good, fresh food.  Kids eat good, fresh food from birth.  Also, French children don't snack.  Mothers don't carry purses full of goldfish crackers.  That concept alone is hard for me to wrap my head around, until I start thinking how liberating it would be not to have to plan snacks for every situation.  We are conditioned to expect food to smooth over problems, divert our attention and fill up time.  By contrast, the reverence people in France have for food can seem a little over-the-top to us.  But waiting for something more worthwhile and delicious, rather than popping a handful of fruit snacks, kinda makes sense.  If you think about it, it teaches more than one lesson.

Speaking of waiting, the concept of waiting is a central tenet of child-rearing in France.  From birth, parents intentionally wait maybe one or two minutes when a baby cries, to determine why she is crying and whether she can solve the problem on her own.  They use this brief time to listen to their child, and to consciously teach the child patience and self-reliance.  As the child grows, parents teach them in very brief moments to wait.  For example, they take a moment when adults are talking to hold up a finger to a child and say, "Wait."

I'm not saying American parents don't do this, but it is interesting that "wait" is a concept that French parents believe to be essential to their child's well-being, and one that is consciously developed.  It goes along with the French obsession to teach manners.  The words "please" and "thank-you" are essential, as well as the greeting, "Hello."  Children are carefully taught to say hello to anyone with whom they come in contact.  This seems trivial, but when a child greets an adult, it sends a message that the child is a real person, not a short, underdeveloped work in progress that we can ignore.  It gives the child both a responsibility to act appropriately and a right to be recognized.  This notion is extremely important in French culture.

Just as children are expected to eat and act a certain way, they are expected to sleep a certain way.  Parents work diligently to gently train their babies to sleep all night, and they do.  Part of it has to do with the idea of "wait," letting a child cry for just a few moments.  When we're too over-vigilant, we interrupt the baby's sleep.  There is a pervasive, unspoken feeling among American parents that if parenting is not exhausting and grueling, you're just not giving enough.  It's one of my pet peeves.  Americans are well-acquainted with guilt.  In France, there is no sense of martyrdom among parents.  The goal is to arrange your life for maximum enjoyment of your kids as well as your life separate from your kids, i.e., adult time after they've gone to bed. 

I liked this book because it allowed me a glimpse not only into a different way of parenting, but also into the culture I am immersed in.  We don't see what's around us until someone points it out.  The main thing I took away is that, just because something is trendy or expected in my neighborhood doesn't mean it's the only way.  I can follow my heart and not feel guilty one bit if my methods differ from the norm.  I'll just give you two brief examples, and then I'm outta here.  One, breastfeeding.  Yes, I loved it.  But it didn't work out for Tziporah, so she bottle fed.  I didn't lose one bit of sleep over it, and I'm glad.  I wasn't breastfed and I turned out fine, and Tizzy will too.  Plus, there were definite benefits to the bottle, which the whole family enjoyed.  So just because the prevailing wisdom here, now, is that you're a criminal if you don't breastfeed for two years, doesn't mean that I should buy into the guilt.

When Scott was in law school, we lived in a very young ward where everyone had babies.  Sacrament meeting was like a giant picnic.  Cheerios, fruit snacks, Lucky Charms, apple slices.  It was ridiculous, and the bishop finally asked that no food be brought.  There was outrage initially, but guess what?  It turned out, everyone could go one hour without snacking, and the building stayed much cleaner.  It just takes a small paradigm shift to make you realize that although you might be perfectly comfortable doing what you're doing, you need not despair if you feel like making a change, or if you do things differently.

Last example:  I have never taught my kids to read super-early.  Some of them have been behind in first grade, but all of them have turned out to be excellent readers.  I just felt in my heart that four and sometimes five was too early to read.  I'm not saying I'm right, but in France, children in school don't learn to read until they are seven.  In fact, children here in the States when I was a kid didn't learn to read until first grade, either.  Why do you need your child to perform on a third grade level at age three?  Why not save that for third grade?  She still might end up at Harvard.  What I'm saying is that, what is normal here and now just may not be the only way there ever was or ever will be.  Lots of things have changed since Golda was a baby, even.  Things will always change.  So if you're a parent, go ahead.  Do it your way, and love it.

Hog Farm

A cringe and an apology to everyone who came to our house for the baptism last Saturday and used the Red Bathroom.  While my bathroom gets the once-over daily, I hardly ever go in the Red Bathroom.  When I did today, it was like walking into a hog farm.  A very clean hog farm, sure, but have you ever been within ten miles of a very clean hog farm?

So, either the Red Bathroom deteriorated to an astonishing degree in just one week, or it looked like Chernobyl last week when guests were here.  I can't remember which kid was assigned to clean it, but I'm guessing at this point that it was either Ptolemy or the cat. 

If you were one of the unfortunate visitors to our hog farm last week, you are hereby invited to come right over and revisit.  Inhale the smell of bleach.  Shield your eyes from the gleam of the faucets.  Run your toes along the shiny floor.  Admire the clean, blue froth in the toilet bowl.  And try to forget what you saw last week.

The Ortho Made Me Do It

I'm blaming it on the ortho, because my child is practically perfect in every way.  Immediately after Golda's ortho appointment, she got in the car and huffed, "My head hurts and I refuse to go to youth symphony.  This is a free country.  I have rights."

I said, "No...you have parents."

Golda fumed, "I have agency!"

I shrieked, "You have rehearsal!!"

Well, guess what?  That was the last we talked about it and Golda didn't go to rehearsal.  There is just something very unglamorous about slinging a 15-year-old over your shoulder, shoving her in the trunk of your car and dropping her off at youth symphony.  I mean, her thousand-dollar flute could get damaged.

I was livid.  Livid!  Golda uses her agency and this is what she comes up with?  Like I said, curse the ortho for inflicting pain right before rehearsal.  Golda was acting irrationally because of the emotional and physical duress of her recent visit to the orthodontist, is what I think.  What else would make her want to exercise her free agency, when she has a perfectly reasonable mother to do that for her?

Here's the kicker:  When we hashed it out later, I asked Golda what possessed her to dig in her heels like that.  She said in a tiny voice, "I thought you'd still make me go."  Aha!  I interpret that to mean, "Mom and Dad, I'm trusting you to create and define boundaries for me, and then enforce them."  Golda probably wouldn't go that far, but I think it's true of all young people.  In addition, I feel a need to point out to my children that their responsibilities are actually more important than their "rights."

Well, I thought we had all learned our lesson.  Then a few days later, I got this text from Golda concerning wind ensemble auditions:

 See that scary face I texted her?  (Tip your head to the left.) I meant for it to look like a 300-pound Mr. Miyage with control issues.  I think she got it.  Scott and I later told her that she could either audition for wind ensemble, thus creating more opportunities for scholarships, or she could get a job at Lagoon to pay for her college.

Golda is an outstanding person with many laudable qualities, a strong work ethic, excellent grades, a rock-solid testimony of the gospel, numerous talents and a desire to do right.  She has it all together.  However, she is not an adult.  It's nice to know that Scott and I aren't completely irrelevant quite yet.  We love you, Golda!  Now go practice.

4th Grade

 Dear Sam, Sorry I didn't get to see you during recess at all yesterday, and I can't today becus I am busey.  From:  Freestone
P.S. Ari gave me Love advice to see if Clair likes you. (on back)

 The diagram shows that two hands on the face means, "I wish he liked me."  One hand means, "He's super cute."  No hands means I heart him!  So much!"  If Sam follows these clues, along with the advice to "Just keep acting like yourselfe," he just might be a bachelor forever.  Poor kid.

*If I could add one small piece of advice, kids, take the "e" off "yourselfe" and add it to "ClairE."

Real Beauty

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XpaOjMXyJGk

Click on the link.  And know that you're more beautiful than you think.  Smarter, better, kinder, more worthy, too.  Own it!

Can I Get an Amen?

I just read an editor's note from the May Real Simple Magazine that began, "Yesterday I was standing in the office kitchenette, peeling a clementine, when I finally figured out what I don't like about Sheryl Sandberg's new book."  The editor's name is Kristin van Ogtrop.

She goes on to talk about how lucky she is to love her job and her life as a mother, and says, "I don't want to be striving for bigger/better/higher/more every minute...If a well-lived life is one of small triumphs, unexpected moments of beauty, and an abiding personal satisfaction, then most of us are on the right path."

Anyway, it was a working mother's perspective that totally coincided with how I felt about Lean In.  I would link to it, but it's not online yet.  It's interesting that Kristin and I were both saying the same thing:  We are not weak for not having a desire to claw our way to the top.  There is nothing wrong with us.  We may just already have what we want.  And as a quote I saw on Facebook said, "If we do not feel grateful for what we already have, what makes us think we'd be happy with more?"

Just thought it was interesting!

Logistics

I was listening to the Diane Rehm Show and the C.O.O. of Facebook, Sheryl Sandberg, was the guest.  She has written a book about women taking the lead in the workplace.  We don't need a discussion about stay-at-home vs. working mothers, because each of us finds our own balance in that regard, some through choice, some through necessity, most through a combination.  So why fight about it, right?  Let's just assume we are all striving to do right by our children, and not judge each other.  Let's pick on Sheryl Sandberg instead.

The thing Ms. Sandberg said that irked me was, "The numbers show that women take a hit in the workplace when they have a baby."  Well, yeah.  That's because you now have a baby.  Did you assume you would be able to put in just as much time and energy at work AND have a baby?  Look, you can put in 100% of your time at work or you can put in 100% of your time at home, or you can divide your time and energy the best you can, like everyone else.  But you can't do all of it.  No amount of "honest dialogue" on the topic is going to give you more than the allotted 24 hours a day.  I don't understand why this woman thinks that she should be able to pursue a high-powered career, have a baby in the middle of it, and not be impacted by that child.  Isn't it a disservice to the next generation that we're trying to figure out how to have children without having their existence impact our lives in any way? 

Admittedly, I don't get it because I'm not in the corporate workplace.  But I could have my violin shop open all day long if I didn't have kids.  I could have five times as many students.  I could make violins all day, and I could make a name for myself in the violin-making world.  That would be great, but I can't have that for free.

This is not a gender discussion.  It is a parenting discussion.  We can't legislate a respect for parenting by making the workplace more "family-friendly."  What we should be talking about is that choosing to have children takes time and sacrifice.  In life, there are "either/or" scenarios.  You may have to choose between either getting a promotion or being with your children more.  Children impact life.  They require 24-hour care.  That is true.  Is it really so ridiculous to accept the fact that if you take time off work to be with your children, you have to somehow pay the price at work?  I think it is ludicrous to send a message to women, "You are weak if you don't want to be the president of a large corporation.  You are silly if you let your offspring get in the way of your career."

Nobody who is a CEO, whether male or female, got to the top without sacrifice.  Nobody can pass legislation that will give you a free ride to the top.  If you want to be uber-successful in the business world, you have to give something up to get there.  Men have known this for a long time.  Women are just learning it, and they don't like it.  But guess what, ladies?  Nothing in life is free.  Let's just admit it:  "Society" isn't holding you back from being a CEO and having children.  Men aren't holding you back.  Other women aren't holding you back.  Logistics are holding you back.

Federation

Saturday was Flute Federation.  I love the title "Federation," with its Star Trek overtones.  It sounds so serious, and it is.  And intimidating, just like an interplanetary federal republic with a council of mostly aliens in freshly ironed jumpsuits.  If you think the Federation Council is serious, you should see the Flute Federation rules.  They are the most Talmudic thing I've ever encountered in my secular life.  Woe unto anyone who is caught using a photocopy, or hands the judges a piece of music without the measures numbered.  The rules stop just short of, "There shall be no more or less that three cubits between the flautist and the piano."

When Golda was younger, we both stressed way out over Federation.  It happens in April, but the angst begins in the fall when the pieces are chosen.  Every year Golda did well, until one year when there was a scheduling conflict.  Trying to contact the head honcho was like trying to get President Obama's cell number, but I did it, because a mom on a scheduling mission is no match for Fluteland Security.  I got Golda's time changed by promising to give up her firstborn to the Jean-Pierre Rampal Flute Conservatoire.

And then she got a migraine.  Well, heck if that was going to stop us!  If you have a migraine on Federation day, you bring a pair of sunglasses and a bucket.  We learned a lot that day, when Golda ended up with a score of "Excellent," four out of five.  The unthinkable had happened: It wasn't a perfect score.

We now realize that the bad score probably had more to do with our demeanor than her playing.  Even blind and nauseous, Golda played well, but I was there to hover, placing a garbage can next to the music stand just in case she lost her cookies.  I was a wreck and Golda was delirious.  If I have to be honest, I bet the judges took off that point because I was so freaked out.  I cast a blanket of anxiety over the room just with my furrowed brow and shallow breaths.

That's why, this time when we walked into the practice room and saw mothers with their faces pinched in anxious concern, I laughed.  Those mothers didn't know what I now know:  That if the judges take off a point, there is no rift in the universe.  There was one mother in particular, her eyes close-set and wild, who looked like she would shatter if I touched her, she was wound so tightly.  Eventually, she and her poor daughter left, and the rest of us realized that the three students in the room were all practicing the same piece.  Their mother/accompanist and I encouraged them to play it together, just for fun.  Just for fun, moments before performing before judges?  Inconceivable, right?!  Aren't you supposed to be insanely nervous at that crucial moment?

On the contrary, those scary judges just want someone to come in with the confidence and calm to put them at ease, so they can enjoy the music.  Like so many things in life, success depends on thinking about someone else and seeing things from their perspective.  Golda's incredible teacher, Cindy, prepared Golda mentally to know this, as well as preparing her musically. 

Golda played her two pieces very well, while I sagely waited outside the door.  With her "Superior" rating in hand, we went back to the practice room to pack up, where we encountered Pinchy-Face again.  Her daughter had just received a Superior on flute and was preparing for her piccolo performance.  The mom was doubly agitated and said to us, "She is going to warm up now, so you'll probably want to leave."  Yeah, we did!  We were ready to celebrate with a raspberry-chocolate confection at Backer's Bakery.

And guess what, Pinchy-Face?  We would have celebrated with a raspberry-chocolate confection at Backer's even if Golda had completely tanked.  You may go home with two Superior ratings, but in the wise words of Captain Picard, "It is possible to commit no errors and still lose."  We don't plan on doing that ever again!
   

At the House

 Everything was ready when we left for the church.  The lasagne was in the oven, and I was counting on it to behave.

 Ari had made a poster with pictures of Xanthe.  Great job, Ari!

 I was in love with these cakes that I ordered form Sam's.  The bakery guy made them exactly how I pictured.

 Marlene loves a good theme as much as I do, and made an additional coconut cake to match the other two!  Hers is even more beautiful, though!

 Warms my heart!  I love when a bunch of people I love come to my house and bring delicious food.  Is there anything better?  Thank you to everyone who helped, from food to props to piano accompaniment.  (Jennifer, you are irreplaceable!)

Tziporah kept demonstrating her new trick, opening the back door, waving good-bye, and then just leaving.  Down the stairs, through the back yard, just going wherever the @$# she wants to.  She is a sojourner!  We had to keep tracking her down.

 Scott and Bishop Adams.  I can't tell you how much we love our bishop. 

 Yesterday at the birthday party, nobody remembered to sing Happy Birthday!  So we did it today, and we put candles on all three cakes!

 This is a good picture of Nana, and evidence that it was, indeed, Tziporah who grabbed Scott's cake.  I love how she's going in for it in the first picture and making the kill in the second.

 Nana, we love you!

And after the party...Tranquility and left-over cake.  Mmmm...

Well, what's next?

At the Church

 Xanthe's baptism was beautiful.  The whole day was beautiful.  Xanthe had an interview with the bishop, a haircut with Brittany and her friend Emi's birthday party.  Then it was time!  She was nervous and said she wished the baptism could be later so she could have more time to practice.  I told her Daddy would take care of everything, and she wouldn't need to know anything.  She was shaking, but happy.

Scott's dad Bruce conducted the meeting and set the perfect tone for all of us to feel the spirit.  Golda and Ruby gave talks, Ari, Golda and I played our pieces, and then Bruce gathered the little children around the font.  Scott stepped into the water, and so did Xanthe.  He baptized her, and Golda was waiting for her as Scott led her out of the water.  Golda wanted to be the one to help Xanthe get dressed.  The rest of us watched a video Scott put together with photos of Xanthe.  Soon, she and Scott came out and it was time for the confirmation.  Golda had Xanthe dressed in her little pink dress with a pink flower in her hair.

As we have prepared for Xanthe's baptism, I have been mindful of the probability that Xanthe is the very first in her genetic line to hear the gospel of Jesus Christ.  To know that Xanthe's original family has never had the gospel reminds me how precious it is.  As the men gathered around, I felt a surge of gratitude and awe for each one.  Grandfathers, uncles, dear friends, and of course, Xanthe's dad, all with their hands on her small head because they love her, each with the literal power to bless her life.

In the confirmation, Scott paused and then asked Heavenly Father to allow the Holy Ghost to descend on a woman in China, to let her feel that Xanthe was doing something very special today, and that she was loved and taken care of.  It was a very moving prayer, and I think we all felt strongly that Scott's prayer was heard and answered.  How I wish I could see Xanthe's birth parents and share with both them the light Xanthe is and the light she has received through the gospel.  I am thankful for Scott's prayer.  He always says the exact right thing. 

Xanthe has a strong, innocent, clear testimony of the gospel.  She feels it, and it is uncomplicated and pure.  I am thankful for her.  I know that she is in the right place...on so many levels.

 Ptolemy says, "And one with me in it!"

 "...and me!"

 Wow!  I could print my Christmas cards right now with this picture!  Ah, I love these kids.

Grandma reassuring Xanthe that everyone is a little scared, and it's OK.