Re-Branding

 Yesterday, Grandma and Grandpa invited us for Sunday dinner.  Everything tastes better at Grandmas house, and our spaghetti dinner was no exception.  Golda and Ruby hadn't been to Grandma's since before their trip, and they missed it.  Coincidentally, everyone had been asking on Saturday night whether we were "going to Grandma's or anything after church."  Nikki and Scott put Jersey and Tziporah on the fridge, carrying on a tradition that started when Nikki was a baby.  Dopps are weird.  ;)

 Except for this one.  He's just perfect, despite being put on the fridge as a baby!

So today, I'm trying to finish my chores (and blogging because it's a compulsion) before the kids get home from school.  We got to have Rolayne and Abe here this morning, while Josh and Emily were shopping at Valentino in Paris, if Coco's text pictures are to be believed.  I'm so glad they're having a great time!  Abe and Ro were so much fun.  Having four kids instead of two forced me to sit down and read stories with them, instead of trying to get things done.  It's a good reminder that they are my primary job.  I forget that at least once every 30 seconds.  It's so hard to slow down to their speed!  I'm so going to miss this stage, though, so I'd better enjoy it.  Who cares about other stuff?  With my thoughts on "re-branding," I tried to make over my expectations this morning and just be with the kids.

Anyway, while I was "sitting down, reading stories to the children," (reports of my nurturing have been greatly exaggerated), I made stew.  Why did I make stew?   Remember how I said that last week's chili made a big batch?  The family ate it for a few days, then they hit the wall.  I managed to sell it as "Crouton Mountain Majesty" for a couple of meals by putting croutons and melted cheese on top, but even the "re-branding" effort got old.  I raided my parents' fridge when they left and found potatoes, carrots, parsnips and an onion.  So I went to the store (yes, with 4 kids) and bought stew meat.  (A rump roast, actually).  Then I did that thing where you put flour and herbs de Provence on the meat, (Blanch?  Parch?  Dredge!)  browned it, sauteed some onion, tomatoes, rosemary and garlic cloves from Borski's, diced all the veggies and put it all in the crock pot.   Also cooked a butternut squash and added it to the stew.

That was a recipe.  Did you catch it?  It's officially called Game Day Stew.  It also calls for mushrooms and red wine, but I don't have a corkscrew to open the non-alcoholic wine that I bought on clearance at Fresh Market long enough ago that it's probably as vinegary as cooking wine by now, and I didn't want to scare the kids by adding fungus to their stew.


One impetus for completing my chores by 3:00 is that tonight is Family Free Time.  We tried Family Home Evening, but it really became another thing on our list that nobody wanted to do, so I re-branded it.  Now, from 6:00 to 7:30, it's Family Free Time, where everyone is allowed to do whatever they want, and I am not allowed to talk about homework, chores or practicing.  It feels luxurious!  We all grab books or play or whatever.  There is no song, there's maybe a scripture, maybe a thought, and definitely a treat.  Everyone looks forward to it.  It feels like we have wrestled back a 90-minute block from the pressures of the week, to call ours.  Who cares what we call it, as long as we can call it ours?

"...Blossoming Even as We Gaze"

 Scott almost started crying while giving a very abbreviated version of a speech he had prepared for 16 years, especially for this occasion.  Evyn had to look away.

 Last night was Homecoming.  Golda's first date, and her first dance.  Scott and I may have become a little too invested in the whole thing.  We (and Coco) spent a ton of time shopping, thinking, sewing, planning, getting everything ready for the big day.  Then it came, everything finally fell into place, Evyn came to pick her up, and Golda was gone.

Scott and I looked at each other and one of us said, "Was that a little anti-climatic?"  Not so much so that I didn't proceed to post pictures on Instagram with tear-jerker excerpts from Fiddler on the Roof!  Golda and Evyn just looked so cute.  What could I do?

Today at church, a friend of mine whose children are all graduated came up to me and said conspiratorially, "You know what I didn't miss yesterday?  Getting a daughter ready for a dance!"  She told me how her daughter would always go get her hair done, and then hate it and come home and re-do it.  I was relieved and grateful that she confided her experiences.  I told her, "I wish I had known it was going to be so stressful!"  I was picturing something slightly more endearing than rushing around for 3 days (read: weeks) to prepare for something that ultimately left me in the dust, consoling a dad with tears in his eyes who had followed his daughter all the way to the car, taking pictures.

Well, that's life, isn't it?  That scene from Father of the Bride all over again.  Until she gets in a car with rice in her hair and leaves for good.  For now, I'll take Homecoming.

Wild and Precious Life

Yesterday's Davis Homecoming Parade.  We had to book it on homework and practicing to make it to the parade, but it was worth it.  Pounds and pounds of candy!

And we got to see Dance Company ride by and throw the candy that Ptolemy thought was his, since he picked it out at the store.  Sad!

Taffy overload!  Can't stop laughing.

There's Mrs. Storey on the alumni float.  She was my AP English teacher.   I adore her.

Whose idea was it to have teenagers and babies at the same time?

Oh yeah.  Mine.

This morning, I looked at my "list" and I knew the day was going to get away from me. I have only a vague recollection of this morning, driving Golda to school in the dark, getting the middle batch out the door, taking the babies to say good-bye to Coco and rummage through her stuff looking for the perfect shoes and bolero jacket for Golda.  No luck!

I remember picking up Ruby and Taylor at seminary and dropping them off at school, something at the violin shop, food, stores, other stores, KSL searches, meetings in parking lots to exchange money for merchandise, the goodness of strangers, texts from Scott who went to the stores I missed, a five-dollar corn dog and...

Sure, it might not be ideal to be driving around on Homecoming-related quests with two baby-like people in the car, but call it a movie day, put them in their snuggly pajamas, and they're happy.  Cute, too, with those blanket pajamas.  In the rearview mirror, I saw Ptolemy pat Tziporah and say, "I love you, Tizzy."  She looked out her "winnow" and said nonchalantly, "I wuv woo."  Melt my heart!

Phase two of my Friday was taking most of the people who help me keep my head above water to the airport.  They left me!  My parents and Josh and Emily left me and went to Paris!  Boo hoo!  I went home, finished a double batch of gingerbread cookies, made royal icing, drove people places, cleaned the house, cracked the whip, got the Homecoming/Dance Company tailgate party crowd out the door, and packed my little movie watchers in the car to accompany Ruby to group guitar.  I was sad to miss out on the festivities at the high school, but it was nice to have the luxury of the drive and an hour to visit my friend Nor and marvel at the sunset.

In fact, I marveled all day long.  As I drove around, I kept looking at the gorgeous mountains and the rich, dense clouds and thinking how fortunate I was to be at home in such a deeply beautiful place.  As long as I live here, I'll never be able to fully take in the opulence of the mountains.  They change every day, and I get to inhale their splendor.  I get to partake.  And against this implausibly majestic backdrop, I get to live the life that I always dreamed of.  Except it's better than I even knew it would be.  The mountains are a metaphor for my life; always rich, always changing, and as abundant ans effulgent as I can wrap my arms around, and then some.

Babies and teenagers, all at the same time?  Yes.  Please.

“Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”  - Mary Oliver, New and Selected Poems

It's Chili

 Take a good look at the grass, because snow is in the mountains. The good news is that it's safe to make a crock pot full of soup, because the cold weather makes everyone hope for it when they walk in the door.

Here's what you do: Go to Bowman's and get... 1 5-pound package of ground beef
 1 huge can of kidney beans
1 huge can of diced tomatoes
1 head of garlic
1 bunch of celery
1 onion
 2 packages of taco seasoning and
1 big can of pumpkin

 Brown the meat, celery, garlic and onion, throw all of it in two big crock pots, because it makes a lot, and wait. Hours later, people will start coming in the front door and saying, "Oh, it smells so good! I was hoping you would make soup!" Some of the more adorable people might even say, "You make the best soup in the whole world!" And the best person might say, "I won't even eat chili unless it's yours, Mom." Awww, shucks. And here I am giving out my secret recipe for free. Now you can all be Ari's favorite person! Oops, I just gave it away, the secret to who my favorite child du jour is. Not to fret, all you other kids. Obviously, it doesn't take much to get into that Number One spot. Just a gratuitous compliment here and there.

I'm starting to slowly feel like King Pigglebottom! He looks mighty precarious on that ball, though. And I did forget about Pack Meeting last night, although that was probably on purpose, at least on a subconscious level.

The Lighter Side of Homework

Freestone came home from school the other day and said, "I was the only person in my whole class who got 100% on the French homework." I said, "Wow, that's great! Why do you think you were the only one?"

 He shrugged and said, "I dunno. I guess I was the only one who BOTHERED to have their mom write down the answers and then copy them."

 I loved the emphasis he placed on the word "bothered." My first thought was, "Yes! I was right!" And then: "Oh, wait...is that...cheating?..." But this was the day Freestone was using Google Translate to type in his horribly misspelled French words, hoping Google would spit out the correct spelling. He needed help! 

This morning, Xanthe's reading log question was, "Describe the character's motivation and explain how their actions contribute to the sequence of events." She looked at me expectantly. I looked at her expectantly. Then we both burst into laughter. We laughed five minutes straight. First I was laughing because it was such an absurd thing to ask Xanthe to articulate. Then I was laughing because Xanthe's laugh is so adorable. Then I was laughing because WHO CARES?! It's Diary of a Wimpy Kid! Nobody is going to write their dissertation on it!

 We decided that the character, Greg, decides he wants to have a really fun summer. So he gets a haircut. I thought it was a non sequitur, but Xanthe was very pleased with the answer. OK. I would probably start a fun summer with a haircut, too. In fact, that's exactly what I did last June. I wonder what my motivation was, and if that haircut drove the sequence of events of that summer, such as dying my hair pink and driving across the country. Or if those events in turn will lead to me taking my kids out of the public school system and driving to Mexico.

 Which reminds me of Ari's story problem last night: "Miguel says he has 325 baseball cards and 272 football cards. He SAYS he has a total of 597. Do you think he is right?" Um, you know, we wouldn't have to wonder about Miguel's integrity OR his math skills if we just used MATH to figure out the total. But by the time actual math comes into play, if it ever does, I won't know about it. I'll be cooking fresh fish out of my VW bus on the Gulf of California, and I won't give a darn about how the fish will influence the sequence of events  The only time I'll use math is to number the stars I'm sleeping under with my grubby, wild children. 

Or, we'll just stay here, because I like electricity and indoor plumbing.

Parameters

 Maybe I'm just being a baby. This morning, Freestone had some homework to do. The assignment was cutting and gluing squares; something to do with math. I'm sure he understood the assignment at school, but at home, he didn't think he had enough squares and I couldn't help him because there were no instructions. On top of that, there was last week's reading log that he didn't do, and the prospect of being kept in from recess because of it. And there was the regular homework, French and English, and the Monday folder to be signed, and the daily binder to be signed, and this week's reading log, and it was P. E. and he needed the right shoes, and...

 When it was time to go, Freestone just laid down on the floor and sobbed. This is a kid who pines away all summer for school. He loves it. School is a place where Free has always felt successful, but last week we had a similar breakdown when it was Sunday night and he had a huge hero packet to finish, as well as the carving of an applehead witch, involving detailed instructions.

 Part of it is a new learning curve, figuring out a better way to organize his time. But part of it is, it's just too much. I'm finding myself increasingly impatient with the school for encroaching on my time. Freestone came home today and went straight to his room. I gave him some time while I helped Xanthe practice piano, drove some kids around and supervised part of Ari's practicing. Then I went downstairs, expecting to have to pry Freestone away from Minecraft or something. Instead, he was reading a book. He was hiding in his room, stealing time for reading. It almost makes me want to cry. I tidied up his room, and let him read. It won't be without a price, though. Homework is still hanging over his head, as well as all the things Scott and I want him to do and learn, like violin and putting away his laundry.

 This morning, while Freestone was choking on his tears, I emailed the teacher and explained the frustration over the instructionless homework. I said, "Our family only has a finite amount of time that I allow the children to do homework, as we have other things to do as well." I have emailed the other teachers expressing the same sentiment, over the course of the past few days. It's my new policy. I will let the kids spend the 60 or 70 homework minutes that are in the guidelines, and then I will go over any remaining work with my child, filling in the answers for him or her, explaining it as we go along. I will also explain to my kids that, in our family, we make sure we have parameters around homework, so that we also have time for other things that are important for us. I really feel like I have to take back our family from all the pressures. Just because the norm in our neighborhood is that the kids have this crushing amount of homework, doesn't mean that I can't act on my own instincts. It's a balance, and I want some of my children's time back. Sometimes I wonder if it would be a better childhood if we lived on a sailboat and my kids were dreadlocked and barefoot. I bet they could get into Harvard on the strength of that kind of a lifestyle! All they'd need is a killer essay about how the world was their classroom.

Nana's 97th Birthday

After the Utes' win last night, Scott thought this outfit was over-the-top for church. However, he had no reservations about wearing it to Nana's birthday party.

the idea was that everyone would bring their own "brown bag" dinners, and Scott and I would supply dessert. Well, these people being DeBrys, not one single person, including me, brought dinner. Instead, we all brought dessert to share, except for Da, who brought pad thai and Coco who brought healthy hors d'oevres. So essentially, it was perfect. Who needs real food when you have Marla's Lemon Dessert and eight kinds of chocolate cake? I think we were all grateful for the pad thai and veggies, though! They provided a savory counterpoint to the sugar.

Rita, Nana and Paul

Mary and Allison

Rita is always so loving with the kids. She helped Xanthe pick out her third cupcake. ;) No judgement here, Xanthe. I ate most of the pad thai and several pieces of Rita's chocolate cake.

Frank, the birthday girl, and Jessie

Jim and Nana

Da and Rita

Mary and Samantha

Oh, and I was also guilty of eating more than my share of the lemon dessert. Marla, did you hear the excitement when the lemon dessert I mean you and Mark walked in the door?!

Samantha and Bob

Scott took one for the team and helped Frank and Danny watch football downstairs.

For some reason, partly because a lot of the kids have gotten older, darn them, we didn't have many little kids. Ours and Julia's were the only ones! Of course, we missed all the ther little faces, but it was nice that the "older" generation had a chance to sit and talk for awhile in the relative calm.

And here they are, Nana's children. Mary wishes we could photoshop Pat in. I'm sure she was there in spirit. In flesh and blood, we had: Bob and Dot, Paul and Rita, Jim and Da, Mary and Felshaw and Mark and Marla. Being around all my aunts and uncles always reminds me of the importance of keeping each other close. A lot can happen over a lifetime, and families are complicated, but the only thing that ultimately matters is that we love each other in word and deed. I love these folks for bringing that tenet to life for me.

While Jessie was in Thailand this past summer, she did some modeling! She said this was an ad for a store like Home Depot. Jessie is beautiful outside and in. I am so proud of her! She wasn't the only family member who had some modeling skills to show. Uncle Bob was featured in ads for the University of Utah Credit Union. His pictures are on their website. When did all this talent spring up in the DeBry family!?

Well BYU's loss meant we lost Terry for the party. He couldn't take the intensity of Scott's outfit. Actually, he got home at 3 am from the game and was tired. Scott was texting him pictures of Terry's baby boy making a Utah symbol with his hands. Scott you're ruthless! Scott and Terry have a "special bond" through sports. Julia must not be afraid of her husband, since she's teasing him by holding a Ute football in this picture!

Nana seemed to enjoy the party. She lasted through a stove fire and renditions of Happy Birthday in English, Dutch and French. Hey, why didn't somebody do Thai? Oh, the stove fire? That happened because I piled up two feet worth of plastic cupcake containers on the stove, then later turned on the burner to light Nana's birthday candle. When the plastic pyre went up in flames, I remained calm, convinced in my mind that someone would get the fire out eventually. Plus, I was holding the video camera AND the birthday cupcake. Surely, someone else could douse the fire? Mom and Dot worked as a team, Mom screaming, "Circe!" and Dot throwing a glass of water on it. See? Nothing to worry about. I have people around me to put out the fires. Let's just hope I'm never home alone in a crisis situation. I hope we have many more family celebrations as exciting and heart-warming as this one, although I'm not sure how many of them will be birthday parties for Nana. The Dutch version of Happy Birthday includes the lyrics, "Long may she live! Long may she live!" Nana's reaction was, with a chuckle, "Oh no! I hope not!" Yes, Nana Ruby Robison DeBry has a huge party waiting for her on the other side. For now, they'll have to wait. We still have chocolate cake here.