Scott Dopp!

You wouldn't have known it from my post yesterday, but I actually did have a wonderful Mothers Day.  It's not my favorite holiday, probably because of all of my over-analyzing regarding motherhood.  Am I worth of all this adoration?  Why do I still have to do dishes on Mothers Day?  Is breakfast in bed more about me or the kids?  What about all the women who don't have children, especially those who desperately want them?  Why did I eat all the chocolate-covered pecans I bought for my mom?  I'm a bad daughter.   It's just an intense day.

All that aside, Scott, unencumbered by the thought process, as the guys would say on Car Talk,  went ahead and lavished me with all the perfect gifts.  Maybe the reason he's so good at thinking up the best gifts to give is that his brain isn't filled with charts and graphs of complex emotional issues and all their potential outcomes and repercussions.  He has a lot more clarity.  His brain works like this:  "Circe likes chocolate-covered nuts.  I will buy some."  My brain works like this:  "Scott likes electronics.  But I don't know what to buy.  I could ask someone, but then how would I find a good deal on it?  And what if I give it to Scott and he could have found it cheaper somewhere else?  It might be the wrong brand, and what color?  He likes green, but maybe just for golf courses.  He likes pink, but maybe just for dress shirts.  He likes orange, but maybe just for socks, and only if they have blue and green stripes on them.  I could just give him money, except he already has some.  Clothes?  Where do you buy those?  What size?  Too expensive!  And he has so many.  I'll invite him out to dinner.  But we were going to do that anyway.  I'll give him a card.  Lame!  A book.  No, he has a Kindle..."

In short, Scott is a winner and I'm a loser.  It's really not fair for me to brag about Scott.  It's insensitive to everyone who's not married to him, which should be all of you, unless everything I'm saying turns out to be a big lie.  But hey, I worked hard to trick him into marrying me, so I guess I can brag about him.  And thank him, too.  Scott, thanks for the blog book (!!!), candle, almonds, flowers, soap, phone cover, phone, dinner, and the seven children.  Thanks for turning my flaws into positives, saying I'm thin, hating all the right people, reigning me in, giving me my freedom, laughing at my delusions of grandeur, sending me off on trips with no hesitation, and most importantly, being a father.  A good one.  The best.

Hanging out with you these past few decades has allowed me to become exactly who I always wanted to be, but better.  I really hit the jackpot.  Hey, do you want a trip to Singapore for Fathers Day?  If so, what color?  Oh, never mind.

Motherhood Shmotherhood

Mothers Day, blah blah blah.  Ptolemy just hit a woman at church who was trying to help him with the drinking fountain, so I'm not feelin' it right now.  And this is after I led the Primary children in singing the prelude music, during which all four of my own kids stood there, mute and glum, while Tziporah pretended to take pictures of them with my phone, holding it up from the front row and shouting, "Cheeeee!"


So now I'm home with Ptolemy the felon, where Tziporah has just managed to open the Dirt Devil and is eating the garbage out of it.  So, to everyone who asks me, "How do you do it all?"...Are you freakin' kidding me?

Wind Ensemble and Dance Company

I hate to tell you this, but I'm about to give another shout-out to Golda.  She has been working like a dog who was born in a library, studying for the AP World Civ. test, but in between all the study sessions, she still has to go on with life.

Last week, she tried out for Wind Ensemble, the elite band at Davis High.  The audition piece was stupidly difficult, as in the only reason the piece existed was to be difficult for an audition.  Purposely, it had no melody, accidentals on every note and the most complicated rhythms you could dream up.  Golda's teacher told her, "A lot of people will go into the audition thinking it's 'good enough.'  Not you.  You'll know it so well, it will be perfect."  Well, that didn't turn out to be true, but it was an eye-opener to think that way instead of the "good enough" approach.  Anyway, Golda made it!  She wasn't sure she even wanted to make it (still the love-hate relationship with flute), but when she called to tell me, I knew by her happy, breathless voice that she was excited.

This week it was Dance Company auditions.  Golda has been under so much self-imposed pressure from the AP test, she didn't even want to try out.  It was one of those times Scott and I put our foot down.  We told her she had to.  Mean, huh?  It's just that she tried out last year and didn't make it, and it was crushing.  The whole experience was wrought with frustration.  I just didn't want the defeat to defeat her for good, and I knew she would regret it if she didn't try.  Of course, there's always the chance you'll fail again and be embarrassed and disappointed, but you can't let that fear make the decision for you.

After two days of clinics and late-night practicing at the ballet studio, Golda's shoulders were bruised from a roll in the choreography, and every muscle in her body ached.  When I dropped her off at the audition, I prayed that she would feel good about her effort.  She did.  Even better, she made it!  Sometimes in life, your name is on that list, and sometimes it's not.  When it is, it's a sweet, sweet feeling.  Either way, these things are intense.

Golda went off with her friend to celebrate, and I got a text:  "Thanks for making me try out.  You're the best."  Now I don't need anything for Mothers Day.  Thanks, Golda.  And congratulations!  I know how hard you've worked.  Now, you just have one little old test to pass.  And if you don't?  Who cares!?  Two out of three ain't bad.

Hilar...

http://www.ksl.com/?nid=1017&sid=25126883

Oh, this is so funny!  I love it.  This is my Mothers Day gift to all of you!

Tricia

Aunt Tricia, always taking care of everyone

Ruby, Tziporah and I had such a fun time in Miami with Tricia!

My adorable little cousins, Alex and Lincoln.  They loooove "Grammy!"

My Aunt Tricia was in a car accident and shattered her foot!  My phone broke while I was gone, so I didn't even know about it until my cousin Sarah posted on Facebook, "I hate this hospital."  Turns out, what she was referring to was that her mom, fortunate to be alive, was going into surgery to reconstruct her heel!

The surgery went well, and now Tricia is lying in her hospital bed thinking, "What a mess."  It's one of those things that you weren't planning on spending time doing, recovering from a serious accident.  Tricia has a good friend, Jim, who lives right up the street from me.  When I told Xanthe about Tricia's accident, the first thing she said was, "Is Jim there?"  I told her no, and she said, "I wish Jim were there to take care of her."  I think he's planning on it.  The whole family loves Jim, and we're all so glad he's part of us.  I wish I could go to Miami, too, to make sure Tricia can get around, especially with Sarah and Roland, who have been taking care of her, leaving for a vacation in Spain soon.  Darnit, Tricia, why is Miami so far away?  Maybe you should recover here...

Tricia, I just wanted you to know we're all thinking of you and wishing we were there!  You're always right there when any of your family or friends need anything.  Even the dead ones, you're the one who makes sure there are flowers on their graves and they are not forgotten. :) You were the one who took all the kids to get Slurpees every day, all summer, when our grandpa died.  You never forget our birthdays, and you have the strength of character to laugh about it when the rest of us selfish louts forget to buy a cake for yours.  You're such a caregiver, and so selfless, and now we're all so far away, helpless to do anything for you.  Par for the course, huh?  It throws a family for a loop when the person who always gives needs help, and I'm sure it throws you for a loop, too.  I mean, when your purse was stolen, you kept saying how inconvenient it was not to be able to send Xanthe her birthday money.

So, take some time to think about yourself, break down, despair over the situation.  You're probably just thinking about how difficult it will be for you to serve others for awhile.  For you, that's a big deal. After a good cry, I know you'll be back a strong as ever.  When the doc told you you wouldn't even walk the same after this, I don't think she knew who she was talking to.  Plus, I'm sure she didn't know the truth:  That if you think you can't do it, Big Golda will set you straight!  There are no wimps in the King family, least of all you.  We all love you!

Simplicity

Here is the question of the day:  When are we parents and teachers putting in useful, valid effort on behalf of our children, and at what point does it become fluff?  To break it down, I think the point at which we're making elaborate visual aids is the point at which it becomes fluff.  Example:  If the epitome of motherhood is rocking a baby, quietly singing in his ear, what makes us think we can improve on that with posters, games, bins of toys and page-long lesson plans?  Shouldn't teaching music strive to be an extension of the rocking chair scenario? 

By that, I mean, demonstrating a quiet love for the music, imparting it in a simple way, and waiting for the results to blossom within the child.  Sure, we want things to be fun and visually stimulating, but all this talk of trying to coerce children into loving music through cleverly worded posters, a sack of related objects and a grundle of rules?  It's tiring me out.  Children already love music.  Can we please not snuff that out?

Set down the markers and the glitter glue.  Put away the bursting Tupperware bins.  Just sit down at the piano and play, or sit in the grass and hum.  The children will follow because music is inside of them.  The Pied Piper didn't have a flip chart, did he?

A Discovery

I had the sudden, exciting opportunity to go to Puerto Rico with some friends this last weekend.  I'll spare you the details, but I will say that every minute was bliss.  I had forgotten how spa-like it is to fly without kids!  The red-eye took us to New York, where we had time to go into the city and lunch at Norma's.  Cities give me energy, none more than New York.  It was surreal to suddenly by walking by Carnegie Hall on a regular Friday morning.

Puerto Rico was a tropical collection of blissed-out beach moments and frequent outbursts of uncontrollable laughter, interspersed with good meals.  The group I traveled with was funny and laid-back.  The perfect travel companions!

Two moments stand out for me:  While I am content to arrive early and stay late at the beach, lifting my head only to buy an occasional ice cream from a vendor, I can be coerced into actually doing something.  We went paddle boarding in a quiet bay surrounded by the city.  I was the last one to get a board and the guy said, "This is our longest board."  I said, "Oh good.  So that's good for beginners, right?"  He said, "No.  It's our expert board."

Great.  Nonetheless, I was able to stand and balance and paddle.  When my legs got tired, I laid down on the paddle board to meditate.  It was beautiful, drifting along admiring the clouds over San Juan and saying a silent prayer of gratitude.  Thus, I turned a potentially athletic activity into just a variation of laying on the beach.  I tend to have a knack for turning any form of exercise into something more akin to sitting in a Starbucks with a book.

The other moment was getting pummeled by waves in the warm Caribbean water.  At home, I am the mom who stays on the beach saying, "No, you go ahead.  I'll watch."  In Puerto Rico that day, I was the girl who jumps in, then dives in, then gets thrown to the bottom of the ocean, then goes back in for more.  All of us were that girl.  With 28 children between us, all of them safe at home with their fathers, we all forgot about the lifeguard-sunscreen police-snack dispenser-cruise director-vacation planner-mom part of who we are and tapped into the latent core of the carefree girl inside of all of us.

It's fun to access and discover who you are in a new place.  Some aspects of yourself, you hope will remain the same no matter where you go.  You have to be true to your values, and you carry with you everything you have learned and become.  Other aspects, though, are just a product of your daily life.  I absolutely love who I am as a daily mom, wife, teacher.  And I greatly admire who my friends are in their daily lives.  But it is fun to peel off the layers of responsibility and discover that, yes, there is still a girl in there who loves to run in the ocean, who cackles when she laughs, who can paddleboard, who can go to a restaurant without cutting anyone's meat.

My trip was bookended by two similar events.  First Day:  Alone on the beach early, I leave my bag with strangers and run, full of abandon, into the ocean, immediately losing my sunglasses.  Last day:  With my friends, I run headlong into the ocean, declare out loud, "I just don't want to lose my sunglasses," and promptly get hit in the face with a wave that snatches my new sunglasses off my face, as well as the elastic out of my hair.

So, no matter who I am, who I become, what I learn and what I shed in carefree moments, I remain the same:  A girl who forgets about her sunglasses when she goes in the ocean.  And I think I'm OK with that.

The Tizmanian Devil

Oh, this baby is so funny!  She is 0% fear and 100% curiosity.  That makes a recipe for craziness!  For a few days, Tizzy worked very hard on her new skill of going out the front door, around the house and up the back stairs, sauntering in the house with her pot belly, as if to say, "Yeah.  I was outside.  Whatcha gonna do about it?" 

After she mastered the lap around the house, she moved on to a new skill:  leaving out the back door, down the stairs and out to the swingset.  Whenever the back door was unlocked, Tizzy would get a big adrenaline rush, start hurrying her little patootie off, quickly glancing behind her to see if she was going to get caught.  She sure hates it when she gets caught!

The new skill is climbing up on a chair, then the table, and stomping her little feet in a victory dance.  Yesterday, we taped her doing this a few times.  The last time, she had already ruined a vase full of flowers and climbed up again to survey the damage.   

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B-7VwT7oNyY&feature=youtu.be

Whereas this would have had me pulling out my hair if it had been baby Golda, now it makes me gleefully happy.  It's unbearably cute when this tubby little thing does her table-climbing routine.  She is so determined, and so proud of herself.  Besides, next time I turn around, she will be past all this tabletop nonsense, on to the next big thing.  Each stage is so fleeting, so brief!  Tziporah will always be heartbreakingly adorable, but how much longer will she want to get up on the table?  How much longer will I be able to scoop her up and inhale her heavenly scent?  How much longer will she have just the one tooth, the second on on the right on the top?  Already, the other reticent teeth are braving their way through. Soon, she'll have six, all at once! I am so grateful she is exactly who she is, in each crazy, precarious, delightful, precious, hair-raising, tooth-popping phase.  

Tizzy is in a hurry.  But I'm not.

zooooooo

On our last day before the zoo pass expired, we fit in one more trip.  It may have been because we wandered the zoo so many times over the winter when nobody else was there, but Ptolemy had zero interest in the animals, crowded as they were with other kids.  If you saw my pics on Instagram, you know what Ptolemy was into at the zoo...

Cheese bus!  See it?  Right behind those big, grey things with the trunks?

As per a quote on the wall at the largely ignored polar bear exhibit, "If there is magic on this planet, it is contained in water."

A hand dryer!  Oh, and we saw a Siberian tiger.

Tizzy is confused.  Why are all these kids on my statue?

Darn, I didn't upload the funny picture I put on Instagram of Ptolemy going nuts over the scrub brush.  I mean, how often do you get to see a guy cleaning the tank!?

At the end, Ptolemy pouted, "We didn't get to see the giraffes!"  Scott had told him to say hi to the giraffes for him.  Oh well.  At least we saw a drinking fountain, a hand dryer and a scrub brush.

'Til next time, after the summer crowds have gone home.  Whether we're at the zoo or in a loading zone, Ptolemy and Tziporah are thrilled to be there.  After all, they are the ones who almost didn't make it!  They have every reason to be thrilled to be here!  And we're thrilled to have 'em.  They help me see the zoo in a whole new light.  I never noticed the fascinating gum stuck to the road before!

OCD Free

Today is Freestone's County Presentation.  I forgot that everyone brings favors for the kids.  Scott ordered honey sticks on Amazon, just like the ones we got in Cache County.  Freestone almost busted a blood vessel waiting for them.  They got here in plenty of time!

Freestone has some quirky quirks.  He has to take the same number of steps with each foot, for example, or step over the same number of cracks.  Last year, he pulled out all of his eyelashes.  He HAS to read at night, or he just can't go to sleep.  He just has OCD.  I'm familiar with it.  :)  I recently explained it to him, and said that it's something he will have to think about, and just to know that nothing bad will happen if you don't do those things you feel like you have to do, like taking a certain number of steps, or doing something a certain way.

I mentioned that some people can take medication to make it go away, and that he could if he wanted to.  He said, "I don't want the OCD to go away because it helps me in video games.  You need patterns in video games, and it helps me with patterns."

Hmm.  Way to turn a negative into a positive.  But...a little scary.  Any thoughts?  I think it's great that Freestone is comfortable with his quirks, I just don't want them to hamper his ability to relax or function effectively.  It takes a long time for him to complete homework because he has to do it a certain way, and follow all the rules exactly.  Funny story, he was filling out a form telling about things he learned IN Cache County.  He complained that he didn't learn anything while we were IN Cache County.  I said, "Yes you did!  Remember, we visited the temple where Grandma and Grandpa were married?"  He groaned, "Uhhhh...I wish you would have told me that when we were IN Cache County."  He literally refused to write it down because he didn't "learn" it when we were physically in the county.

Freestone is really smart and really funny, and just fun to be with.  He said something intelligent recently, and I laughed.  Jokingly, I said, "Freestone, when did you first realize that you were smarter than everyone around you?"  Without missing a beat, he replied, "When Golda almost crashed into a tree driving."

But then he told me that sheep and goats are the same thing, the goats are the boys and the sheep are the girls.  Maybe not quite genius level yet.  But it doesn't matter how smart or how quirky he is, Freestone is awesome.  I love how he stays up late like I do, how he is so talkative and funny, and how sweet he is to his siblings, especially Tziporah.  He takes caring for her naturally in stride, like it's second nature to balance her on his hip while he's fixing her a bottle.  He says he is going to have ten kids.  Whatever he does, he is going to be great at it!