Company Lunch

As the kids enjoyed the snow, I prepared for the Company girls to come over for the traditional Opening Night lunch.  They only have a minute for lunch, so I made these Southwest salads that we all enjoy at Shelter once in awhile.  Not a big hit with the girls.  Fortunately, I presented German chocolate brownies that made everything all better.

Genuinely the kindest, most beautiful group of girls.  I love them. 

First Snowfall

Snow for the morning of Nutcracker Opening Night!  Perfect timing!

Nutcracker Opening Night

Nutcracker opening night.  Lots of emotions!

Nikki picked up the girls from preschool and kept Tizzy until we met them at Nutcracker.  When I saw Tizzy like this, I wasn't surprised!  Nikki went and bought them matching outfits. She is fun and generous like that.  They could not have been more adorable!

Thank You from a Scorpio

My sign is Scorpio, and I fit the profile to a T.  "Governed by desire, not reason."  "Intuitive, passionate, independent."  And this: "Extremely loyal.  Has lifelong friends but is prone to marital strife." It's true.  If you've been my friend at any point, you still are.  If we went to kindergarten together, I love you.  I solved the "marital strife" part by marrying my favorite friend.  One that is a Libra, too, to balance out my mercurial passions.

The most fascinating aspect of Scorpio, which I see in both myself and my Scorpio daughter, is that there is good side and a dark side to our nature. Any fortune teller worth their crystal ball will caution a Scorpio to fight her basest nature and gravitate towards light, lest she be swallowed up in a darkness of her own making.

Though fascinated by Poseidon's realm, I know I have to stay above water and nurture the light, and I do.  The dark side of Circe is no picnic.  When Donald Trump won the election, my dark side came roaring out.  Roaring.  I wanted to give in to my darkest impulses and say all the hateful, angry things that boiled to the surface.  I know parties win and lose and people get disappointed. This was not a party thing. As simpatico as I am with President Obama, I was torn between him and Mitt four years ago.  Mitt is My People.  He speaks my cultural language.  But Obama speaks my philosophical language.  Obama is also My People.  He resonates with me.  I feel harmony with his ideals and a deep respect for the dignified, easy way he and his family handle the office.  Mr. Trump is not My People.  Things he says about walls and deportations, exclusion and destruction, break my heart.  He incites anger in me, and when he won, I felt a rage unleashed.  I didn't see any reason to crush it, and that was the worst part.  After all, anger won this election.  People are angry, why not me?  Why not fight fire with fire?  Why not burn the whole thing down? (Scorpio: Brooding, hot-tempered, destructive. Yeah.)

I don't want to fight with you if you voted for Mr. Trump.  I get it, I do, all your reasons, and they're valid.  And I love you. But I didn't love you Wednesday. I didn't love the 6 million Democrats who didn't turn out for Hillary, either. I didn't love anyone...except my sweet, pure children. Looking into their innocent faces, I ached because of the disservice this whole farcical election has been to them, the next generation. On some level, don't we all wish we'd found someone more noble than Donald to champion our cause?

But enough. What I want to say is this:  I was ready to lay waste to all my friendships and go to the darkest night of my soul Wednesday morning.  I did not care.  My rage and grief was blinding. I felt like every good thing I'd ever done was for nothing. And I told you, my friends.  I threw my grief out on Facebook and My People, regardless of political affiliation, responded with kindness.  Your response saved me.  Thank you for not lecturing me about Trump's attributes or chiding me about my tantrum.  Thank you for loving me anyway.  I feel like you reached under the water and pulled me up.  I don't know where we go from here, but I do know that love has redeemed me from hate, and that's worth keeping my face to the light for.

Xanthe Scares the School

On Wednesday, I got a call from the elementary school. My friend who works in the office was her usual cheerful self, and although she was using a relaxed and happy tone of voice, what she was saying was unusual.  "Hey, Xanthe got a little dizzy at recess.  She isn't feeling well."  At this point, I was rolling my eyes.  Kids are so dramatic.  Dizzy?  Why am I hearing about this?  But then JoAnne said, "You can come to the school right now and just go straight to her classroom.  The school nurse and the principal are already there."  That was strange.  Tizzy and Ro didn't want to go with me, so I told them I'd be right back.  I thought I'd just run over and check Xanthe out and be home in five minutes.  I got home 8 hours later.

As I strolled into the school, the ground duty woman ran up to me and started telling me, as we walked down the hall, that she had been talking to Xanthe at recess and Xanthe hadn't answered her questions.  She thought Xanthe was teasing her.  As we spoke, her walkie-talkie blurted out in urgent static, "How close is the mom?" I started getting concerned.  Outside Xanthe's classroom, her classmates were sitting on the ground, reading.  I said, "Hey guys!  What are you doing out here?!"  Man, I'm slow.  The kids shushed me, their fingers to their lips, and whispered, "Xanthe doesn't feel good!"

When I walked into the classroom, the principal, teacher and school nurse were all kneeling around Xanthe, who was lying on the ground.  She couldn't talk.  She couldn't move.  Tears were trickling out of the corners of her glazed eyes. I am so calm in emergencies, someone could have an arm dangling off and I'd be looking for a band-aid. At a neighbor's house, because we never have any.  My brain goes into overdrive, not to panic, but to mitigate the situation, maybe so it doesn't overwhelm me.  So at this point, I was thinking, "I'll just take her home and she can rest."  Since she couldn't move, the teacher and I lifted her into the wheelchair they had waiting.  She slumped in the chair and without support, her head lolled back listlessly.  That was when I got really worried.   I said, "We need to call 911."  The principal made the call from the school, so the paramedics would automatically have the address and it would be faster.  Within minutes, the students in the hallway were ushered out to the playground. A fire truck, ambulance and two sheriff cars pulled up. And suddenly, my dad was there.  I don't know how he got there so quickly.  I had sent a Whatsapp to the King family as soon as I saw Xanthe, because I knew I wouldn't be home, and the little girls were alone.  I said, in all caps, "XANTHE IS HAVING A SEIZURE OR SOMETHING!  THE GIRLS ARE HOME ALONE! I'M AT THE SCHOOL! I NEED HELP!!"  I failed to mention that Xanthe was also at the school, so my mom ran over to my house to heroically save Xanthe's life, couldn't find her, and was freaking out! Ruby was at school, crying, and I didn't have time to send any more info.  Trajan and Micaela had jumped in their car and Mic was texting instructions for handling seizures (she is a life guard and had all the training), as they sped towards us on the freeway.  It was chaos everywhere but at the center of the action. As the paramedics treated Xanthe, she started coming out of it. Her pulse went back up and she was able to answer their questions.  The only one she didn't know was who the president is.  She thought it was Barack Obama, but then she remembered there are some other people who might be president soon.  Lol. Good girl, paying attention to politics!

The paramedics offered to take Xanthe by ambulance to the hospital, but we didn't see any reason for that.  Scott had left court in Sunset immediately after the Whatsapp SOS, and had arrived by then.  He followed me to PCMC and Xanthe was admitted.  Hours later, (you know how urgent the ER is.  Ha ha), the doc had diagnosed the episode as a possible seizure or complex migraine.  I was so irritated by the migraine diagnosis.  It clearly wasn't a migraine.  The doc asked Xanthe all the questions; was your arm numb, did you see spots, were you nauseous, etc., and she said no to all of them.  Yet the doc still wrote that down. Kids don't just fall down, unable to speak or move, when they have a migraine.  Why would she diagnose that, along with the diagnosis that seemed far more likely, the seizure?  Did she even listen to Xanthe's answers?  Plus, she looked in Xanthe's eyes with a light and didn't even comment that one eye doesn't reflect the light because of the retinopathy. Anyway, Scott went home and Xanthe and I waited for the results of an EKG.  We were looking forward to eating at Hires, which we did.  That Big H was the most delicious thing ever.  Xanthe was insanely happy, like her system was flooded with endorphins.  She was coming up with funny one-liners like, "If they didn't invent restaurants, I'd just have to put up with whatever you make for dinner." It was one of the most fun times we've ever had, because Xanthe wasn't all worried about everything like she usually is. It was very out of character, but I loved it.  We both did.

Since this episode, we have identified at least 3 other times when this happened, when we thought it was low blood sugar, or we'd just forgotten.  Xanthe said it happened in the shower once, and she got out and rested.  Then she "passed out" at play practice last spring.  A couple of years ago, Xanthe couldn't get up playing at Esmae's outside.  Josh had to carry her inside, and she wouldn't talk.  But then she perked up.  Emily had told me about it, but we just thought it was weird.  Now that it's part of a larger picture, it makes more sense. Furthermore, Xanthe does seem to zone out for minutes.  We've always thought it was part of the auditory processing disorder, like being on pause while her brain processes information.  Now I don't know. Are those moments mini seizures? Is that even a thing?

Xanthe is scheduled for an EEG and maybe an MRI, depending on what the neurology docs decide.  It would be great to have answers for this.  Xanthe is all stressed now, more than usual, and her baseline stress level is extremely high.  She came home from school today because her head hurt, and she said it might have been from worrying.  Great.  Now she's worried about worrying.  Has anyone had experience with these types of unresponsive seizures, or maybe something else that sounds like this? We know it's not low blood sugar because the school didn't give her anything to eat or drink afterwards, and she still came out of it.  Plus, she had just had lunch.  So that's helpful in ruling that out.  I just hope we get more pieces in the Xanthe puzzle put together.  She came to us as a "riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma," and in many ways, she still is.  When she came home from her Hunan orphanage at 13 months, we thought she would be "all caught up" within a matter of months.  Oh, how my heart aches ten years later, as we realize layer by layer that life doesn't really work that way. 

Crystal Cove

 Here are some pictures from the middle of our fall break trip to California. We drove to Mesquite Wednesday at 3 and got there in time to try out the pool.and arcade. Nikki and Clint met up with us and we swapped out Tziporah for Freestone. I am so grateful they were willing to take an extra kid so we didn't have to fly anyone. Also grateful that they informed us that the mythical $27 hotel rooms you see billboards for...are real. We even got two rooms in Mesquite! That's almost enough beds for everyone!

 Thursday we left Mesquite at 5 am and spent the post-drive day at Oceanside with the cousins. Jeff and Richelle, Grandma and Grandpa and the Arizona Dopps were there. We all loved the family time, but since we hadn't planned this trip with the fam, we were staying 45 minutes away in Newport.

We spent Friday and Saturday at the beach and pools in Newport, then met the family for a beach bonfire in Oceanside Saturday night. That was so much fun. The cousins get along so well. I found out recently that they all have a chat going and text each other all the time. I love it!

Sunday, we got up early to relax. We didn't want to leave. The Marriott Villas were luxurious. The reason we stayed there was that I got roped into this timeshare presentation deal, where they give you the Newport Villas for $99 a night if you do the presentation. Scott and I had fun sting through the schpiel, but there's no way we would pay $20,000 plus $1500 a year to be part of a club. They don't understand how cheaply we travel. Speaking of which, we just booked flights to Amsterdam for Ruby, Scott and me for $330 Roundtrip on United. I think some fares are still available today to Europe. Search for them on Whichairline.com. I wish we could take the whole family.

And that's why Newport was so fun, because we were all together. We loved every minute. One great thing about the Villas is that there are fun activities for the kids. Their favorite thing about the trip was the arcade. Sad but oh well! As long as they're happy!

Turning the Page

What a fun weekend!  Scott took Tziporah to Park City Friday night for a special date. Meanwhile, Ruby and I had a recital of our students, and there was some Nutcracker and ballet classes until late, and a wild and crazy school carnival. Saturday morning, Nutcracker pictures started at 7 am and continued, with each kid having a different time slot throughout the day, interspersed with ballet classes and whatnot.  Frank was laughing at me as I walked in and out of the house, dropping off one kid and getting another one prepped for pics.  With Ruby and Araceli at the studio, I had to do Xanthe's French twist all by myself.  Wah!  I'm so spoiled, having all these helpers. Speaking of which, with Scott gone, I had to scrap Araceli's youth symphony rehearsal. She would have been an hour late because of pictures, and I wouldn't have had time to get home in time to turn around and leave again for Freestone's rehearsal. So she was able to not worry about rushing through fun Nutcracker pictures. Bernstein and Brahms will have to wait until next week.

 My class, the Chinese.

 Cute little Page.

I peeked in at Freestone in class.

Scott and Tziporah had driven to Springville to visit a pumpkin patch. Tizzy was in heaven having her favorite parent all to herself!  Scott and I were sending pictures back and forth of our respective activities and talking about what to do next.  Our tentative plan was for me and Freestone to meet Scott and Tizzy back in PC after Freestone's Nutcracker practice in Salt Lake.  Then Scott texted me, "Change of plans.  Call me."

Little did I know, that was the understatement of the year.  Scott told me, "I got a call from the stake president and he wants us to come in at 3:30."  I held my phone away from my ear so I could glower at it and shouted, "WHAT?!?"  Knowing we were getting a new bishopric the next day, we both knew what this meant. Scott drove home, and when I got home from Salt Lake, he was getting his white shirt and tie on.  I dressed up and we went.  The first thing President Mellor did was to invite me into his office.  He said, "First off, we need your permission and blessing to extend this call to your husband."  He explained that it would be difficult for me as well as Scott.  I had no hesitation saying yes.  I knew it was right.  That didn't stop my internal voice from bawling, "How are we going to do this??"

They called Scott in, and then informed us that the rest of the bishopric was waiting for us in the next room.  Surreal! We walked through the door, anxious to see who was in there! I was so happy when I saw Jerry and Sally Taylor. I love them. Bishop Wuthrich was just beaming, and Maria. It was a neat moment. I have never experienced anything like it. They said that we all might be asked to bear our testimonies or just speak for a few minutes in sacrament meeting the next day. I am a terrible public speaker, and I didn't want to babble if I had to say a few words, so I wrote something down. Here it is:

I was standing at a crosswalk Saturday and out of the corner of my eye, I suddenly saw a man lunge forward and snatch his little boy out of the path of an oncoming car. With one swift, decisive yank, he had pulled the boy to safety.  Holding the boy close, he said, "Are you kidding me?  I JUST told you not to do that!"

The little boy started sobbing, "Leave me alone!  Leave me alone!" He was scared. The dad set him down and knelt by his side.  He set the boy against a wall and put his hand on his back, heavily, firmly, patiently, holding him there and keeping him safe until the boy stopped crying, and until the dad recovered his breath.

Seeing this near-miss play out was jarring.  It wasn't a big leap to make an analogy to myself, and maybe to all of us at some point in our lives.  Our Father in Heaven is always standing right by us.  Rescuing us, sometimes without our consent.  Sometimes we don't necessarily want to be rescued.  We - or at least I - want to say, "Leave me alone!  I'm doing just fine.  I don't want to improve." Because I'm scared.

And then our Father in Heaven puts His hand on us and holds us, waiting for us to see the wisdom in His plan.  In fact, he has made us a promise that He will do just that.  Isaiah 46:4 says,"I have made you; I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you."

 Our Father in Heaven has seven billion individual rescue plans in play right now, all made possible by the atonement of Jesus Christ. One of those rescue plans is yours.  One of them is mine. When President Mellor extended this call to Scott, he said of the calling, "The Lord knows everything about you and he still wants you."

That is true of each one of us.  The Lord knows everything about us and he still wants us. That will always be true.

Sunday, we felt so weird getting ready for church.  Scott's mom and dad and Nikki and Ryan were all there in sacrament meeting, so anyone who noticed would have guessed that Scott would be called, so I felt totally self-conscious.  When they announced the new bishopric, the three men went up on the stand and were asked to speak briefly, along with the outgoing gentlemen, Brother Knight, Brother Conrad and Bishop Adams.  Scott gave a great talk, like he always does.  He is good at speaking and weaving a story.  I ended up not having to speak, and I kinda wished I had had the opportunity, to thank the ward.  I also wanted to hear from the other wives, but time was short.

Immediately after the meeting, we all went to the stake center.  None of the three men were high priests yet; they were all elders, so they had to be ordained.  It was really neat because all three of their fathers were there to do that for them. Bishop Wuthrich's dad is quite elderly and could barely stand to lay his hands on his son's head and ordain him.  It was s tender moment.  All three were also set apart for their callings.  Bruce, Ryan and Josh were all in the circle of men.  My heart was so full.  I wish my dad could have been there, but he and my mom are in Paris.

I still haven't processed all the feelings.  First, I am so proud of Scott.  That seems like a given, but even that is conflicted because he didn't necessarily do anything to strive for this calling.  Who would?  In fact, I joked, "I though we had done everything we could to AVOID this!"  Ha ha.  So it's not that Scott "earned" this.  But I'm proud of him for being such a good man, and someone who always rises to the occasion.  Above all, we both know that Heavenly Father has been preparing our hearts for this for several weeks.  Months, maybe.  Perhaps since the moment Golda opened her mission call and we felt a whoosh of the spirit sweep through the room. We see His hand in the details of our lives, and we marvel at how everything fits together.  That doesn't mean I feel adequate to shoulder the burden, even though I know Scott will do a wonderful job.

Sunday morning, I was showing Scott my calendar.  In our shock, we were trying to figure out where this new responsibility would fit in.  Playfully, I said, "Look.  On November 1st, I teach all night and you have Ptolemy's basketball coach meeting, but Freestone has to be in Salt Lake for Nutcracker after his ballet class, and Ruby and Xanthe have dance too, so Ruby can't drive him.  Araceli has Young Womens, so Tizzy will be home alone. And now there's Young Men's, which you're supposed to be at."  I got to church and opened the program and there were our names an the church cleaning schedule.  November 1st. Seriously, does God have a sense of humor?!  Because that is funny. Each family only cleans the church once a year!

We were so excited to tell Golda about this!  All three of the men have missionaries out.  Isn't that cool?  So Scott sent her a clever email that said, "The new bishop has a missionary out in New York.  The first counselor has one out in Cincinnati.  And the new second counselor has a missionary in Hong Kong."

Golda wrote back and was so, so happy.  She said that she had thought about our new bishopric earlier that week, and had had the distinct impression that her dad would be part of it.  Like I said in my notes for the talk, I am like the little boy who was mad at his dad for saving him.  I told Scott, "I never asked for a new chapter."  I was pretty comfortable without the growth, thank you.  Scott, in his wisdom, had the perfect response: "It would be a boring book if there were no new chapters."  So we're turning the page.