30 Days of Thankful: Traditions

For the past few weeks I have been searching for a good month-long gratitude devotional that I could read and study in November, but never landed on one I liked. So I've decided to make my own by reading an article about gratitude each day as well as participating in Cathy Zielske's 30 Days of Thankful gratitude project. I will share both daily right here. That's right, I'm going from zero to 60 on my blog writing this month!

Today I am thankful for traditions. In trying to organize all of my digital photos, it's been fun to notice different series of pictures and how the kids have grown. How they have changed! I love that traditions--as simple as making rootbeer in October--bind us together as a family even as we grow and change.

2003: Learning the ropes from Uncle Shelby and family (and the only rootbeer picture I am in).

2004: Gracie's first Halloween 

2005: Mah babies!

2007: Addition of Aubrey

 

2008: Addition of pink glasses!

2010: One year-old Alex tries over and over to put his whole fist down into the mix. (And I need to remember to move that pumpkin decoration that gets in the way of 90% of my rootbeer pics.)

2011: Alex's hair!?

2012: Clearly, I've gotten a new camera. Ha!

2013: So big! So fun! 

 

---

 

"I’d always thought gratitude was a feeling like love or anger—something that came naturally. But gratitude is more a virtue, like hope or faith—something that may not come naturally but can be learned (or relearned) by becoming as little children. It can be practiced, and like a difficult passage in a Chopin étude, it becomes easier with practice.

 

Even when mastered, gratitude does not solve all our problems. It’s not a phony Pollyanna attitude of ignoring the blemishes and pain of life, nor is it a selfish, self-aggrandizing attitude. It does not erase grief and hardship, but can make those times easier to bear. It can nourish us spiritually and smooth the jagged edges of our crowded lives."

 

From "The Song of Gratitude" by Lisa Ray Turner

Sayonara, 2012!

 

Our annual scrapbook page for the Moore family Christmas exchange.

Let's Make a Deal!

Long, long ago, in a childhood far, far away...when the Oklahoma cousins would come down to Texas for a visit, my parents would sometimes put together their own version of the game show, Let's Make a Deal for our entertainment. My dad had a sweet blue leisure suit he would wear as the host, Monty Hall, we would put on crazy costumes and wigs and gather things to trade, and the fun would begin.

Jenny and "Monty Hall" circa 1986  

The rest of the crew...with me in the middle in the suit and tie.  

This memory was resurrected over Craft Weekend. Dad's blue Monty Hall suit is no longer with us, but he visited Goodwill to find a suitable replacement. And Mom and Aunt Helen put together some sweet prize packages for the kids. (It's funny, my memories of the game involved a lot more gag prizes like cans of cat food and bags of trash, but now that the people in charge are grandparents, we ended up with more items like gift cards, movies, lip gloss, candy, etc. My, how times have changed!)

We gathered the kids together and explained the game, and how one of the rules is that you have to dress up in a crazy costume to play. I kind of expected them to put on their regular stuff, all matched up, but instead was cracking up at their mish-mash selections. This was just like old times.

Then Monty showed up...

 

And the wheeling and dealing began!

   

Wait, what is that you are wondering? Who is that in the background holding Aubrey? Well, let me introduce you to...

 

Brendo with hair! (Though he does need a trim, it appears.)

All for some Let's Make a Deal fun. I'm not going to lie...it was a little crazy and a little long, what with so many little kids, some of whom didn't quite "get" the game. But the older ones were loving it and are already looking forward to next year.

Thanks for a fun tradition revived Nana, Papa, and Nanny!

Faithful Footsteps

A few weeks ago, I mentioned the passing of a family friend. I wanted to record some memories of him and his family, and thought Memorial Day would be a good day to share this. Though not a soldier, he is someone whose memory I honor.

If you think about the people you know, outside of family, it is probably rare to think of an entire family for whom you have specific, even significant, memories with each individual member. I recently realized that I can do that with the Johnson family, our friends since we moved to this area over 25 years ago. Marilyn hosted my bridal shower, Nancy and I shared a random road trip to Utah one summer, Amy wrote me a note when she graduated from high school that made me feel like a million bucks, Emily has made me laugh until I cried, and anytime I could get Emily to laugh, I felt like I’d arrived. Lesley...Lesley is my oldest friend, and the memories I have with her are too numerous to count. We fought and made up at Girl's Camp, we got into mischief at slumber parties (well, as much mischief as a couple of straight-laced rule followers could anyway), and she has always made me want to be a better person.  And Phillip, when I was young, he was my friend's dad, and he was my Bishop.

When I moved home after college though, I had the opportunity to know “PJ” as more than just my friend's dad or my bishop. (I started calling him PJ at that point…now that I was an adult and Brother Johnson sounded too formal and Phillip or Phil felt too familiar. Somehow “PJ” was in between.) He was teaching the local Institute class then, so just as I was embarking on my own teaching career, once a week I was able to sit in front of this veteran teacher and learn from him and get to know him a little bit better.

Those days, I would often leave my classroom shaking my head about one comment or another I had made during class, thinking Did I really just say that?  I was (and am sometimes still) a rambler, trying to fill the empty air with something, anything. So I would watch with fascination as PJ taught; he seemed to choose his words so carefully, not worried about the silent pauses that might occur while he did so. I learned so much from that. 

Then, my first year in grad school, our Institute class covered the New Testament, which came alive for me more at that time than anytime I had read it previously…the result of PJ’s teaching.  I remember him saying, "The things you hear and learn in class should serve simply as an inspiration and motivation for personal study.” That’s the kind of teacher he was; his classroom inspired you to seek out more, to learn for yourself.

Another thing I remember him saying from that particular class was that “The events about which we read in the New Testament make up who we are...they are why we come out to church, why we do the things we do." The final speaker at his memorial service gave the exact same message…that the reasons PJ was who he was all lie in the “events about which we read in the New Testament,” which he knew to be true and therefore lived to the fullest.

Once I started teaching at BU, he would call me Professor every time we ran into each other at church, knowing full well the only person deserving of that title between us was himself. He treated me like a colleague, and I enjoyed chatting about "business" with him. I remember at our friend Mary's baby shower last summer (at the Johnson's home), in the midst of a room full of women oohing and ahhing over cloth diapers and cute clothes, he pulled up a chair next to me so we could discuss the latest university news. (Sorry, Mary!) And I'm quite certain that one of the reasons I've stayed teaching at BU the past five years has been due in some part to a well-placed word here and there in my behalf by this respected man.

At the memorial service, it was mentioned how PJ lived by the quote: "Showing up is 88% of life.” When I was going through some older journals a month ago for a YW lesson, I found a book of quotes I kept. Many of them were attributed to PJ from our time in Institute class. The quotes range from well-known sayings that were given a perfect, dry, PJ delivery:

"Big Hat, No Cattle!"

"Hit the ball and drag Charlie." (He used this well-known golf joke as an analogy to a bad marriage, and it's been stuck in my head ever since.)

"How are you going to keep 'em down on the farm after they've seen Pair-ee?"

To random, funny PJ originals:

"And what if it's one of Satan's boys?"

"I am the 'stuff' man."

"It's like pouring water in a mud hole."

"Plain as a horn on a billy goat!"

"It looked like he'd been drug through a knothole."

"He was about as polished a public speaker as a trained dog." (Speaking about President Heber J. Grant)

"In these fertile times..." (Used while speaking of Julina Lambson, wife of Joseph F. Smith and midwife in over 1000 deliveries.)

To the profound, teaching moments:

"You don't start where it's easiest, you start where it's hardest."

"Go out there, stand up straight, tell 'em who you are and what you know." (This is something his father had told him.)

"Personal revelation gives us the confidence to walk toward the day we will meet God."

"Faithful footsteps will take you safely to the throne of God."

Thank you for all you taught me, PJ.

Way-Back Week: When Daddy Comes Home

And finishing off the trip down memory lane, this video I originally posted for Father's Day 2006. Would you look at these two munchkins? I could just eat them up!

Way-Back Week: Batchers of the World, Unite!

Though we still have miles to go before we sleep, I'm proud to report that in five years' time we have made slight, but definite, improvements in our batcher-ness. Originally posted January 24, 2006:

The other night, Brendon and I were chatting and ended up back on the same old subjects of, you know, what do we want to be when we grow up and how we can get our acts together. Nothing new there. But then, we rebelled. Why do we care so much, we asked ourselves? Why can't we just make peace with slackerness? Wouldn't that be such a lovely, messy, lazy peace? Ahhh, just imagine...

But, nooooooo, dang it, we couldn't just leave it there. It was just a brilliant few minutes before the caring came back and we were right back where we started. I gave up for the night and went to get ready for bed.

When I got to the bedroom, I was greeted by Brendon with, "You know what our problem is? I've figured it out...we're batchers."

Then is his most father-like, Steven Covey moment ev-er, he proceeded to explain our batcherness.

We ARE batch people. He is right. We do things in batches. Rather than being effective daily disciplinarians, we batch our life work. Everything we do, we save up until it HAS to be done, and then devote all our energy to doing it in one fell swoop. Need to clean up the house? Spend the day and get the sucker done top to bottom. After a few days, let the pile up begin...repeat. Need to get some work done? Do one task only, putting off other items of business until your batch task is completed. (Brendon does this with design work, me, grading.) Heck, my thesis could have been alternately titled: "How to batch six months worth of writing into six weeks." And on, and on, and on.

We were up until the wee hours of the morning, laughing about just how many things in our life have fallen prey to the batch theory. Just when one of us would be ready to drift off to sleep the other would start laughing and shout out, "I batch ________ too!" We even realized we are "sons" of batchers. LOL. It's a genetic condition!! We finally stopped when we decided that we were batching our batch conversation by staying up so late.

So, that's the story of The Batchers. Are you one too? Maybe we should start a support group, because we are now on a quest to relinquish our batcherhoods.  If you are a daily disciplinarian and have any tips for us, pass them on...we're gonna need them.

Way-Back Week: Today I was *that* mom

I had to laugh when I re-read this entry. I was such a lightweight! I probably wouldn't even bat an eye at this incident these days. Originally posted August 5, 2005:

What a day we have had so far. We decided to start up our "Zoo Fridays" again today since it was overcast and not so hot out. Met up with our Zoo Friday pals and headed off. Saw the eagles, the giant turtles--played on the playground a bit--the fish, the cougar, the bear, and the otters (a new exhibit, loved it, Gracie squealing with delight). Before we made it to the buffalo, though, MELTDOWN. And I mean MELTDOWN. Over the stroller. More specifically, who was going to ride in the umbrella stroller I had brought. (Even though Gracie had no real interest in riding the stroller, she felt it was hers and was going to put up a fight) Screaming and crying ensued on both sides. "Shayne, you need to calm down and stop crying or we will go home." (Repeat approx. 17 times) No way, no how. "Okay, we are going home." LOUDER screaming and crying. So there I was, pretty far into the middle of the (crowded) zoo and had to haul them out. Threw Gracie in the stoller, and Shayne followed us, crying and screeching the whole way, UNTIL one of his shoes (his flip flops, of course) came off. I told him to put it back on and come on. Hmmmmmm, he realizes if his shoes aren't on, he can't leave the zoo. Off the other one comes! So I remove Gracie from the stroller, throw a shoeless Shayne in, and have to carry Gracie now, because she's not going anywhere, and if even she was, she couldn't have kept up with my embarrassed mom, please-get-me-out-of-here pace. Picture me with one (heavy) crying girl on my hip, pushing a (heavier) screaming boy in a stroller one-handed. That walk back to the car seemed to take forever.

So, yeah, I was *that* mom today. Not the best feeling. The stares and shakes of the head were pretty piercing. Just kept repeating the quote, "These are the longest days, but the shortest years," in my head over and over the whole time. Good times! :-)

(And, do I even need to add that both of the troublemakers are currently in a deep slumber? I'm going to blame this one on being over-tired. At least that's my story and I'm sticking to it!)

Way-Back Week: Leigh WILL Graduate August 13th Update

Remember when I was writing my thesis? Ahh, good times. Originally posted May 4, 2005:

Okay, so I turned in the draft of my first chapter this weekend. (Thanks to the help of a lot of Diet Coke and too little sleep, and Brendo) Woo Hoo! The department chair had said my new director was known for pretty fast turn-around time on grading, so I thought a week, week and a half, I'd hear back. Well, this morning at a little after 10 am, the phone rings.... And here is an excerpt from an IM conversation that took place between Brendon and I a few minutes later:

Leigh: hello?
Brendon: HI
Leigh: I am really close to throwing up right now
Brendon: ???  
Leigh: [My thesis director] just called, and as soon as I saw the caller ID, I got a pit in my stomach. I couldn't answer it, and I couldn't listen to the message...turned the volume down as soon as he started talking. And he talked forever. It has to be bad. He hates my writing so much that he is dropping me. He can't understand any of it it's so bad....I just KNOW it   
Leigh: +o(+o(+o(+o(  <<this is the puking face smiley on MSN
Brendon: Wow
Brendon: why so pessimistic? Where's my confident wife?
Leigh: hanging her head over the toilet
Brendon: lol
Brendon: so are you going to listen to it or what?
Leigh: I can't do it
Brendon: i can call in and listen if you don't pick up
Leigh: arrrrrrgggggh. ok, just do it
Leigh:     no don't.
Leigh:     hang on
Leigh:     !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Leigh:     he said I did a wonderful job!!!!!!!
Leigh:     He's finished and ready to give it back
Leigh:     He finished with "Good job!"
Brendon: SEE, I TOLD Ya!!!
Leigh:     ahhhhhhhhhhhh. wow
Leigh:     I am such a dork
Brendon: no comment....
Brendon: although the d word would not be my choice
Leigh:     ???
Brendon: overly unconfident
Leigh:     i made the kids leave the room while i listened. lol didn't want them to hear their mommy harshed
Brendon: ROFL
Brendon: wow babe.
Brendon: maybe I should major in psychology, at least then we could save in therapy bills
Leigh: LOL
Leigh: well, I gotta go find the kids. later.

Yeah. So now that I've revealed my blazing insecurity, maybe I'll get over it. (Maybe not though, because since this conversation this morning I have managed to convince myself that the nice message today was just a lure to get me into his office tomorrow where he can tell me what he really thought of it.) Back to work now on Chapter Two...

Way-Back Week: Welcome to Our Blog

Jenny recently reminded me that I let my five-year blogiversary pass this spring without mention. Well now, we can't have that can we? So this week I'm going to be posting some of my older entries...a little trip down the blog's memory lane. Up first, my very first blog post, from March 9, 2005:

So, we all know how bad I am at keeping in touch on a regular basis. Yup. BAD. In an effort to remedy that, we are joining the blog sensation. I am hoping that it will be a fun way our friends and family can peek in from time to time and see what's happening day-to-day with us. Let us know what you think!

So, I thought I'd start out with a little (really, not so little) story about my day yesterday. It started off quite nicely when, first thing in the morning, I pulled the milk out of the fridge, and knocked the jug o' salsa (You know, the big Pace Picante one you get at Sam's Club?) down onto the floor. The darn thing, the darn PLASTIC thing, broke and splattered everywhere in the kitchen. Ah, the smell of salsa in the morning. Lovely.

Next up, we were headed to the park to meet for a playgroup. We were a little ahead of schedule, so I stopped at Walgreens to pick up some drinks and let Shayne pick out a "park snack." The trip was perfectly uneventful until we got back out to the car. I opened the front door, threw the keys and my bag in the seat (Can you see where this is going?), and went to the back seat to get Grace buckled in. In the meantime, Shayne has climbed into the front seat to pretend to drive. I get Grace buckled up, pop out, shut the door, pull Shayne out of the front seat, shut that door behind us, and, there you go, Grace is now locked inside the car with the keys, thanks to Shayne flipping the locks while "driving." Nice. We run inside and call the police, who tell us to call Pop-a-Lock. Fine, Pop-a-Lock is on their way, and they tell us to call 911 if she looks distressed at all. We run back out to check on Grace and wait. As I run out the door, I see that the police have already come anyway, AND I see an elderly man less than an inch away from smashing into my driver's side door as he tries to pull into the spot next to me. Thankfully, he saw me freak out and stopped immediately. Okay, so back to Gracie (who was, btw, sitting happily in her car seat, wondering what the heck we were all doing standing next to the door peeking in on her). We chatted with the police for a few minutes (I don't think they believed me that it was Shayne's doing, and they added further insult to injury by checking all of the doors to make sure they were really locked), and all of the sudden we started hearing sirens. Yep, they were for us; apparently the fire rescue team decided to come on out anyway. Shayne thought he had hit the big time! Police car, firemen and a firetruck, all for him, woohoo! We were quite the sight there on the corner of Bosque and New Rd.; we slowed down lots of traffic! :-) In the end, Pop-a-Lock showed up and had us taken care of within a few minutes. (FYI: Pop-a-Lock doesn't charge anything if there is a child in the car. Who knew? I do, now.)

And finally, to end my day perfectly, I left the house at 9:00 p.m. last night to run over and help my dad for a minute. I was seriously not more than two blocks from our house, sitting at a red light, and BOOM! I was hit from behind. After the jolt, I looked in the rearview mirror to see...a police car! HAHAHahahaha!! A police man rear-ended me because he was not paying attention, too busy eating his pizza from the box he had propped up on his dash. So classic. I *almost* felt badly for him, that is, until I heard him telling the Sergeant who had to come out and write up the report some story about waving to kids in the car next to him. Whatever dude. Anyway, I'm fine; damage to the car was negligible, so just mostly funny stuff.

What a day! Wow, so that was a novel for my first post. I promise they won't always be this long!

Friday Photos and a Memory

Last Sunday was Daughters' Day once again. Oh the excitement!

 

Bedhead and a breakfast in bed of Dad's homemade croissanwiches and chocolate milk. What could be better?

We stuck with the homemade gift plan again, and each received their own art notebook (since they actively coveted Shayne's after Sons' Day) and a monogram peg for their assortment of bags and purses.

Speaking of daughters, and as a sort of follow-up to last week's post about Gracie's tantrums, I wanted to record this little story...on Monday evening, after a big day (first day of school!), Gracie had reached the end of her short rope by dinnertime. Really, anything could have set her off by that point, but as it was, a mix-up about who was sitting where at the table apparently deeply wounded her sensibilities and sent her stomping off for the accompanying fit.

Aye yi yi. Clearly her posters do not always do the trick.

We sort of rolled our eyes and proceeded with dinner as usual, doing our best to ignore the behavior and let her cry it all out in the privacy of her own room. After the time passed when I would have expected her to be done and rejoin us, though, still no Gracie. Just the wounded cries from her room. But instead of rolling my eyes this time, my mind flashed back to a memory of my five-year old self--one of the earliest memories I have.

One day, for whatever reason (probably my refusing to come when called), by the time I got to the table for lunch, all of the tuna fish sandwiches were gone. I was deeply offended. Did they not know that tuna fish was my favorite? (Though I don't think it actually was.) How could they not have saved one for me? And, NO, I could not eat any of the other kinds ready and waiting for me! I stomped off to my room for the accompanying fit. Several minutes went by, and just when I thought everyone had forgotten about me and my pitiful plight, my mom and my dad walked into my room with a plate full of tuna fish sandwiches. We laid on the bed together, eating the sandwiches and just talking, for what seemed like a very long time. I think this is such a strong early memory for me because of the way it made me feel at the time...so very special.

So, what could I do on Monday night after this flashback but pick up my plate and Gracie's plate and head to her room? We picnicked on her bedroom floor, just talking and talking, for what seemed like a very long time. I told her the story of my memory, and when I told her how it had made me feel very special, she replied, "You mean, just like me?" Yep, just like you.

I've mentioned this memory to my mom before, and she has no recollection of the moment (her memory is probably clouded by the new baby fog she was likely going through herself at the time), but I just wanted to say, thanks, Mom and Dad, for giving me this memory and a way, so many years later, to connect with my very own dramatic, independent five-year old girl who also needed a little extra attention. The very tight hug she gave me that night before bed gave me hope that it will be a memory passed on to another generation as well.

Cousins

July was full of cousin fun for the kids. Shelly and her kids actually arrived at the end of June and stayed for three weeks. Oh, the excitement!

If I'd taken video instead of this sorry picture, you would be hearing, "EEEEEE-than! Lauren! Shayne! Gracie! Hi Aubbers!" Sweet reunion. And then non-stop cousin action for the next three weeks. Playing, swimming, partying.

 

 Let's just say that there were many-a-day in those three weeks that ended in near or full-on meltdown resulting from sheer exhaustion.

In addition to Ethan, Lauren, and Simon, we had cousins Natalie and William from Cheyenne in town over the Fourth of July weekend. Our last visit with them was Thanksgiving 2007, but they were still fast friends as soon as they arrived. Aubrey and Natalie enjoyed some girl time doing each other's hair and nails, and there might have even been some talk about boys, too. (Well, their pesky brothers anyway...for now!)

Their visit was short, but very sweet. Thanks for coming down, y'all. Texas heat and all!

 

This picture reminds me so much of pictures we have of me and my cousins when we were little.

We didn't slow down after that, though. Mid-July brought second cousins Rachel and Andrew in to town. Their visit brought more swim time, more play time, more reminders not to run in the house, and just plain s'mores!

We also met little John, Shannon's newest babe. He is about six weeks older than Alex, though you wouldn't know it from looking at both of them next to each other.

John tried to give Alex a one-two punch to the jaw to show him who was boss.

Alex only looked at him with a sneer. "I could crush you, kid."

Ah, cousin fun! We love it!

(And, ah, a finished post! I've been working on this thing for darn near a week here and there as I get time. Don't hate me for it...I'm trying! Clearly not succeeding, but trying, anyway.)

The Good Ol' Days

Ahhh, remember the good ol' days when you would spend your summer days from sun-up to sundown outside? Riding bikes with friends, skipping rope, swimming, and playing games like...Bloody Murder?

Though the name of "Bloody Murder" both makes me laugh and creeps me out now, this hide-and-seek game was totally a part of my childhood. We would play it anytime the grandkids were gathered at Grandma and Grandpa's farm in New Mexico; their barn, garage, and yard were the perfect setting for a good game of hide-and-seek after dark.

Today I found a fun little website that details a ton of nostalgic children's games and jumprope/handclap rhymes: Games Kids Play. So fun. I couldn't help but smile when I saw that it even has the instructions for Bloody Murder:

Everyone stands at the base while one person goes to hide. Those on base count "One o'clock, Two O'clock, Three O'clock..." and on until they get to "Midnight" (yelling this really loud), then the would-be "victims" go and search reluctantly for the "Bloody Murderer." They search until one of them sees the person who was hiding and shouts "BLOODY MURDER!!!" Everyone then tries to get back to the base without being tagged, and the person caught is the next person to hide.

OR

First, gather up at least 3 or more people and determine a base. Next, choose one person to be IT. That person will stand on the base and count: 1:00, 2:00, 3:00 and on until he gets to 12:00. All other players hide while IT counts. At the 12:00 count, IT yells out "Midnight!" and goes searching for the others. As soon as one of them is seen or found by IT, the hider yells out "Bloody Murder!" Then all the hiders try to run to the base before the person who is IT catches them. Whoever is found and tagged while running to base is IT next.

If you're looking for some good old fashioned summer fun, you might want to check it out!