My Blah-g

Gentle Reader,

I feel the need to apologize for my neglect of late. I have been out and about doing very physically and mentally difficult things. Difficult mostly because I am getting on in years and my muscles and my brain are not what they used to be.

I climbed a mountain with Shayla and spent the night in the wilderness sleeping on a rock. We filtered water from a stream to cook our food and my tent-mate got altitude sickness and spent the night heaving into the wild and natural habitat that surrounded our camp. We got up the next morning and climbed even higher. Then we packed up and hauled ourselves back down the mountain on the same steep trails that nearly killed me on the way up. When someone tells you you're going to hike something called "Devil's Slide" that should be a red flag! It implies Evil and Steep-- a deadly combination.

But, I was so taken by the amazing scenery and rugged beauty of the California wilderness it was almost worth it. And even without that--it was a pretty cool mother/daughter bonding experience. Although next time we feel the need to bond, I think we'll just go get a pedicure.

Foil Dinners...

...California Style!

Our new friends, Bro. Cabrera and his son:

Bro. Cabrera offered to bring the food for the Father/Son Campout--

"You bring the drinks, I'll take care of the foil dinners."

We got pop and Gatorade--

He Brought all this!

It was catfish, salmon and scallops.



Cilantro and lime.



Mushrooms, zuchinni, tomatoes, and tiny potatoes.

Not your typical campout fare.

And he left the leftovers for me and Shayla.

Did I mention he was a gourmet chef? And he used to own a restaurant?

The Back of the Journal: The DMV

When Siara was Sweet Fifteen and a Half, I took her to the DMV to get her permit. I had to sign a paper that listed me as her "Parent/Custodian".
Siara: "So, you're my custodian?"
Me: "Yes, it would appear so."
Siara: "Then I guess you should be cleaning my room instead of making me do it."

(It made the very STERN and SERIOUS DMV employee laugh out loud.)

From the Back of the Journal

As our children were growing up, I have done my best to keep up my journal. It's not easy to actually live a life with 8 kids and have any time left to write about it. But I did the best I could. And I'm glad I did because there are so many little things that I would have forgotten if I hadn't taken a moment at the end of the day to write it down. Part of this process included setting aside a few pages in the back of each journal for "Kid Sayings" which is basically our family's funny stuff recorded through the years. Every now and then the kids like to flip open one of my old journals and read the funny and cute things they said and/or did and we all have a good laugh together.

So, since I spilled about the "not-so-funny-at-the-time" moments last week, I thought I would share some of the funny-even-at-the-time moments this week:

After Scott's first day of kindergarten he announced: "Our bus has a name!"
Me: "Oh, really, what is the bus' name?"
Scott: "Board"
Me: "The bus is named 'Board'? Are you sure?"
Scott: "Yes, because the bus driver says, 'Welcome on board the bus'."

Tender Mercies

One of my biggest concerns moving to California was Homeschooling. New laws and regulations to contend with. Searching for resources and learning opportunities in a new place. Finding ways for the kids to make friends without established connections. It was all getting a little overwhelming.

Then I decided to "lean not on my own understanding" but "trust in the Lord". Something I usually come around to after a lot of worry and then realize I should have just done that in the first place. I made it a matter of fasting and prayer.

It began with a Stake Relief Society Enrichment. It was last Saturday and the whole week before I was talking myself out of going: "It's ALL DAY--I've got so much to do" "I should be planting my garden--not going to a class on gardening" "Andy's working so hard, I need to stay home and help with things around the house" and on and on.

But the underlying feeling was "I don't know anyone--I don't know which classes to take because I don't know any of the instructors, I'll be by myself." Bringing back memories of being the NEW GIRL so many times when I was growing up and my hesitation and shyness were kicking in.

Then, I got a phone call: "Could you be the monitor in one of the classes? We just need to you to take a count and help the instructor if they need anything." It was for the gardening class and I figured I really need to learn about our new climate and I have that whole sense of responsibility and compulsion to be helpful...so I said yes. That sealed the deal and I was committed to go.

So I went.

I sat by myself in the gardening class and learned lots of helpful information. Then I thought, I'll just grab one of those delicious looking sack lunches and get home in time to get something done. But I got in line for lunch and would you believe I was standing next to one of the FEW people I know outside my immediate ward?! And I met her at the dentist office when I took Spencer in to get his wisdom teeth yanked. Her daughter was getting hers out too and we sat in the waiting room (she was reading an Ensign magazine, giving me an opportunity to venture forth with conversation) and talked for a good hour--as any self-respecting Mormon Mother of Many can do (she has NINE kids!) Well, that meant I wasn't alone.

So I stayed.

The next class I decided on was taught by a woman who turned out to be Shayla's seminary teacher. And she just happens to adore Shayla and we talked afterwards for quite some time and I found out her daughter is in my ward and we are both grandmas and I had another new friend.

The class after hers was called "Alternatives to Public School". There were dozens of choices for classes (the Enrichment classes were spread between two buildings with a shuttle bus going back and forth!) and I thought "I already home school, I don't really need this." but the Spirit said,"Stay"

So I stayed.

The women who taught the class started down the list of options--all stuff I had heard before: Charter Schools, tutors, Independent Study etc. But then they explained that they did something called "Thomas Jefferson Education". My heart jumped and I was all ears. I had read the book and studied the mentor training material. This was something I had been trying to incorporate into our homeschool all along (reading classics, studying the constitution, using Shakespeare to teach language arts). Here was an organized school: "Millennial Scholar Academy". They spoke passionately about how this had helped their children and they explained how they complied with the California rules and regulations and I was holding back tears listening to them.

So glad I stayed.

In the ensuing days, I found out they have openings and they want the parents to take the training so they can be an active part of the group. I looked up the next training and it would be a 4 hour round trip from here--for 3 days in a row! That's a lot of gas and possibly a hotel on top of that. And it would cost a lot of money for the tuition. My heart sank. It just didn't look like I could pull that off. I am committed to homeschooling on a budget to help us through the change in cost of living here and continue the frugality we started during unemployment. But I was so sure this was the right thing for us.

This morning I spoke with the Director of the Millennial Scholar Academy. She said, "Oh, you know, they moved the training to our area--it's just a 20 minute drive for you. And by the way, the school pays the tuition for the parents who do the training."

So I'm going.

On Cloud Nine

There once was a boy who loved airplanes. He watched them with fascination.
He made planes out of anything he could get his hands on.
From paper to pop cans.

He always dreamed that one day, he would fly a real airplane.

And his dream came true.

And he was happy.

How Cute is This?!

Just when we think she can't be any cuter--

she goes and does this!

Mom 101: Order in the Court

Today I'm going to let you in on a little secret: All Moms really want is peace and quiet. We may delude ourselves into thinking we are doing things for the good of our children, but when it comes right down to it, we just want a few minutes of serenity. A chance to think an uninterrupted thought. We aspire to nobler purposes but the everyday realities leave us striving for something more immediate: peace and quiet. So here I share with you another one of my attempts at achieving this elusive goal:

The Gale Family Department of Justice

I actually got this idea from the Ensign magazine. The idea is, as your children have disagreements, you have them write down their complaint/concern/tattling and put it in a box.

Then, once a week at an appointed time, you hold "Family Court" and take out the papers one at a time and allow both sides to plead their case and come up with a solution.

It was a lovely idea and I basked in the peace and quiet it afforded as the children were diverted from their tattling and directed their energy toward writing down all of the injustices that were inflicted upon them by their siblings.

The best part was, they usually had forgotten all about the problem by the time their case came up in court and weren't interested in pursuing it after the heat of the moment had passed.

But, Shayla took it a little more seriously. I found her complaint in the box the first week:

Let me translate for you:

"I SUE Seth, Sam, Shane and Spencer for $50,000 for torturing me ever since I was born. "

From: Shayla

The brothers all denied that any torturing had taken place. Shayla had no evidence other than the normal shenanigans that happen when you have two older and two younger brothers.

The court expressed sympathy but the lawsuit was dismissed.

Mom 101: Blessed are the Peacemakers

What you see here is a great idea gone bad. In my desperate attempts to promote love and kindness amongst my children, I had this trophy made. I thought it would be a nice way to motivate the youngsters to be kind to each other. Maybe along the lines of the Nobel Peace Prize. The plan was for it to be a "Traveling Trophy" that would go to the person each week who best exemplified kindness and respect toward his/her siblings. Maybe even sacrificed their own selfish wants for the good of another.

Take my advice: Don't turn peacemaking into a competition!

Before it was even awarded for the first time, two kids (who shall be nameless) fought over the trophy and it ended up broken. This was the argument that ensued as they tugged the trophy back and forth between them:

"I was the nicest this week."
"No, I was! You cheated!"
"No I didn't you lier! I win the trophy!"
"Give it to me--I was the peacemaker!"


Hmmmm. Not exactly what I had in mind.

Mom 101: Don't Call Me, I'll Call You

When Spencer was a wee lad, Seth was an even more wee lad and Shayla was a wee lass. I often had to run errands with the three of them and tried to make the trips short and sweet in order to retain what little of my sanity was left by then. But from time to time, my attempts at controlling my world fell through and I would find myself with the three little ones at Costco.



One particular day, I had a VERY full cart and I had not been able to park close, so I was trying to get my two free radicals (whom I couldn't fit into the cart because of the massive amount of groceries and the baby seat)--to orbit somewhere near me and the cart so they wouldn't get run over on our treacherous journey across the parking lot. They were both high energy and also high curiosity so they would run around in random directions and then suddenly stop to examine a bug or a rock. I got them to the spot where our giant green van was parked (kids--remember that monstrosity on wheels?). As I was maneuvering the cart around to the back, a flock of birds landed nearby and the boys were of course drawn to them immediately. I tried to keep one eye on them as I buckled Shayla into the van. Then turned to loading groceries. Seth ran by so I scooped him up and buckled him into his carseat. I got the rest of the groceries loaded and turned to get Spencer, but he was nowhere in sight. I could still see the birds and figured he was close by. I looked on one side of the van and then the other. Then I started calling for him,

"Spencer! Spencer come here! Time to go!"

No answer. No pitter-patter of little feet.

I called louder as I continued to look up and down the rows of cars. I was starting to panic and still no sign of him. Then I crossed over into early-stage hysteria. I was yelling:

"SPENCER!!! SPENCER!!! WHERE ARE YOU!!!"

Then I stepped around a big truck just a few cars down and there he was carefully stalking a bird--completely oblivious to his frazzled mother. I asked him, "Why didn't you answer me when I was calling you? You scared me to death! I was so worried that something had happened to you! You could have been hit by a car or kidnapped!"

He calmly answered me: "Didn't you tell me to yell for help if I was in trouble? If I wasn't yelling 'Help, help' you should have known I was just fine."

Mom 101: Prayer is the Soul's Sincere Desire

Prayer is a big part of our lives. As a mother of many, I would not survive without a lot of Heavenly intervention. I am usually running on a wing and a prayer, praying for mercy and praying to change the things I can, accept the things I can't and the sanity to stop trying to change the things I can't even though I really think Moms should have all power and be able to rule and regulate all aspects of the lives of their children. Amen.

So, naturally, there are many opportunities each day for our children to see and hear prayers from the time they are old enough to sit up and look around. Besides getting help with their own prayers each day, they also could observe the blessing on the food at each meal, morning family prayer, evening family prayer, prayers at church at the beginning and ending of each class and meeting and so on. This instilled in each of our children an early desire to pray and for the most part, an understanding of the sacred nature and importance of prayer.

A little side note: One night I went in to tuck Spencer in and help him with his prayers. He knelt by his bed, folded his arms and bowed his head and then ... silence. After a long pause, I said, "I can't hear you--are you going to say your prayers?" and he said, "I'm not talking to you, I'm talking to Heavenly Father."

Ok, back to the story: By the time #7 came along, the rotation for turns to be voice for the family prayers was a little long. Sam wasn't happy with this arrangement. He was two years old and felt that he should get to say the prayer every time. Even if it was someone else's turn, he would pray along with them. I indulged him and didn't stop him--figuring it was a good thing that he wanted to pray. Well, this was fine as long as we were at home--but then there was church.

It got to the point where he thought he should get to go up to the pulpit and say the prayers at church as well. I literally had to hold onto him to keep him from bolting to the front while yelling "My turn for prayer! I want to say it!" I had to distract him when it was time for the opening and closing prayers to keep him from noticing.

One Sunday we were visiting my sister's ward for a baby blessing and it came time for the closing prayer. Sam saw someone else going up to give the prayer and he started hollering, "I want to say the prayer! MY TURN!!" and trying to get away from me to go up there. I had to pick him up and carry him out of the chapel and he kept twisting and yelling in full two year old meltdown. He was still crying when people started leaving. Someone said, "Oh, what's the matter little guy?" and he said with all the indignance he could muster:

"My Mom won't let me pray!"

Mom 101: Shirt a l 'Orange

Ok Shanna, you knew this was coming. Here's an old family favorite:

Every year, our family participated in the Joy School Halloween party. Joy School was the home-based preschool that we did for ALL the preschoolers in our family starting with the oldest right on down to Shane. Our Joy School group consisted of 5 or 6 families with preschoolers the same ages as each other and the moms took turns teaching the fun little lessons: Joy of the Earth, The Joy of Interest and Curiosity, The Joy of Obedience and Decisions and a favorite of mine--The Joy of Spontaneous Delight. If you have preschoolers I highly recommend it.

Back to the Halloween Party. The kids were all dressed up in their Halloween costumes and we were at the home of one of the Joy School families. The kids had a great time showing us their costumes in the "Halloween Costume Parade" and were busy decorating jack-o-lantern cookies with orange frosting and LOTS of candy corn and orange and black sprinkles. Scott was a lion, Siara was a butterfly and sweet little Shanna was a cute little kitty. The kids had pretty much free reign with the goodies while the parents were visiting. I wasn't doing my usual regulation and supervision. Classic mothering mistake.

After awhile, Shanna came over to where I was chatting with one of the other moms and said "Mom, my tummy hurts." I leaned down to assess the situation and in that instant, she regurgitated all of the bright orange frosting, candy corn and sprinkles that she had in her little tummy right into my shirt.

Yes, the act of leaning over had caused the top of my shirt to gap in just such a perfect way that it acted like a scoop and took in all of the barf.

In that moment I was actually glad that none of it had hit the floor. The thought of orange stains on my friend's carpet bothered me more than the warm, squishy, goo running down my chest.

I held tight to the waist of my shirt so nothing would drip out and rushed Shanna to the bathroom, while calling out to husband and kids:

"Time to go--get your jackets. Honey, grab the diaper bag would you?"

I wiped Shanna's mouth and had her stand by the toilet to make sure it was all out.

Don't worry, it was all out-- and right there in my shirt.

Mom 101: Pas de Deux

In the process of raising our children, I have tried to help them lead well-rounded lives. I lean toward the arts and cultural refinement but I also took them fishing and and encouraged bug gathering and a healthy exploration of nature. Each child had the opportunity to play sports and learn a musical instrument. They had plenty of outdoor time and healthy doses of playing in the park. I signed them up for swimming lessons and hauled them to the library to encourage literacy. This wasn't easy with the whole entourage of baby, toddler, preschooler, pottier-in-training, teasing grade-schooler, moody pre-adolescent, smart-alec teen etc, etc. But I soldiered on.

So, from time to time, I tried to take a child for some one-on-one time. One child is a piece of cake when you are used to a whole army. An opportunity arose when my good friend, whose daughter trained in ballet with the Oregon Ballet, got me two tickets to the Nutcracker. Siara was about 5 years old. She liked to run around in a tutu (she wore it on her head--but that's another story)...so I thought she was ready for some culture and invited her for an afternoon at the ballet.

She was very excited and enjoyed the whole process of dressing up in a pretty dress and getting her hair done up in ribbons and curls. We drove to Portland and met my friend at her house there. She wasn't ready yet, so Siara and I went in and waited. We took off our shoes at the front door and visited for a minute while my friend finished getting ready. Somewhere in that minute, Siara ducked outside chasing their dog. She was running around their front yard with the dog without her shoes on. Well, where there's a dog, there's going to be you know what.

When we were ready to go, I picked up Siara's shoes and called to her to come and put them back on. She ran over and sat on the porch to put them on when I noticed the stench. She had stepped in dog doo-doo. She was wearing pretty white tights that looked so adorable with her ruffly yellow dress. First I tried to hose the tights off with water but the stuff wasn't budging. She was starting to get a little distressed and I didn't want to ruin the whole experience for her. I pulled off the poopy tights and threw them in the garbage. We put her shoes on her bare feet and off we went to the ballet.

You might think that's the end of this story. But you would be mistaken.

We got to the Keller Auditorium and made our way to our seats. They were fantastic: 1st Balcony, front row, center. Siara loved bouncing up from her seat and looking over the railing as people were coming in. She was so excited for the show and enjoyed the whole atmosphere of the theatre. I let her exuberance run free and enjoyed her joy in the moment.

Then, the lights dimmed and the orchestra began the overture.

Colored lights flashed across the stage curtains as the music played.

I told Siara she would have to stay in her seat now because it was starting.

She sat very nicely for a few minutes. But the curtains weren't opening. Where were the ballerinas? The lights were boring.

The minutes dragged on.

Suddenly, at a slightly quieter moment in the music,

Siara bounded out of her seat, leaned over the railing and yelled at the top of her lungs:

"Let's get this show on the road!!!"

Luckily it was dark enough that the little urchin with no manners and no tights couldn't be pinpointed and dragged from the premises.

And her Mom kept a tight grip on her for the rest of the show.

Mom 101

I thought it might be fun to take a few days and remember back to some moments that I would like to forget but, as they say,

"Those who do not remember the past are doomed to repeat it."

When the older three kids were little, we had lived in a trailer park. I didn't realize we were on well water and thus no fluoride. Their baby teeth were pretty weak and we ended up at the dentist for some fillings. (I'm telling you all of this so you won't think I was a neglectful mother but it won't help my case when you read the rest of the story anyway. So why do I bother?)

After the ordeal, the hygienist came out with the kids and a list of "preventative measures" I should be taking so this tragedy would not have to be relived:
-Be judicious with the juice (Juice was expensive, we didn't have it very often. Check)
-Make sure they brush their teeth morning and night (Already doing that. Check)
-Don't let them brush their own teeth without vigorous follow-up from parent (Uh-oh Scott was on his own after the other two arrived. Guilt Check)
And Finally:
-Don't give them sweets. They shouldn't have candy except on rare occasions.

Now, here was an area where I shined. Don't forget, I was the mother who convinced her son that spinach was better than candy! I felt the need to elaborate on the fact that we didn't keep candy around and it was certainly a RARE treat only at Halloween and Christmas.

And while I was waxing motherly on the topic of the evil of sugar, Siara was pulling on my arm and saying: "Mom, can I have some candy? Candy Mom. Please give me some candy."

(But imagine it in her cute little lisp: "Thum" candy and "Pleathe")

Of course she thought of it because we were talking about it. I gave her the Mom Brush-off with: "Honey, we don't have any candy."

Whereupon she plunged her hand into my purse and came up with a zip-loc bag full of

Tootsie-rolls and Smarties

I stared at it in horror as the hygienist gave me a withering look.

It was a bag of candy I had intercepted before it could be given to one of my kids at the last Primary activity. Totally forgot it was in there.

I started to sputter something lame like, "Oh, that's not ours...really I don't know where that came from..."

I gave it up. I loaded up my children with their rotten little teeth and

took the walk of shame past all the disapproving dental patrons,

out the front door and across the parking lot.

I loaded them into their car seats and we headed for home.

Eating Tootsie-rolls and Smarties all the way.