Because I Said So...

Full Disclosure

2012-01-26T19:55:00.000-08:00

Scott, Siara and Shanna

Look at me smiling so blissfully.

and Spencer and Seth...

After many conversations with my older children who are now parents, I realize that I have a tendency to gloss over the day in and day out challenges of being in the trenches of mothering. It could be that it is a defense mechanism to hold on to my sanity. It might be that I learned what I needed to from the tough times and I get to move forward blissfully carrying on with the sweet, happy memories and the positive outcomes. Or perhaps I want to have grandchildren so I'm smart enough to keep some things on the down low.

But my daughter did convince me that sometimes you just need to know that you are not alone in it...so this is for all of you who are presently in the trenches...from an old veteran:

A Day In the Life of Mama Gale

(An excerpt from my journal--a real peek at "one of those days")

22 July 1992

"Swimming lessons this morning. Seth fussy today. Spencer didn't nap--by evening I was worn out. I feel so inadequate and discouraged sometimes. There are so many complaints and all my teaching, guiding and exhorting seems to fall on deaf ears--the kids fight and use "garbage" words when they think I'm not listening.

I try so hard--or think I do but everything I do each day is undone. It's an endless round of the same things over and over.

Tonight the pipe under the kitchen sink came apart and water and semi-disposaled food flooded out onto the kitchen floor. A few minutes later Siara was yelling that Spencer smelled--he had diarrhea and unfortunately he was wearing training pants so it was all over him and his clothes and Siara's bed. Seth was crying. Shanna had her bag packed to run away. I told her she couldn't run away--she would get kidnapped or something. I can't let her try it to learn a lesson about how much better home is than a cold sidewalk because the world is too dangerous even a few blocks from home. I told her that losing a game was not a good reason to run away so she unpacked and decided to stay. So I guess I will too."

So there it is--the unvarnished truth according to my journal. I think I will do this from time to time just as a reminder that "this too shall pass". The pipes get fixed, the kids grow up and it is worth it to hang in there and see it through.

Scott: The Lost Years

2012-01-22T16:03:00.000-08:00

I came across these in the process of packing up for the move:

Somehow Scott's baby book got stashed in a different box than the rest of the kids' books.

I was worried that I had lost the few pictures we had of his cute babyness.

So I was pretty excited to find these tucked in his baby book!

I will get them scanned before I pack them away again so they will

be available for future posts :)

Unsettled

2012-01-18T17:32:00.000-08:00

Once again the Gale Family is in a state of limbo. Waiting. Wondering. Our provider and protector is on the other side of the country while we hold down the fort here. Actually, we are trying to sell the fort here. Anyone looking for a nice family home in a warm, sunny locale? Palm trees swaying in the breeze right in the back yard? Surrounded by great people and minutes from beautiful beaches? Disneyland is less than two hours away. Is it snowing and cold where you are? Today it's 70 degrees, blue skies and warm sunshine here. Just in case you are looking to relocate.

I have been continuing to pack--I assume that we will eventually move. Our house feels a little barren and we keep saying-- "We'll do that when we get moved". It's a strange, detached dimension we live in. It happened to us last time there was a change in employment and I was hoping not to have that challenge ever again. It just might be that my need for consistency means I need to be tested and tried--to be pushed out of that comfort zone. So I am forward, pressing forward while trying to maintain consistency in the things that matter most. Our ward is kindly still including us and the kids have plenty of activities to keep us busy.

And I decided to go ahead and plant the garden. I was feeling a little stingy last spring when I thought the house would sell by summer's end and I didn't want to do all of the sowing and not get any of the reaping. Selfish I know. So I am repenting and renewing. I am willing to "come what may and love it". It felt good to be out in the dirt. I pruned the pear tree and pulled weeds. Shane hauled some mulch for me and Gunner ran around and barked and chased off any and all intruders (insects, lizards and birds).

Each day is a gift wherever we are. I am soaking up the sunshine while I can. We can look back with gratitude and see the Lord's guiding hand in our lives up to this point and I have the surety of faith that we will sell the house and get on to the next thing all in good time. By the way the orange tree we planted when we first moved here died. The roots were devoured by ravenous moles. Being the cock-eyed optimist that I am, I yanked it out and planted a new one. I may not see my own harvest of oranges but I have certainly enjoyed the generous harvest of the good people here who have shared their oranges with us.

Post Christmas

2012-01-13T23:25:00.000-08:00

Best Christmas Present Ever:

Grandbaby time!

This trio of sweet, precious angels are the joy of my life.

And their parents and aunts and uncles are pretty awesome too.

We all converged on Shanna's house just as she was packing up for

a big move to Idaho. A lot of happy chaos ensued as we laughed and talked and

passed babies around--thoroughly smooching baby cheeks and

enjoying Bailey's bright insights.

Norah is a shoe girl already and clomped around in any shoes she found un-occupied.

Mason is a happy little boy--and seemed to take all

the craziness around him in stride.

Bailey studying the legendary Liger

We introduced the next generation of Gales to one of our favorites:

The Bean Museum

We dropped by to see Spencer and Adrianna's new apartment.

Our recently returned missionary with our soon-to-go missionary and

the first of the next generation of missionaries enjoyed hanging out.

Little Norah was such a trooper--she had a cold that went to ear infections but after

an afternoon of sitting with Nana watching "Winnie the Pooh" she got the meds she needed and was soon

back to her usual bouncy, cheerful self.

Bailey went with Shanna and me to the BYU Bookstore where she sang

"I am a Child of God" loudly and sweetly as we walked through the aisles of books.

Pretty adorable.

It all went by too quickly--it was hard to say good-bye.

I like our kids.

We have a lot of fun together and

it warms my heart to see them loving and helping each other.

So, the thoughtful Christmas gift from my hubby was much

more than a trip to Utah.

It was a little glimpse of heaven.

Thank you Honey.

Christmas Past

2012-01-12T17:12:00.000-08:00

This year was an "off" year for the Gale Family. The older four were spending it with their spouses' families--we are happy to get the whole gang every other year. (Just hope the younger four get that clause in the pre-nup before they commit!) We were all together for the wedding earlier in the month anyway, so that was an unexpected bonus.

It was pretty quiet and what with the wedding hoopla and the packing up of the household goods, it seemed a little more off. Luckily Shane is young enough to make sure we carried on with the traditions that make it feel like Christmas.

It was Shane's turn to place the Angel

on top of the tree. He had been waiting for

EIGHT years for his turn to come around again.

Shane's handiwork...

When the children were growing up, we had a tradition that when they turned eight they got

to stay up and help Santa set out the gifts and stuff the stockings.

I didn't think through to how this would play out when we got to the last child.

Shane took it pretty well--he looked forward to finding out how Santa did it and when his turn came,

he was dubbed the "Stocking-stuffer Elf" and he takes his job very seriously.

The older kids tried to sleep in but Shane wasn't having it. We had plenty

of time to open presents, enjoy our breakfast and get to church early.

To liven things up a little, Santa had Rudolph write a poem to Shane and

he was sent on a treasure hunt to find his gift.

This giant candy cane rawhide chew livened up Gunner's Christmas.

We had a delicious Christmas pie

And I thoroughly enjoyed my annual box of homemade chocolate covered cherries.

Yum!

And this lovely, thoughtful gift was from my thoughtful husband.

A charm bracelet that chronicles our life together.

But that wasn't all--he also gave me a trip to Utah to see our older five and

those GRAND BABIES!

It was a most Merry Christmas!

Called to Serve

2011-12-24T08:30:00.000-08:00

When each of our sons was born, I counted all of their fingers and toes and

kissed their sweet little cheeks and gazed with motherly love into their

angel faces. It seemed like they would be little for a long, long time.

But they just went ahead and grew up.

So far, the first three boys have taken their

turn heading off to college and then making the choice to serve a mission.

They came to this juncture in their lives each in his own way.

I've lived long enough and parented long enough to know that my

hopes and dreams for them may shape the way I lead them, guide them, and

walk beside them; but in the end, they have to have their own hopes and dreams.

When the decision to serve a mission is confirmed, I am grateful and happy for them.

I know it will be a pivotal, life-changing experience.

So, Seth recently received his call:

The Georgia, Atlanta Mission.

He reports February 15th, 2012

His impeccable table manners will serve him well.

He can certainly rock a suit.

Plus, he knows all about brotherly love.

He will definitely "Be Prepared"

Yesterday was a beautiful day...

and the weather was pretty nice too.

Yay For Shay!

2011-12-17T15:52:00.000-08:00

Our Miss Shayla

And her debonair brothers

got all dressed up and went to the church.

So that Shayla could receive her

Young Womanhood Recognition

after completing all of her Personal Progress.

She has personally progressed quite satisfactorily and

though her clever sign says she is done...

we all know she has just begun!

Newly Wed

2011-12-14T20:21:00.000-08:00

This boy...

...and this girl

Got married in the temple...

It brought the whole Gale bunch to the rainy Northwest

to support their brother Spencer

and his new bride, Adrianna

Baby Mason enjoyed some time with Pops

and Uncle Seth

Pre-wedding primping courtesy of the Gale sisters

Shane, Shayla, and Sam spiffed up for the occasion

Hanging out in our cozy hotel room

We checked on our cabin--

love that place.

Bonus Mason picture

Love that face.

So...Airport...We Meet Again

2011-12-12T13:40:00.000-08:00

The recent marriage of our son in a different state gave me the opportunity to return to my favorite place...the AIRPORT. Just can't get enough of that insanity. I booked flights for myself and our three youngest with frequent flyer miles. You know, that awesome rewards program where you have to use your mad skills to outwit the airline and actually get to where you need to go at the time you need to be there. They make it as challenging as possible by eliminating any days and times that normal people like to travel and by offering flights with 26 minute layovers with plane changes. Game On!

Our flight out left at 6:18 am. Our connection was in LA. We were flying on United. I checked in 24 hours ahead. I paid for the extra bag I was planning to check. I mapped out my plan and timed everything to include a little extra for possible glitches. What!? Glitches me? Never! I got up at 3:00 am and had the car loaded with kids and baggage by 4:00 am. We got to the airport without incident--not too many people on the road at four-o'clock in the morning.

I found long-term parking. San Diego Airport likes to keep it interesting by moving the parking around randomly--it's always a fun surprise to find that parking lot you used two weeks ago is now a fenced off construction site. We parked right next to the Commuter Terminal but we needed to get to Terminal 2 because we were on United. We hopped on a shuttle and made it there with time to spare. But, oh dontcha know--all LA flights leave from the COMMUTER TERMINAL? I guess it would have been useful to have that printed on the boarding pass I printed off 24 hours earlier or perhaps shared with the customer in some way--a sign perhaps? We waited by the red sign under the pedestrian bridge with several other surprised LA passengers. The Airport Loop shuttle eventually picked us up and gave us the Grand Tour of the whole awesome San Diego Airport Construction Fiasco and eventually dropped us back about 50 yards from where we had parked to begin with.

We hurried into the Commuter Terminal and I was relieved to see that I was next in line to drop off the bag I had already paid for online. There were three employees checking bags and each seemed to be expert in the art of taking as long as possible (make elderly people go back to the computer kiosk and start over with printing off their own boarding passes, and shout instructions at them as they try to figure it out). After standing there idly for 10 minutes while that went on, two of the employees disappeared. Just as I was stepping up for my turn, the lone employee called out the name of the guy who had just strolled in and shoved his bags under the stretchy rope things. Apparently he was quite chummy with our helpful, courteous United ticketing agent--they discussed his trip to Bermuda and the recent unrest in the airline industry as well as the various pros and cons of his favorite coffee shops. By now I was worried about making our flight but I knew I just needed to leave the bag and get through security. As he swaggered off, the employee looked at me with contempt and asked if I had checked in at the kiosk; had I not learned anything from those poor elderly people? I explained that I already had our boarding passes and also had paid for my bag. Oh, but you must STILL check in at the kiosk. Really? I was supposed to know that? I could have done that with all that idle time I had there standing in line. I went to check in at the kiosk as she called the next people forward. WHAT? They don't have to check in at the kiosk? I entered my confirmation number and got the message:
"It is too late to check in for this flight. You will need to choose a different itinerary for all four passengers."
I looked up and said in a panic "It says I'm too late to check in!"

Suddenly, our "Employee of the Year" had a sticker for my bag printed and placed on it and my bag was given to a baggage loader. The youngsters and I ran to security--which, in the little Commuter Terminal is one lady who wanted to know the ages of each child and how Sam got so tall and how Shayla liked having so many brothers. We tried to be quick but not pushy and as we got past her and removed all of our shoes, jackets, belts, etc., I saw that they were doing the individual screening. At the same time I heard, "Gale, party of four. Report to Gate Four. Your plane is boarding." I went first so I could run to the counter and explain that we were there and coming. As I was pointing out the youngsters who were being carefully x-rayed and patted down, I saw Shane get in line for the wrong flight. I yelled from across the terminal just as he handed his carry-on to the agent to be tagged. Everyone turned to look at the crazy mom and I motioned for my kids to follow me as I ran out onto the tarmac to catch our plane.

On the small puddle-jumper planes, you check your bags on the tarmac and they load them in the belly of the plane. All the baggage had already been loaded but they hadn't closed it yet, so luckily they got someone to come and pick ours up. We boarded the plane and took our seats with a sigh of relief. But we were not the last ones on the plane. Mr. Chatty Bermuda strolled on after we did, sipping his coffee and looking like he had all day.

We began to move and it looked like we were going to take off on time--but then the pilot informed us that due to noise laws, we had to wait until 6:30 to take off. Since we had a whole 26 minutes to catch our next flight to Portland, that 12 minute delay was no problem. Thank you so much for offering a 6:18 flight knowing full well it couldn't leave until 6:30.

We made it to LA and waited anxiously for our carry-on bags, that we really couldn't "carry on", to be unloaded and handed over to us. Then we made a mad dash for the gate--literally running at top speed--we made it just as they were loading the last of the passengers. Once again we slumped into our seats with a sigh of relief. We were grateful we made it, but sad we didn't have even a minute to grab something to eat. I should have packed a few snacks. They weren't able to serve even drinks because, YAY, we had to pass through some Santa Ana winds just to liven things up. We bounced and dropped like we were on a roller coaster--exciting for the kids, not for the mama who avoids all thrill rides-- I get plenty of excitement raising eight children thank you very much.

We made it to Portland and it didn't disappoint; we were welcomed back to our home territory by grey skies and moisture. We went down to baggage claim to pick up our one checked bag. And use the restroom after our eventful journey. Only to be greeted by policemen and some pretty serious looking dogs sniffing around the carousel...and blocking the way to the restrooms. We were lucky enough to get our bag and look for other restrooms before the full contingent of cops and dogs showed up a few minutes later--about the time Andy got there from Connecticut.

Let's just say "All's well that ends well"--and I might also add that I got up at 3:00 that morning to make sure I had time to wash my hair. So, on the bright side, my hair was clean.

Coming Soon...

2011-12-07T22:20:00.000-08:00

A Wedding Post

But, in the meantime, here's a little something:

Last Sunday we attended our old ward in Camas, Washington because we were there for Spencer and Adrianna's wedding. It's the ward we moved into fresh out of college when Scott (our oldest) was just nine months old. We lived there for 25 years and had our other seven children whilst in that ward.

It was nice to fill up "our" pew with most of the Gale gang.

It was Fast Sunday and thus Sacrament Meeting was open to testimonies.

Andy got up and began with:

"We moved into this ward 25 years ago--back then I had an afro and a six-pack.

Since then, both have disappeared."

Born First: Scott's Birth Story

2011-12-06T12:02:00.000-08:00

Scott was born in the days of our poverty. I was working full time at Bradshaw Auto Parts in Provo, Utah while Andy was finishing his two degrees at BYU. He was also working part time at the facilities plant on campus. We lived in the "Chicken Coop" and drove a beater Plymouth Volari station wagon. Each night before dinner, we would eat a bowl of Top Ramen to fill us up so that our sparse meal would suffice. We took the prophet Spencer W. Kimball at his word when he said not to delay our families for school. We decided that if we were ready to be married, we were ready for children. We were blessed far beyond any sacrifice we made. Each child brought blessings beyond measure along with many blessings that could be measured.

Due to our busy schedules of work and school, we were not able to squeeze in the childbirth classes that are the norm for first-time parents. We ended up taking a one evening crash course which was really a refresher course for those who were on their second or third. A nurse gave us a summary of what to look for as signs of labor and then showed us a film of a birth. It was the first time I had ever seen a baby being born. We went home with a stack of papers and brochures which I studied intently. There was no internet, no Learning Channel with "A Baby Story" running 24/7. I was really on my own.

Scott was due on November 18th. I had the date circled in highlighter on my calendar at work. As the day drew near, I became more and more uncomfortable sitting all day behind a desk. My ankles swelled and I waddled like a duck. The morning of the 16th, I awoke at 3:00 am with a contraction, then I discovered that I had lost the mucous plug. I recognized that as an important sign of imminent birth--so I decided to clean the house. My main craving during my pregnancy had been the smell of Comet cleanser. I would come home from work and scrub the kitchen sink and the bathroom sink and tub just so I could smell it. Crazy yes? So cleaning the house really wasn't necessary since I had been scrubbing for nine months. I didn't eat anything as per the instructions of the nurse in our childbirth class. By the time Andy was up getting ready for school, I was exhausted and hungry. When Andy got back from class late in the afternoon, I had called the doctor and he told me to come in and get checked. So we did. The contractions were coming about 20 minutes apart but the doctor was surprised to note that they were lasting for 5 minutes each. But I was only dilated to one. He told us we would most likely have a baby by morning and sent us home to wait it out. We took a detour to the Cougar Eat so Andy could get some dinner--I was still faithfully following the instructions: "Don't eat anything whilst in labor". By the time we got home, the contractions had gone up a notch and I had a hard time catching my breath during them.

At that time, Andy was playing on an intermural football team made up of accounting majors--really. And they had been winning. Around 6:00 he got a call from a team mate wondering if he was coming to the game that night. And here, Gentle Reader, is the stuff that legends are made of. Andy's question to me has gone down in history as the infamous What NOT to Say to Your Wife in Labor. The poor father-to-be who really wanted to go play football asked his wife:

"How long do you think you will be?"

I responded by bursting into tears.

After Andy decided he would miss the game for the sake of his distraught wife, we decided to call the hospital and see if I should come in yet--the nurse told me to come on in and get checked. The contractions were closer and harder and I hoped that I had made some progress. I had made progress...the nurse informed me that I was now at 1+. She told me I should go home and try to rest, clearly it was going to take some time.

There would be one more false alarm visit to the hospital that night. Around 9:00 the contractions kicked up another notch and we debated whether to go in--Andy called the hospital and the nurse encouraged us to get checked--better safe than sorry. So we made the trek to Utah Valley Hospital yet again. They hooked me to a monitor and left us for an hour and a half. The contractions were 5 minutes apart and were good and strong. I was anxious to get checked and see what progress had been made. At 10:30 the nurse checked me and I was dilated to........drum roll here.....2. TWO! I decided I was never going to have the baby and labor was going to go on forever. The sweet nurse found out I hadn't eaten anything for over 24 hours and brought me some grape juice. She also offered me a shot of Demerol which she said would help me rest. Within minutes of the shot I was shaking all over and puking my guts up--along with the grape juice. While this was going on, I could hear screaming coming from down the hall. It chilled me to the bone as I thought about what was ahead for me--and I figured how ever bad it was at the moment--it was going to get worse, so I had best just buck up and deal with it. Andy helped me back into my clothes and we drove back to the Chicken Coop.

Through all of this, Andy had also been writing a paper that was due the next morning. His professor had told the class that their only excuse for not turning it in on time would be death--their own death. So he was frantically trying to write in between the comings and goings and the checking and not progressing. I resigned myself to a long night of labor and told Andy to just work on his paper. I laid down on the bed and tried not to make too much noise so that he could concentrate. I was determined not to go in again until birth was imminent--I did NOT want to be sent home again. It seemed like every hour the contractions would kick up a notch. Andy came to bed about 1:30 am and told me to wake him up if I needed him. By then I was gripping the sides of the bed with every contraction and watching the clock with agony during the few minutes I had to catch my breath in between. Around 4:00 am things felt different. More of a pushing sensation. I woke Andy up and he was a little groggy as we prepared to make the all too familiar trek to the hospital. He was upset that I had waited so long and was afraid my water would break in the car. Because it would be a tragedy to have that happen in our ancient, beat-up Plymouth station wagon. I grabbed a towel to make him feel better.

By the time we got to the hospital, I couldn't walk. Andy grabbed a wheelchair and took me into the lobby where I waited while he parked the car. We got in the elevator and stopped on the maternity floor--as the doors opened, the nurse standing there saw my condition and said "I guess this is the place you want." Andy said "No, she's having a baby!" and closed the doors and went up another floor. He sheepishly realized his flustered mistake and got us back to the right floor. I was taken to a labor room and hoisted myself onto a bed. The nurse checked me and said "Seven!" I wanted to cry--I knew I had three more centimeters to go and figured it was going to be hours longer. The sweet nurse reassured me that birth was close and I would not be sent home again. I was so relieved. The doctor made his appearance about then and said "What a pioneer woman you are! You went through all the hard labor by yourself!" I gave him a glazed look.

From there I was wheeled into the delivery room. Everything was shiny and sterile. Andy was outfitted in sterile scrubs from head to toe--I could only see his eyes above the mask. The nurse told me to scoot over onto the bed. I said, "You've got to be kidding me." I couldn't move. So she and Andy shoved and dragged me over. There I began the final pushing. It was excruciating but I figured the harder I pushed, the sooner it would be over. The nurse kept trying to get me to put my feet in the stirrups and I kept using the stirrup posts for leverage. She finally gave up and let me do it my way. After about 20 minutes of pushing, the doctor made three quick cuts for an episiotomy and then one more. Scott made his appearance and the doctor startled me with a shout of "POSTERIOR!" Scott was born posterior presentation. The doctor informed me that he was surprised I pushed him out so fast considering that and the fact that he had a ginormous head. But, there he was! We waited to hear the gender and the doctor held him up to suction his mouth and nose and then announced: "It's a boy!" He laid him up on my belly and I reached down to touch him. The doctor yelled "Don't touch!" and startled me yet again. I didn't realize I was about to contaminate my own baby--nevermind that he just came out of my body. The doctor cut the cord and the nurse wiped him off, wrapped him in a little blanket and handed him to Andy. Andy pulled up a chair next to me and we admired the fruits of my labor. He was beautiful and perfect. His face was shiny and he had just enough hair to cover his head. It was dark but reflected the light. He looked around quietly and turned his head toward me when I said "Scott". I was deliriously happy. I hardly noticed all the stitching going on to piece me back together as I admired our son. I couldn't wait to get my hands on him.

I got to make another painful shift from the bed to a gurney and at last, my baby was placed in my arms and I snuggled him as I was wheeled to recovery. They took Scott to the nursery so he could be thoroughly inspected, weighed and measured. There were exclamations of surprise by all the nurses as well as the gaggle of student nurses who were hovering over me when Andy came to tell me the stats: 9 lbs. 2 oz. and 20 inches long. That's a pretty big boy.

Later, alone in my hospital room, I finally got the chance to hold him. According to my journal : "I will never forget the feeling of holding him just the two of us alone for the first time (Andy went home, got showered etc and went to class--he had a paper due after all! He was on cloud nine!) Such a beautiful little boy--tiny nose, ears, hands, feet and toes. I unwrapped him and looked at his little feet; there was even a teeny little toe nail on his smallest toe! He was asleep so I just held him and admired him. He has quite a lot of hair and the nurses had parted it on the side. He looks just like his daddy--he even has a little cleft in his little chin!"

We took Scott home to our little chicken coop house on a snowy night, two days later. We didn't have a car seat or a stroller or a high chair. We had borrowed a bassinet from our friends in the house in front of us. Most of the baby clothes we had were hand-me-downs. We didn't have a washer or dryer so we scraped money together when we could to go to the laundromat-- but in between, I washed out his little baby clothes in the kitchen sink and hung them by the wood stove to dry. We knew it was time to do the laundry when we got down to the pair of flowery pink pajamas that Andy hated to see on his son--and were only used as a last resort before laundry was done. We didn't have TV or any of the luxuries of the time. But somehow, Scott didn't seem to mind.

Giving Thanks

2011-11-24T08:46:00.000-08:00

I love Thanksgiving. I like that we have a little pause in the holiday insanity to remember our blessings. I liked these quotes about gratitude--so much so that I typed them up and printed them out and put them on the 'fridge:

"Can you see the holiness in those things you take for granted--a paved road or a washing machine? If you concentrate on finding what is good in every situation, you will discover that your life will suddenly be filled with gratitude, a feeling that nurtures the soul." Rabbi Harold Kushner

"Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos into order and confusion into clarity...It turns problems into gifts, failures into success, the unexpected into perfect timing, and mistakes into important events. Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today and creates a vision for tomorrow." Melodie Beattie

"The pilgrims made seven times more graves than huts. No Americans have been more impoverished than these who, nevertheless, set aside a day of thanksgiving."

I hope you have many blessings to count~Happy Thanksgiving!

A Birthday Blog of Random Proportions

2011-11-20T20:14:00.000-08:00

Our boy Scott turned 28 a few days ago.

Just yesterday he was doing this:

Reading to Baby Shanna

Reading himself to sleep.

Building amazing block/domino creations.

Playing basketball day and night in all kinds of weather.

Grinning happily on Christmas Morning because Santa

left a basketball hoop in our living room!

Celebrating his Birthday with every kid in his class as well as

all the kids in the neighborhood. Because Scott was

friends with everyone.

That's our boy.

Happy Birthday!

Sooo Yeah

2011-11-19T23:36:00.000-08:00

This is where I post a Birthday Blog for Scott--complete with adorable childhood pictures. Also should include or be followed soon by his birth story. I skimmed back through this year of birthdays and as for including birth stories for each child--I think I did four of the eight. Fifty percent. Pathetic. If I mothered at that level of effort I dread to think where we'd all be. Well, actually some days that is about as good as it gets.

Update

2011-11-08T10:53:00.000-08:00

On the Agenda:
1. Sell this house--which means keep it spotless at all times and be prepared for random showings at the most inopportune times.
2. Get Shayla's BYU application in--getting close on this one.
3. Seth's mission preparations--thanks to his sisters in Utah who are helping him with that.
4. Spencer's wedding in December--outfitting a family in purple and silver isn't as easy as it sounds. Also, it involves some precise travel arrangements to get the father of the groom from across the country and various siblings gathered in.
5. Relief Society craft activity
6. Relief Society Christmas Social
7. Ward Christmas Party (Relief Society is in charge--which means the food will be fantastic--invite your friends and neighbors)
8. Keep Shane's home education from derailing during all of the upheaval.
9. Get my camera fixed or find a cheap replacement--blogging just isn't the same without pictures.
10. Savor all of the joys and blessings that come from this crazy, beautiful time of life.

Birthday Girl!

2011-11-02T14:44:00.000-07:00

Big sister Bailey and little Norah climbing on Nana's suitcase--they are quite the dynamic duo.

Miss Bailey is 3 years old today

Happy Birthday to a sweet little granddaughter!

A Week to Remember

2011-10-23T20:11:00.000-07:00

A week ago we were in Texas (GRANDBABIES!!) so that Andy could ordain Scott a high priest. It was a sweet experience to see our son called as a counselor in the bishopric and sweeter still to see his father ordain him to the last priesthood office that can be done by his dad. I loved playing play-doh with Bailey and peek-a-boo with Norah. Pops was a big hit with little Norah--she thought he was a big teddy bear to jump on. It was over much too soon. Even as we were winging our way homeward, my mind was racing with the logistics of the events of the rest of the week.

Spencer came home from his mission on Wednesday. His plane was a small puddle jumper so we met him at the commuter airport. That meant that I got to watch him walk down the stairs from the plane door to the tarmac. I watched carefully as each person came off the plane and when my boy stepped out onto the stairs, I caught my breath as I realized how grown up he looked. I did my best not to cry but you all know me well enough to know that was a lost cause.

Today, Spencer gave his report to the high council and then his "homecoming" talk in church. It was a unique experience for him to speak to a congregation of people who are essentially strangers to him since we moved here right before he left on his mission. He did a beautiful job. I am his mom so you may suspect that I am bragging but I had some corroboration. The counselor in the stake presidency told me: "Your son is a spiritual giant." So there you go.

We topped off the week by having Seth ordained an elder by his father the last hour of church. He will submit his mission papers as soon as he gets back to Utah. Our missionaries are coming and going.

Tonight for FHE we watched home movies. It is so fun to see my big strapping boys watch themselves as little silly babies/toddlers/preschoolers. We laughed at their funny antics and their little squeaky voices that have now morphed into identical deep bass voices. I loved mothering them when they were little guys but I had no idea the joy that would come my way as they grew into men. My cup runneth over.

Returning With Honor

2011-10-14T08:40:00.000-07:00

In FIVE DAYS Elder Gale will be home. After serving for two years in the

California, Sacramento Hmong Mission.

FIVE DAYS!

It feels like Christmas.

We received his "Going Home" letter from his mission president--his words are a sweet

culminating affirmation of his faithful service:

"It is a great personal pleasure to write this letter upon the approaching release of Elder Gale from extraordinary service in our Mission. Elder Gale has been a truly wonderful missionary here. He has been diligent, faithful and very effective in every responsibility and assignment. As an indication of his dedication and testimony of this work I would like to quote from a talk he prepared for a zone conference. He said, "I know there is no other way to see success in God's work except to do it God's way. I bear my testimony that we are engaged in the most important work on the earth, spreading the true gospel of Jesus Christ and saving souls." These two sentences summarize well how Elder Gale has approached his missionary service to his Heavenly Father.

Elder Gale has a special love for the Hmong people and cares deeply for them and their welfare. Elder Gale has truly blessed the lives of many, many in the Hmong community. He will forever be remembered fondly and reverently by the Hmong people."

Like Christmas.

3 John 1: 4 I have no greater joy than to hear that my children walk in truth.

On the Day You Were Born

2011-10-09T11:32:00.000-07:00

Shanna Marie

Jan. 1987~3 months old

When I was five months along with Shanna, we moved from our tiny trailer house to our first "real" house. We settled in and Dad began the remodel that would go on for over a decade. Moving walls, tearing up carpet and sheetrock, adding on, jackhammering concrete. He started with the front yard. He decided it needed a waterfall and fountain that covered the whole front yard. So that is what he was doing on the Saturday morning when labor started. Shanna surprised us by coming into the world two days before her due date. It was General Conference weekend and it was in the days before you could get it on TV in our area. We were going to go to the stake center to watch it, but my labor changed our plans. Because of a mix-up in Siara's due date we thought she was three and a half weeks overdue--but it turned out she was about a week early. I didn't put it all together until several children later. But in the meantime we just assumed that Shanna would go way past the due date and we didn't really have things ready. Like getting my sister there from Utah to watch Scott and Siara for us. Or getting a crib. So when labor started, we called Rebecca and made flight arrangements for her to come that day. Then we went to Toys R Us and bought a crib. We brought the crib home and Andy put it together while I washed the bedding.

Shanna Oct. 4, 1986
The Hospital Pic

I should mention here that we didn't have an ultra sound so we didn't know what gender we were having. I decided it was a boy because I felt the same way I had with Scott and she was less hyper-active in utero than Siara had been. (I really did eventually learn to stop using my ridiculous logic to make leaps in assumption.) But we had only picked out a boys name: Christopher Joseph. If Shanna had been a boy, it would have changed the course of history in our family because the "S" thing would have stopped with her.

I should also mention here that about three weeks earlier, we had suffered through the ordeal of a head lice outbreak. It was running rampant through the schools and thus through our ward. Scott was not quite three years old and Siara was 19 months Since I was a newbie in the lice detection arena, I didn't catch it until several generations had established themselves in our hair. Yes, OUR hair. My lovely pregnancy-thickened hair was also infested. We were a snuggly family and I spent a lot of time with them on my lap or laying next to them reading so of course I got them too. Our doctor gave us the poisonous concoction Quell (now banned by the EPA--yikes!) and told me to use gloves while applying. There is nothing like a lice crisis during the last exhausting month of pregnancy.

Siara, Scott and baby Shanna with Aunt Rebecca

But back to our story. We picked my sister up from the airport at noon. By then the contractions were coming faster but still not hard at all. I showed Rebecca around the house and did several loads of laundry. Andy went out and did yard work. He told me to come get him when I was ready to go the hospital. Around 4:00 I decided it was getting close so I called Andy in and we took off. Vancouver Memorial had just added a new birthing wing and I was hoping to get one of the two much touted birthing rooms. The nurse put me in a labor room to check me and told me I was dialated to 5. I thought "Oh darn! This is going to take forever!" But there was a birthing room free so she had me wrap up in the sheet and walk down the hall to it. It didn't even really seem like I was in labor. (I am quoting from my journal here) Once I got into the birthing room things sped up. I heard the nurse talking to the doctor on the phone and she was trying to talk him into coming. I guess he thought I would be awhile. At 5:15 (I was watching the clock) I got all weepy and told Andy "This is taking so long!" Next thing I knew, I was in transition and pushing. The nurse kept saying "Don't push! Blow it away!" Trying to buy time for Dr. Williams. Finally we heard him in the hall. The nurse ran out and said "Get your buns in here! She's delivering!" I pushed as soon as the nurse turned her back and the doctor barely made it in time to catch her. She was born at 5:32. Seventeen minutes after I said it was taking too long. Andy said "A girl!" as soon as she was born. Dr. Williams laid her up on me and she was crying and kicking. She calmed down quickly and started sucking on her tongue. She looked around the room and up at me. Andy got to cut the cord, then everyone started guessing her weight. The doctor said "She's small, I'd say 7 lb 5 oz or so." The nurse agreed. Andy said "No, 8 lbs 2 oz." He went with them to see her weighed and measured and when the nurse came back she said "Your husband had it almost right on the nose--she's 8 lbs 4 oz.!"

Shanna's beautiful curls: Age 18 months

Once we were settled into a room, Andy's parents brought my sister and Scott and Siara in to see the new baby. They each held her and Scott had a million questions: "Mom, your tummy went away--did she come out of there? Are you going to put her back in when you come home? Her name is Joseph huh!"

Shanna Age 2

I stayed in the hospital until Monday morning. The nurses oohed and awwwed over Shanna's beautiful curls and she charmed everyone by sleeping through the night the first night--I kept her in the room with me which was almost unheard of back then. They kept asking me if they could take her for me so I could rest. But I wanted her to myself while I had the chance. She was calm from the start and kept that disposition clear up until high school drama kicked in. She also kept those beautiful curls--though she cursed them as often as I pointed out how lucky she was to have them.

Now that sweet baby with the bouncy curls is a mama herself.

And her calm disposition is getting her through the sleepless nights.

Happy Birthday Nunny!

Ummm

2011-10-08T19:08:00.000-07:00

Remember how I said I was going to do birth stories for each child this year on their birthdays? Remember how my life took a turn for the crazy (what else is new?)? I seem to get a call from a real estate agent wanting to show our house only at the worst possible times. The dog seems to find something disgusting to drag into the house right as I get it all clean and fresh for the showing. The youngsters seem to need a ride somewhere right when I think I have a minute to catch my breath. My camera seemed to stop working right when I had some fun field trips to record. My husband seems to be on the other side of the country.

But I am undaunted.

Stay tuned for Shanna's day of birth story and some cute pictures of her little baby self.

(Pending Shayla's assistance in the matter of getting my scanner to work on my laptop)

Of Good Report

2011-10-03T07:52:00.000-07:00

I'm still reviewing and re-listening to General Conference. What a feast. I feel so blessed to have Apostles and Prophets and leaders who give inspired messages. I will be waiting anxiously for the November Ensign so I can hold the word in my hand and read and highlight to my heart's content. Of course there is always the "doing" of the word and not just hearing (or reading) and then the "becoming"--actually making it a part of who I am. Always a work in progress.

In the meantime, did you watch the 5000 Days Project that was on BYU TV after Conference? Wow.
You can see it here. It is worth the couple of bucks to stream it. We recorded it so if you are in our neck of the woods come on over and watch it.

Scholarly Pursuits...

2011-09-28T06:26:00.000-07:00

...or Why I Home School, Reason #238.
We are studying the Civil War this year here at The Gale Academy of Classical Education. We each chose an aspect of the war with the assignment to prepare a report and give a presentation on the chosen subject. Shane's topic was the weapons of the war (naturally). He likes to do the barest minimum and continually tries my soul by not being a cheerful and dedicated scholar. But I am relentless in my efforts to inspire him to greater heights of educational endeavor (I have taken away all video games and anything like unto it) in hopes of helping him attain his full potential.

Yesterday was spent in an ongoing debate with Shane trying to negotiate his way into a lazy and sloppy presentation and a one paragraph report. He was wearying me with his whining but I stuck to my guns (a little weaponry reference there hahaha). In the end, I quietly reminded him that he needed to do his best and left him to decide what that was.

This morning, I woke up and walked down the hall. Taped on the wall there where I couldn't miss it was Shane's presentation. And laid out nicely in front of it was his report. He had used one of our emergency flashlights to spotlight his work. Attached were two sticky notes:

"Sorry about the typos" and

"I told you I'm capable of applying myself"

But the best part was the title page of his report:

Weapons of the Civil War

A fantastical report of the horrible, bloody and devastating weaponry of the Civil War by

the fantastically brilliant and cultured author, Shane Gale: the hero of the civilized world

and savior of the arts and culture.

In this touching and beautifully written report, you'll find the mysteries of the

Civil War have been unlocked in a wonderful cultured masterpiece.

Sam I Am

2011-09-18T23:19:00.000-07:00

They met at the Village Store.

The young villagers were ready to head

to the mountains.

There they would learn the ways of men.

Mountain Men.

Our own potential Mountain Man: 2nd from the left.
Holding his plate of pizza and gazing off into the horizon.

Conversation in the Car

2011-09-17T13:04:00.000-07:00

Driving down Main Street with Shane, he noticed a big "FOR LEASE" sign on the front of an old building.

Shane: We should buy that and put a store in it.

Me: What kind of store?

Shane: The Awesome Store!

Me: Really, what would you sell at the Awesome Store?

Shane: Guns, knives and candy.

Me: I think you are missing something...

Shane: Oh yeah! Kittens! And we would tie a ribbon on the kitten and tie a knife to it. Orrrr... we could make up gift baskets for holidays: A kitten, a couple of knives, a gun and some candy. It would look so cute with the kitten playing with the candy. People wouldn't be able to resist!

News From the Field

2011-09-12T23:30:00.000-07:00

We hadn't heard from our missionary for a few weeks--and I had to assume he was anxiously engaged in the work-- so not too much Mom-worrying here. But it was nice to get his email today and find out that he is fine and yes, working hard.

Here is an excerpt from his email today:

So we had an amazing baptism yesterday but you kind of missed out on the whole background story. There names are Qhua Lauj (Khoua Lo) and Neeb Thoj (Neng Thao). They are the ones that I wrote an email to Elder Trythall of the 70 a couple weeks ago about. So after he got the email he spoke with President Lewis and the answer was no, they couldn't be baptized. I spoke with President Lewis for a while about it as he tried to explain Elder Trythall's reasons and I tried to explain why there really wasn't any other option but to baptize them here. I don't think I've been so upset my whole mission, to work so hard to baptize, have an amazingly elect family that wants to be baptized, but have a general authority say they couldn't just seemed so wrong. Elder Trythall offered to meet with Elder Thao and I so that Saturday we set an appointment to go see him. I don't think I've ever prayed so long and hard as I did the couple of days leading up to the meeting. It's pretty intimidating argueing a case as 2 missionaries against your mission president and a member of the 70. The meeting was mostly him talking and trying to convince us that these boundaries are super important, and I pretty much got his point but he hardly even let us speak. The most upsetting part is that he kept trying to say that if they had enough faith they would go anywhere. Khoua and Neng are being completely disowned from their families for this, Khoua's older brother told him, "If you get baptized we're no longer brothers." They have tons of faith, they just don't speak English! But after an hour he finally admitted that with Neng not speaking any English that it would be ridiculous to make them go to an English ward when there's a Hmong ward so close. So in the end he gave us permission to baptize them and said that eventually they would need to move within mission boundaries but they could have at least until their lease ran out, that they weren't under any pressure to do it now. So we had the baptism yesterday and it was great. Nyiaj Looj Lauj, Khoua's uncle baptized him and Elder Thao baptized Neng, who is actually his aunt (by Hmong standards anyway, his great grandpa is her granpa or something like that). As soon as Qhua came up out of the water he started crying and he cryed again during the confirmation (we had a water side confirmation). It was an incredible baptism, very spiritual and very amazing. We still have 2 more people working towards baptismal dates at the end of the month and a few more that we're hoping to firm up for dates in October, hopefully before the 19th :)

So the work is still going fantastic. Oh, I forgot to mention transfers, I'm still in North Sac with Elder Thao but I'm stuck being a district leader. It may be my last transer but I don't plan on slowing down with the baptisms, I'm deffinitely going to make this last transfer count. We have a lot of good people and the ward has never been more behind us. Bishop Lo is super impressed with us for going all the way up to a general authority to in his words, "fight for the Hmong Ward." He even made a big deal out of it in Ward Council yesterday. So while all my emails about school and coming home seem trunky I promise I'm still 100% in the work. I love you all and will try to email again next week.

Love,

Elder Gale

Stuff We Did This Summer

2011-09-12T08:23:00.000-07:00

Some quilting for sweet grandbabies:

Some precious time with this sweet grandbaby:

And his sweet Mama:

Some dog wrestling:

And dog snuggling...

Some changes are coming for the Gale Family:

Some changes that involve packing.

Lots of packing.

Again.

The hardest part of packing without a known move date?

Packing up the books.

I want to have them all at my disposal.

Ready and waiting should the need arise

to answer a question or satisfy a curiosity.

So I have done it slowly and reluctantly.

Keeping most of our favorite go-to books out

til the last minute.

Our destination?

Connecticut--you know--the other side of the country.

Then we watched this...

and it inspired this purchase:

Which inspired more of this

around the house (and in us):

Which led to busting out the wheat grinder:

And a real change for the better in healthy eating.

At least for me--the youngsters are reluctant converts.

But I'm getting better at sneaking the good stuff in. Shhhh.

As summer was winding down,

we set up the classroom for a new school year:

And then I decided it was time for Fall.

82 degrees?

Whatever.

A change in seasons will be something to look forward to.

Happy Birthday to Our Missionary!

2011-08-15T15:57:00.000-07:00

Elder Gale: Front Row Far Right

Our Elder Gale is coming down the home stretch! We received the travel itinerary for his trip from the mission field to home. It will be a long, arduous journey from Sacramento to San Diego but after two years of sacrifice--what's a few more hours? He actually has a layover and plane change in Los Angeles--just to break it up a little.

In the meantime, our missionary is celebrating his birthday today! It is also his p-day so we got an email. He is celebrating his 21st birthday a little differently than the typical 21 year old guy. As he said,

"The work is the most important thing so that is what I will be doing."

Service Exceeding My Expectations

2011-08-10T09:57:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I had my presidency here for our weekly meeting. We had gathered in the living room and were just getting ready for the thought and prayer when my doorbell rang. I wasn't expecting anyone else so I was surprised to see an appliance repairman at my door.

Just the day before our microwave had stopped microwaving. I had asked Andy if he wanted to take a look at it--he's a pretty handy guy when it comes to home maintenance and repairs--but he didn't have time and told me to just call a repairman. I hadn't had a chance to call anyone yet, so when I saw the repairman on my doorstep I thought Andy must have called.

The appliance repair company: House Calls, was one we had used before--very nice family owned company and they do great work. He was even nice enough to show me how to fix our dishwasher instead of charging me a hefty fee to do something simple. So, I led him to the microwave and he set to work. The Relief Society ladies and I adjourned to the theater room so we could have our meeting without including the repairman in our business.

I told my presidency I had no idea a repairman was coming that morning and I was surprised Andy hadn't called to let me know he had made the arrangements. At one point the repairman asked for our help to get the microwave out of its abnormally high niche (our house was built by a building contractor for his own family--he happens to be very tall and loves to cook). Then he came in again to explain the problem and give me the estimate. I explained to him when he first came in that we were overseeing our church's charitable organization. So when he told me there were two possible problems: one very expensive with a part that was probably not possible to get, and one fairly cheap and he had the part in his truck--he told me, "When you go back to your meeting, say a prayer that it's the cheaper part!"

Soon after that I heard him on the phone and he came to ask me:

"What is your address here?" I told him our address.
Then he said:

"Well, it turns out that it was your neighbor who called--she has a broken dryer. She called the office

asking where I was. They called and asked me why I wasn't at (my neighbors) and I said 'I'm standing in her kitchen right now!' and they said,
'NO you're not!'"

For some reason the office had put my neighbor's name on the work order but my address.

We all had a good laugh and he finished up.
(It was the cheaper part!)

As he was leaving he said:

"Well, if you need any other repairs, don't bother calling.
I'll just show up!"

Life Lately

2011-08-05T09:48:00.000-07:00

We celebrated Shayla's Seventeenth

Sam enjoyed the Super Activity on Catalina Island

Always some silly cat/dog entertainment

Lots of Beach Time--

This is Torrey Pines

Our Favorite:

If you leave at 6:30 am you pretty much get the beach to yourself!

Sam's Buddy Since Babyhood: Ollie, came for a visit:

They had fun at the beach. I have video of them surfing

but I haven't been able to get it to post here.

(Note to Shayla: HELP!)

We went to Sea World--and saw a

KANGAROO.

What do kangaroos have to do with the Sea?

I really don't know.

Shane and I went to the dolphin show at Sea World.

This is what I saw:

The lovely, LARGE hat of the woman

in front of me:

Later, I talked all three boys into going to the

Rock 'n Roll Shamu Show:

No hats blocked my view this time:

We said good-bye to Ollie:

Had some pretty intense chess battles:

Shane earned FIVE yes FIVE merit badges

Plus his Star Scout advancement:

We went to the beach again:

Shayla went with us as well as Sam's other friend, Dakota.

Actually Dakota was with us the last time we went but

he's not in the pictures because he got jabbed in the

heel by a stingray and was getting first aid for it at the

ranger station.

Shane, Sam, Dakota, Shayla

For my guy.

That Funny Thing I Said That One Time

2011-08-03T09:03:00.000-07:00

My name is JoAnna and I am an Otter Popaholic. I have to confess that it has been years since I had a popsicle. Not a fan. In fact, I used to make homemade popsicles for my kids and I made them out of plain old water. In reality, they were just icicles on a stick. You moms with young children, feel free to use this great idea. Kids love them, they cool them off without the sugar buzz and the bonus: NOT MESSY. It only works until they are old enough to realize that their friends are getting something more colorful. And flavorful.

So, the last time I had an Otter Pop craving phase was when I was pregnant (no, this is not an announcement) with Spencer. He was due in mid August. We had no air conditioning and every day the weatherman informed us that it would be another record breaking high. The temperature just kept climbing and my poor pregnant self was miserable. By then my kids were on to my ice "popsicles" and I had started buying Otter Pops for them. They were cheap but you pay the price in sticky scissors and little plastic Otter Pop sleeves scattered around the house and yard. I also let them beat the heat with a little kiddy pool out on the patio. One day, as I was handing out Otter Pops and watching them frolic in the wading pool, I had an epiphany: if these things helped the youngsters stay cool--why not the pregnant mama? So I had myself an Otter Pop. And then another. And another. Then I decided to join the children in the wading pool. They didn't really appreciate the beached whale in the middle of their fun but it was a matter of survival.

Here in southern California it's warm year-round but it gets especially warm where we are and it has been a pretty hot summer. The youngsters noticed that I was eating Otter Pops and expressed surprise. It had been 21 years since I had had one, so not in their lifetime. They were especially surprised to see me piling three Costco-sized boxes of them into the pantry. The label on the box says that they are frozen "juice" so I have convinced myself that they are a healthy snack. I don't want to know what's really in them. I think the craving is my body's way of keeping me hydrated in this dry desert climate so I'm thinking it is a matter of survival.

Well, this whole Otter Pop craze reminded Shayla of a little incident a few years back. I was serving in the stake Young Women's presidency up in Washington. It was our turn to supervise the stake youth dance and it was my ward's turn to supply the refreshments. My good friend Robyn was the ward YW president and she had brought a truckload of Otter Pops to cool off the youth and provide a sweet treat. The only glitch was getting them all to freeze. The first couple of rounds were consumed and we were piling them into the freezer as fast as they ate them. Soon we had a mob waiting outside of the church kitchen hoping for an Otter Pop. I was helping Robyn and so I checked on the ones we had laid out in single layers hoping they would freeze faster.

"How are they doing?" Robyn asked me.

"Many are COLD but few are FROZEN,"

I replied, getting a giggle and then a hearty laugh out of my friend.

(You have to be familiar with the scripture Matthew 20:16: "Many are called, but few are chosen." to really appreciate my attempt at humor.)

Mmmm the Otter Pops are calling me. Sir Isaac Lime or Louie-Bloo Raspberry?
Shayla claims there is no such fruit as a "Bloo Raspberry" but I choose to believe otherwise.

Seventeen

2011-07-15T10:50:00.000-07:00

Our little Shayla is growing up. Yesterday she turned seventeen.

Wow! How did that happen?!

I know I implied in my last post that teenagers are a challenge,

but I have to say Shayla is an exception to all the cliches.

She has pretty much stuck to the straight and narrow

and I can sleep at night because she has all her

teenage fun during daylight hours and likes

to get to bed at a reasonable time.

And her idea of teenage fun is fixing computers and

creating interesting electrical gizmos as well

as drawing and painting.

She is happy to help anyone who needs it with

any technology conundrum. And she does so

without any condescending remarks. At least out loud.

She took a few classes at the high school this past year and

one of the things that surprised her was how so many girls

hate their moms and complain often and loudly about them.

She said to me "I told them I like my Mom, and they seem so surprised."

She has a good heart and a compassionate spirit.

Another year and she will be off to college and before we know it

she will be getting on with life.

But she promised me she would be my on-call Geek Squad

so I will have plenty of excuses to call her.

Happy Birthday Shay!

The End of an Era

2011-07-07T23:59:00.000-07:00

Today is Shane's birthday. As I mentioned previously, he is at Scout Camp--and he is not too happy about that. But somehow he will survive and we will celebrate when he gets home.

Shane turns 13. So this marks a milestone for our family as the last of the eight young 'uns becomes a teenager. No more "little kids" in the Gale Family. Luckily, we have grandchildren coming along to fill the void but it is still a big change for us.

A few days before Shane was born, we celebrated the Fourth of July with the neighbors in our cul de sac (that was back when we lived in the house behind the church--as it is affectionately known). I waddled out to see the fireworks and did my best to keep a very excited Sam and Shayla from bodily harm with so many rambunctious youngsters flailing around sparklers and the like. Shane was due on the 14th which happens to be Shayla's birthday and I remember hoping he would come sooner. Partly because I was a bit weary of pregnancy after spending a total of 6 years in that condition--and also so that they wouldn't have to share a birthday. Shayla was already indignant that she was getting another brother, I didn't want to compound her resentment by having her little brother usurp her birthday.

Luckily, he was very accommodating and I started into labor 2 days later. I had early stage contractions off and on during the day. Nothing tough but steady and constant. I hadn't packed a bag yet so I thought I should get that done. I also kept busy all day doing laundry and cleaning house. We had family scripture and prayer and tucked the little ones into bed. Later, the older kids were gathered in our room wondering if I was really in labor. I told them I was sure it was the real deal but the contractions weren't really as strong as I thought they should be. I didn't want to go in too soon because I wanted to walk through labor and not be tied to a monitor too early. We watched the news and Jay Leno. By 12:30 the contractions were five minutes apart and felt stronger. Andy got ready to go and I threw in one more load of laundry. When we got to the hospital, I was dilated to six--I was glad to know it was for real. We walked around for 30 minutes and the contractions got harder and closer. Andy had a sore knee (this according to my journal--I don't remember the injury--it was a few years later that the whole thing gave out so maybe this was some foreshadowing) and he didn't want to walk anymore. So we went back to the room and he dozed off on the couch while I paced back and forth another half hour or so. At 2:30 am I knew transition was beginning so I woke up the hubs and sat on the bed.

Shane was posterior presentation so the last bit of labor was very painful. It didn't feel like the contractions were making progress--just putting a lot of pressure on my back. It was hard to relax between contractions because my back hurt so bad. It brought back memories of my first labor--Scott was the only other posterior baby. I remember telling the doctor to just cut a hole in my back and get the baby out that way. That got some laughs but I wasn't really kidding. My water broke right before the last few pushes and there was meconium in the water. The doctor wanted me to back off after his head was delivered to allow for some suctioning but I really couldn't finesse the pushing and he came out all at once. He was born at 3:08 am. She suctioned him quickly and he was fine. He cried once and quickly calmed down. Andy cut the cord and the Dr. laid Shane on my chest. He had so much hair it flowed around his head and it was light like Scott's. He looked small to me and I thought his head looked smaller than Sam's so I was surprised when they told me he was 8 lbs. 11 oz.--exactly the same weight as Sam. He was 20" long.

The doctor and nurses told me his face was bruised because of the posterior birth. I looked over him carefully and I just couldn't see it. To me he was precious and perfect. I kept him in the room with me after he was born and after the crowd dispersed, I nursed him and enjoyed some bonding time with him. He looked up at me and smiled and gave a little giggle. That gave me a glimpse of his adorable dimples. A few weeks later when his hospital pictures came in the mail (kids--that was in the days before digital cameras--we actually had to wait for pictures to get developed. Archaic I know!) I was surprised to see that his face was bruised pretty badly--he looked like a little prizefighter! I couldn't believe I hadn't seen it before; and the bruises must have healed quickly because there aren't any in pictures a few days later.

Andy came to pick us up around noon and we bundled up our little bundle of joy and took him home to meet his siblings. He was welcomed enthusiastically and rambunctiously by his seven brothers and sisters and he settled in quickly to our lively household. He was born on a Tuesday and on Thursday there was a Mother/Daughter Relief Society activity. Siara and Shanna had been looking forward to it for weeks because it involved making jewelry. I recovered a little faster with each child (amazing how much better you feel when you don't have to deal with stitches!) so I pulled it together and took Shane and the girls to the church for the evening. A few people gave me a hard time for being out so soon and I said "Hey, I was at church last Sunday and I felt A LOT more miserable than I do now!" Siara and Shanna had a good time making cute bracelets and necklaces with their friends and I enjoyed visiting with friends.

Andy was the Bishop of our ward (he had been sustained as Bishop two years prior-- the day Sam was blessed--that was quite a day!) and President of a rapidly growing company. He had to travel a great deal and we were at full capacity with the various ages and stages of our family. Shane came into the middle of all that and carved out his own special niche in the family. He loved trying to keep up with the brothers and sister just ahead of him and he basked in the attention he got from the older kids and their friends.

On July 8, 1998 I wrote in my journal:
"Pregnancy and childbirth are painful, difficult and a true test of endurance. The baby that is the result of the pain and sacrifice make it worth it. That awful pain always turns to exquisite joy when that baby is laid up on my chest--and that is how I have felt with every one of my babies."

That could also be a good description of raising teenagers: It is painful, difficult and a true test of endurance. But the adult that is a result of the pain and sacrifice make it worth it.

So Shane, here we go.

Lonesome Dog

2011-07-07T07:48:00.000-07:00

I couldn't find Gunner today.

I called and called for him but I

didn't hear the familiar jingle of his collar and tags--
usually he comes a runnin' as soon as I call him.

A few steps down the hall brought me to

Shane's room.

And a forlorn-looking dog wondering what happened to his boy.

The Truthist

2011-07-06T06:57:00.000-07:00

Shane checking over his check-list for Scout Camp...

with Gunner's help

I got a phone call from Shane the first evening of Scout Camp.

He had borrowed his friend's cell phone.

He told me he was sick and had thrown up twice.

Thinking over his negative take on the whole Scout Camp thing,

I took a moment to mull over whether he was really sick or if he had convinced himself he was sick

to get out of it.

A few minutes later, I received a text from his Scout Master:

"We are taking Shane to the camp med center. Will keep you posted."

I did my best to keep my mom-panic to a minimum while I waited.

About an hour later the Scoutmaster called.

Shane was dehydrated.

It had gotten up to 103 and in spite of the leaders' efforts to keep the boys drinking,

the wind and their high energy plus the heat had combined to

dry Shane out to the point of illness. He apologized over and over for not

making them drink more. I was just glad to know it was something easily remedied.

He told me the EMT was keeping Shane there overnight and that when he

left, Shane was full of Gatorade and sleeping soundly in the air-conditioned Med. Center.

So Shane's dire predictions came to pass: It really was hotter this year.

I'm guessing he will enjoy telling us "I told you so."

I will try not to ruin his moment with the cheerful thought that he got to drink Gatorade and sleep in air-conditioned comfort.

Happy Trails

2011-07-05T10:21:00.000-07:00

Shane is spending the week at Scout Camp. He is the last of our five Boy Scouts so I have some experience getting them prepped for the week of mayhem, muck and merriment that is Scout Camp. But, as with all things child rearing--each one is unique and Shane has been especially good at keeping me from resting on my laurels or skating too easily down the homestretch.

Some time back we had this exchange:
Me: You seem to be kind of a "Glass half empty" sort of person.
Shane: What do you mean?
Me: You are more of a pessimist than an optimist.
Shane: I'm not a pessimist, I am a TRUTHIST!

That gives you the general outlook on life that colors Shane's world. There is no "glossing over", no "looking on the bright side", no "the sun will come out tomorrow" for him. It's just cold, hard reality. And to add to his misery, he has a Pollyanna for a mother. So much so in fact, I am about to tell you the bright side of being a pessimist er...I mean truthist.

As Shane was packing for his week at camp, he had his list in hand and I helped him locate the various items he needed. Each item was a reminder to Shane of just how awful the week was going to be.
Sunscreen: "It's going to be soooo hot! I just about passed out last year from the heat and it will probably be hotter this year."
Soap: "It's so dusty there--the dirt pretty much fills up my lungs and chokes me."
Swimsuit: "The lake is disgusting and it's so cold. I wanted to get the Swimming Merit Badge but the schedule is so dumb I won't be able to do it."
Scout Book: "The counselors there all smoke--some example they are!" (in their defense--only one smoked last year and he had to leave the area--he just came back smelling of smoke)
Scout Pants: "Scout pants are lame and make you look like a dweeb. I am not taking my scout pants."

And on and on it went. I am accustomed to our own Eeyore and his constant "Worst Case Scenario" commentary so I just ignore it and keep him moving forward. That evening as we sat down for Family Council, we were discussing the upcoming week. I had the family calendar in hand and Shane pointed out:

"I have to get up at 4:00 am! There is no reason for us to leave that early!"

"Scout Camp starts on the 4th of July--I am going to miss all the fun stuff for the 4th!

Are you guys going to go see the fireworks without me?"

Then it was "My birthday is during Scout Camp AGAIN! That is the worst!

They baked me a cake last year but it was disgusting."

He concluded with:

"Just put a frowny face for me for the next seven days!"

Sam pointed out that he would be back in six days and then Shane reminded us

"I HAVE TO GIVE A TALK IN CHURCH WHEN I GET BACK!"

So, seven frowns for Shane.

But, on the bright side--when you always expect the worst, you aren't surprised when things go bad.

And when things go better than you expected?

Well, when you are Shane, they ALWAYS go better than

you expected.

Blessed

2011-07-02T20:21:00.000-07:00

Mason wore the outfit his Daddy was blessed in.

Mother and Child

Mason, freshly blessed with Mom and Dad.

The Airport Is Not My Friend

2011-06-30T23:41:00.000-07:00

I had another encounter with my nemesis: the Airport. Today I had to pick up Andy after his trip to Costa Rica where he was doing some kind of businessy business stuff. As soon as I pulled up to Terminal 2 I was scolded by security. "No Waiting!! You will have to move on!" But wait! The very gracious Ace Valet Parking service had allowed me to keep the rental car they provided until I had to return to pick up my hubby. They advised me to drive up to the Valet Parking area in Terminal 2 and leave the rental car. Then, they would bring my husband's long-lost car (well, technically it was a long-lost key--but also technically, we hadn't seen the car for about a week) around to the curb so my husband and I could drive off into the sunset--as previously planned. But you know about me and my so-called plans.

So I did move--I moved on to the Valet Parking area and pulled up to the curb. I called the supervisor (he gave me his cell number!) to let him know I had arrived. Whereupon he called for the car to be brought around--and soon it was parked at the curb as well. Such prompt, courteous service! I was feeling pretty good about the way things were going. I made small talk with the boy on duty at the valet stand. He's from Tennessee and his girlfriend is from Colorado. He is going on vacation tomorrow for nine days...I began to realize that I was learning WAY too much about this young man's life story and his plans for his upcoming holiday. Andy's plane should have landed by then. The time for Andy's flight to arrive had come and gone with no sign of him.

I went inside to check the Arrivals and Departures board and see if there was a delay. I had plenty of leeway coming and going as I pleased due to the fact that our car was smugly parked between the little stretchy dividers of Valet Parking. This was small comfort when I saw that what I thought was his flight, was on time and that the passengers from that plane were crowded around baggage claim gathering their baggage even as I was looking at the board. Soon they all dispersed and I saw that it was 45 minutes past Andy's landing time. Still no sign of Andy--I began to worry.

To add to the excitement, I had a

"Relief Society Activity Quilting and Provident Living Get-together With Refreshments and Bring Your Friends Meeting"

(Formerly known as Enrichment)

looming up this evening for which I had promised to bring homemade Blackberry Cobbler AND for which I had promised my nervous non-quiliting Humanitarian Leader that I would be there early to set up the quilt.

I had texted Andy of my location and the plan was for him to call me as soon as he arrived. Yet, I heard nothing from him. I checked with the girl at the American Airlines counter to see if he had been on the flight. No, he had not been on the flight. My worry escalated pretty quickly to heightened concern. To add to this, I had swirling around in my head the story of Andy's briefcase being stolen the night before. His passport, his laptop, a credit card and other valuables were lost in the robbery. It was now an hour since he should have been there at the Valet Stand ready to drive off into the sunset. Still no hubby. This is where my cool was lost. I began to feel a little hint of panic. If he could be robbed, maybe something worse happened. So I just went ahead and made the leap to:

KIDNAPPED.

I decided I had better get moving on his rescue. I had been texting Shanna so I asked her to look up his company's phone number. Luckily, I managed to talk myself into being rational until I knew for sure what had happened. As I was talking to his colleague on the phone, Andy beeped in. He had not been kidnapped. His plane was delayed because of a storm. And he wasn't on the flight I thought he was. So, that was why he wasn't on the passenger list. We were soon reunited at the Ace Parking Valet stand

and we drove off into the sunset.

1 1/2 hours behind schedule.

But, on the bright side...

my hair was clean.

I Should Have Washed My Hair

2011-06-28T14:50:00.000-07:00

Well, all good things must come to an end and I had to tear myself away from my adorable grandson and get back to reality. I flew home yesterday. The trip itself was rather uneventful--I had to change planes in Oakland and there was a bit of a layover --but I love me some good People Watching and the airport never disappoints so it wasn't a total waste of time.

So, I got into San Diego and my thoughtful husband had left his car for me at Valet Parking. He flew to Utah on Friday for little Mason's blessing and went from there off on a business trip. Rather than leave the car in long-term where I would have to search for it, he kindly left it at Valet Parking so I could get off the plane, have the car brought around to the curb for me and head off into the sunset. That was the plan anyway. But you know about the best laid plans and me.

I dragged my two weeks worth of rumpled clothing and BYU paraphernalia crammed into a large suitcase and a huge rolling duffle out to the valet parking area. There I queued up with all of the hoity toity elite of San Diego who ONLY use Valet Parking. I gave each of them a job description: "Hollywood Mogul", "Trophy Wife of Hollywood Mogul", "Socialite Maven", "Multi-billionaire Industrialist", "Indian Chief" (really, he had the braids and everything--you know those casinos are big money-makers!) and watched as each of them climbed into their Mercedes and Bentleys and Dodge Ram Pick-ups. When I got up to the counter, the ticket taker asked me if I had called ahead to have my car brought around. I had to confess to my ignorance of the procedures and reveal my hick status. I realized by then that my hasty decision to take a speed shower and skip the hair-washing that morning also contributed "greasy hair" to my status. They seemed a little skeptical as to my actually having a car in Valet Parking. Perhaps I was a deluded wannabe who actually had a 1989 Dodge Dart out there in the wilderness of long-term parking. Or maybe I was a bag lady wandering the airport looking for carts to return. I wasn't getting the polite, quick service that everyone else seemed to enjoy. I had the ticket Andy had given me and they deigned to call for me to get the car brought over. So I waited humbly off to the side as many more well-dressed people rolled away in their fancy cars. I kept looking down the road for Andy's car to appear. I had to remind myself what kind of car he drove (I am known to openly insult him when we are out together by heading for the closest car that is similar in color to his--I don't really know one car from the other. The names I gave of cars for this post are just obvious ones that I have overheard my kids admire or insult). I started to worry that it might roll up and I wouldn't recognize it. Then I remembered that he has BYU license plates! Oh happy day--I wouldn't make a fool of myself by walking up to the wrong car!

After a long, hopeful wait, I realized that many people who got there way after me were long gone. Then I noticed that there was some frantic calling going on over at the Valet stand. I walked over a little closer and gathered that they had lost someone's car key. Of course it was my car key. Suddenly I began to get the royalty treatment. "Mrs. Gale, would you like some water?" "Mrs. Gale, we are doing our best to get your car over here." "Mrs. Gale, we are soo sorry. It looks like we lost the key to your car." "Mrs. Gale, we will be crediting your card for the cost of parking and tip that you just paid." "Mrs. Gale, we will get you home somehow."

Then some frantic problem-solving ensued. By now an hour had passed and my plans of getting my greasy-haired self home quickly and with minimal personal interaction slipped away. The first thought was to get me a taxi--until they found out how far out in the wilderness I actually live. Then the "Customer Service" Head Honcho was going to drive me home (awkward, long drive home with a stranger--no thank you). Luckily that fell through. At last, they concluded that a rental car was the way to go. They brought up the Ace Valet Parking company van to whisk me off to the car rental place. Only I thought it was the "Rental Car" I was to drive home. I tried to get in on the driver's side and was politely directed to the passenger side. I was a little relieved as the van was trashed and the seats were torn up. Beggars can't be choosers but it wasn't my fault I was a beggar.

So, to make a long story just a little longer, I was soon outfitted with a rental car and on my way home.

2 1/2 hours after I landed.

The moral of this story is: Don't try to save time and effort at the airport--they will find a way to thwart you.

And the bonus moral is: Wash your hair.

But wait! Did I mention we have an adorable grandson?!

2011-06-18T06:29:00.000-07:00

Another of Mason's Baby Skills: Mama Snuggling

Cuteness Alert

2011-06-17T11:54:00.000-07:00

Sweet Baby Mason showing off one of

his many baby skills: Cute Sleeping

I was only going to post one--but how could I

with so much adorableness to choose from?!

This little angel slept 6 1/2 hours last night.

In a row.

We would adore him regardless, but that was pretty sweet.

Snoozin'

2011-06-14T19:57:00.000-07:00

Funny how we can all sit around and watch him sleep.

He's just that adorable.

Grandbaby Alert!

2011-06-12T22:35:00.000-07:00

Here's the newest addition to the Gale family:
Mason Austin Keaton was born 6/11/11 at 2:03 a.m.
(Named after his Daddy!)

Our little girl is a Mommy! Here she is with her son just after he was born.

That sweet little bundle of joy came into the world here:

It was a beautiful, amazing, spiritual experience.

And I feel privileged to have been there for it all.

"Milk Drunk"

A very contented little baby boy home with his loving family

just a few hours after he was born.

I will be spending a few weeks here in Grandma heaven so posts may be sporadic--and full of grandbaby pictures and possibly some bragging--but only within the rules and regulations as stated in the

Grandparent Adoration Handbook.

Did I mention he is adorable? Darling, precious? Perfect?

You know that sweet baby smell? The soft cheeks?

Can't get enough!

Just A Little Bit of Pixie Dust!

2011-06-07T08:12:00.000-07:00

Sunday after our Family Home Evening lesson, we discussed our (VERY) busy upcoming summer. New grandbaby, Girls Camp, Catalina Island Super Activity, Boy Scout Camp, sell the house, move, start over in a new place. That sort of thing. Sam was explaining what all he would need for his week of Venturing and informed us he was supposed to take a bike. I was questioning how they would get all the bikes to the island when he said:
Sam: There's a ferry that will do that.
(But we all heard it "FAIRY")
Me: I'm sorry to break it to you, but there's no such thing as a fairy that magically transports your bike for you.
Sam: Brother McBride said there is.
Dad: You know these California people might believe in fairies but we'll have none of that nonsense.
Sam: Ha. Ha.

Wolves and Bears and Pox, Oh My! Seth's Birth Story

2011-06-03T19:34:00.000-07:00

Seth: The Day He Was Born

Seth is our fifth child, and at the time I was due with him I was the Cub Scout Den Leader in our ward. I was a very enthusiastic Cubber. Attending Round Tables and Pow Wows for ideas and inspiration, collecting egg cartons and juice cans for projects. I even taught myself to use Andy's woodworking tools so I could help them make birdhouses and toolboxes. Then I got really crazy and decided to recruit some more boys from the community so we would have bigger dens and spread the fun. We set up a table at the elementary school with our enticing display and stacks of brochures. And we ended up with TWELVE NEW CUB SCOUTS!! Crazy yes?

So as I was coming down the home stretch with Seth, I was herding a big group of boys through our rough and tumble den meetings every week. And then, the chicken pox came to visit. First Scott and Siara went through them, then two weeks to the day later, the pox struck Shanna and Spencer. It was so miserable for them and a little challenging for their mother being great with child, to lean over the bathtub and slather them with oatmeal or reach all the itchy spots with Caladryl and sooth them through their feverish nights.I was worried about the baby being exposed to chicken pox in utero but my midwife assured me that my immunities would protect him.

We had changed insurance since I had Spencer and I had a wider range of choice than I had before with Kaiser, so I decided to go with a midwife: Ann Morten. I felt like we were kindred spirits--she had five children and I was having my fifth. She was an advocate of herbal and natural remedies and we enjoyed discussing the mothering arts and she was interested in my Grandmother's herbal remedies. She also told me about her adventures as a young mom serving a mission for her church with her husband in Guatemala. She encouraged me to bring the other kids in to hear the baby's heartbeat and she was really like a good friend and not just a medical provider.

One week before Seth was born I went in for my appointment and she couldn't get a heartbeat. She brought in a portable ultrasound (very new technology at the time) and did a quick look. I had not had an ultrasound up to that point with Seth so I didn't know what we were having. As she looked around, I was pretty sure I saw compelling evidence that he was a boy although Ann wouldn't commit. But more important, we saw his little heart beating away and he began kicking and wiggling. Speaking of which, he was the wiggliest little baby. All through the pregnancy he would wear me out at night with his acrobatics. She asked me if I wanted her to strip the membranes--sometimes it will kick-start labor. The last few weeks of pregnancy are so exhausting and I felt so miserable and sore it made labor and delivery look good! I said yes please and she did. I started having contractions on the way home from the clinic and got my hopes up that maybe that was it. But, it was a false alarm.

I was really hoping that it was labor because I had been asked to speak in church that Sunday-- Easter Sunday--I was thinking maybe it would give me a good excuse to get out of the talk. Not that I am advocating getting out of doing what you are asked--just for the record--I was just a tired, pregnant mama. So, I dragged my pregnant self out of bed on Easter morning and got my four precious children ready and off to church. I waddled up to the pulpit and gave my talk--joking that I was in labor and if I had the baby there on the stand, it was the Bishop's fault for asking a nine month pregnant woman to speak.

It turned out that real labor started the following Thursday late in the afternoon. There was an open house and ice cream social at Dorothy Fox Elementary school where Scott was in the 2nd grade. I really wanted to go for his sake--he had been looking forward to it for weeks. The contractions were steady but not getting any closer together. We had ice cream and visited Scott's classroom and talked to his teacher. My good friend Linda was "on call" to take the kids when I had the baby and I saw her there. I told her I was planning to go to the hospital after the open house and she said to bring the kids over. So when we got home, we packed over-night bags for everyone and dropped them off at "The Lindas" as they called her and her bunch.

We got to the hospital at 8:30 and I realized we had not had time for Andy to give me a blessing, so we took care of that there in the car in the parking lot. He blessed me that it "would go quickly and with a minimum of pain". Then we went in and I got checked--I was dilated to 5. They called our midwife and we walked around while they prepped the birthing room. When we got into the room, I was at 8+. Our midwife had been out having a romantic dinner with her husband on their boat. She had to get to shore and then to the hospital. She came in and dimmed the lights and she was so calm and relaxed it completely put me at ease. She and Andy chit-chatted while I went quickly into transition. It was only two hard pushes for the head and one for the rest of him. And there he was! He started hollering immediately--he had lots of black hair and a very red, angry face--he seemed unhappy to be pushed out so fast into the cold world. Andy got to participate more in the delivery than he had with the first four children and he cut the cord.. I held Seth right away and he calmed down. I wrote in my journal that "he was so warm and slippery but beautiful and wonderful". I didn't ask if he was a boy or girl--or even look to see. Andy did that and announced "A boy! Another boy!" He weighed 7 lbs. 7 oz. and was 19" long. He was the smallest of our babies and he actually fit into newborn undershirts.

He was born at 11:35 and by the time we were all cleaned up and tucked in for the night, I started feeling really warm. As the night wore on, I couldn't sleep because I was burning up. I buzzed for the nurse and asked her to turn the heat down. She saw that it wasn't even on and then checked my temperature. I had a fever. She decided to drown the fever with water and other beverages and began forcing me to drink about a gallon every hour (that is only a slight exaggeration). I was so delirious I didn't care. I nursed Seth each time he woke up and got up to go to the bathroom many times and somehow made it through the night. They wouldn't discharge me until my fever went down, so I had to stay all the next day. By late afternoon, Seth had a slightly elevated temperature. I felt better and my fever was gone so I got ready to check out. That was when I was informed that Seth would have to stay in the hospital until his fever went down. The thought of leaving the hospital without my baby dissolved me into tears. I insisted on staying so that I could nurse him. I had no intention of abandoning him to strangers and formula. The nurse looked at me like I was crazy. I told her I would sit in a chair next to his bed or hang out in the waiting room between feedings. She left and came back with the news that there was a tiny room near the nursery where I could sleep so that I could take care of my baby. Just as I was settling in, the pediatrician came in to talk to me about Seth's condition. After a few minutes he turned to the nurse and said, "This is her fifth child--let her take her baby home and take care of him. She's perfectly capable of giving him the Tylenol."

The Siblings Meeting Their New Baby Brother

So, we bundled up our little Seth and brought him home--as quickly as possible before someone changed their mind. He was happily welcomed by his siblings and settled into our crazy family life. He was born on a Thursday and the following Thursday I took him to Cub Scouts with me. He sat happily in his car seat in the old Scout House in Crown Park where we held our den meetings. I had planned a game of Frisbee baseball to channel some of the boisterous energy of my Pack of Wolves and Bears so we went outside and split up for teams. We were one short so as Den Leader I felt it my duty to take up the slack. We enjoyed a fun game and I even made a home run! Seth sat on the sidelines and slept. I took a bit of teasing later from some of the moms of the boys--they couldn't believe I was out running around so soon after having a baby. It just felt so good not to be pregnant any more.

On May 6th, 13 days after Seth was born, I wrote in my journal: "It is miraculous to give birth and have each child be so precious and instantly take their place in the family. I hold him or look at him in the crib when he's sleeping and I'm overwhelmed with love and amazement that we could be so blessed!" And that pretty much sums it up.

Old News

2011-05-20T23:24:00.000-07:00

As promised, here is a pictorial of our wild Spring Break in Utah...

Day 1:

We took Shayla on a tour of BYU campus.

There was an interesting art

display in the HFAC...

The contraption below looked like a few

things my kids have done with old

motors and army men....when they were like 7 years old.

Old newspapers on a chain

hmmm...

Looks like someone put off their art project 'til the last minute

and lucky for them someone put off emptying the trash.

It's a win/win.

Day 2:

Church and nachos...

Then we had a family Quilting Bee and

tied a quilt for Baby Mason

Day 3...

A sweet nautical-themed baby shower

for Shanna and baby Mason

Whilst the girls were oohing and awing over

adorable baby stuff, the boys went out for

Ice Cream Cones

Day 4:

Bonding with guns and ammo

Yep, I'm a pistol packin' Mama

and Seth let me shoot his Mosin-Nagant--

Now I know what I want for Mother's Day.

(I know that's not a pistol or a Mosin--it's the only picture I had

of me shooting--but I did shoot the Mosin. And it was

AWESOME):

Shanna getting Baby Mason started early

learning about the family hobby.

The morning of Day 4:

I ran off to Salt Lake on a charitable

Relief Society errand.

The free quilting supplies I picked up ended up

costing me a whole lot more than nothing.

Thank you Salt Lake's Finest for pulling over a frazzled

Relief Society president looking for the

Humanitarian Headquarters.

I was informed that I was going 5 over the limit.

Was it my BYU license plate in Ute territory perhaps?

And it snowed while I was there.

I told you about our good time at the Macbeth performance our last night...

THEN

I tried to make the trip home fun and adventurous for the

youngsters by

stopping off at a roadside petting zoo:

Baby goats!

A zebra!

Actually, the kids didn't want to get out of the car.

I finally coaxed Shayla out and she humored me

and walked over to look at the animals.

So I tried again at Cove Fort:

They all staggered out of the car and went on the tour with me.

As I was loading these pictures for the blog, Sam said

"I was really kinda mad that you made us get out of

the car for this--but then it turned out to be

really cool. It wasn't boring like I assumed it would be."

That, my friends is a ringing endorsement from

a fifteen year old boy.

And that was our Spring Break in Utah.

One day while I was paying for groceries in the

Smith's in Orem, I overheard two guys talking about

how bad the weather had been. One said to the other,

"We just got back from our Spring Break in San Diego--it was beautiful!"

We can have that beautiful weather anytime so it was worth the

chill and damp to spend some time with people we love.

Let me tell you about my day...

2011-05-19T16:15:00.000-07:00

So, yesterday began with the usual 5:15 am wake up. I haven't used an alarm clock since high school--I just tell myself what time to wake up and my internal clock starts winding down my dreams a few minutes before wake up time and then my brain starts an "All Systems Go" alert and my eyes pop open at the appointed hour. It's very convenient and low maintenance. Now where was I? Oh yeah, 5:15 am. I roll out and get breakfast started for what is becoming the last of the Mohicans for the Gale Clan. Shayla and Sam are #6 and 7 of the 8 seminary-goers. According to my calculations, I have been getting kids up for seminary for the past 14 years (give or take). But there is a light at the end of that tunnel and that light will shine in 2016 when Shane wraps up his formal Church Education--at least as far as it involves me personally waking up before the crack of dawn.

I got the french toast toasted and the hot chocolate hot and then turned my attention to the peanut butter sandwiches and got their lunches packed. They straggled in and gulped down their breakfast and then left with Dad who was dropping them off. I turned my attention to the dishes and clean up and then I needed to prep for Relief Society presidency meeting. I got a little more involved in my calendering and agenda typing than I realized and suddenly it was past the time I usually let the dog out of his kennel for his morning constitutional. I was still in my jammies and slippers but I bolted out the back door to the pool house and opened the door. The smell that greeted me confirmed that I had waited too long. But the big surprise was that Gunner was not in the kennel. He was lying like the perfect model of a good dog next to the kennel. He had sprung himself from doggie jail. A very messy, smelly doggie jail. I felt terrible for waiting too long and he had managed, in spite of the messiness of the situation, to not get anything disgusting on my nice rug. I fed him his breakfast and turned my attention to the mess. I made the executive decision to just throw away his bed. I sealed it in a drawstring garbage bag and disposed of it in the trash. Then, I hosed out the kennel and gave it a good dowsing of Clorox Clean-up. I went back into the pool house to air it out and spray it down with Febreeze--when I noticed the odor was still too strong considering the source was outside and disposed of. Then I noticed the other surprise behind the treadmill. Apparently it was a big digestion night for Gunner--and the mongrel doesn't even eat that much! I'm just glad it was on the concrete floor and not the carpet--or the treadmill for that matter.

Well, after that perfect start to my day, I had to step it up to be ready for the meeting which was at my house. After the meeting, I had a Visiting Teaching appointment. By then I figured my day had been stressful enough and I hoped to go home and take a breather before I had to pick up the kids from school. I pulled out of the side street onto a main road heading toward home, I got up to the speed limit when a small white car came screaming up to my bumper at an alarming rate. There were two guys in the car who looked to be late teens early twenties. I thought they were going to crash into me, instead, the driver started swerving back and forth wildly while his passenger gestured and laughed. The road was narrow and one lane with a median in the center that is planted with good size oak trees and there is concrete curbing on both sides of the road. There is not a lot of room for error. He continued to ride my bumper and swerve crazily--and then he pulled around like he was going to pass me--only there was no room to pass. There was no way to pull over and let them and they didn't seem to want to go by, they were having a good old time acting like maniacs. After a couple more tries at running me off the road and into a tree, the driver swerved between the trees and roared down the other side of the road going the WRONG WAY! This forced an oncoming car to drive up on the sidewalk as they tore by. He then crossed back into my lane and sped ahead. I followed as I tried to see his license plate and also memorize the description of the car and the two crazed maniacs. They turned onto the cross road that leads to my house so I continued behind them but they got up to about 80 mph in a 25 so I pulled over and dialed 911. The operator transferred me to California Highway Patrol and I explained what happened and using my Good Citizen Perpetrator Description Skills, I described the car and it's crazed contents. I only got the first 3 digits of the license number--they were so close to my bumper, I actually couldn't see it most of the time.

I had another errand to run so I headed downtown. On the way home I was wondering if the CHP had caught up with them or if they had caused any damage further down the road. It really seemed like the driver had to be under the influence to be that insane. Well, I turned up the road right before our street, and there parked on the side of the road is the very car. White Toyota Yaris. License 6CL something. Just sitting there empty. I parked and got out my handy dandy Droid phone with the handy dandy camera. I did a very thorough job of photographing it from every angle. And got a clear shot of the license plate. I then called my Police Detective friend (who also happens to be in our Bishopric) and asked him how to pass along the new information. He told me to call 911 again and let them know it was more information related to an earlier call. As I was talking to the dispatcher, the punks came out and got in the car and drove away. I recognized them as the wild wackos and then knew for sure it was the car.

So yeah, that was my day...I'm waiting to hear back from the Highway Patrol and I got dinner on the table and Shayla home from Driver's Ed. in time for the Computer Programming class we have here. You know--
SAME OLD, SAME OLD.

Promises to Keep

2011-05-11T06:21:00.000-07:00

I realize that I foretold that I would blog about our Utah jaunt and also Seth's day of birth...it sort of haunts me from time to time when I am glancing about the internet looking at other blogs that I enjoy. I actually downloaded a number of pictures carefully chosen from the many that I took in Utah--and when I came back to blog, they were all gone. I didn't realize I had to finish the whole thing in marathon fashion or lose it all...so I haven't quite had the gumption to get back to it.

In the meantime, we'll take a break from our regularly scheduled program to bring you a special

Motherhood Moment:

I got a card in the mail yesterday from my firstborn--he's a Chemical Engineer by degree and an award-winning Dow employee by trade. He's married to the amazing Nicole and they have two darling little girls. Not the one I expect to wax poetical and hand-write a Mother's Day message...but that's just what he did.

"I set out to write you a ballad or sonnet.
Maybe to gift you a bracelet or bonnet?
The gift of life isn't easily repaid,
nor the sturdy foundation on which it was laid.
To stick to the basics and do what is right,
is the sure way to bring my Mother delight!"
Happiness on your day!
Love you,
Scott

Why yes son, you are so right--and writing a sweet poem also brought me delight!

Seffers

2011-04-28T13:22:00.000-07:00

I have been on a roll so far this year with doing Birth Stories

for the birthday blogs. So now it is Seth's turn.

But first, let's take a moment to enjoy some

sweet moments from his early days:

His feeding skillz have improved somewhat since

his beginning attempts.

Seth and Spencer were inseparable.

Look at all the brotherly love!

(and Seth's awesome bow tie)

Sunday best.

It isn't easy being two.

Your Mama loves you, Seffers!

Macbeth and Other Tragedies

2011-04-21T18:07:00.000-07:00

I just returned from a quick trip to Utah. The three youngest and I drove the 11.4ever hours in a stuffy car through desert and mountain to spend some time with a few of the older offspring. We had a wonderful time--which will be duly blogged about for the sake of posterity shortly hereafter.

But uppermost in my mind is the last evening we spent together.

In advance of the trip, I noticed that the play Macbeth would be performed at UVU as a one night only showing. I actually extended our little vacation by a day so we could attend. I bought tickets for any and all family including one related by marriage and also including a few of my favorite reluctant patrons of the arts who are constantly getting dragged along to culturally uplifting opportunities in spite of themselves.

It just so happens that I teach a Shakespeare class to a rambunctious passle of 12 year old boys. In our efforts to get them interested in being thespians and enjoying the art of the "THEATRE" (please read with a British accent. Thank you.)--we chose Macbeth for our end of year production. It has everything you need to keep the interest of boys that age: witches, ghosts, murder, mayhem, treachery, and war. And our own Shane will be playing the part of Macbeth--thus my eagerness to take him to a live production.

And so, we got ourselves to the theater in plenty of time to find good seats all together. But, I had to leave two tickets at the box office--one for Seth, who was in class and Siara who was working. They were both supposed to finish up and get there by curtain time. But as the minutes ticked closer to start, I got a bit worried that they might not make it. I went out and checked with the usher to see if they would be able to come in a little late. The usher assured me that it would be fine. Seth arrived in plenty of time but we were still waiting for Siara. I went out again and asked about her being able to get in and I overheard the ticket-taker saying that all 'will-call' tickets that hadn't been claimed would be available in a few minutes. That would include Siara's ticket. The play was sold out and the seat we were saving for Siara became a source of consternation to a certain stage manager. While I was in the lobby pleading for the ticket, Shanna was inside fending off the manager who wanted both my seat and Siara's to give to others who were coming in. In the meantime, Siara was texting to let us know her last hair client had been late and that pushed everything back, but she was on her way and would be there soon. tick, tick, tick, Then she let us know she was searching for a parking spot. tick, tick, tick

The play was late tick tick tick in starting by a good 15 minutes which bought us a little time, but she still was not fast enough. When she got to the box office, she was told she couldn't go in. While she was texting that to Shanna, our favorite manager was wagging his scolding eyebrows at us and telling us to move over. He brought in the usurper of Siara's ticket and seated her and then started his introduction by telling everyone they couldn't leave their seats for the entire play.

At that moment I wanted to ring his scrawny little neck, but I refrained. We were sad that Siara couldn't be there with us--and she was too. It was really well done and I got some good ideas for our play. Later, on the long drive home back through the deserts and mountains, I asked myself what more I could have done. I was so annoyed that she missed it by minutes and that they wouldn't even refund my money for the ticket. Here's the scenario that ran through my head:

Just as the Manager of Scolding Eyebrows took the stage to admonish the audience about staying seated, I would run to the stage and in true Shakespeare fashion, deliver a passionate aside:

(I wanted to call it a soliloquy but as a teacher of Shakespeare, I would have to stick with

the more accurate aside as that refers to an actor talking to the audience)

I beg of you please hear my woeful tale!

So sad t'would make even Macbeth's cold heart with mercy swell.

I have traveled to this place from afar,

with three restless youngsters in a stuffy car.

To spend some time with other issue of my womb.

Here in Utah's chill and dampish gloom.

The one hope we had to brighten up our day

Was to come here together and enjoy this play

But, alas, my poor daughter is kept outside the door--

by fiendish ushers--but to you I implore!

I taught my children to be prompt and most polite.

That on society they would never be a blight.

But Siara is a hairdresser and was kept late.

A tardy client with a rat's nest sealed her fate!

So, now that she has had a day that was so hard,

let her join her family to see this creation of the Bard.

Please forgive me for this rather silly drama

For I am nothing, if not first and foremost, a Mama

Don't you think they would have been on my side? Don't you think the bossy-pants stage manager would have unscolded his eyebrows and let Siara in?

If not, I could have shouted:

"A pox on thee--thy bones are marrowless and thy blood is cold!"

To be, or not to be. That is the question.

We will never know--because I didn't think of it in time.

PS The theater where we saw the play is the Noorda theater at UVU.

Did you know that "aorta" rhymes with Noorda?

I have another verse rolling around in my head that would make use of both.

Shakespeare would be proud.

PPS The play was directed by Christopher Clark who is a respected expert on Shakespeare and a rather droll and entertaining writer. You can see here and here.

The Cat Came Back...

2011-04-11T14:02:00.000-07:00

...well, half the cat. I let Gunner out of his kennel this morning and turned him loose in our yard while I ran to the gym for my morning workout. My doggy friend was waiting for me when I returned -- I patted him on the head and came in. By the time I walked from the garage to the living room, he was standing at the front door-- tongue and tail a-wagging. I started to open the door to let him in, when I noticed something. Something dead. Actually, the front half of something dead. Gunner had tracked down his rancid kitty toy and dragged it back to our front porch. What happened to the other half you may wonder?
I don't know.
And I'm not sure I want to know.

Andy's conveniently out of town so, tempting as it was to leave the carcass there adorning our front porch until he gets back, I had to deal with it. Clearly whatever he had done with the thing the last two times had not put it out of Gunner's reach. I was going to have to be a little more thorough than tossing it back into the wilderness. I got a shovel and a garbage bag and shoveled the cat into the bag. Then I weighed my options:
1. The garbage can with the lid on tight.
2. Dig a deep hole and bury it.
3. Swing it around my head as fast as I could and let it fly up, up and away.

I couldn't stand the thought of the garbage reeking until Friday morning--it's supposed to be hot this week.
I don't think I could bury it deep enough to keep the smell from reaching Gunner's nose--and he's a pretty good digger himself being a dog and all.
The last one--well--I really couldn't do that in good conscience. It might land in a neighbor's yard or on their roof or even hit someone in the head. Funny maybe but not nice.

I decided to tie the bag tightly and set it in the trailer of yard debris waiting to go to the dump. It's out of Gunner's reach and away from the house.

Let's hope no one lets the cat out of the bag.

PS: Here's the song that has been running through my head all day:
"The Cat Came Back"

Look What the Cat--I Mean DOG-- Dragged In!

2011-04-10T22:36:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was Saturday. And Saturday is a special day because it's the day we put our kids to work. Early in the day, the boys gave Gunner his weekly bath and then they headed out to the front yard for some weed pulling. I was inside minding my own business when they came charging through the front door yelling and gagging. The words DEAD and CAT stood out.

Somehow they convinced me that I needed to come out and see what Gunner had brought home to share. I followed them out and Gunner came bounding up and just about knocked me over with the reeking stench that was emanating from him. Then I looked to where the boys were pointing and beheld the bloated, muddy, matted carcass of what appeared to be a cat. It had been dead just long enough to bloat and rot to the peak of stink. From my long experience in dealing with dead wildlife, there is a zenith of disgusting, eye-watering smell. That is how we know we have caught a critter in the attic trap. Just a side note here-- I never really aspired to be an expert in animal decomposition--perhaps I can parlay that into a post-child rearing career. Pest control? Forensics? Road-kill Gourmet? Oh the possibilities!

Back to the dead cat in our yard. We have about nine acres of open space around the bluff where our house sits, and it appears that the hapless cat met its demise out there somewhere in the badlands of California. Usually cats are done in by coyotes and they do a nice job of devouring any guts and goo so you don't get the smell. Awww the circle of life. This one must have died of something less violent. Gunner didn't seem to be treating it like prey--more like an awesome toy that he had just happened across in his explorations. He seemed surprised that we weren't as thrilled with his find as he was. Andy grabbed a shovel and carried it off into the wilderness to dispose of it and I grabbed a bottle of ammonia and doused every surface it had touched.

I stopped just short of dousing Gunner. Instead of re-bathing him which is a big ordeal, we opted to let him run around and "air out". As long as he was outside and we were inside, problem solved. Later that night we decided to see if the airing had helped and we let him in. He hadn't been in very long (and no, the airing did NOT help!) when he began to whine and scratch at the front door. Usually he hangs out by the back door if he needs a potty break so I was baffled to see his interest in the front door. I walked over and looked out and surprise! Gunner had found his toy and brought it back. I guess we can assume he found it by following the smell. It had been out there when we let him in but no one had seen it. I hollered to Andy and he headed out the front as I took Gunner out the back. Where he promptly fell in the pool. He has run around out there since he was a brand new puppy and never fallen in. He was pretty good at the doggy paddle--but not so good at getting out. I was in my jammies and did not want to get wet, but my dog-owner instincts kicked in and I reached in and grabbed for him. It was not a graceful rescue but I did manage to wrestle him to dry ground. Where he promptly shook water all over me.

On the plus side, the chlorine cut down the wretched stench.

Communication Application

2011-04-07T23:20:00.000-07:00

Andy recently decided that I needed to upgrade my phone. Shayla was excited for me--only because she actually knows how to work all the gadgets and doo-hickeys on it (yes I just said "doo-hickeys" it helps to emphasize my non-tech-savvy status). So she was having a great time setting it up for me and soon turned to possible APPLICATIONS. I had to use the whole word here just so I could make Shayla roll her eyes--she tries so hard to teach me all the hip, happenin', modern lingo you kids use like: apps--but what can I say? I'm old school--that's how I roll.

She sat at the island as I was making dinner and started listing off some possible useful "apps". I was sort of half-listening until I heard this:

"There is an open sores app that you might like." she said

"Shayla, why would anyone actually want open sores?" I asked incredulously.

"Huh wha?" says Shayla

Well--it turned out she meant "OPEN SOURCE"--a cool app for downloading classical music. So now I can really kick it old school with my Beethoven and Mozart homies. Word.

Siara: A Baby Story

2011-03-24T07:49:00.000-07:00

26 years ago today, Siara came into the world. Second child, first daughter, pure joy.

I had been in labor all day on a Saturday. We had invited some friends over for dinner on Sunday, so I spent the whole day cleaning and cooking in preparation for it. I remember rolling out rolls between contractions. I would grip the edge of the counter and bend my knees as the contraction pressed in upon me and then I would get back to rolling after it passed. My state of mind was: "If this is false labor, I will need to have dinner ready for tomorrow. If it's the real thing, I will need to have this food ready so Andy can still have our friends over and have something to feed them." Crazy yes?

By evening, I was worn out and the contractions had not gotten any closer together so I decided to get some sleep. Around 1:00 am I awakened from a dead sleep with a very sharp contraction. I got up and walked around and soon another one hit me. It was the real thing. I called the hospital and they said to take a warm bath and see if the contractions continued. I really didn't think I needed to wait around but I am a stickler for following instructions so I ran the bath water. This woke Andy up and he was a little groggy and confused as to why I was drawing a bath at 2:00 in the morning. I told him to get ready to go and I took a quick dip in the tub--in the interest of following instructions. Then we decided to head over to the hospital. My sister Julienne had come to stay with us and help me when I had the baby, so we had her there to take care of Scott.

As we were checking in, Andy and I were laughing and joking around. This gave the nurses the idea that I was probably not very far along in the process. They put us in an exam room and ignored us for awhile. The contractions were getting closer and lasting longer but nothing unbearable. Finally a nurse came in to check me. "Oh! You are at 9!" Suddenly, things began to speed up amongst the staff. I was rushed onto a gurney and into the delivery room. They transferred me to the delivery bed right as transition began--not an easy time to be moving around. I have a clear memory of the delivery room nurse because she had a very New York accent--not something you expect to hear in Portland, Oregon. I don't even remember the doctor. It was just whoever was on call in the wee hours of the morning that day.He seemed put out that he didn't have time to get his gloves on properly. The nurse kept expressing surprise that I was birthing a baby when they thought I was just starting labor. I felt like I should apologize for giving them the wrong impression. Soon, Siara arrived. Kicking and screaming. Andy and the nurse both exclaimed: "It's a girl!" ...this was back in the olden days before technology allowed you to find out the gender five minutes after conception--we actually had no idea until she was born! The nurse wrapped her up and handed her to me. "I wish we had filmed this birth," she said. "You were so calm, it would be the perfect teaching film for childbirth classes."

Well, lady, someone had to be calm.

She weighed 7 lbs. 14 1/2 oz. A sweet little bundle of baby girl perfection. As they wheeled us into recovery, I kissed her soft little cheek and looked at her tiny hands. Her fingernails were long and perfectly shaped--as though she had them manicured for the occasion of her birth. We had decided on her name back before Scott was born--we had picked out a boy name and a girl name to cover all the possible outcomes. Andy liked the name Sierra and I decided to tweak the spelling. It kind of became a curse for her through the years as she had to correct the pronunciation--and her younger siblings all called her "See-ra" despite her efforts to teach them how to say her name. But I thought it looked pretty in writing with her middle name: Lynnae which I got from a girl I went to school with. That girl's last name was Pipkin--Siara can be glad I didn't take a liking to that name.

And that my friends, is the story of Siara Lynnae's birth day. The beginning of her life on earth. The beginning of my life as a mother to an amazing daughter and human being.

Happy Birthday Siara!

Sam

2011-03-18T21:06:00.000-07:00

15 years ago today, Sam came into the world.

He weighed 8 lbs 11 oz

and he opened his big eyes and looked around calmly.

I waited to hear his cry but he was busy taking it all in.

When Sam was safely in my arms the doctor said

"You made childbirth look elegant."

So here's to Sam of the Elegant Birth

Another year older

and wiser too...

He celebrated with pizza, fizzy fruit juice and

a Mom-made cake.

Good times.

And this was his most anticipated gift:

Blair's Death Rain chips

and Habanero powder.

He is pretty low-maintenance.

When he saw these on the counter this morning he said,

"Wow! It's a great birthday so far!"

That was even before he got to the cheap imitation

Cap'n Crunch cereal I had waiting for his breakfast.

State of the Union

2011-03-09T22:51:00.000-08:00

Somehow the 28th Wedding Anniversary came and went without any official acknowledgement here in blogland. For past anniversaries I have sung his praises, and given you the secret to our success. So this year, I will tell you a story.

Our daughter, Siara once described us rather aptly with this: "Dad's all Rock n Roll (as she demonstrated with some wild air guitar) and Mom is "La la la la la (done with some lovely air violin). What can I say? I had a thing for bad-boy RM accounting majors who drive beat-up Plymouth Volari station wagons. So, with two very different people in a marriage, you can imagine that there has been some need for adjustment and compromise over the years. To put it mildly.

There came a time amidst the craziness of raising our big family, that I realized I had become a little negative in my attitude toward my Prince Charming. I found an outlet for my frustration in my journal. Journal writing pretty much saved me big bucks in therapy over the years. But, I began to realize that I usually took the time to whine and complain in my journal when things didn't go my way but I didn't always take the time to pour out my feelings when I was happy with my hubby. So I decided to remedy that. I set a goal to write two good things about my guy each time I wrote in my journal. And I did. I faithfully recorded the little endearing things he said or did. I wrote about his amazing feats of strength when he worked around the house. I waxed lyrical about his willingness to bathe the children and put them to bed that one time. I recorded my admiration for his hard work in providing for us. His careful planning. His untiring service in his church callings. It really did wonders for my attitude as I took a moment at the end of each day to dwell on the positive. The exercise served its purpose and eventually tapered off and I forgot about it.

Until...Andy was going to give a talk in church and he asked me about a specific incident involving one of the kids. I pulled out my journal to give him the details and I noticed those little addendums to my journal entries back then. I thought he might enjoy hearing them so I told him what I had done and started reading them to him. It was quite heart-warming up until I came upon this one:

"He's asleep right now"
"He bathes regularly"

I guess that wasn't a good day. Luckily he laughed heartily and told the story in his talk the next day.

And thus we see, Gentle Reader, that true love is a work in progress. I'm just glad I have a whole eternity to figure it out--and 28 years is a good start.

In Their Natural Habitat

2011-02-22T16:28:00.000-08:00

(Sam is the host of our version of Wild Kingdom)

Mmmm Pi

2011-02-09T11:12:00.000-08:00

Just a side note:

Did you know that today is 2 Pi over 3 day (2.09)? It will occur at exactly 4:35 PM today.
2 Pi over 3 =2.09435 (February 9th 4:35 pm).
(Today's post is courtesy of my friend Karen's fb posting--she is also a proud mother of geek offspring)

This reminds me of when Scott was in high school and he was a member of some math club (he'll have to remind me what it was) they had matching t-shirts made that had "Mmmmmm Pi" on them.

Shayla Chimes In

2011-02-07T08:41:00.000-08:00

Last night Shayla had this to add to our homework humor:

Shayla: "There are 10 kinds of people in the world...
Those who understand binary code and those who don't"

Then she explained it to me so I could laugh along with everyone else.

Homework Humor

2011-02-04T08:45:00.000-08:00

The boys had some of my kind of jokes last night during study time...

Shane: "What did the math book say?"
            "I've got problems"

Sam: "One atom turned to another and said, 'Oh no! I've lost an electron!'"
         "The Second atom says, 'Are you sure?'"
           "The first atom says, 'I'm positive!'"

Overheard

2011-02-03T06:35:00.000-08:00

At Church:
"Did you get the roof repaired? Is there still a problem with leaking?"

"Oh, that was just a fluke. It only leaks when it rains."

It's Groundhog Day!

2011-02-02T21:25:00.000-08:00

As per family tradition, we watched this to celebrate:

...on the Clearplay of course!

An Addendum to the Annotated Alliteration

2011-01-31T14:27:00.000-08:00

Garden...

Here's what's popping up in the garden lately:

Gunner...
I never considered myself a "dog person". When I was growing up we had a dog here and there. I liked them enough to feed them and care when something happened to them but that was about it. Since then, I would politely acknowledge people's dogs when they came bounding up to me--licking and smelling with reckless abandon--only because I know people love their dogs and I would not want to treat them with disdain. Or disgust. But that was before I decided we needed a dog. I thought Shane needed some unconditional love and companionship. He got left at the bottom of the pecking order in our big family and he had no one to pester and play with. It was strictly a motherly, child development decision.

I didn't plan to get attached. But, somehow he became my new best friend--I followed the Dog Whisperer's instructions so well, I have become the Alpha to our puppy friend. He follows me everywhere and when he looks up at me with those puppy-dog eyes, it kind of melts my dog-indifferent heart. So now my favorite workout is taking Gunner for a "walk". I think we are going for a walk, he has his own plans. He used to charge up the driveway and tear through the front gate with me doing my best to keep a tight grip on the leash. He was so excited about the change of scenery, he was running and sniffing and yanking my arm with abrupt starts and stops. But this is not the way of the Dog Whisperer. I am to exude "calm assertive". I am to make my dog respect me and walk beside me. And after some hard work and a pocketful of treats, I did get him to stay near me and walk forward. But that got to be old and boring. We get to the top of the driveway and he sniffs the air. "Been there done that" is his attitude and he turns around and heads back to the house. I am determined to get him some exercise so I persist. I tug and pull and cajole until I get him a few houses down the street. Suddenly, he picks up the pace so I jog a little thinking he's ready to go. Then, the leash pulls taut and I look around to see Gunner sitting on the curb. Sitting. Like a human would--he looks so nonchalant I expect him to cross his legs and say "Let's take a little breather, shall we?"

Since I am not a giver-upper, I have continued to take him out for a walk each day. He seems resigned to it and comes along without too much trouble now. Of course, the down side of walking the dog is his need to heed nature's call. I used to watch people picking up after their dogs and feel gratitude that I didn't have to do anything so demeaning. But, now I do. I clean up after my dog because I am a decent human being and follow the rules of polite society. This means that most of time when I am heading home with Gunner surging ahead--he gets excited when he gets back to his own territory--I usually have a nice little bag of "stuff" in one hand and a tight grip on the leash with my other hand. This sometimes causes a bit of an etiquette dilemma when one of my friendly neighbors waves at me. The hand holding the leash is not free to wave so...do you think it's rude to wave doggie doo doo at your neighbors? Or if I don't wave at all will they think I'm snobby? I guess I'll ask the Dog Whisperer.

An Annotated Alliteration

2011-01-28T11:55:00.000-08:00

Glasses...
I recently crossed over into the Middle Age Zone. Even though I look like a 32 year old, I have the eyes of an almost 48 year old. If the lighting is really good and I hold the printed object away from me a bit, I don't need reading glasses. But if I want to read in the dim lighting of my bedside lamp and my arms are tired, I'm glad I have my Costco (they come in a 3 pack!) reading glasses.

Goodies...
Along with Middle Age comes the dreaded Middle Age Spread. It's a cruel turn of fate that as soon as you get through the child bearing years and you can sit down and enjoy a meal without a baby/toddler/preschooler/child needing immediate attention, you can't eat what you want to anyway. The metabolism slows down and weight gain speeds up--it's a bummer (literally). Since I want to be able to enjoy my grandchildren and keep up with them into my Golden Years, I have to keep my appetite in check. So, this New Year's I faced up to my main vice and gave up sugar. I've done it before and was very happy with the results. It's amazing how much it affects all aspects of health: skin, hair, energy level, blood pressure etc. For some people, moderation works. Not so for me--I seem to have no concept of moderation when it comes to sugary treats. So it has to be all or nothing. And nothing it is. It really simplifies my eating choices and silences my rationalizing.

Garbage...

This is a thoughtful gift from my sensitive husband. Let me explain. It is a symbol of his understanding of one of my quirks. I need to have one clean, nice garbage can. I use it when I am cleaning inside the house. It can sit on the clean carpet of a kid's room while we toss the flotsam and jetsam of their accumulated clutter into it. I use it when we have a big shindig--it can stand in the corner and collect all of the paper products required for a big party. Over the years, I purchase a nice garbage can, my husband unknowingly (so he says) uses it for forbidden garbage--wet, messy, construction garbage. Or yard debris. Or the dirtiest of dirt: the vacuum cleaner canister mess. (This once caused a rift in our marriage for a good 24 hours). So just when I had come to accept it as my life's trial and magnanimously overlook my husband's garbage can desecrating flaw--he goes and buys me a beautiful, shiny new garbage can. Not just any garbage can though--this one is rectangular in shape so it looks different from the other common trash cans. And it came with his promise to keep it clean. He could have waited a few weeks and given it to me as a Valentine's or Anniversary gift and I would have been as thrilled as if he'd given me a diamond necklace or a dozen roses.

That, Gentle Reader, is TRUE LOVE.

An Adult Conversation

2011-01-27T06:27:00.000-08:00

Recently in the Costco movie aisle:

Me: Oh! We need to get that movie Conception
Andy: Uhhh I'm not sure that would be an appropriate movie--I doubt Costco sells those kind of movies.
Me: Huh? Nooo! You know what movie I mean...what's it called?
(I do that a lot--ask my family to tell me what I'm thinking)
Andy: Do you mean Inception?
Me: Yes, that's the one.

I just hope we didn't offend anyone with our racy conversation...

A Heart -felt Tutorial

2011-01-24T19:09:00.000-08:00

I know what you're thinking: "Wait, this is not a craft blog! What is going on here?!" Truly, I am pretty much "Craft Challenged". I can think of cute ideas and maybe if I throw enough money at it I can eke out something presentable--after A LOT of trial and error.

I actually did a lot of sewing in my time--it started at the age of ten with a garage sale sewing machine. I hemmed a lot of washcloths made from Goodwill terrycloth bathrobes (don't ask--it's just the way it was--was it Idaho? or just my wacky family? I'm not sure.) and then graduated to Barbie clothes and furnishings. By the age of 12 I was sewing pajamas for my siblings (a safe bet for them, they didn't have to wear them in public). Eventually I graduated to regular clothes. I spent a lot of time with a seam ripper but I did improve over time. My children then became the lucky recipients of my mad sewing skills. I decked them out in awesome summer shorts made of blindingly bright patterned fabrics of the 90's. (Crazy watches anyone? How 'bout roller skates?) I have pictures but I will spare them. For now.

So, every now and then I get a hare-brained idea for a lesson or activity and I knock myself out trying to make it work. This was my latest:

It was for our "Heart-to-Heart" Visiting Teaching Conference. When you are using the word HEART-FELT it is just crying out for a FELT HEART.

These would make cute Valentines too--in fact I am making some for my adorable little granddaughters. As soon as the blister on my finger heals. This little idea required the cutting of 90 heart shapes with pinking shears.

First, make a heart pattern for the felt. I started out making both sides the same size. Then I decided I wanted the back color to show around the edge. So I did a lot of trimming. I will save you the trouble...

Make a smaller heart pattern for the fabric front.

And make a medium pattern for half of each heart. I alternated between the red and pink for variety.

Some had a pink back and red middle and others vice versa.

Stack the three pieces and sew just inside the edge of the top piece. Leaving an

opening for the stuffing.

It's easiest (don't worry, I figured it out the hard way so you don't have to) to leave the

opening on the straighter side of the heart.

I used cotton balls that I pulled apart.

Use something pointy (pencil, crochet hook, scissors) to push the stuffing up into

the rounded parts of the heart.

I kept it on the machine while I stuffed it and then just sewed up the opening.

When you have made your gazillion hearts, you can make the

handout parts. And then assemble everything. I just used

3X5 cards that I had on hand. I printed out the thought and

cut them apart with decorative scissors.

The little heart punch was a cute touch.

And there you go.

It was all worth it when I pulled them out at the end of my presentation

and I got a collective "Awwww"

from my Relief Society sisters.

This is the pile of Misfit hearts. Sewing around a small

heart shape is not as easy as it looks.

The Good The Bad and The Ugly

2011-01-24T07:21:00.000-08:00

So, where have I been lately you may be thinking. Or not. Let me give a brief summary of my adventures.
Awhile back, an ongoing pain in my side finally drove me to the doctor. I don't have a problem with doctors per se, I just don't like to take time out of my busy schedule to go see one. It has to be pretty compelling for me to make the effort. At the risk of sounding like an old lady...oh wait! I am one!..."let me tell you about my aches and pains."
So, back to me and my aches and pains. I had to get the usual rundown of my temperature and blood pressure and the cute nurse took care of that and then looked at my record on the computer. She looked surprised for some reason and this worried me a little. She looked at me more intently and then burst out with "I thought for sure you were 32 years old! Wow! Really, you don't look older than 32." Now, those of you youngsters out there are going to think this is an insult. Trust me, when you are over forty (okay--pushing 50) you will look back on 32 as the prime of your life--the good old days--the PRE ache-in-your-side days. Gosh, when I was 32 I only had six kids! But I really couldn't get past the choice of number: 32? Not "early thirties? or just 30? It was kind of random, but hey I'll take it. That was a pleasant prelude.

Then, I got in to see the doctor. I was hoping for a quick diagnosis of kidney cysts. Who hopes for cysts? Someone who has had them before and been through the four hour surgery to remove them and then enjoyed a nice pain-free quality of life for a good five years. I don't mind the familiar. Better the "devil you know" as they say. But it was not to be. There was a new devil awaiting. Actually something I had been made aware of after the CT scan for my last medical adventure. During the pre-op visit the surgeon showed me my scan and pointed to my spine.

"Hmmm", I thought. "It looks like a candy cane."

"You have some pretty pronounced scoliosis. Did you know that?"

"No"

This was news to me. I knew my children had been checked for it at every check-up and physical but that was the extent of my knowledge of scoliosis. The surgeon got back to the business at hand: the giant water balloons growing on my kidneys, and that was the end of that.

Until now. So apparently scoliosis lurks in the backs of unsuspecting, unchecked, people until their late forties when the spine begins to compress and bend more in the direction of the curves that are already there. This tends to press on one's innards in a way that isn't comfortable. It also twists the spine which doesn't feel so great. Then, since the backbone's connected to the other bones, they start pulling in odd ways too. It was a little redeeming to realize the reason I could never do the splits or stretch as far in ballet as the other girls. Also why my mother and grandmother's attempts at getting me to "Stand up straight" were in vain.

Nice how life has a way of keeping me humble. I went from hearing "You look 32" to "You're going to be a hunch-backed, crumpled old woman." in one fell swoop.

PS Make sure you get checked for scoliosis. Preferably before you get old--even if you look like a 32 year old.

Our Cabin Christmas

2011-01-10T08:11:00.000-08:00

I have been slow to get this post up...I had a lot of catching up to do after the holidays. And I started reading David Copperfield and it sort of consumed my every spare minute--and spare minutes are few and far between for me. I could not put it down. Charles Dickens bewitched me with his profuse prose. So, I'm back to the colonies and back to the 21st century...

Before we went to the cabin, we had some Christmas here in Cali.

A Relief Society Christmas party and a youth fireside called for some fesitive

decorating so we dragged out the Christmas decor and put up the tree.

The weather in San Diego was beastly! We were actually looking forward to the

more mellow drizzle of the Northwest.

From the wild tempest and flooding in SoCal ...

Back to the familiar sogginess of Christmas in the Northwest:

First order of business: Put up a swing.

Making the cabin a happy place for Bailey and future grandchildren.

Our Nativity Pageant

The box of costumes was in California so we improvised...

The Angel (AKA Nicole) was wrapped in a down comforter and

Mary (AKA Shanna) is sporting a fleecy eagle blanket.

Seth was our Narrator

Sam the Innkeeper who entertained us with his improv:

"Sorry, we are totally booked tonight! Don't you know the Chargers are playing? I've got to

get back to the game. Good luck!"

After the children were nestled all snug in their beds, it was time for Santa's elves to set up the play kitchen.

It was an engineering feat.

Austin with visions of Sugarplums dancing in his head

That wore some of the engineers out.

Christmas Morning...

the magic of Christmas was all

focused on our Little Bailey. She is just old enough

to know that Santa brings presents.

And she was pretty happy with the dolly and the kitchen that he left for her.

The Gale Gang

(We were missing Tyler--he had to work. And of

course our missionary, Spencer)

The Stair Picture is usually a Christmas Eve tradition but

it kind of got forgotten in all the excitement. So

we did a quick post-Christmas rendition before the first round

of family left for home.

Since we were all together, we decided to have Seth's Eagle Court of Honor.

Bailey getting her lovely locks trimmed by Aunt Siara

No family get-together would be complete without haircuts

from our favorite stylist: Siara! She was nice enough to get

us all spiffed up with Christmas trimmings.

It was all over too quickly!

Time really does fly when you are having fun.

Christmas in the Northwest

2010-12-19T06:19:00.000-08:00

Enjoy a little taste of the Northwest...this is a video spoof of a song that

bombards the radio stations there this time of year. We'll be enjoying a

Northwest Christmas ourselves this year!

On a More Serious Note

2010-12-18T11:09:00.000-08:00

...Sort of

Due to some requests for a real update, I will post the year-end wrap-up for the Gale Gang...you can hum along to the tune in your head (whatever it may be) to liven it up a little

Let's go youngest to oldest just for variety--the last shall be first and all that:

Shane: Turned 12 and he's now a Deacon. There are a lot of boys his age in the ward and he has a lot of fun with them camping and hiking. He serves as a counselor in his quorum presidency. We started a Thomas Jefferson Commonwealth school here that meets in our house so he is taking Key of Liberty (a constitutional studies course) and Shakespeare Conquest. He is in practice scholar phase so he does quite a bit of reading and writing and is taking Algebra online. We recently got a puppy and a kitten--they serve as surrogate siblings for Shane since he's the baby of the family and never got anyone younger to pester and play with.

Sam: Turned 14 and is now a Teacher. He is Teacher's Quorum President--he also happens to be the only Teacher right now. He has been doing his missionary work though and so he has a friend who attends with him and they do a lot of camping and sharpshooting together. He started seminary this year and he serves as Seminary class president. He is taking some classes at the high school: math, biology, Spanish. His last grade report was all A+'s --the grading system here is interesting. He is also progressing well with the piano. He's playing some really amazing pieces and it's fun to listen to him practice. The video is of the recital last spring so he's progressed a lot even since then...

Shayla: Turned 16 and is serving in the Laurel class presidency. She is our resident computer genius and has taken apart several computers and combined them into something better. We think she might be planning to take over the world. She gets a lot of requests to help people in the ward with technical problems. She is taking some classes at the high school as well: medical chemistry, AP US History, Spanish and art. She is a very talented artist and comes up with some pretty amazing projects. We have a computer programming class here as part of our Commonwealth school which she is taking as well. She is on the JV soccer team and plans to play lacrosse in the spring.

Seth: Turned 18 and will soon be an Elder. He earned his Eagle Scout and is at UVU in Deaf Studies. He's taking his GE classes and American Sign Language. He works at Gunnies--selling western wear and saving up for various guns. Shanna and Siara look out for him and feed him once in awhile. He is prepping for a mission next spring. He serves as a counselor in the Sunday School presidency in his student ward.

Spencer: Turned 20 in the mission field. He is serving in the California, Sacramento Hmong speaking mission. The language was a real challenge to learn--especially for someone with such a deep bass voice. But he is doing really well and loves the people. His letters are full of interesting stories about the culture the amazing spiritual experiences he is having. It's odd that he is only six hours away from us but in a whole different world.

Shanna and Austin: Are expecting their first next June! They have both graduated and Austin recently took the LSAT. He works at Gunnies and she is working as a nurse assistant for an ENT clinic. He serves as ward clerk and Shanna is Relief Society president. They recently moved out of their basement apartment into the upstairs house so they have more room--Austin is thrilled I'm sure that they now have room for us to stay when we come to visit. I tried to download a picture of them but failed...so go here to see them.

Siara and Tyler: Were married last May in the Salt Lake Temple. Siara finished her apprenticeship at Shep Studio and is now a stylist there. Tyler recently got a job with Ebay. They serve as co-teachers for a Primary class in their ward. They are a cute couple and are enjoying married life.

Scott and Nicole: Are in Texas now where they bought a home. He is working for Dow and enjoying that. They had little Norah Ashley in September so Bailey (age 2) has a little sister now. Bailey is a little genius (I can say that, I'm her grandma) she has accumulated an amazing amount of knowledge in her short life. She also happens to be fun and adorable. Norah is a sweet little baby-- we can't wait to see the little person she will become. Nicole is an amazing Mom and serves in Relief Society on the committee formerly known as Enrichment. Scott is the Exec. Sec. in the Bishopric.

Andy is CEO/President of Veridium and working hard. He is also serving as a counselor in our ward's Young Men presidency. He is Sam's advisor which means they get quite a bit of one-on-one time. I am teaching the Shakespeare class in our school and keeping things running with the homeschooling. I was recently released from Young Women and called to be Relief Society president. Maybe I can get it right this time.

So, there you have it...our nest is emptying and the grandkids are coming. We are a crazy, happy, busy family. I count my many blessings every day and I am so grateful for the guiding light of the gospel that keeps us headed in the right direction. In such a confused, chaotic world, that peace is a great blessing.

Or How 'Bout This

2010-12-15T06:53:00.000-08:00

Here's another possibility for the Gale Family Christmas Newsletter:

Sing along to the tune of the

Beach Boys' "California Girls"
Please go to the link and listen to the CORRECT
old-timey "California Girls"
I'm not happy that a certain young lady corrupted a fun song!!

California Gales

Well, we lived up in the Northwest and thought it was just fine
Feelin’ hip in our fleece and wool cuz it’s cold and rainin’ all the time

But then a new job brought us to a new and different place
Didn’t know what to do with all the sunshine in our face

The beach is nice and lots of fun and the weather’s not half bad
Helps us forget the earthquakes, fires and the taxes that make us mad.

Chorus: Never thought we’d be California

Never thought we’d be

Never thought we’d be California Gales…

Scott and Nicole went to Texas with sweet little Bailey too
He’s workin’ for Dow and doing great and they added baby Norah to the crew.

Siara finished her apprenticeship and now she’s doin’ hair
She married a great guy named Tyler and they are a happy pair.

Shanna and Austin are in Utah and have a baby on the way
He took the LSAT recently and plans to go to law school some day.

Seth’s in Utah too, goin' to college -- studying like a student should
He earned his Eagle rank and is prepping for a mission—so with him it’s all good

Chorus: Wish they all could be California

                 Wish they all could be California

                 Wish they all could be California Gales…

Spencer’s here in Cali serving faithfully with the Hmong
He’s been out a year already so he’ll be home before too long.

Shayla’s here with us—a California girl of sorts--(though she doesn't wear short shorts)
She’s playing soccer on the JV team and enjoying other sports.

Sam’s here too and loving all the camping and shooting too
He’s playing the piano and studying and will be an Eagle soon, it’s true

And finally there’s Shane—a California kid reluctantly
He’s made lots of friends and keeps busy with the new kitten and puppy

Well, we’ve lived here for awhile now and we’re getting used to the sun.
The people here are so darn nice and really know how to have fun.

Chorus: So I guess we’re going to be California

                Guess we’re going to be California

                Guess we’re going to be California Gales…

We miss our friends in Camas and we hope you're doin' fine
If you get a chance come see us or at least drop us a line

If you need to get out of the rain and you're lookin' for some sun
Head down this way and visit us, we'll have some good California fun!

Chorus:       So come see California
                     Come see the California
                     Come and see the California Gales

(For some reason this looks fine and compact as I edit but spreads out when I publish--you know Blogspot--she likes to think she's the boss sometimes--whatever)

What Do You Think

2010-12-14T17:44:00.000-08:00

It's that time of year when you start getting Christmas cards and if you are lucky, there will be an awesome Family Newsletter tucked in with the card (I LOVE them--I mean that sincerely-- Send them to me. Really.). I figured since we missed sending out cards last year we are probably due for an update...I've been trying to figure out the best way to sum up our lives since we moved to Cali...how 'bout this one:

Christmas Greetings From the Gale Gang!

Just in case you have been wondering what happened to that wacky Gale family that moved off to California somewhere—here is our Holiday missive to fill you in…

And if you were thinking “Good Riddance!”—our apologies for cluttering up your mailbox and you can just toss this right now.

So, for those of you who decided to read on, here’s the News:

New Job

New State

New Home

New Grandchild

New Missionary

New Eagle Scout

New Son-in-law

New College Student

New Callings

New Puppy

What’s new with you?

Merry Christmas!

Love,

The Gales

I'll keep working on it.

Can't Wait for This...

2010-12-09T09:43:00.000-08:00

Go look here:The Nutcracker is our annual Christmas tradition. But usually only for the girls. (SOMEONE called it "The LAME-cracker"). Sadly, Siara won't be there for it this year (she's coming to the cabin a little later) but remember that time I took her when she was a sweet little four year old and she hollered over the balcony? Oh, and remember when we went to the local ballet production at the high school in Camas and we bought Nutcracker ornaments for the tree? And remember when we went to the Russian Ballet Nutcracker last year and the costumes looked like they had been crammed in a trunk in a musty old attic in the Kremlin for about 50 years? And let's try to forget that I got lost and peeled out of a dark empty parking lot like I was a gangsta making a getaway in Dad's car. Good times...