Monthly Archives: December 2011

Top Eleven Moments/Activities/Events of Our 2011

11. Everett finally is starting to talk. Good grief, I love that boy.
10. Surprise date to the U2 Concert.
9. Family Outing to the Carl Bloch exhibit.
8. Our Family gets a Dog.
7. We celebrated Year 10.
6. We found out that our baby was a boy!
5. Weekend at the cabin and the rodeo.
4. Olivia graduates preschool, starts kindergarten, and gets an award.
3. Calvin starts preschool.
2. Built a deck which we look forward to using in many more momentous memories of the future!
1. The birth of Andrew James. Heart Explosion!

So, about ten days before Christmas or so, we received a knock & run at the door. Outside was a treat and a basket with a stable (see picture) and two notes.

One told us that we were being Secret Santa’d and would receive one piece of the nativity each night, the other one told the significant of the stable.

Then each night we received a new treat and gift and note.

And it wasn’t just little gifts, they were lovely BIG treats like you might expect as a one-time-only sort of gift, not night after night.

Each night we put our basket out, and the kids had so much fun checking to see if we’d received our piece of the nativity — okay, so I really have a hard time with curiosity. I so wanted to know who my secret santa was, and one night I went out to try to see who it was, and after that they stopped knocking on the door, they just left the gift – so after that we’d just go out and check throughout the evening.

We never did figure out who it was. (Bummer). But it was SO MUCH FUN to get a piece of the nativity each night. It really gave our house a buzz of excitement and a shot of Christmas Spirit as we talked about the pieces and watched the nativity come together.

So THANK YOU Secret Santa, who ever you are, for bringing Christ’s birth to the forefront of our Christmas! Merry Christmas!!

PS – Isn’t this nativity perfect for little hands who want to play?

Hanging out on Christmas Eve

Because of everything going on I never have time to blog over Christmas -

But there’s so much I want to write about.

So I’m going write one big Christmas catch up post of the happenings at our house this season.

Calvin cut his own hair ... thus he has a buzz cut for Christmas.

Activities with the Kids –

The thing I was most excited about was Christmas break – two whole weeks with my kids home to play all day! Glory!! I don’t think Calvin and Olivia caught the awesomeness of the situation, but we’ve tried to have fun.

Looking at the Jelly Fish at the aquarium.

We went to the aquarium twice. Thanks to our friends Nicole & Emmett, we now have year long passes to the aquarium. I will admit, I went several years ago when it first opened and wasn’t too impressed, and haven’t been back. I’ve told my kids that “the aquarium” is the free fish tank displays at Cabela’s. But the real aquarium is now officially fantastic – with sting rays to pet and star fish to hold and penguins to feed, and a giant sea turtle and sharks and an octopus . . . it was great. And the kids loved it!

Looking at the fish at the aquarium.

We also were invited by our friends the Engh’s to go see the window displays at the Grand America hotel downtown. They have a bunch of “window displays” throughout the hotel (inside, so you don’t have to freeze your hiney off!) and then they have a little game where you look for hidden things in each window. Then when you’re done you take your card back to this amazing toy store they have inside the hotel, and they give you a sticker. Then you take the sticker to the bakery in the hotel and they give you a giant star cookie. Oh, so much fun!

Looking at the window displays.

We also invited friends over to play, and spent the week making cookies and treats.

Christmas Traditions -

I made Olivia a scripture cover.

Part of the reason I was too busy to blog is I spent my evenings wrapping presents (have I ever mentioned how particular I am about gift presentation?) and finishing up my one home made gift this year: a scripture cover for Olivia’s Book of Mormon that she got for Christmas. We gave her a big BOM, just like I had when I was a kid so as she learns to read she can see the print and follow along/read from her own scriptures. I think the cover turned out cute so I was pretty proud of myself.

Olivia's scripture cover and Book of Mormon

We also had our annual Christmas Eve Dinner. We invited Jared and his kids, but they didn’t make it, so it was just us this year. Our menu included:

1. Spiral honey ham
2. Butter sauted green beans with candied almonds
3. Butternut squash with a honey cinnamon glaze
4. Garlic mashed potatoes & gravy
5. Fruit salad a’la Melinda
6. Rolls
7. Martinelli’s apple sparkler
8. Cheesecake for desert

As usual I had a hard time cooking for just us, so we will have leftovers for a week!

Christmas Eve Dinner

Everett shows off his Christmas slippers.

We also opened one gift on Christmas Eve (Wyatt wanted to open them all, but I was a scrooge and said no). Usually we get the kids jammies for Christmas Eve, but we just replenished our jammie stash in October, so it seemed superfluous. So instead we got the kids slippers. I was afraid it would be an exceptionally boring gift for the loves, but they seemed very pleased. eJo just couldn’t show them off enough, and Olivia kept saying “I’ve always wanted some of these!”

We cuddled up on the bed for a Christmas Eve movie.

Hanging out on Christmas Eve

Wyatt and I took an over/under on the wake up time for Christmas morning. Wyatt said before 7 am, I said after.

A treat left for "Satna" by Olivia

At 5:50 when I was sending Everett back downstairs because “it wasn’t morning yet,” I knew I lost. We finally relented and got up at 6:53 to start the festivities.

It was a very successful Christmas. I think the kids were pleased with their loot, and it wasn’t too stressful or too much.

Today I will feature two Tales for Tuesday – because they’re both short.

One:

The Time I was Smooshed By a Large Lady while Crash Landing in a Hot Air Balloon

When I was in third, maybe fourth grade, I went on a trip to Palm Springs, California, where we took a hot air balloon ride. I’m not exactly sure what happened (adult stuff I wasn’t privy too), but for some reason the pilot of the vessel decided to take us on a real ride, rather than just tethering us to the ground.

So, off we went across the California dessert . . . until we ran out of fuel. And then there was trouble. We started loosing altitude. We were so far out, and this was the days before cell phones or what not. There must have been a radio or walkie talkie or something, but all I know is we were far enough out into the desert that we weren’t going to make it back to the hotel. So instead, we braced for a crash landing.

And we crashed.

And the large lady fell on top of me and smooshed me, which was the scariest part of it all.

Then we had to wander around in the desert until we found a trailer house and borrowed their phone and then waited for an hour for someone to come pick us up. Good times.

Two:

In which I was Featured in A Norwegian Newspaper During the 1994 Winter Olympics.

When I was in 8th grade we went to Norway to watch the Winter Olympics, which were being held in Oslo. Oslo is a beautiful city, and the events were so exciting. But the greatest fun was the activities after the events. One such activity was when we went dog sledding across the Norwegian country side.

Each person rode with the driver, meaning you went by yourself on a little loop through the woods and open fields before returned back to the group where the next person got their turn.

As we came around the bend back to the group all I saw was  bunch a people with cameras around their necks. So I blurted out (without thinking, which, unfortunately is just like me):

“Feel free to take my picture now!”

And it turns out one of the photographers worked for an Oslo newspaper, and my picture appeared the next day.

Oh, didn’t you know I’m an international super star?

I’m going to try and write down memories I have – for my little lovelies who always ask “Tell me a story of when you were a kid . . .”

I’m going to call them “Tales for Tuesdays” – and will try to write one a week . . . unless of course something else happens. In which case I won’t.

My perfect little Everett

This is something I have been thinking about since mid October, when I saw Soleil Moon Frye (remember Punky Brewster?) pedaling her new book on some TV show – she was talking about motherhood, and how you have to “embrace the mess” and not worry about how life and the house gets messy, just enjoy it for what it is . . .

And then they showed pictures of her and her children “in their mess . . .”  — it seriously looked like they were at a party, with colorful banners and things, and Soleil looking adoringly at her daughter. And it made me gag.

My mess doesn’t look like a party. My mess looks like a mess.

And I can’t hire someone to come clean it up for me.

Then a few days later I was blog surfing and came across a mommy blog where some woman was talking about the fun things she does with her kids. I can get on board with that. I talk about the fun thing I do with my kids all the time . . .

And then I read her sidebar. It said – and I quote:

“I am a fun mom. I don’t worry if the house gets dirty.”

And I stopped reading right there. I clicked the x at the top of the tab, and closed the blog never to return again.

Because really, does never worrying about your house make you a fun mom? And by fun, I mean, better than me?

I’ve heard women complain that mommy blogs make them feel like they have to “keep up” with the picture perfect reality portrayed on the internet. I’ve never really felt that about other blogs that I’ve read (excepting the one I mentioned above of course.)

But then I got on Pinterest -

My life would be so much better if I had blah blah blah . . .

Those moms must be AMAZING if they have time to make blah blah blah . . .

I wish I was blah blah blah . . .

Like a teenager being pushed to anorexia by the media’s portrayal of “ideal” – I somehow felt inferior by my very “fat” and ordinary life.

And so I did what any normal teenage girl who loves yummy food would do – I turned the media off. I got off Pinterest. I even stopped reading other blogs for a while.

“Did you see?” my friends would ask me.

“Nope.”

And then I remembered an afternoon long ago – it was just after I had graduated from college. Something happened – my life was in crisis. Not just “hey, you’re having a bad day” sort of stuff, but long term I’m going to be facing these challenges for years sort of stuff.

And I remember sitting at work, feeling like I was about to go postal with all the stress and sadness I felt.

And then the words came – “Count your Blessings.” (Complete with a tune!)

So I started a list. It’s still taped into my journal. It was 52 points long before my work shift was over. And they were real blessings too – not just things like “the sky is blue today” but real things that were long term blessings I have had in my life.

By the end of the day I felt so optimistic about my life. How could it get any better?!

And the same is true today. Even on the days when all I do is tackle that mountain of laundry that I swear was just done yesterday, or run errands that should only take a few hours but end up taking all day, or burn the dinner or read books to the kids or attend school Christmas programs or listen to Calvin tell me all about how he’s “hungry” – does life ever get any better than this?

I think not.

And so, I present you with my picture perfect reality.

The house in which I grew up, which was (and is) referred to as simply, “The Yellow House,” had a very steep roof. This was a simple fact of my childhood, confirmed into impressive reality when my brother-in-law, Lance, who roofed houses as a profession for a time, gave his considered opinion that the house was an 8-10 or maybe even a 9-10 pitch.

And a very steep roof is good for many things.

One of which was told to me in hilarious fashion by my brother Larry this past weekend as we were visiting him. We were recalling the miracle that we escaped our own childhoods with our lives, and even congratulating ourselves on our, for the most part, minor injuries when we recalled that a neighbor friend had very badly broken his wrist at our house.

Larry told the story:

They were playing on the pool house roof (which, it must be said, was not as steep as the rest of the roof), as the roof was being finished. There was tar paper on the bottom two feet of the structure, but above that only plywood covered by a giant tarp. As the workers were gone for the day, there seemed nothing more fun than to utilize the giant slip and slide that seemed to be made just for us.

And so Larry, so clever, grabbed the garden hose and hauled it up to the roofline, in tow with a giant bottle of dish soap. A perfect slippery mess was made, and each child enjoyed their ride down the slope, stopping themselves before the two foot edge and drop to the back yard below.

But then Josh, a childhood friend of Larry’s went very last, after the tarp was all slicked up real good. He was unable to stop himself, and fell the full ten feet to the yard below.

Surgery was required.

And of course, the story that lives in infamy in the Brock children annals happened in the snow storm of 1994. A great amount of snow accumulated – so much that school was closed for two days straight.

And when the plow came through our drive, shoving great piles several of snow several feet high up onto the flower beds, what was there to do, but to go sledding?

And so, out the upstairs bathroom we climbed, sledding tobogans tied to our wrists, as we built make shift stairs in the snow on the roof – up to the ridgeline we climbed. We walked the ridgeline to where we found a suitable launch site. The day was spent – down the roof, down the snow piles, down the driveway, down the hill to the middle front yard. Then back through the downstairs entry way, up the stairs to the bathroom, out the window, and back up the roof line.

That was great fun.

I wonder now at the water we must have tracked through the house in the form of melting snow, or the day spent with the window wide open during a snow storm.

I’m going to try and write down memories I have – for my little lovelies who always ask “Tell me a story of when you were a kid . . .”

I’m going to call them “Tales for Tuesdays” – and will try to write one a week . . . unless of course something else happens. In which case I won’t.

EE & I in the freakin' ugly blanket on the Reservation.

Today is Emily Elmer’s Birthday (who is no longer Emily Elmer, but Emily Bowers instead).

And so I thought it would be good to write a story about living on the Indian Reservation.

While we lived on the Res. it behooved us to make friends with some of the local kids. Great kids that the world was trying hard to forget, they were amazing at inventing their own fun.

And so one night one of the boys we befriended decided a soccer game in the desert would be appropriate.

A tennis ball and an old sheet was all he needed. He stripped the sheet and wrapped and wrapped and wrapped that thing until a ball roughly the size of a soccer ball was made.

Then with four old tires and a five gallon can of gasoline, we headed out in the pick up truck to the darkest part of the desert.

We poured gasoline into the inside rims of the tires, set up on opposite sides of a makeshift field. Then the ball was soaked. Last item needed – a match. And the desert lit up like Disneyland . . .

The ball was a little heavy, and the boys got a little to into the fun, and kicked the ball without regard – it would go flying like a comet and everyone around would duck. But the night was spent laughing and ducking and chasing that flaming soccer ball across the dark sands.

When it finally died out, and the gas was gone, we turned our play to desert around. The giant dunes begging us to leave our footprints in them.

Up the dune we climbed, down the dune we slid. It was so cold in the desert at night, and there were at least a billion stars out, like I’ve never seen before or since.

I still have burn marks on my shoes that I wore during our game of flaming soccer, an eternal reminder of the fun and folly of youth.