Mark found this old video of the girls. I love it, they are so cute. Just had to share.
In case you have no clue what a Elasmosaurus is I found a picture of the ancient dinosaur.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Elasmosaurus
Mark found this old video of the girls. I love it, they are so cute. Just had to share.
In case you have no clue what a Elasmosaurus is I found a picture of the ancient dinosaur.
Saturday, October 9, 2010
I gave it all I had, was it enough?
( I copied this from my Mark's sister's blog, a little life lesson about running, again).
Today, I took off the day from everything else to go watch my children, with all other area elementary school children, run relays. Those who were fast enough got special ribbons. Each year, every one of my four children anticipates this day, hoping to be one of the chosen few to get a ribbon.
Having passed NO athletic ability to any of my children, I would not feel good about putting any pressure on them to perform great track feats. In fact, I go out of my way to help them understand that “just finishing” is certainly beyond what I can ask.
Nonetheless, each year, tensions are high – particularly since each runner has a partner. The partner was picked after timed practices. Unfortunately, rumor has it that my 8th grader was paired with an excellent 8th grade athlete who only did poorly on the timed tryout because he had the flu and was throwing up that day. Word got back to my son that he “better” perform or his partner would be seriously disappointed. Don’t know how my son took that, but I know it sure made my stomach flip to hear of the mounting peer pressure….
At any rate, my biggest concern for the day was for my daughter Jennifer. She is my dear child who has been through complex trauma. Due to delays, at age 8, she is having great difficulty reading. She cannot yet swim because the right-left brain coordination swimming requires is simply not there. In her earlier years, things like running required too much coordination and Jennifer would simply “drop” when trying to run somewhere. To add to matters, Jennifer’s seizures had been breaking through for the past few weeks, likely due to her growth spurt.
As I watched the 7-8 year old boys her age run, I could easily see where the problem would be – the baton handoff. Apparently, the coaches of the little ones had not perfected this with them. Several little boys would go to turn the corner and then just walk back into the crowd. Others would go the distance, only to find their partner wasn’t where they thought they’d be. Still others would hand it off in ways that resulted in various humorous bloopers.
In my anxiety to help Jennifer prepare, I went over to explain the baton handoff. That’s when I first met Jennifer’s partner, a petite little girl with glasses. For this article, I will call her K.
Jennifer and K were quite a visual pair. Jennifer, who had been held back a year to get help with reading, towers over her entire class. K, on the other hand, was one of the smaller girls in school. Both of them shared the need for glasses to help them through the school day.
I tried to show Jennifer how to hand the baton to K. I am not sure I did any good at all, but I felt better doing my part.
As the runners lined up, Jennifer lined up with them. I silently prayed that she would be able to run without falling, that she would not seizure in the middle of the race, that she could feel good about herself at the end, and a host of other pleadings any mother in a similar situation would try to cram into the 5 or so seconds before the gun went off. When the gun sounded, they were off.
Loads of little girls in a swarm came toward me. I had a perfect position part way down the line to cheer as loud as my mother lungs would cheer. I searched the swarm for my child. Where was she?
Frantically, I searched the swarm again. Where was my Jennifer? No one was lagging behind, maybe the coach had switched her to the second leg of the race. Thoughts swirled in my mind when, all of the sudden, I saw my confused 8 year old looking around like, “where did everybody go?” She had seizured when the gun went off and had never heard the call to start running.
Undaunted, she looked ahead to the swarm that had recently left her standing still. With her heart and might, she moved her little legs as fast as they would go. I cheered, I yelled, I hoped.
No matter how things ended up, I was proud of the courage it took to run toward the swarm when so many others would have given up. The 7-8 year old girls ran, with Jennifer trailing behind.
As I cut through the field to get in position for the next part of the run, to my surprise, Jennifer had run to the front of the pack. She was at fifth place as she ended her part of the race. I could not believe it! She didn’t know enough to know that was impossible (as I clearly knew). She did not know that she had already lost the race before she started (as I surmised when she missed the gun shot entirely). She didn’t have enough sense to give up (as I obviously would have). And, because she didn’t know all those things, she was now running with some of the best runners in her age group.
In the shock of it all, I completely missed the baton handoff. But since K went off running, I am sure it went alright.
As the final runners began, I had no thought, no hope, even no desire for Jennifer to win the race. It never entered my mind. For all my children, “finishing” was simply enough. For this one in particular, running the race at all was success.
Little did I know, God was teaching me something. He was teaching me a lesson I will not easily forget.
As the runners turned the corner, I was so shocked by what I saw.
There were, of course, the runners everyone knew would win. The ones who were born with natural ability – the ones with mothers who DID pass on some athletic ability to their children. And, then, in the small swarm of leaders, I saw K.
Not only did I see K, but I saw her state of mind. This petite little child was moving her little legs and arms as fast as they would go. The tensed look on her red face said she had run the whole way. Like the little engine that could, K was not going to stop until it was over. She was giving it everything her little body had.
I wanted to stop time. K, like Jennifer, did not understand. K is a petite little child. K wears glasses like Jennifer. K is likely not a natural athlete. Didn’t she know better? Didn’t she know that there was no way that she and her teammate could ever encroach upon natural talent and ability? Didn’t she know that she and her partner were destined not to win before the course was even set? Didn’t she know that her partner had not even started at the gun shot?
All I can say is that K clearly didn’t understand how things worked either. And, because of this, K was now running with the best runners her age. Just because she didn’t understand she couldn’t do it.
As I watched K give every ounce of energy she had in her to passing the finish line, I saw her grandmother go toward her. As her grandma reached out her arms in congratulations, K, with her 7th place ribbon clutched firmly in had, sunk, totally and completely exhausted, into her grandmother’s arms.
Only then, did the tears begin to run. The pain in her side was so severe she could no longer stand. Her body had collapsed. As she reached to entrust her prized ribbon to her grandma, I saw a look in her eyes that I will never forget. Without words, her eyes clearly asked, “I gave all I had, was it enough?”
I gave all I had, was it enough?
I gave all I had, was it enough?
Where had I heard those words? The look, the words, all of it was so familiar. And, then I realized that, in my own way, I ask those words in prayer every single day. As I meet the challenges of raising a child with special needs, as I pray for her to learn to read, as I hope that I am good enough, strong enough for what each day brings, I look up to heaven with the same look that little K gave her grandma. I gave all I had, was it enough?
As K’s grandma assured her that she had far exceeded expectations and carefully cradled her to take her to the school nurse, I was left alone to ponder my standing as a mother. In my intellectual mind, I knew Jennifer and whatever partner she had would have difficulty even finishing the race. When I saw little K, I was at least grateful that K did not appear to be into athletics and probably wouldn’t be mean if Jennifer could not finish the race. Never, never in my wildest dreams did I consider that they might come in 7th place out of so many entrants.
And, never did I anticipate learning one of the most profound lessons life has to offer. Sometimes those who win are able to do so because they are not smart enough to know they can’t.
Neither Jennifer nor K understood that their particular limitations, no matter what they were, were too much for them to expect success. Despite numerous setbacks, neither one took note of their perceived standing in the field of athletics. Instead, both of them gave everything they had and, when they crossed the finish line, they were both winners.
I have never watched a greater race, but, more importantly, I have never been taught by greater runners. If I could only become as Jennifer and little K and forget what the world sees in me or what I see in myself compared to others, what could I accomplish? If I quit viewing my limitations or my child’s special needs as reasons not to try, what race could I run?
Today, two little runners, unknown to the world ran a life changing race and the life that was changed was mine.
Today, I took off the day from everything else to go watch my children, with all other area elementary school children, run relays. Those who were fast enough got special ribbons. Each year, every one of my four children anticipates this day, hoping to be one of the chosen few to get a ribbon.
Having passed NO athletic ability to any of my children, I would not feel good about putting any pressure on them to perform great track feats. In fact, I go out of my way to help them understand that “just finishing” is certainly beyond what I can ask.
Nonetheless, each year, tensions are high – particularly since each runner has a partner. The partner was picked after timed practices. Unfortunately, rumor has it that my 8th grader was paired with an excellent 8th grade athlete who only did poorly on the timed tryout because he had the flu and was throwing up that day. Word got back to my son that he “better” perform or his partner would be seriously disappointed. Don’t know how my son took that, but I know it sure made my stomach flip to hear of the mounting peer pressure….
At any rate, my biggest concern for the day was for my daughter Jennifer. She is my dear child who has been through complex trauma. Due to delays, at age 8, she is having great difficulty reading. She cannot yet swim because the right-left brain coordination swimming requires is simply not there. In her earlier years, things like running required too much coordination and Jennifer would simply “drop” when trying to run somewhere. To add to matters, Jennifer’s seizures had been breaking through for the past few weeks, likely due to her growth spurt.
As I watched the 7-8 year old boys her age run, I could easily see where the problem would be – the baton handoff. Apparently, the coaches of the little ones had not perfected this with them. Several little boys would go to turn the corner and then just walk back into the crowd. Others would go the distance, only to find their partner wasn’t where they thought they’d be. Still others would hand it off in ways that resulted in various humorous bloopers.
In my anxiety to help Jennifer prepare, I went over to explain the baton handoff. That’s when I first met Jennifer’s partner, a petite little girl with glasses. For this article, I will call her K.
Jennifer and K were quite a visual pair. Jennifer, who had been held back a year to get help with reading, towers over her entire class. K, on the other hand, was one of the smaller girls in school. Both of them shared the need for glasses to help them through the school day.
I tried to show Jennifer how to hand the baton to K. I am not sure I did any good at all, but I felt better doing my part.
As the runners lined up, Jennifer lined up with them. I silently prayed that she would be able to run without falling, that she would not seizure in the middle of the race, that she could feel good about herself at the end, and a host of other pleadings any mother in a similar situation would try to cram into the 5 or so seconds before the gun went off. When the gun sounded, they were off.
Loads of little girls in a swarm came toward me. I had a perfect position part way down the line to cheer as loud as my mother lungs would cheer. I searched the swarm for my child. Where was she?
Frantically, I searched the swarm again. Where was my Jennifer? No one was lagging behind, maybe the coach had switched her to the second leg of the race. Thoughts swirled in my mind when, all of the sudden, I saw my confused 8 year old looking around like, “where did everybody go?” She had seizured when the gun went off and had never heard the call to start running.
Undaunted, she looked ahead to the swarm that had recently left her standing still. With her heart and might, she moved her little legs as fast as they would go. I cheered, I yelled, I hoped.
No matter how things ended up, I was proud of the courage it took to run toward the swarm when so many others would have given up. The 7-8 year old girls ran, with Jennifer trailing behind.
As I cut through the field to get in position for the next part of the run, to my surprise, Jennifer had run to the front of the pack. She was at fifth place as she ended her part of the race. I could not believe it! She didn’t know enough to know that was impossible (as I clearly knew). She did not know that she had already lost the race before she started (as I surmised when she missed the gun shot entirely). She didn’t have enough sense to give up (as I obviously would have). And, because she didn’t know all those things, she was now running with some of the best runners in her age group.
In the shock of it all, I completely missed the baton handoff. But since K went off running, I am sure it went alright.
As the final runners began, I had no thought, no hope, even no desire for Jennifer to win the race. It never entered my mind. For all my children, “finishing” was simply enough. For this one in particular, running the race at all was success.
Little did I know, God was teaching me something. He was teaching me a lesson I will not easily forget.
As the runners turned the corner, I was so shocked by what I saw.
There were, of course, the runners everyone knew would win. The ones who were born with natural ability – the ones with mothers who DID pass on some athletic ability to their children. And, then, in the small swarm of leaders, I saw K.
Not only did I see K, but I saw her state of mind. This petite little child was moving her little legs and arms as fast as they would go. The tensed look on her red face said she had run the whole way. Like the little engine that could, K was not going to stop until it was over. She was giving it everything her little body had.
I wanted to stop time. K, like Jennifer, did not understand. K is a petite little child. K wears glasses like Jennifer. K is likely not a natural athlete. Didn’t she know better? Didn’t she know that there was no way that she and her teammate could ever encroach upon natural talent and ability? Didn’t she know that she and her partner were destined not to win before the course was even set? Didn’t she know that her partner had not even started at the gun shot?
All I can say is that K clearly didn’t understand how things worked either. And, because of this, K was now running with the best runners her age. Just because she didn’t understand she couldn’t do it.
As I watched K give every ounce of energy she had in her to passing the finish line, I saw her grandmother go toward her. As her grandma reached out her arms in congratulations, K, with her 7th place ribbon clutched firmly in had, sunk, totally and completely exhausted, into her grandmother’s arms.
Only then, did the tears begin to run. The pain in her side was so severe she could no longer stand. Her body had collapsed. As she reached to entrust her prized ribbon to her grandma, I saw a look in her eyes that I will never forget. Without words, her eyes clearly asked, “I gave all I had, was it enough?”
I gave all I had, was it enough?
I gave all I had, was it enough?
Where had I heard those words? The look, the words, all of it was so familiar. And, then I realized that, in my own way, I ask those words in prayer every single day. As I meet the challenges of raising a child with special needs, as I pray for her to learn to read, as I hope that I am good enough, strong enough for what each day brings, I look up to heaven with the same look that little K gave her grandma. I gave all I had, was it enough?
As K’s grandma assured her that she had far exceeded expectations and carefully cradled her to take her to the school nurse, I was left alone to ponder my standing as a mother. In my intellectual mind, I knew Jennifer and whatever partner she had would have difficulty even finishing the race. When I saw little K, I was at least grateful that K did not appear to be into athletics and probably wouldn’t be mean if Jennifer could not finish the race. Never, never in my wildest dreams did I consider that they might come in 7th place out of so many entrants.
And, never did I anticipate learning one of the most profound lessons life has to offer. Sometimes those who win are able to do so because they are not smart enough to know they can’t.
Neither Jennifer nor K understood that their particular limitations, no matter what they were, were too much for them to expect success. Despite numerous setbacks, neither one took note of their perceived standing in the field of athletics. Instead, both of them gave everything they had and, when they crossed the finish line, they were both winners.
I have never watched a greater race, but, more importantly, I have never been taught by greater runners. If I could only become as Jennifer and little K and forget what the world sees in me or what I see in myself compared to others, what could I accomplish? If I quit viewing my limitations or my child’s special needs as reasons not to try, what race could I run?
Today, two little runners, unknown to the world ran a life changing race and the life that was changed was mine.
Monday, October 4, 2010
Of a Revolution (O.A.R)
Thanks again to our dear friend Vince for introducing us, several years ago, to the best band ever O.A.R.
Mark and I got to go on a little date to southern California to see Marc (lead singer) and the boys of O.A.R.
My Mark has been traveling a ton lately and on the advice of cute Natalie Williams, I thought I needed to use his frequent flyer miles for some fun; Woohoo, dinner and a date to hear some good music in Southern California. Thanks a bunch to my mom and Crystal for help with the kiddos.
Just in case you have no clue who O.A.R. is, watch and enjoy ( above post because technically issues are getting the better of me). They currently have a popular song called,d Shattered(turn the car around). However their money song is called "That was a crazy game of poker" and it awesome.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Back to school (like a month ago or so)
So seeing my running post is getting me mad. I have a hurt leg. I have been waiting to post "Why I run : Part Duex " but since that is not happening soon, I better just post something that is not all about me.
Emma started second grade and loves it.
Anna started Kindergarten
Anna and her BFF's.
We carpool with Miss Ava to school and the girls are so funny. I don't think they take a breathe the entire ride to school. They just talk, talk, talk only to stop to uncontrollably giggle. Marianne said one day they didn't say a word just giggled the whole way to school. Anna told me the other day she likes doing homework better than playing with friends (what??). 
How did I get so lucky to have such great girls.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Why I run.
"Most people run a race to see who is fastest. I run a race to see who has the most guts."
I run to escape;
~Steve Prefontaine
I run to escape;
Escape my kids,
escape my depression,
escape my messy house.
I run to find clarity.
I run to find peace.
I run to de-stress.
I run to race only against myself.
I run so that I can one day see my grandkids graduate for high school.
I joke that because I am such a slow runner that I don't know if you can actually call it running, but I run nonetheless.
I have one running partner and that is my husband because I know he will never let me fail.
On Saturday, June 12, 2010 I ran my first half marathon, 13.1 miles. It was cold, it was wet and the course lead straight into the heart of Provo ( the third being the hardest obstacle to overcome, GO UTES!). I had to stop twice once to stand in line at the port-a-potty and once to have Mark bandage my blistered feet. My finishing time was about what I expected, nothing great, nothing terrible but, I finished. My three ( four in spirit, thanks Crystal), dear, dear friends drove down to cheer me to the finish. I saw them and tears filled my eyes, I got choked up and could barely breath during the last 100 yards to the finish line. My husband trailed off to let the finish be about me, he ran with me the whole time, much slower than his usual pace. He cheered me on, made me laugh, and literally pushed me up the last hill a mile before the finish. My sweet brother Byran, waited around an hour after he finished and met me at the finish line with a couple cups of water.
Running to me is more of an emotional/spiritual journey than a physical one.
Until about a month ago I thought,
"I run, but I am not a runner."
Today I know that
I am a runner!
"I run, but I am not a runner."
Today I know that
I am a runner!
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Yiddy-Up's Adventures in Moab
Mark gave Addie a little purse that has a little stuffed animal horse; It went everywhere with us in Moab. Addie calls horses Yiddy-ups (translation: Giddy-ups).
Yiddy-up had quite the adventure.
Rarely, Addie carried it, Yiddy-Up Jumping over a
boulder in Arches.
Sometimes Mommy carried it.
Yiddy-Up hiking the trail in Arches near Sand Dune Arch.
Sometime Daddy carried it, Yiddy-up hiking through the sand.
And again Mommy carrying Yiddy-Up by Double Arch.
I am glad I could spend so much quality time with Yiddy-Up, oh yeah and the rest of the fam. More pictures to come.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
A seriously WICKED good time in San Fransisco.
I would have to rank last weekend as seriously, the best of my life. Time with my sweetheart, a great musical, great food and chocolate.
I am like the best wife ever, Mark tells me that all the time and I believe him. For my Marky's 30 something birthday I took him to San Fransisco to see Wicked.
Mark and I feel in love with Wicked after we watched Glee do a rendition of Defying Gravity. So I looked up where it was playing, well it worked that one of Mark's oldest friends lives just outside San Fran, so off we went.
Okay, so the secret lasted like 2 days after I bought the tickets. Anna often whispers to me "but mommy, I am not very good at keeping secrets" I now know where she gets it from. I borrowed a credit card from my mom and made arrangements with Mark's friend Kenny booked the tickets and then caved to my own excitement.
So we left friday afternoon and flew into Oakland. Oakland? you say, well yes and I am so glad we did. Have you ever seen the Oakland temple? It is about a half hour drive from the airport, sat upon a hill as if an Ensign to the Bay Area. Mark and I where so taken back by its sheer beauty.
After our little temple adventure we headed south to meet up with Kenny, some people call him Dr. Hunt, others call him Professor and he prefers Ken, but we have known him way before he was anybody so we still call him Kenny. Kenny is an Orthopedic Surgeon and Professor at Stanford, I know you are impressed someone like that would be friends with the Vaders but somehow he is the lucky one, to know us.
So anyway, he lives on campus at Stanford in the same house that Chelsea Clinton rented when she attended Stanford. I totally fell in love with Stanford. We took a walking tour with Kenny and his latest girlfriend Bre. I've decided that Emma is going to go to Stanford ( no pressure, she is certainly smart enough). I also am now trying to persuade Mark to go back and get his Phd so he can be a professor there or I might just need to get my Phd.
Saturday, morning Mark and I took a run through campus, it was wonderful.
After our short run we took a little trip to One Infinite Loop.
Where ? you say.
If you know Mark at all you cannot stop him from taking a trip to Apple's corporate headquarters. This was probably the least impressive part of the trip but,atleast now we can say we've been there and seen that.
Next, we where off to the play. WOW! Seriously wonderful. I kept thinking, I need to download this song when I get home. I think I said that about every song. I got a little teary at the end, just because that is how I am I cry over the stupidest things Mark thought I was totally losing it. It was just so amazing.
Anyway, after that we headed for a walking tour around San Fran and ended up at Ghiradelli's square for dinner and ice cream. Did you know that Ghiradelli's has its own ice cream parlor. YUMO.
It was so nice to spend so much time with my sweetheart. He told me he still likes me. Yay me! How sweet. How fun.
Friday, March 19, 2010
What to do when you are 5.
Well, go rock climbing of course. On Anna's birthday we went rock climbing at the gym with her cousins. What a blast. Here are some great pictures.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
I should totally get an award for this.
Yesterday Anna says to me, "But Mommy I want a dinosaur cake."
Yikes, it may be your birthday Miss Anna but, you are asking the impossible.
Well, unless your a super mommy like me.
Anna at her spotlight.
My super 5 year old.
I didn't know I could love someone so much.
Happy Birthday Annie-Bananie
Yikes, it may be your birthday Miss Anna but, you are asking the impossible.
Well, unless your a super mommy like me.
Anna at her spotlight.
My super 5 year old.
I didn't know I could love someone so much.
Happy Birthday Annie-BananieWednesday, February 3, 2010
She's home.
My little love, found her way home. She had wandered about a half mile north of my mom's house. Luckily, an older gentleman, also with a little yorkie found her and gave me a call. SOOOOOOO glad to have her home. Thank you all for your help. I kept hearing from all my sweet friends that they were looking for her and sweet Rekehl and Brynlee found another missing Yorkie and ran her right over to my house. You are all awesome. Thank you, Thank you, Thank you.
I will post the whole long story soon, including the anger and tears. Love to all
(picture is of her sitting on my lap, where she should of been for the last 60 hours)
Monday, February 1, 2010
Where, oh where has my Marlee dog gone?
Thursday, January 21, 2010
How impressed are you?
My very first batch of homemade bread.
I have always been afraid of yeast, it's something I inherited from my mom. However we have both overcome our fear thanks to our new Bosch mixers and bread making class. Yeah us!
Addie wasn't so impressed
Saturday, January 16, 2010
It's my party, I can get a tattoo if I want to.
At least, she colored on herself and not my walls this time.
Happy Birthday Addie!
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
A little nip here, a little tuck there.
UPDATE: I finally found a better picture for this post, see the smile, this is obviously pre-op.
So a week ago I had what they (those pesky docs) call a bankart repair on my shoulder. Different from a rotatory cuff since it involves the glenoid. I have had a bum shoulder since the first time it dislocated at the age of 14 playing basketball against my best friend Amy in church Region basketball. Anyway, Dr. West laughed at me that finally after 20 years I came in to get it repaired. I told him it was affecting my volleyball game. To which he laughed a little more. Okay, I get the irony of the middle-aged, overweight women who is worried about her ability to play church volleyball. Anyway my shoulder had been getting worse to the point that it would dislocate when I reached up to pull the shower door shut. Time to get it done , I suppose.Shoulder surgery sucks. Let me clarify right shoulder surgery sucks. I have however, realized I don't make a bad left-hander. Except for vacuuming, I could not for the life of me figure out how to vacuum with my left hand. I am in a dilemma, obey the docs and not use the shoulder at all but, my shoulder feels pretty good and it is almost down right impossible to get anything done with my old lefty?
Anyway, I am tired of pain killers, tired of my sling, tired of not being able to go anywhere because of the painkillers, tired of not being able to run (running can get me of these pity parties I like to hold for myself).
So enough of the negatives on the positive side, I do not or cannot play ward basketball this season( love to play, hate the dramatics of dealing with uber-competitive Christian females who too often forget they are Christians at all), and next fall watch out for my powerhouse serve to return in volleyball.
Anyway, I remember that about a year ago I wrote a post about being in funk this just might be a January funk thing too.
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