Volume XI, issue iii, March 2015

The Littlest Leprechaun

Our littlest leprechaun is transitioning into more "adult" ways of expressing himself and leaving some of the "baby speak" behind. This month he said one of our favorites for the last time. It pained me to hear him say "Macaroni and Cheese" because we all adored how he referred to it as "Pony Cheese."

***
One day before Joy School, I informed him that he'd be going to Abby's house that day. His expressive rose-bud lips opened wide in horror and he exclaimed: "At Abby's house there are people! BABY people! And they hit!" Abby has a two-year-old brother who is currently a "non-hitter in training."

***
The other moms were green with envy because I was the one who got to have Joy School at her house on St. Patrick's day. These cute three-year-olds were shocked and amazed at all of the leprechaun footprints running up our front walk and over our front door and into our house. When they followed the footprints into the kitchen and saw the dirty dishes that Holden had left undone the night before, they gasped. Knowing that three-year-olds are the most horribly awful and terrifyingly vocal judges of the state of cleanliness of one's house, I usually end up stressing out as I am scrubbing and straightening and fine-tuning the house before they get here. But on St Patrick's Day, I had deliberately decided to let the dirty dishes wait for Holden to get home from school rather than doing them myself because I had concocted a wonderful, awful, grinchy idea.

I immediately said with enthusiasm, "Oh my goodness! Look what the LEPRECHAUN did!! Can you believe he left such a mess!" These professional cleanliness critics were uniformly disgusted and appalled.  I grinned and enjoyed their toddler indignation, knowing that for once it wasn't directed at me or my house.

I Triple Dog DARE You

Our Eve was one of the winners of the DARE program's essay contest. She's like a brunette version Anne of Green Gables, but with a sense of irony.

***
We got a text from Eric's sister, Noelle, in March asking us to facetime her. When we did, Noelle, Marvin, and Matthew were eating dinner at a restaurant, so they asked us to call back in an hour. When they gave us the fantastic news that they'll be moving to Boise, we all cheered aloud and danced around. Eve cried out, "I knew it! I knew it!

I asked her how she knew it, and she replied, "Well, I just looked at context clues and made an inference." Well, of course you did, Eve! She continued matter-of-factly, "They were eating at a restaurant for dinner. You usually eat at a restaurant whey you're stressed or when you have something to celebrate. I thought that if they were moving closer to us that maybe they would be stressed about moving, but excited to move closer to us." Thanks, my adorable little Sherlock.

***

When details about her day at school came gushing forth at the dinner-table as they usually do, Eve described an assignment her teacher had given them which required her and a partner to establish a government for their own country. She took a pause between lively adjectives and said, "It was quite intense!"

***

She leaned forward in her seat as we ran an errand together and asked, "Do you know what caused me great sorrow, Mom?" I couldn't imagine what would cause my cheerfully empathetic little sprite that kind of sadness. She went on, "At the end of a book I just finished they didn't say whether the main character died or not. They implied it. . . but they didn't come right and say it!"

In the following video, you will hear the 5th graders at Madison Middle School belt out what each of the letters in DARE stands for. Listen carefully for how it says that "E" means "I will Educate Me." Nice. I'm going to go and have a stroke now.

Holden's "Real" First Date

Holden has a friend that we refer to as his "Book Buddy." They sit on the bus together and talk about books (and if they talk about other things, I don't want to know about it). Her 16th birthday was this month, and Holden wanted to return a cherished book she had let him borrow with a bookmark that asked her out on a date. He quoted the book and incorporated the exposition into his question. He also made her a giant chocolate chip cookie to sweeten the deal.

It was pretty darn cute if I do say so myself. How could she possibly refuse? (If you're wondering how I got such a cute side-by-side comparison photo when I obviously don't live at her house, I have to admit that I'm friends with her Mom and we text sometimes. . . about our kids. . . and things.)

Holden picked her up for the date after a hearty helping of dating etiquette advice from his parents. I told him that he shouldn't pick her up one minute earlier than he had said he would, which meant that the friend he was doubling with was waiting for him at the restaurant for about three entire minutes. Holden received a panicked phone call from his friend (who was also on his first date) saying, "Where are you, Dude?" Thank goodness I never have to return to such gloriously awkward moments!

Holden and his date were on the opposite end of the stress spectrum and just enjoyed each others company as good friends. (Stop it! Stop thinking that I'm in denial just because I'm his mother! They are really just friends. Stop it! Why are you laughing at me like that?)

Caleb's First Sacrament Meeting Talk

Please imagine our wonderfully understated boy standing in front of a congregation of about 300 people wearing his yellow bow-tie and suit-coat with a constant grin wiggling only at the corners of his mouth and threatening to overtake his face.

Somehow sweet Caleb managed to appear completely somber to the casual observer, even when the audience was cracking up as his dry wit.

Good morning….For my topic I chose “Are we really converted to the church?” We read in Luke 22:32 (read scripture) I thought that was an important message “Art thou converted?” An example of trying to be more converted is when I was told to give a talk for example. I didn’t want to do it but, I tried to stay positive about it. I wasn’t as  converted as I could have been but I did it. . . but I didn’t do it with very much willingness.

Another example is a story about my great grandpa, Orval Hafen.  Orval was in a stake presidency in St. George, Utah that had a small town in Arizona called Mt Trumbull that was in their stake boundaries. He wrote in his journal about three brethren on the high council who were assigned to drive sixty miles on Sunday to visit the saints in Mt. Trumbull. There was a gravel road that was rough on their cars and the branch was so far away from St. George. Two of  them would groan and make excuses not to go.One of them complained that the stake presidency always assigned him to go. The stake presidency found out that this brother had only been once in the past three years. Orval contrasted this man with their youngest high councilor who was always willing to go. Orval wrote that this young man was “always willing to perform every call we have made on him.” Orval then wrote, “Is a man really converted if he isn’t willing to make a sacrifice for [the church]?” I like Orval’s point . Imagine what would happen if people wouldn’t sacrifice for the church. Things wouldn’t get done. People might not come to church and many other things.

My last example happened a few years ago when it was stake conference. I just didn’t want to go because I was about seven or eight-ish  and a seven to eight year old might not have the best attention span. I went and I thought that it wouldn’t be interesting and that it would just be boring but, I was willing to make the sacrifice and it was really nice to me when they spoke. I think that we should try to be more converted and make “sacrifices” even if it doesn’t seem beneficial to you it will be at least to somebody else, and I say these things…..        

Volume XI, issue ii, February 2015

So in LOVE With This Face                                             

(especially when he peeks out at me with Groucho glasses and eats sandwiches in that way that he does)

Charlie and I enjoy cuddling up on the couch with just the two of us and digging into a massive pile of books. Recently, I reached into the cavernous book shelves in the study and pulled out an extra large board book copy of Goodnight Moon that is about 14 inches wide. We have several copies of the book and I hadn't realized that Charlie had never seen this particular copy. The ones we had read to him have all been about half that size. 

Charlie wrinkled his forehead and put his nose right in the book and studied it with concern. Finally, he looked at me and said,"Did you put water on it?"

***

Occasionally we buy off-brand pop-tarts to put in the kids lunches as a sort of cardboard-like confection. Charlie asked for one of them as we were distributing the lunches, and Eric told him that he couldn't have one because Ethan still needed one. Charlie paused thoughtfully as he looked at the full package in Eric's hand and said, "But there are two. Ethan can have the front and I can have the back." Give that smart kid a pop-tart, Dad!

Out of the Mouth of Babes

Peter had some unexpected (and completely experimental and might I add un-necessary--don't get me started) oral surgery this month. He wound up with an incision in his gums above his front tooth that throbbed uncontrollably for days. When we backed off on our usual ploys to get him to eat what the rest of were having for dinner  and allowed him to have yogurt with no strings or bites of food he hates attached, he got a little emotional. With his mouth still drooping from numbness, he said, "Thanks for being so nice."

ME (EVE)

Eve's poster about herself for a school assignment is as revelatory as it is adorable. I doubt that any other little girls had a combination as weird and lovely as Sharknado, JK's Hot Dogs, and Thriller on their get-to-know me poster. Eve couldn't be more loyal, quirky, or wonderful. 

You don't need many words to accessorize the looks of the faces of these two. They floated off to the middle school Daddy Daughter Dance together with a stop on the way at their favorite Taqueria for dinner. They've been practicing their choreography since Eve could stand up, so they hit that dance floor with a confidence ten years in the making. They lassoed each other, lawn-mowered in tandem, and generally made everyone else a little envious.

For Eve's birthday, she asked for a giant snickerdoodle cookie instead of a birthday cake. After I had tossed the huge dough-ball in the oven, Peter came upstairs and wiggled his nose like a hungry little Peter Rabbit, and asked what kind of cake I was making for Eve's birthday. I told him it was a giant snickerdoodle. Peter said thoughtfully, "I don't know what that is. . . but it sounds good!"

I came home from a Baby Shower on Saturday to discover that Eve had not only made cupcakes with her Easy Bake Oven, but she had used the leftover pieces and parts of one of my previous projects to create cupcake toppers. The toppers say mild things like "Power" and "Cupcake Madness." 

Volume XI, issue i, January 2015

Sixteen Candles

Birthday breakfast burritos at the "taco bus."

The birthday present I opened on January 17, 1999 (or did the birthday present open me?) was not only the best birthday present I had ever received, but he was the gift that kept on giving. Since that birthday 16 years ago, I've been able to celebrate my big day each year by making it someone else's big day.

When Holden was about eight, he approached me with a wave of shame moving across his face at the sudden realization that I had been throwing him an elaborate party on my birthday every year. He gulped back the guilt as he told me, "Mom, I feel bad. I don't want you to have to throw a party on your birthday!" (You should have heard Eric snort.)

Little did he realize that he had been giving his party-planning-addict-of-a-mother an annual present without ever having to do anything besides being born.

This year, I started planning Holden's Sweet Sixteen bash months in advance. During moments of brain-quiet, I would imagine scenes from the party that involved teen girls and teen boys who had come of their "Mormon Age," giggling merrily and basking in their sixteen-ness. I had plans for sparklingly interactive games dancing through my head along with an erudite guest list and an embarrassingly complicated yet adolescent-friendly menu.

Then I finally decided to ask Holden if he wanted a "boy girl party." Oops.  This introvert-to-the core should have realized she had trained her birthday twin to be an introvert-to-the-core. We exchanged alternative ideas for a few days, and I told him to choose the kind of party that he would really enjoy.

About a week before our birthday, we were discussing different options for his party, and without expecting him to really be interested, I casually added to the list, "Or the two of us could just go out together?"

My normally serene teen immediately lit up and said, "Really? That would be fun!" in the same way that I had expected him to react when I originally suggested the idea of having a boy girl party. I was stunned.

The perpetual sixteen-year-old that lives in my brain couldn't believe it. I had to grab her by the permed hair and threaten her to calm down or she wouldn't get to go on the date at all. Without a trace of hyperbole, I can say (and Eric will back me up on this) that I reached an entirely new level of GIDDY.

I have not spent more than an hour to get myself gussied, prepped, and ready for any event of any kind since the day of my wedding on March 28th, 1999 (which, if you're shrewd, you've already figured out was approximately 10 months before Holden was born). But on January 17th, 2015, I actually ironed something to wear and curled my hair and put on makeup. I didn't want my first-born son to go on his first-date with some slob!

As Holden waited patiently for his date to finish curling her hair (which I discovered is not like riding a bike at all! [The girls don't even use bikes any more. . . they use FLAT-irons to curl their hair! Did you know that?]), he made poses like this one in the living room:

Forty-five minutes later (clears throat self-consciously), I went out the mud-room door and re-surfaced in front of the front door and rang the doorbell. I couldn't stop smiling alone in the dark as I waited for him to answer the door. I was more excited than I ever was for one of those girls-choice nightmares in high school. Holden was so cute when he saw me produce a Snickers Bouquet from behind my back that I couldn't stop grinning like I was the Mom Prom Queen for the evening.

As Eric attempted to take a few snapshots of us, he kept saying, "Stop smiling like that! Can you please tone it down just a little?" I just flashed every single one of my teeth at him and said, "I can't!"

My sweet boy and I went to dinner at a local barbeque joint and just talked and laughed like old friends. At one point, Holden offered me a charming smile and said, "I just love spending time with my favorite woman in the world!" He then paused with perfect timing and continued, "But since she's not available, you'll have to do."

As the oldest of seven, our poor Holden has rarely eaten at a restaurant, so he was completely overwhelmed by all of the choices on the menu. He struggled to narrow down his options until I educated him about one of the best perks of dating--sharing your food. I told him to choose two main courses so we could share.

Perhaps my aging heart wouldn't normally have tolerated both the chicken fried steak and the brisket, but it felt so young that night that I think the fat just sailed right through my arteries!

It only took about twelve tries for the two of us to get our arched eyebrows in sync with each other, but we were quite pleased with our selfie shot. When we showed Peter this "cynical eyebrow" (as Holden calls it) face later, he said seriously, "It's handsome. . . but sarcastic"

Among other topics, Holden and I discussed dating, French grammar, The Great Gatsby, European History, and the meaning of the scriptural phrase "grace for grace." I had to turn away from him so he wouldn't see my tears after he voluntarily shared the verse that had been on his mind lately from D&C 93: "And he received not of the fulness at first, but continued from grace to grace, until he received a fulness." Holden told me how he loved how even though the Savior was perfect, he still had to learn from the scriptures in order to become fully developed. 

For his birthday, this cooky kid asked for books about writing and cheesecake. . . 

(Let me just pause and say, "Seriously??? Where did this kid come from?")

The week after his birthday, Holden was ordained to be a Priest. As he loosened his tie when he got home, he said reflectively, "Now I'm available AND righteous!"

* * *

As happens so often these days, I wished I could somehow travel back to that disheartened 16-year-old that I used to be (or to the single 26-year-old in graduate school or the rash-ridden, vomiting pregnant woman, or the miscarrying mother). I would tell her to savor those teenage tugs at her heartstrings and not to become swallowed up in comparisons or suffering or sacrifice. I'd describe the delicious details from idyllic scenes in her future, scenes that would only surface after years of waiting on the Lord--scenes so absolutely full of an organic happiness that would have been utterly unimaginable on some of those lonely days of self-pity and awkwardness. 

But she wouldn't have believed me. Thankfully, it all had to be lived. 

World Meets Girl

Our Eve has never suffered from an ounce of self-consciousness (perhaps because I am neurotic enough for both of us). This year she's been choosing her outfit every day, which are just slightly more understated than the frilly works of clothing-art that I would assemble for her during her elementary school days. 

One cold day this month, she came upstairs after getting ready for school with a fun striped cardigan and a t-shirt. I looked at her outfit and said enthusiastically, Eve! That looks cute!"

My girl just shrugged and said, "That wasn't its purpose. . . but thanks."

Volume X, issue xii, December 2014

d'Evegnees in One-derland

Thanks to my dear friend, Lori P., Eric and I discovered the one-derful world of onesies. At first we were prancing around in them to be silly, but little did we realize that we had found a new way of life. Comfortable, warm, relaxed life. Apparently onesies are all the rage with certain celebrity startlets, so that's why I'm wearing heels in the photo. Normally I just wear it with slippers and a vacant expression.

Eric now calls me his "Onesie and Only" and his "Onesie True Love." 

We wore them to deliver some Christmas presents to friends and tried our best to keep straight faces and failed miserably. They're surprisingly flattering, especially when you don't care at all what you look like. 

On our way home from delivering our special neighbor gifts, I realized we needed to pop into the store to grab something for one of the kids. We sheepishly walked into Walgreen's and tried to avoid eye contact with any of the normal twosie folks who were actually wearing pants. 

A fellow shopper spied me out of the corner of his eye and Eric saw him do a double take with a startled expression as he gave me a onesie once over. . . twice. Then the gentleman noticed Eric in his matching outfit and didn't even try to disguise his horror as he quickly vacated our onesie-fied aisle. It was onesie discrimination at its most pathetic!

At dinner one evening, Eric and I were lounging in our onesies (again) and Eric was teasing Holden about not being very mature. Holden grimaced, shook his head and replied, "Says the man-child in the onesie."

And if you were one-dering. . . yes, I am wearing my onesie right now as I type. It's cold everywhere but right here in my onesie. 

For Peter's December Pack Night for Scouts, he found himself in a rare pairing with his Dad and no one else. While basking in this one-on-one parental attention, he exclaimed gleefully, "This is just like a Boys' Night Out!"

Peter proudly harnessed every bit of his French/Belgian heritage and grinned his way through a presentation about Christmas traditions in France. We let the kids in Peter's class sample some fresh Liegoise waffles we had baked that morning and one of them said, "This is the best waffle I've ever had!" Well. . . bien sûr!

Do You Want to Save a Snowman?

I got a text from a neighbor, Camille, saying that she wanted to tell me how proud she was of our Eve. Camille just had her third baby boy in three years and we've developed a soft place in our heart for her familiar familial situation.

Camille reported to me how she and her little boys had spent several hours that day carefully constructing a snowman in their front yard. As the middle-school kids got off of the bus near their home, a group of boys started yelling and throwing snowballs at her boys' snowman, trying to make it fall down. Camille came to the front door to ask the boys to stop, and she heard a fierce little female voice saying, "You guys! Stop it!" Our fearless little Eve placed herself between the boys and the snowman like a protective maternal force of nature.

Camille told me how proud she was of Eve for "standing up for what's right." I was pretty proud of her myself.

Some of the Moms in our neighborhood organized a cute little preschool group with six of our three-year-olds. Every time its my week to be the teacher, you can bet that we figure out how we can make a party out of our assigned theme.

Neighbor Gifts
Each year we create some sort of handmade gift for our neighbors and friends in town. Little by little I've been integrating the kids into the process and this year our dining-room-turned-craft-room-for-the-holidays was transformed into a little Santa's Workshop as the kids and I cranked out over 50 wooden blocks. There's nothing quite as satisfying as a busy, organized assembly line!

As we snuggled together on our sectional in the basement watching A Christmas Story one evening this month, we couldn't get over how much our Peter looks like a brunette Ralphie.

The next day, Eric and I were dressed up for a Christmas costume party and I had drawn brown circles under my eyes as part of my costume. Charlie looked at me with concern and said, "You shoot your eye?"

In the past week, the dishes we've made have been rendered with culinary mastery, which means that they've all left piles of dirty pots and pans in their wake. As Ethan took his turn on dish-duty, I discovered him wearing the hat he crocheted himself, looking like a happy little kitchen elf.

We were able to spend a few days and nights with my parents and siblings after Christmas. My favorite part was playing Christmas duets with my Dad. Four-handed holiday bliss with Bach and my Renaissance man of a father.

That's right, we stopped in Salt Lake on the way back from my parents house and grabbed some Belgian food. My stunning niece, Sarah, met us there and made the whole experience even better (which we had thought would be impossible).

The woman working at the counter was about to throw away the remnants in a huge bucket of ice cream, but offered it to my sweet little vultures instead.

Happy New Spear!

After our New Year's Eve fondue party, Eric and I headed down to the junior high to be chaperone's for the multi-stake dance. I could almost hear the Ghosts of Hafens Past roaming the hallways.

Eric said it smelled like axe body spray and awkwardness. He told the kids we were going to supervise "Make-out Corner." They asked if there was such a thing and I replied, "When we get there there will be!" They were so grossed out that it was awesome.