Volume X, issue vi, June 2014

Mom and Dad's 50th Wedding Anniversary

When I was a big-haired, acne-speckled, angst-ridden adolescent, I imagined what love was. Like my hair, love was supposed to be big and glamorous and slightly out-of-control. Ideal love, the best kind of love in my mind, was kindled by external traits like beauty and the ability to look good in formal wear for balls. 

On one of these dewy-eyed days, I found myself alone in the station wagon with Mom and Dad, which was such a rare treat that I hardly knew what to do with myself as I was perched in the middle of the back seat behind them, leaning forward on the vinyl seats with anticipation as I asked them the question that had been on my mind. I chirped excitedly: “Mom and Dad, how did you know that you were in love?”

I braced myself with glee as my heart opened and expected to be blown away by a  timeless tale filled with romance, high-speed chases, and chivalrous fights to the death.

Mom and Dad each shared their side of the story. They had been friends and they loved to talk about. . . ideas. I waited for the good part.

I waited for Dad to talk about how gorgeous he thought Mom was when she walked into the ballroom and how her blue eyes sparkled in the moonlight and how she looked like an angel. I waited for Mom to describe Dad’s muscles and how she had never seen anyone more handsome or brave.

Instead they talked about how they couldn’t wait to see each other so they could talk about insights and feelings they had about news of the day or things they had read.

I was so disappointed. I thought, “Don’t they really love each other?”

Finally Dad said, “I knew I was in love with your Mom when I realized that eternity might not be long enough for me to talk to her about all the things we could talk about.”

I can’t even type it without crying. But I didn’t understand it then. I didn’t understand what John Haslam Clark described when he said that loyalty is even better than “love.” But I understand it now, finally, after meeting the one person who makes me wonder if eternity is long enough. And I finally realize that that kind of wondering is actually what romance and beauty are all about. I understand that my heart does “swell wide as eternity” when I think of him and that there is nothing more romantic than that. 

After the dreamiest dream vacation with all of the other couples in our family to  Laguna Beach for five luxurious days of anniversary celebrating, we had a more homey version of the anniversary celebration with all of the kids. Tom and Tracy even came via skype (although Eric kept deliberately placing his derriere in front of the computer so I'm not sure how enjoyable it was for them).

During one of our dinner conversations at Laguna Beach, we divided up the party planning for the family celebration into manageable segments. I volunteered to bring desserts for the party and in my party-planning delirium, blurted out, "I can make cupcakes with Mom and Dad's faces on them!"

Everyone laughed and I said, "Hey! I was serious!"

Later, when I shared the exchange with our kids, Eve said, "Do they even know you??"

My four sous-chefs and I worked for hours crafting five different kinds of d'Evegnee original cupcakes, finally finishing our overblown creations after 1 AM before we needed to pack all of them up to haul down to Utah for the party.

The different cupcakes each had a sugary-sweet anniversary-themed name to call its own: For Butter of For Worse (Butterbeer Cupcakes); Annivers-berry and Cream; Chocolate Peanut Butter Nuptials; Mint Chocolate Marriages; and "I Do" Gluten-free Carrot Cake.

One of my favorite scenes form the evening was watching my oldest brother, Jon, cuddling up with our little Charlie. They looked like two little Hafen peas in a pod.

All of the kids and grandkids wore their "party clothes" to the shindig which consisted of the t-shirts my parents gave to all of us for Christmas last year. Each shirt has the name of each person on the back with their birth order number. When Ethan saw me in my shirt, he said with a grin, "Mom, WHY are you wearing that shirt?" (I don't know where he gets his knack for puns.)

After interviewing my parents about their history and preferences, Mark created a delightful version of a Jeopardy game, which we played "Browns vs Blondes" following our long-standing family tradition. 

d'Evegnee Camping

Eric and I are admittedly the least outdoorsy folks in Rexburg. Our friends and neighbors seem to be constantly in search of the next hunting, camping, or hiking expedition. Not to be out-done, we decided to create our own version of outdoor fun, which we fondly named "d'Evegnee Camping."

For us, roughing it, means roasting hot-dogs over a completely contained fire-pit in our back-yard and playing games and talking on our lawn until it gets dark and we see the stars twinkling in the expansive Idaho evening sky. Then we simply pluck up our camp chairs and happily head back inside to sleep in our warm, comfortable beds.

No swarms of hungry bugs, no crying, no shivering uncontrollably as the nearly sleepless night madly drags on. No worrying that hungry bears will make a midnight snack of your kids. Just full bellies, the crackling of the fire, indoor plumbing and easy clean-up. 

We've also experimented with a "Foil Dinner Bar," where each child can choose their own mixture of vegetables and meat to chuck into the fire. The kids especially enjoy the curly fries with rivers of barbecue sauce. 

The kids loved these! We went a little crazy and added chocolate-covered pretzels and peanut butter to the list of ingredients we've seen other people try.

Daddy Daughter Kickball

For Eve's church activity called "Achievement Days," the girls in our ward had a rip-roaring game of Daddy daughter kickball. Eve was so excited for the event that she could barely concentrate on anything else for days before the game.

I loved seeing the Dads and daughters holding hands as they waited for their turn to kick. I also loved seeing Eric wildly sprinting to home base and finally dramatically sliding into home on his stomach even though the ball was nowhere near him. He never ceases to surprise me with his willingness to incur bodily harm for a laugh.

Marie's Primary Talk

It was Marie's turn to give a short talk in Primary at church this month. As I whispered the words to her, she happily repeated them until I got to the end of the talk and she was clearly bored by my repetitive rhetoric.
I have watched three brothers and one sister get baptized. I love watching them get baptized because they are so happy after! In the scriptures it says that baptism is like a gate or a door. Imagine your favorite place in the world. Maybe it’s the zoo. Maybe it’s Disneyland. Maybe it’s your favorite place to eat. Baptism is like opening the door to go to your favorite place. . . but even better! When we get baptized we open the door that will help us get back to Heavenly Father. We open the door to be with our families forever. We open the door to happiness! I love that!

By the end of the talk,  Marie looked at me with an exasperated expression and whispered loudly,  
"Can you stop opening the door??"

As I was cleaning out our desk in the kitchen, I found this:

I'm so glad she took matters into her own hands and signed Eric's name for him. 

Volume X, issue v, May 2014

When the youngest of my first-born boys turned twelve, I was launched into a new phase for our trio. The first Sunday in May, Caleb was ordained to be a Deacon by Eric, which means that I am surrounded by Priesthood holders in my home. Some women love holding bouquets of flowers. I'd rather hold a bouquet of boys. Some women want their boys to be tough and strong. I want mine to be sensitive and strengthening, even if it means they're not the most visible ones in the school hallways. My boys are quiet and sometimes even awkward and I love the hesitancy that registers in their faces when they interact with others because it means that they are weighing options rather than just social acceptance.

As I watched Caleb pass the sacrament for the first time this month with such deliberate care laced with just a trace of anxiety, I had flashbacks to those moments when I could easily wrap my arms around that Sweet Three when they were all three and under. Three boys, all in diapers, all in my arms, all sent in rapidly asked-for succession, all granting wishes that had been on my lips for years of yearning. Thoughts of that little band of three accompanied me as I watched Caleb, now so tall and straight,  pass the bread and the water for the first time.

Three Cheers for Charlie

This guy's chubby swagger and cheerful charm make at least a little part of each day easy to enjoy. He inhales more than his fair share of cookies ( a lot more) and he is absurdly spoiled by his eight live-in babysitters/playmates/servants, but our curly-haired Little Prince has "tamed" us and is "unique in all the world." 

C is for Cookie and for Charlie and (at least for his birthday dinner) for Pizza (with c-shaped pepperoni).

The Fairest of Them All

By the time you arrive at the month of your fourth fourth grade science fair you've probably learned that the event has less to do with science than it does advertising. You've learned that rather than being based on the scientific method, it is based on the party-planning method. You know that you don't need solid evidence as much as you need a solid theme and color scheme. I can do that. 

For Eve's science fair project, she wanted to make flowers turn a whole rainbow of colors by letting them soak luxuriously in food coloring for a few days. We turned the whole thing into a multi-colored affair, complete with a logo and a motto and even bowlfuls of rainbow-colored candy to insure that she wouldn't meet the same woeful fate as Caleb did when a chipper young visitor at his fourth grade fair whined that his project was "boring." It still makes him sting in an oddly scientific way. 

When Eve trundled in with all of her science fair paraphernalia in tow, clinking with every step as she lugged the heavy vases into the house, she told me she had been saying the name of the flower incorrectly all morning until one of the visiting moms corrected her. I asked her what she had been saying instead of carnation and she said, "Kardashian." 

That one word made all of the many hours spent on this project worth it. I couldn't stop giggling and snorting as I called Eric and told him about it, so he had to tell me to breathe and slow down so he could understand what I was saying. 

One More Eve-Related Tale

Eve was reporting the scandalous fact that her teacher defined "skinny dipping" in class. She raised her eyebrows at me, so I said most parents wouldn't be offended by that unless they were super protective. She said, "Yeah. . . if that's how they coop their chickens!"

Elementary, My Dear 12-year-Old

We had Caleb's Sherlock birthday party the first weekend of May. Planning the party with him reminded me how irresistibly clever and cute he is. Our shy boy has been mysteriously transformed into quite a social creature when he is with his best friends and I love watching other people become clued-in to his quiet wit. 

We painted t-shirts, played "Sherlock's Smiley Face Shoot-Out," had a Mystery Dinner, and watched Young Sherlock Holmes (mostly because I have always wanted to eat some googly-eyed cream-puffs). A lot of the party was based on the BBC's interpretation of Sherlock, but we threw in a few traditional allusions as well. 

Mother's Day 2014

 Post husband-created dinner, post present-shower, love-enveloping group-hug with a spoiled mother squashed in the middle. 

The kids presented me with a variety of tear-inducing gifts and cards and Holden even composed a sonnet for me. Ethan told me, "I know how much you like infinity scarves, so I crocheted you one. . . for your WRIST!" I told Eric that I felt like Jimmy Mcenroe and he said, "You are so OLD! Don't you know any recent tennis players?" I said, "Bjorn Borg?" 

Volume X, issue iv, April 2014

Nobody’s Fool

We have several petite Picassos who produce random artistic renderings throughout the day and then leave them strewn about the house, making my counters and floor into a museum (which sounds a lot better than “a recycling bin"). On the first day of April, I discovered a whole theme-based art show on the kitchen table. Marie had been busy. I looked through the drawings and found myself intrigued and just slightly horrified. The angrily toothy, seething personas were something I would expect to find at a psychiatrist’s office rather than my kitchen. I tip-toed carefully up to my budding artiste and softly asked, “Marie, are you mad at Eve?”

She unblinkingly gave me her trademark look of pure sweetness. I showed her the drawings and she cackled loudly and said, “Oh! Those are for April Fool’s Day! I was trying to draw April Fool’s Day faces.” I was the one who was clearly taken for a fool. . . and that girl needs to harness her ability to project emotion and become a famous actor!

The innocuous pranks at our house mostly included balls dropping from doorways, which feels fine until one of them happens to be rather heavy hoppity-hop ball (see Marie's drawing below). 

Mother Nature couldn't bear to be left out of the pranks and dumped enough of the white stuff on us to allow our ever-gender-aware Eve to create this impressive snow-woman. 

For the Priesthood Session of the LDS General Conference, Eric was able to take a trio of handsome tagalongs with him to dinner and the meeting. My Musketeers looked so dapper that I almost made them late with my nagging picture-taking. I set my camera to "sports mode" to capture their collective leap into the air and it made the whole thing even more fun. 

                                        

During the photo-shoot before the Priesthood Session, Eric suggested they take one photo that looked like a "boy band." When I asked him what their boy band's name would be, Eric said, "Charcuterie," which means "Butcher" or more appropriately "Meat Shop." It was too perfect not to inspire a few of his birthday presents. Now they're ready for the tour with their album cover and t-shirt.                              Now they just need an album.

Breaking Bad

When spring should have sprung at our house, it came “not with a bang but a whimper.” The kids’ spring break came during the end of our college semester, and our weak two-day break between semesters landed on school days for the kids. I was left a bit melancholy as I watched our poor kids dutifully do their chores and practice their instruments during what was supposed to be their break. (The only evidence that they were having a break was the fact that they stayed in their pajamas all day. When Eve was asked about this she replied, “Wearing pajamas is a sign of giving up.”)

I finally realized, “Hey! I’m the MOM! I can do something about this pathetic excuse for a spring break!” I concocted an uncharacteristically mischievous plan that consisted of letting the kids play hooky from school for the day so we could pack as many vacation-esque activities into it. (Eve actually went to school for the first two hours because she couldn’t bear to miss out on her hard-earned perfect attendance certificate for this year. Such a good girl. She reminds me of me before I became corrupted this month.)

It was actually a little intoxicating for this particular nerd to live on the social edge this way. I found myself snickering as our answering machine slowly filled up to its brim with messages from schools all around town, sternly informing us our child was absent. We cheerfully listened from the kitchen table, smiling at each other and stuffing ourselves with German Pancakes and homemade buttermilk syrup.

The Littles and I had a tournament of games at home including Go Fish, War, and Matching with our d’Evegnee Family Cards, puzzles, and some rambunctious Duck, Duck Goose while the older kids played basketball with Eric. The Littles and I joined the bigger kids a little later and I had the chance to see Eric’s untarnished basketball skills in action.

After lunch at our favorite authentic Taqueria, we surprised the kids by taking them to The Lego Movie. We couldn’t stop giggling at our luck at finding ourselves alone in a ginormous theater, so I asked one of the theater’s employees to snap a few shots of us.

We ended the day by driving to the thriving metropolis of Ririe, Idaho (population 639) to try a pizza place several of our friends had recommended. Our 36 inch pie was cooked in an 800 degree vintage wood-burning pizza oven and was one of the best we’ve ever tasted.

We all gave one satisfied collective sigh as our vacation ended at the end of the day and it was a unanimous decision to make this an annual d’Evegnee deal. 

Miracle Marie turns 6
On April 21^st six years ago I was breathless, panicked, and laboring at 33 weeks pregnant. April 21st is my day of miracles and remembering that the power of the Priesthood gave us a baby girl who shouldn't have survived.

How does our miraculous Marie know she is six? "Hey! I can tell I'm six because I can zip up both of my boots!"

After her requested birthday dinner of “homemade macaroni n’ cheese and salad” (I wish you could hear her say it), we had the dessert Marie wanted which consisted of “a layer of chocolate cake, a layer of ice cream and then another layer of chocolate cake.” After opening her pile of presents, she put her elbows on the pile, rested her chin in her hands, sighed contentedly and said, “So. . . now what?”

Marie was asking us what her nicknames are, so we told her “Mariebees,” “Rie-Rie,” and “Petite Marie.” She thought for a second and said, “I think I would like to called Marie the Younger.” 

Peter was contentedly munching on one of Marie's feline-shaped birthday cupcakes and I said, "Hey! Cat got your tongue?" He looked at me blankly so I said, "Don't you know that expression?" He responded, "Expression? I thought it was an idiom."

Here's Eve's birthday card to Marie:

"To the kind, marvelous, pretty and smart Marie from your loving sister Eve. Marie I'm so glad that I have you as a sister. I love that you're funny and always try to have those wonderful parties! Your future is bright! You will always be my sister."

I found Marie's to-do list taped to the fridge. When I asked her why she had to take two naps, she said, "Because I'll get tired doing all that stuff!"

After I took some birthday photos of her, I caught her "walking" back to the house. This video represents how Marie moves through life.

Go (and go and go and go) Fish
Peter's school program was this month and even though I've been to a lot of school programs (and I mean A LOT), I can say with certainty that I've never seen anyone as excited as he was for the program. Every day he gave us the countdown on the number of days until "Go Fish" and our straight-faced thespian didn't even allow us to tease him. On the day of the program, I told him I was sorry but we had to go to Idaho Falls for the rest of the night and wouldn't be back until after bedtime. He didn't even smile. 

We invited/coerced all of the kids to come with us because we knew it would mean so much to Peter and the nine of us lined up in the "standing room only" gym at the elementary school with the rest of what Holden so eloquently called the "cesspool of helicopter parents and bloggers extraordinaire." (I couldn't resist snapping a shot of our "captive" audience. To be fair, this was our FIFTH family member to perform in "Go Fish.") 

I love the expression on our dear friend Daniel Dewey's face as well.  (His son is their fourth family member to perform in "Go Fish.") 

I was quite impressed with Peter's dancing during the rap number about sharks.

Prince Caleb

My sweet Caleb and I attended the Middle School Mother and Son party, and he swept me off my feet with his charm and chivalry. He offered to share his food with me, scurried around during the games and picked up after me, kept me engaged with lively conversation, and stayed by my side the entire night. (Either he thinks I’m really, really old or he is actually that much of a gentleman.) 

For his 12th birthday, Caleb wanted cheese and vegetable soup with breadbowls and cheesecake balls for dessert on the menu. This was my first time attempting homemade breadbowls, but after watching my crowd wolf them down with grunts of happiness, it won't be the last.