Abigail

How to make the Grand Canyon more grand
As you know my husband’s name is LeGrand.
Many people get confused over the name.
I tell them it’s a French name,
and the best way for them to remember it is to think of it’s meaning.
LeGrand means “The Big.”
In fact, one of my favorite nicknames that LG was given is
The Big and The Mighty.
And you can all decide for yourself if that describes my hubby.
So, what does the name definition have to do with my post?
It was pure coincidence that we visited The Grand Canyon
on LeGrand’s birthday.
In honor of LeGrand visiting The Grand Canyon,
you all should know that our girls have renamed
The Grand Canyon to LeGrand Canyon.
It’s very fitting I think.
Don’t you think LG looks just like this Native American
who claims to be The Grand Canyon?

And, to make the visit even more grand,
we made sure our rental car was a Grand Caravan.

I think the train is due for some updating
along with all the other signage at the Grand Canyon.
It shouldn’t be hard, just add the “Le” at the front.

For me, The Grand Canyon, was just another evidence of God’s majesty!
What is possibly more grand than that?
Except maybe the scriptures.

If you think of The Colorado River as Willy Wonka’s chocolate river,
it’s automatically more grand.

I thought it a grand coincidence that the Arch from the Arches National Park
showed up in clouds right over the Grand Canyon.
I think that maybe God was trying to tell us that he
approved of our name change.
If you decide to hike, make sure that you read the signs so you can get back up.

Stop at the shop and gets some Dreyer’s Grand ice-cream.

Hide from mom in the tower and make her panic for a good twenty minutes
that you may have fallen into the canyon.
That’s always grand fun.
Especially when dad is in on the game.
Doesn’t it look like they are touching a painting?

Nope just pointing out the grandness.

Put yourself into the painting.
Because you are part of God’s grand creations too.

Tease your mom and wife some more by laughing at her

as she hollers for you to step back.


Show your children that you are just as grand
as any of those overpriced toys that they want.

Camp…you gotta camp.

Find something very small to remember the grand occasion.
This is our baby owl.
Her name is Paquito.
We let dad name her for his birthday.

Sit right at the grand edge.
It’s so much fun.
Notice all the grand fossils.

And the grandest layering ever.

Can we call this a grand bee?

And, make sure you visit at the grandest times of the day.

Sunrise and sunset of course.

Take notice of the grand calves. Nothing less would be worthy.

Lean over just once and ponder the
grandness of your own mortality.
The horizon is endless and so is the land.

What’s more grand than that?

Add your own caption here. I can’t think of one.
On your drive home, take a grand minute or two to realize that the

grandness of God and his creations are really never ending.

You just have to keep looking.

Off to school
Last week marked the beginning of another school year for the Gold Family.
It is a little historic for us, as Bella, our baby, finally gets to go along with her sisters.




So, now I am left filling my days without children in tow.
I think that this Wild Thing will be o.k.

When I started getting a bit sad, I decided I needed to embrace the change.
I gave myself a treat on the first day of my new found freedom.
I went to Panera Bread and got whatever I wanted.
I sat and ate and read my book just to make sure I could still enjoy some quiet.
I sure hope the girls enjoy school as much as I enjoyed my date with myself.
I also hope that they will find and be the kind of friend that is illustrated in the following story by Susie. And, they will always remember that prayers are answered.
Bella can attest to prayers being answered herself. All summer, Bella repeatedly told us she wanted Mrs. Nitz, and we told her that any teacher would be just fine and that she wasn’t going to get to choose. It ended up that she had been assigned a teacher other than Mrs. Nitz, the one Sophia had last year. Bella was bummed out during the first week of assessments, but didn’t complain. She just kept on saying, “I really really really want Mrs. Nitz.” To our pleasant surprise, when Bella reported to her second day of school, Mrs. Nitz was waiting. Bella had been changed to her class. You should have seen that smile of an answered prayer.
WET PANTS

Come with me to a third grade classroom…..

There is a nine-year-old kid sitting at his desk and all of a sudden, there is a puddle between his feet and the front of his pants are wet. He thinks his heart is going to stop because he cannot possibly imagine how this has happened. It’s never happened before, and he knows that when the boys find out he will never hear the end of it. When the girls find out, they’ll never speak to him again as long as he lives. The boy believes his heart is going to stop; he puts his head down and prays this prayer, ‘Dear God, this is an emergency! I need help now! Five minutes from now I’m dead meat.’
He looks up from his prayer and here comes the teacher with a look in her eyes that says he has been discovered. As the teacher is walking toward him, a classmate named Susie is carrying a goldfish bowl that is filled with water. Susie trips in front of the teacher and inexplicably dumps the bowl of water in the boy’s lap. The boy pretends to be angry, but all the while is saying to himself, ‘Thank you, Lord! Thank you, Lord!’
Now all of a sudden, instead of being the object of ridicule, the boy is the object of sympathy.. The teacher rushes him downstairs and gives him gym shorts to put on while his pants dry out. All the other children are on their hands and knees cleaning up around his desk. The sympathy is wonderful. But as life would have it, the ridicule that should have been his has been transferred to someone else – Susie.
She tries to help, but they tell her to get out. You’ve done enough, you klutz!’
Finally, at the end of the day, as they are waiting for the bus, the boy walks over to Susie and whispers, ‘You did that on purpose, didn’t you?’ Susie whispers back, ‘I wet my pants once too.’

Tar jay
Where is your favorite place to shop?
The kids were so excited to receive these flashing reflectors from the Target workers at a local National Night Out dinner.
The kids thought that the Target workers were more exciting than the chief of police, a local politician, the mayor, and the head of the FBI.
Who am I to argue?
We know which employees offer a 75% off discount of the dollar spot from time to time.




Summer Fun
Here are some of the girls favorites from this summer.
Not just any Mr. Potato.
Abigail informed me, “This is a Mr. Picasso Potato.”


The Webkinz were placed for their photo shoot.

Did you know that the magnets in Little Pet Shops
allow them to scale lamps?

And perch from lamp switches?

Forts are always fun.

And when you take your walls down,
you can use them to make Rapunzel hair.

She knows she’s the envy of her sisters.

Lunch is a chore, but there’s always mac n cheese.
Like, always, like, every day.

And who doesn’t love tomato soup, grilled cheese and apple juice?
They are a winning combination.

And, when mom is blogging too much, my girls always know where to find the staples, like Fruit By The Foot. We can’t live without them. And they are only $1 a box at Big Lots. If they are out when you go, it’s just because we got there before you.

Vu Gi Na

My kids love their Aunt Amy, and her influence was priceless at our house a few weeks ago. Meaning. something that she taught one of the girls was good for a great comical moment.

It has to do with the post title, just in case you were wondering, but you know I have to give all the background first. I was reading on Scribbit this morning about words that Michelle Mitchell detests. It got me thinking of this experience from a few weeks ago.

I while back I wrote a funny post about the different terminology my siblings and I teach our kids to use for their body parts. (I can’t tell you how many google searches have led people to my post title Conversation Pieces) Who knew it was such a hot topic? We just had another similar conversation (yet, not quite as racy) for a good 10 minutes with our friends at a cookout on the 4th of July.

So, in this previous post I made it very clear that we try to teach our kids the correct scientific terminology for the human body parts. Our girls know the word vagina, but we don’t really use it. To the utter detest of my sister, we use the word crotch whenever we are talking about down there.

So, I was somewhat shocked and very amused the other day at our house. Bella was climbing on her sisters while still wearing her nightgown. She was just trying to get a better look at the GameBoy and Abigail wasn’t being nice. Abigail was getting a little irritated with the pestering and she sounded pretty foul as she screamed out, “BELLA, nobody wants you climbing all over them in a nightgown with your GINA in their face.”

I guffawed, “Abigail, where did you learn that?” She sensed my shocking tone and tried to calm me down with, “What? She knew exactly what I was talking about because a HUGE smile had crossed her face. She just wanted to make me say it too, hence the question.

So, I gave her what she wanted, “Gina”. (My apologies to Gina as this is the same spelling as her name but you all know this needs a long I sound) “Oh, (while trying to play it off) that’s what Aunt Amy calls it.”

What does a mother say to that? What any decent family member would, “Oh…o.k. well I don’t know if I like you saying that, it sounds pretty slang, but if your Aunt Amy taught it to you, then I guess it’s o.k.

Abigail replied, “Mom, what’s slang?”

Earning My Underoos
This was written for the Scribbit July Write Away Contest.
I don’t expect to win, but it was so much fun to write,
so thanks to Michelle Mitchell for a beyond awesome topic.

When I was a about eight years old, I remember being so jealous that my sister had Wonder Woman Underoos. I wanted some BAD! I wanted to rule the world.

Before I knew it, I was a young woman, reading the quote, “The hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world.” I thought, “Yeah right. My mom rocked seven cradles and she doesn’t rule the world.”

As a young married, I was still trying to figure out how to get me some of those Underoos (that being said with my best fake Southern accent ever). I thought that I would have to accomplish so much more before I could reach that Wonder Woman Underoo realm. I just knew that if I could write and photograph and work as a prized photojournalist, (you know, just after I spent my stint in The Peace Corp) that I would rule the world. The world needed me and if anyone was capable of being Wonder Woman it was me. But I had a dilemma. How could I gain my title when I now had a husband and future family to worry about?

I was struggling with my role in the world. I didn’t want to rush into having kids. I had wanted to be a Wonder Woman since my earliest memory, not a wife and mother. I wanted to rule the world, not rock the cradle. I knew that if I were to achieve all of my goals, my husband’s may have to take second place, and he deserved his Underoos too. (albeit he would probably choose Spiderman or Batman – “that’s a tough choice” he just informed me) I felt there was no winning.

It took months of serious reflection and prayer before I started to understand how I could rule the world. Little did I know that it had everything to do with rocking the cradle. I think I was unknowingly on the cusp of earning my Underoos when I wrote this in my journal:

“I think that I will have serious decisions to make in the near future, and they are going to be hard. I will have to be selfless. I think that the only way I will find true joy in this life is if I can help my husband and my children obtain all of their dreams. I need to make their dreams and goals my dreams and goals. If I get to a ripe old age and find that through my own pride I have deprived them of their potential, then I will be ashamed and sad. I know the way to true joy is in the realm of my own little family. I want to look back and know that I was the greatest cheerleader of the greatest people in the world.”

So, the decision was made. At the time I felt like I was giving up my Underoos dream for a while. I felt I may even have to wear Depends first, but darn it, those would be some joyful Depends with stylin’ Underoos over the top. I didn’t realize that in those early months of marriage, I had found the ONLY way a woman becomes a true superhero. The real Wonder Woman Underoos can only be earned by a woman’s willingness to give of herself.

I got pregnant shortly thereafter. I gave up my job. I gave up my full time pursuit of a higher education. Some women may feel like by doing this I have shamed Women’s Lib. But, I feel like I joined a higher cause. I gave up the Underoos because I suddenly knew and understood that “the hand that rocks the cradle IS the hand that rules that world”.

My family needed me to be their stabilizing force. God guided me into rocking the cradle of my husband and my children. And, who was I to argue with God? Even if I was Wonder Woman waiting to be discovered. Besides, if I was going to rock a cradle, I wouldn’t need those Underoos anyway. (Oh, how little did I know)

Soon after the birth of our first daughter, my husband and I made the decision that his education would get top priority. I had no way of knowing that his education would monopolize the following TEN years. Count that! One, two, three, four….yeah, you all get the picture.

So, now you all can understand that earlier this year, when LG FINALLY got his legal license, I couldn’t help but shed tears of utter joy. It wasn’t until I processed the good news that I realized that somewhere along the path I had earned my Underoos. I was all of the sudden astonished that those Underoos didn’t come while I was a photojournalist. I had been wearing those Underoos for years without even realizing it. If it wasn’t for my Wonder Woman Underoos I would have never been able to survive.

I had the greatest joy of all time. My husband had his dream in hand. And so did I. My dream had become his dream, and making his dream mine was precisely how I had earned those Underoos. I was Wonder Woman all along.

The Hand That Rocks The Cradle Is The Hand That Rules The World
~ William Ross Wallace
Blessings on the hand of women!
Angels guard its strength and grace,
In the palace, cottage, hovel,
Oh, no matter where the place;
Would that never storms assailed it,
Rainbows ever gently curled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.
Infancy’s the tender fountain,
Power may with beauty flow,
Mother’s first to guide the streamlets,
From them souls unresting grow–
Grow on for the good or evil,
Sunshine streamed or evil hurled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.
Woman, how divine your mission
Here upon our natal sod!
Keep, oh, keep the young heart open
Always to the breath of God!
All true trophies of the ages
Are from mother-love impearled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.
Blessings on the hand of women!
Fathers, sons, and daughters cry,
And the sacred song is mingled
With the worship in the sky–
Mingles where no tempest darkens,
Rainbows evermore are hurled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.

Rules, rules, and more rules.
As you all know, I am blessed with three beautiful daughters. What you don’t know is that these girls are almost perfect in every way. I’m not trying to brag. I just speak the truth.

Look at this, even their profiles are perfect.
What a great Mother’s Day gift from the primary, huh?

People notice the goodness of my children and they are always asking me, “Why are they so good? What are your tricks? What are your rules?” I could write a book, really, but wish to share a really good trick here. Rules have to be easily maintained.



First, I have to give credit to the kids, God sent us the best.


Second, I think LG and I learned early that following through is very important in discipline. If you do lay down a rule, you must follow through with enforcing it.


Third, we give our kids room to just be. Therefore, in return, they give us room to just be.


These three “tricks” go together. First, you have to believe, truly believe with everything you are that your children are great, and that they want to be great. This ideal in your children really affects your attitudes when parenting.


Second, you have to be in charge. You can’t let your kids run the roost. They need leadership. They are just waiting to be taught the consequences of their actions. You must follow through so that they understand that there are real and consistent consequences. Lord of the Flies taught me this in 9th grade.


Third, and this is a very important key. You have to give enough room to your children, and more importantly to YOU, so that following through is actually do-able. If you have so many rules, being in charge is way too hard. And NOT fun! And nobody wants a mom or dad who is always nagging them. Look at the federal government. They are a prime example of screwing things up with too many restrictions to enforce.

I am not going to take credit for my parenting wisdom. I got my parenting style from my parents. They had seven kids. People with lots of kids usually adapt to a “survival” method of parenting. I think that this “survival” method is best. Do ONLY what is absolutely necessary.


The words of a surviving friend to her children suit this style perfectly, ” I am on the phone, come and get me ONLY if someone is bleeding or the house is on fire.”


LeGrand and I were laughing at ourselves the other day. Whenever we have a higher maintenance kid visit, we are always relieved to see them go back home. For the most part our girls are so easy and don’t require much but the food I prepare and a good hug from time to time. We just don’t “get” kids who want to be constantly in our face. They exhaust us.


Yes, we know, we’ve raised our kids to be low maintenance. We aren’t sure if it is a good thing. Not that we are going to change it. We like our kids the way that they are. They make our life easy. Someday because of our parenting style we may be able to handle some more, and make them low maintenance kids too. We pray for that.


Some of you may think that this sounds heartless. I can hear you now, “What kind of mother are you? You don’t want to interact with your kids?” You may think that we are horrible parents who don’t spend time with our kids. You are dead wrong. We still spend a lot of time with them.


Our time is quality though and it is full of great conversations, laughing, learning, fun, and love. Quantity is important and I think too many parents justify their own absence by saying “When you have quality time, you don’t need as much quantity.” But, this justification will be used by me only in reference to the energy that is passed between my children and I. When I don’t have to spend my whole day breaking up fights, telling my kids what to do, or disciplining them for what rule they broke, my time is freed up for such better interactions.


We have very little negative interaction. Most of our communication is positive. Our children are independent. They are problem solvers. They work out a lot on their own. They are confident. They are also creative.


Here is some food art that they come up with. It’s a pond with goldfish, and yes, they ate every one. Some of those freaky moms out there would be upset by something like this. There were only compliments from this mother, “Wow you guys, that is pretty cool. Let me take a picture.” “Ahh mom, why do you have to put everything on your blog?”

I was just reading this and it got me thinking about what Do NOT’s I have as a mother.


How do my do not’s affect my kids.


A friend and I were talking the other day. She has a rule that her children like to break, “Thou shalt not play in my room.” Where seems to be the favorite place for her kids to play? Her bedroom, of course.


I’ve been pondering, “What are my rules?” Do my kids like to break them?
I have come to the conclusion that I don’t have very many, therefore they don’t need to break them.


Some of the only ones that I can think of are:


No screaming unless you are being kidnapped.
No eating after you brush your teeth at night.
If I count, you better come. (and they always do to the total delight of any onlooker)

Here is what hangs on our fridge. These rules are all it takes at our house.

Sophia added the last one all by herself.
We aren’t sure when she did it. She didn’t have to tell us. She was happy to let us find her addition on our own time. (It goes back to that giving each other space thing)
And, she’s right. When you only have seven written rules, and three unwritten ones it’s easy for everyone to be happy.

“A man is rich in proportion to the number of things he can afford to let alone.” ~Henry David Thoreau

The Golden Girls…

….we look as unlike a famous Rock Band since The Chipmunks.
But hey, if they can do it, so can we.
We absolutely cannot resist the chance to play a little Rock Band when we see it set up at Sams.
It does not matter how much shopping we have on our list or how close it is to bedtime.
We just know that those Sam’s Club employees set that equipment up for us.
We would not want to disappoint.

If only we could afford to bring one home.

But, of course, if we bought the game Rock Band,

we would then have to add a Nintendo 360,
and then we would need the big screen TV,

and then after we got it set up,

but before we could play,
we we would have to go back down to Sams
and get some onlookers to come home with us.
You just can’t be a Rock Band without some groupies.
(this is starting to sound like the book: If You Give A Mouse A Cookie)

And, everyone would come from far far away to see the Gold’s play.
They would not be able to resist our talent or our charm.

And, I don’t care if the game thinks that we are failures.
We all know that these electronic games come with programming glitches.

Oh the comfort of a man!

I found this picture a couple of weeks ago while organizing all of our digital family photos. I thought it was so darling. Kitty Bear is just teeny and LG looks 10 years younger. (Wow, I know that law school took forever but I just didn’t realize just how long the law school phase of our lives has been!)


I just had to smile when looking at this photo because I think I have 3 other identical pictures, except for the other three photos are of LG and his other 3 babies: Abigail, Sophia, and Bella. To find those photos I would have to dig out the Tupperware, search, and scan; and because of the complications associated with retrieving medieval family photos, you will just have to trust me that these photos do actually exist.


Here is one previously scanned of LG and Abigail when she was not so baby, but nevertheless, it is still a cute picture.

So, I know my cute hubby, cat, or kids don’t make for the most interesting post. (most of you have probably already quit reading)

Back to the original post, not that it will interest you that much more. Our friends just blessed our lives in the most magnificent way. They gave us their 3 month old mattress! If you could only see the old cheap mattress that we have been using for the past 8 years, you would know how much of a real blessing this nice new pillow top feels to us. And, if any of you have the heebie jeebies thinking about accepting someones used mattress, then you obviously have not been as poor as we are. (So, please be kind with the comments)

We figure if we are poor, we also should let our children have a little taste of the poverty. Abigail has been complaining about her mattress for months. We finally got her an egg crate on top of it this week. While testing our new and improved mattress, Abigail squeezed right in between LG and I. I took the opportunity to ask her about her new egg crate bed. Her reply was simple, “Oh, I love the egg crate, now, I can’t feel the springs in my back!” Yes, we are equally pathetic around here! It’s no wonder a friend took pity.

Anyhow, I really wished I could post the look on LG’s face when he climbed into bed tonight: the look was that of pure elation! I have never seen him look more happy and comfortable at the same time. (A BIG THANKS to our anonymous bed givers!!!)

So, after we tried laying on the bed for a few minutes, we got the kids to bed. LG and I both headed to the bathroom for the nightly bed preparation. (brushing teeth, using the potty, taking the medicine) While LG was finishing up, I came out to check my e-mail and my blog. When LG appeared a little later, he inquired as to what I was doing. When I said oh so non-chalantly “oh, just checking my e-mail”, (notice I left out the blogging, not that LG didn’t read right through that) LG said, “O.k. I will wait up for you”.

I was not the least bit surprised when approximately 5 minutes later (no joke, no longer than 5 minutes) I hear the sound of pure exultation coming from my husband’s large frame….what is that noise exactly?, you ask….well, it’s close to the sound of a bear in hibernation…just one BIG snore after another! And, yes, I can hear it on the opposite end of the house.

I hurried and closed out my google reader to climb into bed with LG. (I hoped LG would have lost track of time and fall for the just checking e-mail thing) I also hoped that when I crawled into bed with LG that he would want to take advantage of some alone time. (wink, wink, if you know what I mean) Wow, I really must have been hallucinating. I should have known better. The guy has never owned a comfortable mattress of his own.

It took only 2.2 minutes and a nightly prayer for me to realize that I would NOT be able to keep LG’s interest tonight! The snoring immediately continued and provided all the answer I needed…so, here I am, blogging one very boring post.

The moral of the post: if you want to get some attention from your hubby, keep the old mattress…thanks again my anonymous friend, my love life is officially OVER!

But, oh, my hubby is SO comfortable, and now I have more time to blog. How can a woman complain?

Dead People

Abigail went out with her group of church girls last night and sang to some people at a nursing home. (This picture is not from last night, but from a school thing last year – I included the pic. to give you the idea of how cute 8-11 year olds) Aren’t they darling? I am sure the nursing home loved their company last night.

Anyhow, on the way home, I was very impressed with Abigail’s observations of the night. She was telling me all about the people that she met.

“Mom, there was this really old guy who was 97. There was a lady who was deaf and they had to write everything on a paper for her. There was a black guy, and it was his birthday.” She even told me the people’s names.

Sophia and Bella were listening to the conversation and started asking Abigail questions about her adventure. Bella being inquisitive about the aforementioned deaf person asked me, “Mom why would they sing to a dead person?”

I was glad that the girls were paying attention to Abigail’s story, but who would have guessed the dead person association of my 4 year old? I guess I better start writing my mommy speech now for reassuring Bella when it is her turn to go to a nursing home to sing. Really, how am I going to handle this with honesty? It’s not like I can say, “No Bella, don’t worry, there aren’t any dead people at nursing homes.”

This reminds me of another story. Back in December, we had an unfortunate death in the congregation that shares our building. I was in charge of our ward party that was to happen the evening following the funeral. I had a bunch of things that I needed to drop of at the church early because I had to work the next morning. So I stopped by the church late after the funeral was over.

I wasn’t sure if they would have left the casket at the church overnight until the following day’s graveside service. (I believe they did this with Grandma Gold in VA – every state law is different to this effect and I wasn’t sure what TN law was) As my girls love to run the round hallways as soon as they get into the church, I warned them to stay close by because there may be a casket in the cultural hall. You can imagine where the conversation went from there…

“Mom, what’s a casket?” “Why do dead people sleep in a casket?” “Why do they leave dead people in the church?” “What’s a funeral?”

I had tried to play off all the questions so that they wouldn’t be too afraid of ever entering the church ever again. I had told the girls that a funeral would be over the next morning and there was no reason to be afraid because a funeral is “like a party for dead people”. O.k. hindsight is always 20/20! Yes, I could and should have given a better explanation than that.

If you couple Bella’s amazing imagination with her slight anxiety, you can imagine what she thought was going on in the church at the party for dead people. I was surprised that she still wanted to go inside when I had given her the chance to just stay in the car while I ran a few things in. Do you think that she was showing bravery or did the sure terror of being alone in the van when the party all came out of the building egged her forward into the building with mom? I think it must have been the latter, the way she was clinging to my leg.

Either way, whenever I die, I hope all my girls will remember that they are invited to my party for dead people.