There she is. It’s the best picture I could get with my little camera. Like I said, even though we arrived plenty early, the only spots left were in the back. Waaaaay back.
The kids loved the street vendors.
Caroline wanted a doll really bad.
Caroline can’t wait for the music to start.
She’s got her dance on.
Oh, and do you remember the people watching we did last time? And I told you that LG and I have a hard time understanding up to date fashion? Check out this guy’s butt. I have no idea why he thinks that skinny jeans can be worn like a gangster. We got shot after shot of his underwear throughout the night. I wonder if he would even care if he knew we were checking him out.
Glad we had something to make us laugh while we were waiting for the music to start.
So, on Saturday night at 10 pm, LG and I were walking out of the temple. Yes, this temple. How amazing is that?
From our view up on the hill, there were fireworks going off all over the valley. It was absolutely breathtaking.
LG informed me that The Stadium of Fire would be happening any moment. For some reason, in my mind, I thought that it was going to happen on the actual 4th.
I decided we should hurry home and find a spot to watch the fireworks.
To my dismay, when we got home, the kids had no interest whatsoever in breaking away from the TV.
I pried their bodies and eyes from the tube, and made them pile in the car. I was not about to miss the fireworks, especially after this post.
As we drove down State street (Utah Valley’s version of Knoxville’s Kingston Pike) I was overwhelmed by so many US flags lit up along the road. The patriotism of Utahns is not only efficacious but admirable. People either love America here or they display their stars and stripes to compete with all the other businesses. And by all, I mean ALL. Everyone has a flag. Everyone.
The kids were grumbling during the whole drive. Why do we have to do this? We don’t want to watch the fireworks. Let’s just go back home. wah wah wah.
I told them to keep their eyes on the flags and to sing along. I started loud and strong:
This land is your land, this land is my land….nothing but my voice. Oh beautiful, for spacious skies….again, nothing from the back seats. She’s a grand old flag, she’s a high flying flag….”Shut up, mom.” God bless America….”Really, Alice, do you have to sing so loud?” said quietly by LG so the kids wouldn’t hear; I’m assuming he didn’t want to totally stomp on my love for country. I’m proud to be an American….(even louder than before)
By this time the kids were all horrified and hating their mother and her motherland.
And guess what? By the time we got to Provo’s end of State from our northern end of Orem’s State, all we could see was traffic. The traffic was heading towards us, not with us.
Yes, I hate to tell you, Murphy’s Law is still in full effect, and has no respect for a nation’s holiday celebrated two days early or a very loud and song singing patriotic mother. We had missed the fireworks.
More grumbling, complaining, and whining ensued.
LG and I were not about to miss a good opportunity for teaching our kids.
Me: “Knock it off you guys, at least we still live in a country that has firework celebrations.” LG: “There are a lot of kids in this world that would die to be in this car right now.” Me: “Or to even have a car.” LG: “Or to have a mother.” Abigail: “Not if their mom sang like that.” Me: “Especially if their mom sang like that.” LG: “Yeah, think of all the kids out there that don’t live a country where they have mothers.” (O.k. I just made that up.) I think he really said, “You should be grateful for a mother who can sing, and cook, and do laundry.”
Abigail: “At least parents in other countries would be smart enough NOT to drive their family into the middle of the traffic jam, especially when their family missed the show.” Me: “Well, at least there are other Americans with cars.” LG: “And at least your mom can see in the dark and drive.” Bella: “Mom, STOP!” (I admit it I barely missed that car in front of me.)
Anyhow, the conversation went on for a bit. And there was no chance of it stopping. [In fact, it can still be happening if you want to comment what your best line would have been to the kids.]
Quietly, ever so quietly and with her Gold sense of perfect timing, Sophia chimes in. She must have looked up from reading Harry Potter for long enough to gather her sisters’ desperation for winning at the “Be glad you are American” game.
What does she say? Brace yourself.
“Man, I wished I lived in Canada.”
Seven words. That’s all it takes to make a total complete disaster of an evening all worth it. Good one Phia. Good one. Average Americans should really consider more than 2.5 kids; they make everything more fun.
I told the kids that if they would sing their favorite patriotic song at the top of their lungs, then I would indeed STOP.
Abigail was loud and proud. I wonder where she gets that from? “I’m a yankee doodle dandy. A yankee doodle, do or die.”
I am sure that all that traffic surrounding us was so grateful that they didn’t miss the real entertainment of the evening as I rolled all windows down.
And If I do say so myself those frostys from Wendy’s were the perfect consolation prize for everyone involved. Nothing like good old American food.
And when the song Firework came on the radio. I promise you, not just momma was singing. Even dad got in on the falsetto. Perfection, pure perfection.
We didn’t miss a thing. The fireworks had been going off in our car all night long.
And guess what? Utah loosened their firework laws this year. We can now shoot off 150 foot rockets from our very own neighborhoods. And on the real 4th of July, the sky was lit up in every direction we could turn. Our culdesac of fire was a billion times better than their Stadium of Fire. Fireworks in the sky on all four sides, coming from everywhere.
Hi everyone. Wow I am late getting this post out today. Sorry. Kind of.
We went camping last night. So fun. I decided that Utah is the perfect place for camping. Gorgeous, everywhere you look. We got to take the bike trail to Bridal Veil Falls. Come and join us any time. But please don’t expect us to ice climb.
Then I came home and cleaned out the garage. And have been doing the after camping duties. Laundry x6. Cooler cleaning. Car excavating. etc.
Then I remembered that it was Kids’ Day at our local Grocery Store, Macey’s. We ran over for the last hour. Hot dog, chips and a soda for 25 cents. Free popcorn, ice-cream, and bounce houses. 25 cent cotton candy. Yum yum. To think we almost missed out. I love Macey’s extra large flag. It makes me want to shop no where else. I will be showing you more photos real soon. I can’t get enough of the blue skies, mountain ranges, and flying red white and blues.
At 3:00, I was in total awe at how much we had accomplished today. We had also snuck in Bella’s baseball game and team pictures. And don’t forget that we broke camp this morning.
Anyhow, I’ve been busy. And taking lots of pictures for future posts. And I wanted you all to know that I haven’t been slacking. Have you seen all the new changes on the blog? I am liking them very much. Notice the box at the top left. It shows my Top 5 Commenters. It looks like Sheila and Holly are going to have to duke it out for that write up next month. I can’t wait to see who pulls it off.
And I can’t wait to tell you about my new game to play next month. I am using this creative brain of mine to try and come up with fun that you can experience no where else. Funny needs to be fun too.
I also am featuring my very first ad from Deseret Book. Wahoo.
If you haven’t taken the time yet to like me on facebook, or become a google follower, please do take a minute. It will help me out a lot. And I will love you forever regardless.
Also, check out my new community on blogfrog. I am excited to make it grow. I have joined other blogging communities at blogfrog and it has introduced me to other bloggers I would have never met otherwise. I think blogfrog is great. You can also access my community through the tab up top. Pretty snazzy.
And LG and I both got to check out a new Canadian artist that is all the rage: Meaghan Smith.
She was awesome. LG loved the souped up jazz form that is all her own.
I know crappy picture, but you all know my camera has been broken for a year.
I just thought you would like to have proof that we were actually there.
And, wow, what a view from the rooftop.
I love Utah.
I love my old workplace: NuSkin.
I love the mountains.
And I love our blue skies.
They just seem so much bluer than Knoxville’s.
These really sweet college co-eds let us squeeze in front of them. The rooftop was packed, and we arrived late because I mistakenly thought that concert was at Provo Town Center, not Provo Town Square.
We thought it was so funny that one of our sweet concert friends was smack dab in the middle of our self pic. She suggested we take one without her in it. I told her I was going to do a before and after on the blog, but she never asked for the blog address. I guess it’s better that way.
Man, I need to color my hair desperately. Wally world has been out of my color for weeks.
Here is another one of our newest friends, she is trying to hide from my behind the head shot.
I was trying to document how crowded the place was.
It was nervous making.
LG’s lawyer came out in him and he commented several times that we had to be breaking some fire-code and that if we had an earthquake we would all be done.
O.k maybe that wasn’t the lawyer in him, maybe it was the claustrophobia speaking.
One of the most fun things about attending a really crowded space, is people watching. You got a picture yesterday of the chubby little boy next to us with chocolate all over his face. I also tried to capture the family with 5 kids a few rows up. The dad was so cute wearing that baby backpack, but once again my crappy camera disappointed.
LG and I are always dumfounded at the new styles. We are so behind the times. We pegged this guy as gay for sure. But, then he was all lovey with the lady. Chalk another one up to old age.
As you all know, I know nothing about raising boys. Well, I should give myself some credit. I do know a few things. Just from what I have heard from friends:
baby boys require vaseline and guaze.
the boys in kindergarten mark territory by spreading crayons, trash, and glue as far spread as possible (direct contrast to the girls who all keep their stuff neat and tidy) There has to be some kind of case study here between the hunting vs. gathering instincts.
boys are way less whiny but way more active.
boys are dirty and stinky and pee everywhere.
boys don’t require hair styling. (how lucky)
boys tear holes in their jeans twice as much as girls do.
boys hit.
boys love sand and dirt. (but so do my girls)
boys eat more.
What am I missing here mommas? Please do tell me. I can only live vicariously.
Check out this chubby boy that was sitting next to us at this concert. LG and I feel so cultured. We have attended 2 concerts in a month’s time. Utah is good for us, I think. He was part of some of the best entertainment of the night for LG and I. How darling is he? Hope his mom won’t mind the posted picture. She was busy on her phone allowing me to steal this gem without asking permission.
Check out this tagline contest I won today . It’s so great to have your creative juices recognized from time to time. And I really like the lesson the picture teaches. I know nothing of boys, but if a picture like this got taken, I know one thing only, dad was not around. Ladies, dress your boys macho. I want my girls to have some real manly men to marry someday.
I was asked to write a poem about mothers. I am not sure what is going to be done with the poem. It’s not my greatest work. It’s for my church back in Tennessee. I didn’t have a lot of time, and I really have to be in the mood for poetry. I hope that somehow my main feeling is communicated: I have been mothered by many many women. Some are really my moms and some were friends and some were total strangers.
I will never forget the day that I left the local library bawling. That morning I had just received some shocking and awful news. I decided to take the kids to the library to get my mind off of things. Of course, my two children had other ideas. My baby was a monster that day. They say that our small children respond to our emotions, and I think she was responding perfectly. A man came across the library and pretty much told me I was an awful mother. It was the straw that broke the momma’s back. I gathered the monster, her sister, and tried my best to keep it together until I got outside. I broke halfway to the door.
Another mother had seen the whole thing go down. She ran out to greet me at my car. I had locked the kids in their seats and sat at my steering wheel bawling uncontrollably. I couldn’t even muster the strength to drive back home and even if I could, I couldn’t see well enough to drive. She had the audacity to knock on my window. I sheepishly rolled my window down, and explained that I was having an awful day. She asked me if she could pray for me, and I said, “Oh, that is so sweet, please do.” As a Mormon, I thought that meant she would go back to her car, bow her head and say a silent prayer, but as a relatively new Southerner, I had a lesson comin’ to me. She stood in place and started pleading with the Lord on my behalf. I don’t remember most of what she said except for one line, “Jesus, this woman is obviously having a really hard time, and she has children to take care of, please comfort her so she can do whatever it is that she needs to.”
Do you know that it is six years later and I am still dealing with this major trial in my life. And often, very often I hear the words to that prayer and feel at peace. I wish I could somehow tell that mother, wherever she is, that she has been an angel in my life. But really, aren’t all mothers angels? I think God gets so much of his work done through women with mother hearts. How grateful I am to be one who can succor and to also be one who is succored.
Please excuse my boo-hooing. This is going to be a very sentimental post.
I’m already crying and I haven’t even started writing yet. I’m a mess.
When my father in law e-mailed this photo, he had appropriately named it “looking west”. Maybe I should also get him to send me the other side entitled “looking east” as I am sure there will always be a part of me that will do both.
In 2003, LG and I, with our three little daughters crossed over this bridge for the first time as a family. The girls were so young: 4,2, and newborn. We had come across the country for law-school and Grandma Gold’s empty house was a perfect place for us to crash while we house hunted (an hour and a half away) in Knoxville. It was two doors down from my in-laws, which is about a mile beyond this bridge. We didn’t know it at the time, but we started a tradition. It had been a long trip, where we learned all sorts of car sanity games. We challenged Abigail to a Tennessee Bridge off. She must suck in all the air support she could and holler “Tennessee Bridge” as we drove over. She should not stop hollering until we safely reached the side closer to grammy’s house.
Well, here we are, almost eight years later. LG’s employment is going to drag us back to where we came from. We can’t complain. It’s a great job. We love Utah and we know it’s what God wants us to do, but it is very emotional…especially for a big sap like me.
My mother in law just posted a picture of the bridge on facebook and said they are closing it down. They have built a bigger and better bridge off to the other side. All I can do is cry. And reminisce. And scream, “Nothing can be bigger or better.”
So many trips and holler contests are flying through my brain. Abigail is 4, then 5 then 11, ever increasing in volume and intensity. Sophia was 2 and couldn’t quite pronounce the words, but still hollered right along with her sister and now she quite possible has some of the best breathe control. Bella was probably just crying that first trip across, but her volume was likely as loud as it is today, even though the words now come out loud and clear: TENNESSEEEEE BRRRIIIIIIIDDDDDDGGGGE.
Sometimes the girls were in soccer uniforms or church dresses. Sometimes the car was loaded down with winter gear and Christmas presents. Or food that we didn’t want to go bad in our fridge at home. Sometimes we had a cat with us and a dog. But never both the cat or the dog. Thank goodness. Sometimes they were in bathing suits and we may have even had the occasional birthday suit in there. I can smell the homemade loaves of bread that Faye sent home with us and the Thanksgiving leftovers. I am blinded by the black of most of the nights when we were headed back home while I calculated which caffeinated soda I would purchase at the corner gas station just beyond the bridge. The kids would already be falling asleep and wouldn’t even notice the bridge.
LG and I got really good at driving across that bridge super slow while the kids’ faces turned bright red and finally gave in to the need for oxygen. A parent has to do what they have to do for the occasional win. We would have to remind ourselves not to slow down if it was at night and the girls weren’t paying attention. The girls have now turned their attention to teaching baby Caroline the tradition.
I am not sure how many times LG told me of his trips to the little market close to the bridge while we drove by. “I always got my gas there when I was a teenager.” “Dad and I used to stop there for worms when we would go fishing.” “We used to drive our bikes down here when we were kids”, to which I would reply, “Are you kidding me? This highway is frightening.” The response would always follow, “Yeah Alice, I’ve told you a million times, we would take the back-roads; they are so much safer.” I would laugh inside because I don’t think that there are really any safe back-roads in the whole state of Tennessee; I have personally puked while trying them out in the car. That’s when I started driving everywhere so I could avoid car sickness.
But back to the bridge. They are tearing it down. They are tearing down a piece of our family. And I can’t stop crying, but I guess it is kind of fitting since we have to move forward. We can’t stay here forever.But even if we aren’t going to be Tennessee residents and even if we aren’t going to get to visit grammy and papa as often, we now know that at least a piece of each of our hearts will forever be floating down the great Holston River. I think I can hear it as it faintly rolls along to the tune of Tenneeesssssseeeee Briiiddddgee.
Utah’s sidewalks?
alice w. gold 