Motherhood

Oh baby!

I can’t even read this story without wailing! Seriously, I have used up at least 20 tissues in the past ten minutes.
A baby was found alive in Castilian Springs, TN in the wreckage of the recent tornado. Rescuers while surverying the wreckage of a home stumbled upon many baby things. Then they saw what they thought was a doll. Then the doll started to cry.
His mother was dead just 100 feet away. It was reported earlier that is father was dead too, but I don’t find anything about him.
Is it just me, or does every mother instantly try and figure out how they can get there and take this baby home?
I heard the story on the radio earlier and immediately came home to research and make sure this baby had a home. I was so happy to find him safe in the arms of his grandmother. I guess I will have to wait for a true orphan to rescue.
And, I cry because the child has a grandmother who will give him everything he needs. I cry because his mom is gone, but she can look down and know that her baby will still live the life she had wanted for him. I cry because there is only one person who helped this baby survive, and that is the God who created him and watched over him. What a beautiful story this is, if you can look at the things to be grateful for.

God is good

Across the street lives a Bible Methodist preacher, whom we respect. He was given this ugly poo green van from a Baptist church. It has been an eye sore that has never left the confines of their front lawn for the past two years.

Last week, through a powerful storm, God took care of the eye sore for us. We were surprised when the preacher informed us that they were grateful that God took care of it for them too. I guess they hadn’t known what to do with the donated van! Now, all I can do is hope that the demolished van won’t sit there in this pathetic state for another couple of years. God would have to send a tornado next to take it away (because you know it won’t be translated). We were very fortunate that this week’s recent storms didn’t make it this far east. God really has watched over us.

The bad news associated with the riddance of the van was that our power was out for 36 hours. This tree also took out the preacher’s power line which shorted the transformer box to just three houses. The power company had about 4,000 customers to get back up and running after the storm. Our three houses were probably the lowest on the priority list.

I spent the day at a friend’s house (isn’t having your power out a good excuse to miss school) and we decided to come back home and sleep. We tried to turn it into an adventure for the kids. We heat up our small room with our camp heater and made a makeshift bed for the girls that was built up high enough to be even with the height of our bed. It got down to the 20’s outside and the 40’s in the house.

The kids wore two pairs of pj’s, hats, and socks. (these cute animal hats were a gift from Korea, if any of you have seen the missing tiger, would you let me know – Bella wasn’t happy that she had to wear a plain old taboggan) The girls thought that the most fun part was counting the amount of blankets I put over the top of them. 13! They also really enjoyed the emergency crank flashlight/radio. They were amazed at how they could tune to different channels. They really do live a sheltered life, don’t they?

We couldn’t put them to sleep without our nightly scripture study. We are trying to read the whole Book of Mormon again this year. Here is LG reading with the assistance of a flashlight. You can’t see LG’s face or the flashlight between his face and the book. (just in case you couldn’t make that observation yourself)

God and KUB blessed us a second time within the 36 hour timeframe and had the power fixed at 4 am, just when it started to get really cold. This is how we found the girls the next morning. So much for the blankets and hats.

Gotta go!

This joke is in honor of Knoxville red light cameras and the bladder incontinence that 1/4 mothers experience.

My friend laughed the other day when I told her I have to cross my legs before sneezing or I will pee my pants. She thought I was kidding…I wasn’t. Oh, what a mother sacrifices. My bladder will never be the same.

This joke is called:

Breaking the Speed Limit

A woman was driving down the highway about 75 miles an hour, when she noticed a motorcycle policeman following her. Instead of slowing down, she picked up speed. When she looked back again, their were two motorcycles following her. She shot up to 90 miles. The next time she looked around, there were three cops following her.

Suddenly, she spotted a gas station looming ahead. She screeched to a stop and ran into the ladies’ room. Ten minutes later, she innocently walked out. The three cops were standing their waiting for her.

Without batting an eye, she said coyly, “I’ll bet none of you thought I would make it.”

I’m smearing my spelling reputation

When I recently taught Abigail how to use the spellchecker, she didn’t understand why she had spent so much time on that darn spelling bee a while back. I also wonder, “Why did we spend every moment in the car for three weeks spelling word after word, if a computer will fix your mistakes for you?” She was amazed! I am sure that somewhere in that great brain of hers, she is trying to figure out how she can have Microsoft Word close by for next year’s competition.

I don’t want to make you think that I am trying to exploit Abigial with this video because I chose to post the video of when she got outed. Abigail was the only third grader to stay in until the third round; she did very well. And it’s a good thing because it felt like I lived and breathed spelling there for a bit. I just love watching her little wheels turn in this video. You can see it on her face that it only took her .005 second to realize that she didn’t know how to spell smear. So, what did she do… she said something as quick as she could to get the misery over with. That’s my girl…why prolong misery?…if you barrel through anything fast enough, it is as if you didn’t experience it at all. (Wow, even if she doesn’t ever win the spelling bee, maybe I have taught her some life coping skills?)

I like to blame LeGrand for the fact that Abigail did not know “smear”. Really, if that would have been my word, she would have never forgotten the trick…ear with and sm? (Dad didn’t really get into the spelling tricks) The end of page three was dad’s job while mom was at work, back in December. LeGrand swears they went over it, and I am not trying to be mean by blaming him, but really, just so you know, it is the only way that I am feeling good about my job as a mom right now. That spelling bee was one way that I could prove that I was a little smart. LG, well, let’s just say he doesn’t need to prove anything to anyone (he’s pretty secure) and he can also do math. And, let’s face it, with Word around, who really needs to know how to spell anyway?

Is anyone else having trouble using their spellchecker in blogspot? I am sorry if I have made you all cringe with my misspelling during the last few days. (Is that word even spelled right?) Well, if anyone knows what I need to do so that I can spell correctly again, can you give me a shout? I would hate to smir my stellar spelling reputation.

And, a good old fashioned spelling bee is not going to work…I now know modern technology in the most intimate fashion, if you know what I mean.

Tired?

My friend and I have been walking every day for about an hour. We have made a makeshift 1/4mile track around her house and yard and we let the kids run around and play while we crank out a sad 2 miles in an hour.

Valerie’s dog insists on walking with us every day. It is so funny because she is about 12 years old and she limps the whole way. Poor thing. The other day while observing the poor dog, I said to Valerie, “Maybe when the dog has a noticable difference in her limp, there will be a noticable difference in my bum.”

Thanks to Valerie for another great e-mail forward.
Man, Valerie, you should really figure out how to blog this stuff!
This is the text that went with the picture:

An old, tired-looking dog wandered into the yard. I could tell from
his collar and well-fed belly that he had a home.He followed me into the house, down the hall, and fell asleep in a corner. An hour later, he went to the door, and I let him out.The next day he was back, resumed his position in the hall, and slept for an hour. This continued for several weeks. Curious, I pinned a note to his collar: “Every afternoon your dog comes to my house for a nap.”The next day he arrived with a different note pinned to his collar:”He lives in a home with ten children — he’s trying to catch up on his sleep. Can I come with him tomorrow?”

Grandma Dorothy

When I recently wrote a story about my mom, I spoke of how my mom learned to love people from her mom. I absolutely adored my really amazing grandma, Dorothy. I am blessed to come from a family of loving and caring people. Ever since my mom’s mom died in 2006, I have wanted to write about Grandma Dorothy. Shannon’s post about her Grandpa Charlie inspired me even further.
I will try and make this short because my post about my mom was SOOOOO long. As long as I preface this story with the idea that sometimes life’s greatest lessons are taught in an instant I will not feel like I have chided Grandma by making this shorter.
Grandma and all of her family were very poor. Grandma came from a different generation however and because she was poor, she felt an even greater need to keep what she did have spotless, tidy and ironed. Grandma was meticulous in the way she lived her life. She was truly beautiful inside and out. I only wish that I actually owned a picture of her younger. She was a knockout.
So, grandma never had much of anything her entire life. My mother was grandma’s oldest child. When my mom and her sister started working and making their own money, they had a grand idea. They would treat grandma to a day on the town and buy her a nice coat at a good department store. My mom and her sister were so excited to give grandma this treat.
So, it was a huge dissapointment to my mom and her sister when they went to the department store and were treated very rudly by a flippant saleswoman. The woman seemed so snotty and was so rude to my grandmother that my mom and aunt dragged her out of the store swearing that they would never shop there again.
When they got out to the street, grandma asked Mom and Aunt Shirley if they would take her to the five and dime store. Grandma went into the store and bought a nice scarf with a little box and ribbon. She got out of the store and wrapped it up and told Mom and Aunt Shirley to follow her. To the chagrin of mom and her sister, Grandma marched right back into the department store. Grandma was focused on her one task: to find the sales clerk that had treated her so badly. She walked right up to her and handed her the present. Grandma said, “Sweety, I thought that you must really be having a bad day, and so I got you something. It isn’t much, but I hope it will make you smile.”
The clerk looked absolutely astonished and ashamed. Tears filled her eyes as she opened the scarf. Mom and Aunt Shirley were looking on still feeling like Grandma was way too nice. The clerk cleared her throat and choked out the words, “I am so sorry for the way I acted to you. My husband died last week and I just haven’t been myself.”
Of course Grandma wrapped her arms around her and then proceeded to give her a pep talk.
And whenever I get down, all I have to do is think about my Grandma and the endless amount of pep talks she has also given to me in word and letter. Grandma was the most amazing letter writer. Grandma always made me feel like I could do anything. I hope that I can learn to kill them everyone with kindness, just like her.
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Gangbangers
The kids and I are all home from church today because Bella has been sick. It is Sunday, the day I try to rest and think about spiritual things, so I thought that maybe I should blog about something a little more serious. Gangbanging seemed serious enough.

I have been reading this book called “Convicted in the Womb” by Carl Upchurch. I borrowed it from a friend of mine who is getting his Masters to be a Therapist. It is a good book that allows you to get into the head of a child who later finds acceptance by joining a gang.

Because I try to be a good Mormon girl, I really cannot recommend this book. The swear words just keep on coming and some of these words are bad enough that I have never even heard them before in my entire life. And because I am a little bit rebellious I just keep reading, but at least I simultaneously pray that I won’t advert to pulling out the curse words the next time I get angry. I am not reading the book for the curse words, I am reading it because I want to understand the human race better. It is so unfortunate that there are actually children in this world who grow up in an environment like Carl Upchurch’s. It is just so foreign to me.

For example, he had one pee stained mattress on the floor that was his bed. The mattress was located on the underside of a leaky sink. The family’s rat trap would need to be emptied almost every morning. The cockroaches were so bad that he slept with the blanket over his head so that they couldn’t climb all over him at night. His grandma was a prostitute and his mom did nothing but collect welfare checks. Carl never got any affection or affirmations or anything that could be construed as positive. He never was taught to shower or brush his teeth and never had clean clothes. To my dismay this was in Philadelphia the 60’s. He went without food a lot and it was his own responsibility to get up for school and out the door every day, from the time he was in kindergarten.

I have been living in a state of shock for the past 24 hours while I have been reading this book. I know that there are kids out there that live like this: a lot of them went to Abigail’s old school, but I just didn’t realize that it was this bad. It makes me want to go and round them all up and bring them home for some good old fashioned love and concern.

So, it now makes sense to me, while it never has before, why these kids grow up to be gangbangers. Being in a gang is the only way they find belonging. While our children grow up with that at home, the only way for these gangbangers to have a similar experience is to join a gang. So, sometimes you have to get through all the cursing to learn something new. Who of us does not want a solution for gangs? I am here to tell you that the solution is so simple: it is pretty much the solution to every societal woe: the solution is simply love.

Well, the reason for this entry, is to write a story about my mother. As you all know, my parents are both pretty crazy. It wasn’t hard for them to produce a child like me. I got a little of each of their nuances which are slightly crazy and a little crazier. I love my parents dearly and after reading a book like this, I am more grateful for the way that they raised seven children in a loving and flourishing environment.

So, my mom took this loving and flourishing environment with her everywhere. She learned to love from her mother; it was in her DNA to show love and concern for everyone she met, especially children. I cannot tell you how many times, I would come home to find my mom sitting at our kitchen table discussing something heavy with one of the friends of mine or my siblings. I never understood why our friends liked to talk to my mom so much. As a teenager, I did everything I could to avoid her. But again, reading has given me new understanding. These friends felt the unconditional love of my mother, some of which may not have felt it at home.

So, here is the funny part of the story (I bet you were getting worried that you wouldn’t be getting a chuckle today, huh?)

While we were growing up, we had a few favorite places to take family outings. One was the beach, one was Thrifty’s to get ice-cream, one was the Oceanside pier to get XL jawbreakers. Others were the movies, Sav-on to get some candy, and the mall to get a Shaved Ice. (Funny that all of these places involve food) And lastly but not least by any means was Show Biz. Show Biz was the original Chuck E Cheese. All of ShowBiz’s have been converted to Chuck E Cheeses, including the one from our neighboring town Oceanside, CA.

My mom and dad would take us to Show Biz a few times a year and it was a huge treat. I am sure that my mom had to convince my dad to spend the money. Buying pizza and tokens for seven kids is not a small feat. I mean most people only spend that kind of money when one of their 2.5 children have a birthday party and invite all their friends.

So, this one Saturday, we had all had our fun at Show Biz. I am sure we had been there for a good couple of hours before we headed out to the station wagon to go back home. What a surprise that we exited into the middle of an ensuing gang fight. Now, you have to know my parents to know how unfortunate to the fight was the arrival of my parents. My dad was and is a big tough former Highway Patrolmen and my mom is an unlicensed and unofficial social worker. (She probably helped more kids in her lifetime than any social worker could imagine). My mom also has been known to have a mouth like mine. One day she almost got my dad into a fight with a Hells Angel at the 25cent hamburger joint (but that is another story)

So, what happened from this point on is not only the funny story but an inspiration to mankind. Mind you, all seven kids are lined up like ducks in a row behind my parents. My brother Erick was approximately the same age as these teenage boys and he was staring on up front with mom and dad. My mom says to the gangbangers, “Boys, what do you think that you are doing? This is no way to solve anything. Don’t you know that people care about you? We don’t want to see you killing each other.” My dad stood next to his wife in words and stature. He didn’t say anything, but his mere presence was enough.

One of the gangbangers had shouted out, “Hey (probably some cuss word), mind your own business.” The details are shody here, but I am certain this is approximately accurate to the actual story. My dad’s glare was enough to shut the gangbanger up. My mom continued on as her initial speech didn’t seem to have enough impact. My mom and dad were not about to walk away and let some kids kill each other. And remember this was in the 80’s before the cell phone was invented, so there was no, “Hurry call 911.” The following words came naturally from my mother’s mouth, “Boys, this is nonsense. My husband and I love children too much to let any one of you get hurt today. Now c’mon inside and my husband will buy you all some pizza.”

It was as if a bomb had been dropped. I can still remember the shock so apparent on the faces of these hardened criminals. A stranger was going to buy them ALL pizza. Both gangs looked back and forth from their homeboys to their blood sworn enemies. The glances were asking each other, “What do we do now?” There was no need for them to discuss because my parents didn’t give them any time.

My mom went and wrapped her arm around the leader of one side and my dad walked over to the other. They led the leaders into Show Biz and there was no other choice for the homeboys than to follow. We little Wills children brought up the rear. What a delight it was to see my mom take all the gangsters into the Show Room and find them each a seat, while my dad went and doubled his money output for the day by ordering 12 more pizzas.

It didn’t stop there. My mom said, “Rick, get these boys some tokens. They fight because they don’t have anything better to do.” She made sure she said that loud enough for them all to hear.
Dad bought them each a generous amount of tokens, (which after clarifying with my mom and dad, was only really 4 tokens each -all they could afford-, but hey, that was still another 20 bucks they didn’t really have) hoping that if he and mom could keep them inside long enough having a good time, then maybe the fight would be cancelled all together. We all exited feeling like the heroes who had saved the day.

The discussion in the car on the way home went something like this. Mom to Dad, “Do you think that they will still have a fight, should we call the police?” Dad said, “I can’t believe you Sharon. You are one crazy woman.” Mom to Dad ,”One crazy woman that you love. And, one crazy woman that may have just saved a life.” Mom to kids,”Remember this kids, all people have a part of them that just wants to be loved. They act badly because they haven’t been loved.”

Yep, that’s my mom and dad. As a couple, they could do anything, including stomping out gang activity from the world as I knew it.

And in the words of John Lennon:

All you need is love. All you need is love. All you need is love, love,
love is all you need.

Leave it to Beaver
The other day, on the radio, I heard someone reference Leave it to Beaver. I thought, “That show is something I haven’t thought about for a while.”
This morning, I check my blog and realize that I have a comment from somebody new…how exciting. I love making blogging friends. I was astounded by her link to: an apron making contest. These aprons are popping up everywhere. Are we really going back to wanting to be like June Cleaver? This could be a good world, where all the women are dolled up making dinner for their perfect little families. I am just a little worried that I may not fit in?
I did buy this apron at Christmastime, does that count for anything?

Oh, and I got myself a sewing maching for Christmas too…I just am still trying to figure out how to use it…maybe an apron should be my first project, so that I could actually finish it before the trend is over?

Conversation Pieces

LeGrand has repeatedly warned me that blogging about “the bedroom” is off limits and so I hope the following two funny conversations don’t cross the limits. If you are the kind of person who is afraid that you may not want to read further, please stop here. I don’t want to embarrass you or me. If you are even just 1% like me then I am sure I just peaked your curiosity and I know you will have to keep reading, even if you don’t know if you want to. If that is the case, I don’t mind if I embarrass you a little, just don’t tell me if I’ve offended you. I offend so many people in my life, and I just don’t need one more. Consider yourself warned.

LeGrand and I have been trying to get pregnant for 8 months now with no luck. We’ve never really had to work at it before and so we have gotten a little worried. As we were talking for the two minutes that we actually saw each other last night, LeGrand felt it necessary to share with me the infomercial that he had heard on the radio. I vaguely remember, as I was half asleep, but the commercial mentioned that there is a link to an enlarged prostate and fertilization. So, my memory was jogged about another short conversation that had occurred that I meant to blog about: (for your reading pleasure, here it is)

So, we were at LeGrand’s parents for Christmas and an interesting conversation took place that I thought was worth sharing. LeGrand’s little brother Logan started commenting that he needed to go and relieve his bladder in the bathroom. This small statement blew up into a huge thing. Jordan, the middle brother, starts telling Logan that he shouldn’t hold it for so long. “It’s not healthy.” Logan then says, “Yeah, when I hold it too long it almost starts to hurt.” So, this conversation is going on and on and it is almost making me uncomfortable re-sharing it here. (At the time it didn’t seem to be such a big deal) During the whole conversation, where even Faye and I added a few suggestions, LeGrand, the oldest brother, was sitting across the room at his laptop, totally oblivious. All of the sudden, LeGrand looks up and loudly exclaims, “Oh yeah, well I have an enlarged prostate.” What in the world? If you aren’t already laughing, then you have to imagine the look on the face of my usually quiet and subdued husband. The look was as if to say, “So, top that, you wimpy bladder brothers!” LeGrand swears that he was trying to warn Logan that he may have the beginning of prostrate problems, but I think he was just bragging.

And another funny conversation that is totally not related yet is in a round about way. (has to do with male body parts – again stop reading now if you are easily offended) This is a conversation that happened between my brothers and sisters and I about a year and half ago. I have wanted to share it for a long time ago but have never felt appropriate. (I am going to now lose the two new readers that I gained this week, but hey, this blog is for me anyway and I like writing about funny things)

We were at my sister Sarah’s house. She lives in Lincoln, CA, and her house became the gathering place when my Grandma Dorothy died. The funeral was in close by Sacramento. All seven of us siblings were together for the first time in 6 years. So, where did the conversation head? – The natural place of course, what name were we each teaching our own children for the male body part. I have all daughters and so of course I wasn’t as involved here. My brothers, who all have sons were really getting animated. The following names were mentioned: Pe Pe, We We, Tinkles, Wa Wa, and on and on. Who knew there were so many choices? I had put my two cents in towards the beginning of the conversation, “We just teach the girls the correct scientific terminology like the parenting books tell us to….penis is the only word we use.” You should have heard the roars of disapproval from the peanut gallery. This is what really got the conversation going.

Seriously, I didn’t know when it would ever end. We were talking about his for about ten minutes, and the brothers started making up new names that would be good to use. I couldn’t stand it another minute. How could I possibly stop the conversation? Like a pro, if you ask me, “At our house we just call it King Kong.” (LeGrand is going to kill me because it really isn’t true) Yes, I really hope that you are laughing. But, if you are offended or not, I have to say that it’s o.k. because at the time, my plan worked like a charm. Everyone laughed so hard that we finally had a lull long enough in the conversation to change the subject.