The Gold Family

My Little Monsters
Artistic Caroline presented by LG’s smartphone. Such a perfect depiction of her almost 2 year old attitude.
Sophia has been really sick.
And this mom has been really worried.
She didn’t have enough strength 
and was in too much pain 
and couldn’t go to school all last week.
They say she just has two really bad ear infections.
But I am not sure if that is right.
This girl has had A LOT of ear infections.
2 bouts of Swimmer’s ear.
Three sets of PE tubes.
And she has never been like this.
Her lymph nodes were huge on Friday night.
Visibly huge.
I also think she has a little whiplash from her cheer-leading class a few weeks ago.
Thankfully she looks a lot better today.
I am keeping my fingers crossed.
And praying more than crossing my fingers.
Especially since she just said her ear is hurting.
She already had one round of zithromax
and 3 shots of rocephin.
Sophia hasn’t been sleeping as much as she should. 
Her eyes were really really red and bloodshot yesterday.
Despite her lethargy, she was dying to go to church to be the reverence child.
(I looked for a link to an explanation for a reverent child, but I couldn’t find any –
a reverence child is the lucky kid who gets to stand in the front of the LDS sacrament meeting –
they stand with their arms folded and act as an example for the adults to remember reverence.)
Another side note: there is nothing like an assignment to be 10 minutes early for church to make a family 2 minutes late for church. We have been early for the past 6 weeks. Sorry Sophia.
After Sophia got dressed all pretty for church, Abigail voiced her observation:
“Look mom, Sophia looks like Rosalie (from Twilight).
Abigail was right. Sophia looked like she needed some blood bad. And fast!
Now I have two vampire children.
Just what I always wanted.
Thanks to all of our fallen soldiers who made it possible for me to raise a bunch of monsters.
We live in a wondrous country, despite the politicians.

Second String

It has been so awesome to see my husband happy again. He has been so stressed out for so long and I have hated seeing him sad. LG is loving his new job and I couldn’t be happier for him. LG has really been missing basketball for a long time. I think one of the things he loves most about his new job is that the whole office plays basketball at lunch, almost daily. Doesn’t he look happy?

In Tennessee, I had been encouraging him to start his own basketball team, so that he could get in more playing time. Basketball is his favorite sport and his chosen form of exercise. The bad thing is, it’s hard to play by yourself. He teased that he would only invite the fat and out of shape to play.

We started joking about it, LeGrand telling me that he couldn’t start his own team because it would be obvious to all his in-shape friends who had their own team that he was trying not to be left out. “C’mon, honey, this is about you, not them. You would feel so good to play again, and you would be forced to work it into your schedule, once you made a commitment. There are probably plenty of other guys out that who would love to play, but aren’t good enough to be asked. You should make a team for them and in the name of playing for fun and exercise and not for winning.”
And then I chimed in with this goodie:
“It would be cool, you could name the team Bench-warmers. Or how about Second String?”
LeGrand laughed. I laughed. We had a good laugh. Laughing is healing. Funny that my blog is call imsofunny. I need laughter in my life. I need healing.
Somewhere in that amazing brain of his, LeGrand decided that I would not get the last laugh at his expense. He would get me back for the bad joke. Weeks later, he and I got into another conversation. This time, it was about a musical number that was put together. I usually had an invite to sing alto. This time I did not. In fact, the newly formed group was singing the same song that I sang with them last time. Another friend of mine, who was now in while I was out, and had no idea, I had been outed, informed me. 
LeGrand and I got talking about the situation. I said, “It’s o.k. I’m pretty over life right now, maybe they knew I didn’t need to add one more thing to my plate.” What I needed to do was be more like Christ. And care more about the people who are our friends than my own feelings of pride. I should be happy for them that they have the best basketball team and the best singing group, even if that means we can’t be a part of it. I should sit through the church meeting and feel the Spirit of the Lord with their voices being raised, and not need to be included, except to appreciate it from the sidelines.
I told LeGrand that I believe my singing career had just found the end of the road. It’s not worth it to be included and then to not be included. I can’t help it that I am overly sensitive. LeGrand told me that I was wrong and that I loved to sing, and that I was good at it, and I shouldn’t let this little episode completely discourage me. And then, LeGrand, turned to go to the bedroom and change out of his suit. And like LeGrand, with his incredible timing and humor, he said, “Alice, you should start a musical group of your own. Really. You could call it Second String.”
Good one LeGrand. Good one. I love my husband. He really is great at a lot of things. Like being forgiving, being temperate, being funny, and being the best second stringer of all time. He’s MY second stringer. And I would rather be on the fourth string team, if it meant we get to be together. Thank you to LeGrand for always making me laugh and trying to teach me to let it go by incredible example. And thank you to Jesus Christ who takes us all from whatever team we are on, and puts us on His team…the best team, no matter what our skill level.

I hit the motherload.
Just minutes ago I hit the motherload. Under one of the seats of my minivan, just waiting for a diligent mother, was a lost Barbie DVD, the pre-teen’s favorite flowered flip-flop, and the toddler’s teeny pink croc. Wow, two pairs of shoes have been rightfully reunited and that makes this mother very very happy!! I won’t tell you about all the discarded Easter candy wrappers, and candy (some chocolate) and cheez-its and fruit snacks and french fries I had to wade through to hit my motherload, it would just be embarrassing and may make you question this mother’s luck. Or worse, my ability to teach my children hygeine. “Cleanliness is next to Godliness, dears. (In my sweetest tone)  How many times do I have to tell you?” (In not such a sweet tone) No, let’s just focus on how totally lucky I am.
I was on hands and knees with my hindside perfectly wedged between the carseat and the van door searching diligently for one thing and one thing alone: the pacifier. The dreaded yet much needed pacifier. I am not talking about the baby needing it, although she is addicted. But, once again, this post is about me and my good fortune, not my children and all that is wrong with them because of me. No, I am the one that needs that pacifier. If it’s up to me, she will have it until she is five, and in kindergarten, cause let’s face it, my house is loud, and getting louder every day. 
My four girls could take on my family of upbringing without a worry. Who cares that we’d be outnumbered by three? We would win a decibel contest…with flying musical instruments.  I am talking by the brass section or even the percussion. So, every bit helps in the hushing of my brood, and that teeny pacifier is my saving grace. And for some reason the baby likes to play fetch with mommy. The little monster. She knows when I am most needing silence. And she always seems to know when mommy is most desperate for quiet. Which only happens when we are down to the last pacifier. You would never believe me when I tell you that we really do own 6 of them. You especially wouldn’t believe me when I tell you that at least once a day, we can’t find a single one of them. I would love to share all my sane moments with the inventor of the pacifier. I do have one question though, why couldn’t God send an nondetachable perfectly matching built in one for each and every baby? Those darn velcro tie things can’t withstand the wrath of my 2 year old.
Back to the motherload. Mother’s Day was last weekend. I scored. My amazing husband (and I guess my kids too) got me a beautiful silver ring, a pedicure and a Costco membership. How could I ever complain, right? Wrong. Do you know what my best mother’s day gift was? Remember I am the luckiest girl alive. My motto is all or nothing…especially when it comes to cleaning. My children’s real gift to me on Mother’s Day was a whole sippy cup of milk…wait for it….dumped everywhere (and I mean everywhere)…wait for some more… on the second pew back… in the middle of Sacrament meeting. On the baby. On her blanket. On the pew. On the carpet. On every single toy and every single snack baggy and every single page of every single board-book. Even on the hymn book. You see, I am the luckiest mother alive and Abigail had helped get the baby’s “shut up and be happy bag” ready for church as part of Operation Pamper Mom Day. She did a great job. She just forgot one thing: the plastic piece that holds the milk inside the cup.
This luckiest mother alive…and smartest mother alive ..sent her hubby out with the screaming baby. The baby had accomplished her role in helping to spread (or should I say pour) the joy..everywhere and was upset that she had no milk left. And who knows where the pacifier was. It’s always hiding when we need it. I used a diaper and the dry portions of the baby’s blankie to soak up as much as I could. And then I took out my baby wipes and had sanitizer for the rest of the sour prevention duties. In the background I could hear people. They were faint in volume compared to my task at hand, but I think they were talking about how wonderful their mothers were. I am not quite sure why they thought they were so wonderful, but I have a good idea, or two, or three. 
All the while I am thinking, “Oh how lucky I am to be a mother. Someday when I am dead, my kids may get up in church and talk about how wonderful I am.” They won’t even recall this fiasco. They won’t say “only a mother can handle a situation like that.” And as I am having this conversation with myself, I finished the clean up job and found the pacifier under the pew. I simultaneously had the thought that they won’t have to remember this. No they won’t have to remember any part of it, because hopefully, if I have any luck at all, they will someday get to live it. The motherload indeed. I couldn’t stop smiling the rest of the day.

And here I am a few days later. Once again, a pink croc is missing and we are down to the last pacifier. Yes, the cycle will continue on forever. As long as there are women out there who are willing to have children.

Jam Making
A few weeks back our family studied
The Family: A Proclamation to The World.
This was a timely declaration made by our living prophet.
It is filled with wisdom and truth.
We discussed with the kids this line:
“Successful marriages and families are established and maintained on principles of faith, prayer, repentance, forgiveness, respect, love, compassion, work, and wholesome recreational activities.”
We came up with the best ways our family could work on living these principles.
This is what the kids came up with:

 
Faith – Read scriptures daily.
Prayer – Everyone pray more often.
Repentence – Admitting when were wrong and saying sorry.
Forgiveness – Not being upset, loving in return.
Respect – Listening /Put ups instead of Put Downs
Love –  I cannot hurt /Breathe/Support Each Other
Compassion – Include Everyone
Work – Everyone Pitch In
Wholesome Recreational Activities – Activity Jar
 
As I pondered how to implement these things into our home I felt inspired that I needed to take the lead. I have personally been wanting to work on being actively engaged with the kids. I want to lead by example. I want to be more kind. I want to be more respectful and quiet. I want to work hand in hand.
 
I found some strawberries on sale last week.
99 cents for 2 quarts. 
That’s a steal.
The fruit was bought and so was the Sure-Jel.
It was time for some jam making.
 
I felt a feeling that instead of making jam alone that I should include the whole family.
I decided that we would forgo our typical sit down Family Home Evening lesson
and work together.
 
This turned out to be one of the best evenings we’ve spent together as a family.
We worked on the jam, each taking turns with the different jobs.
When we got through the kids burst out into a impromptu jam session.
We never work without music around here.
There was such a feeling of love and cooperation and industry.
I was so happy. 
We had Strawberry Cake for dessert and sat down to
sing, pray, and read from the scriptures about work.
The girls made up a great song.
I am so grateful to a God who listens to my prayers
and answers them.
He answers when I take time to talk to Him honestly
and to listen to Him when he talks back to me
through the Holy Spirit.
I love my family.
They are the best.
I am so glad God has given us tools to learn together and grow closer.
And now, every member of my family knows how to make jam,
but I doubt they will ever want to do it without someone with who they can jam at the same time.
What a sweet evening.
Oh and inquiring minds want to know, I am sure.
The homemade freezer jam recipe is a piece of cake.

Buy a box of sure-jel, a couple quarts of strawberries, and a lot of sugar, and you are good to go.
Make sure you have a freezer safe container.
And did I mention A LOT of sugar.
There is NO better jam in the world.
So yummy.
I’m going to have some now.
All the sudden I am starving.

The trek west
.

I only made time for a photo op when I knew we were on the last leg of our trip This was taken shortly after I stopped at the Utah Visitor’s Center to make sure I wasn’t lost. The previous 100 miles were nervous making. I was sure I took a wrong turn somewhere in Colorado. For 100 miles I debated with myself about turning around. I could have kissed those old ladies that live in the middle of nowhere when they told me I was on the right route. My phone’s GPS wasn’t working and there was no service to double check with LG that I was following my directions correctly. And the atlas was with LG in the moving van because Abigail loved checking it throughout the trip. All I could do is be the Mormon Pioneer that I am and forge ahead.
Oh yeah, funny side story. When I called my dad to talk to him about the details of our arrival the week before we left Tennessee, we got talking about the move-in. He asked me if we had a hand cart. I couldn’t figure out why he asked me that. Did all people need an obligatory historical handcart to move into the state of Utah now-a-days? I had never heard of such a thing and there was no way we would be fitting one in our truck along with the thousand pounds of food storage. I told my dad, “No dad, we have a moving truck. Penske. It’s the 21st century. It’s not going to take us months. Hopefully. Just four days, dad. Hoepfully.” He and I laughed heartedly when he explained that he meant one of those little dolly things to unload the boxes from the truck.

Here are the only other photos that were taken on the trip:

Even though this was taken on the same stop at the Welcome to Utah sign, it could speak volumes for the wind that we experienced all the way through Kansas, the third day of the trip. We traveled through what seemed to be a lot of dead farmland, but as the car was thrown all over the road by the wind and repeatedly ran over tumbleweeds it was no surprise that we were in tornado territory. All I could do is hold tight, click my heals together and chant repeatedly “there’s no place like home”.

Olive made it. She thought she was miserable until we arrived and she found out that her new home would be “outside only”. She hates the garage, even if it is attached to the yard for her own leisure. She especially hates it when we are eating dinner. She goes outside and howls at the kitchen window, hoping for some scraps. The kids have made a game of standing on the kitchen bench and waving to her throughout our meal. I can only hope that as I adjust, so will Olive. At least I’ve figured out how to get her to stop howling through the night. Apparently locking her inside her kennel makes her feel safer. Go figure?
And there are no pictures of Kitty Bear. We drugged her up really good every morning and the drugs usually lasted until we had 1 -2 hours left each night, when while we were all at our end’s wit, we tried to ignore her meowing and scratching at her kitty carrier. I won’t even mention how when we stayed with our friends in Colorado on our last night, when we went to leave, we couldn’t find her anywhere in their garage. We searched for a good 15 minutes. I thought it especially generous that we searched at all considering she had kept us up the whole evening before meowing at the door. 
Kitty Bear must be a true Gold family member. She is always out to entertain. For some real fun, we couldn’t find her at all the whole day after we arrived in Utah. We were sure she had taken off to try to go back home to Tennessee. She had snuck in the house and was hiding in the food storage room. I guess that is where she took the most comfort because it’s the only room of our new house that has any semblance to her old space. Boy was I relieved to find her! After 4 days of drugging and dragging and scratching and wrestling and chasing, she had better not run out on us now.

A great shot of a dirty windshield if I do say so myself.  You would never guess that at every gas stop the girls fought and fought over who got to do the windows. That wasn’t the only fight along the way, but this mom stayed focus. They pretty much fended for themselves. Caroline came up with the game of throwing her pacifier at the windshield and yelling “paci, paci, paci” when she was really had it, which was pretty much every day from an hour after we got into the van. Notice the photo above where she has one pacifier in her mouth and one in her hand. Every stop we would gather as many as we could like ammunition. 
I was taken back by the blue in the skies. Who would have known that we barely missed a great big snow storm the day before. Only LG who was driving the moving truck with car trailer down the Rockies. You would think that the ritziest ski resort in the nation, Vail, would do a better job of making sure their roads were plowed. Needless to say, these Tennesseans who are very out of practice driving in snow were white knuckled for about three hours. Especially after passing accident after accident while winding and stopping and travelling what seemed straight downhill with a gorge on the side.
And for good measure. Here is the best shot Abigail could manage of the most entertaining thing we saw the whole way. Forget the St. Louis arches or the majestic snow topped Rockies. Here is what got the most laughs. The Wiener Mobile. It’s a good thing that Sophia was with dad in the moving truck because of all my children she would be the one to get the bright idea that this should be her only formidable mode of transportation when she turns 16.

As you all know by now, we made it.

Barely.

Thanks for all the prayers.

What I really want to know though is who is the jokester that included the request for the WienerMobile
and how did you know it was exactly what I needed after four days on the road?

Temples of God

In the Holy Bible is this prophesy in Malachi 4:5-6:

Behold, I will send you Elijah the prophet before the coming of the great and dreadful dy of the Lord: And he shall turn the heart of the fathers to the children, and the heart of the children to their fathers, lest I come and smite the earth with a curse.

As a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints who lives in The Bible Belt, I am often ridiculed for my beliefs. I am the first to admit that many of them just seem kind of “out there”. A boy prophet. Gold plates. The practice of polygamy (which I will be the first to admit that I don’t understand or like) and I am totally relieve that we aren’t called upon to practice in this dispensation. I can assure you that if I didn’t know that God himself had given me an answer as to the truthfulness of my church, I would be the loudest opposer. If I didn’t know with all my heart that I belong to the true church of Jesus Christ, I would search for it my whole life over because I love my Savior Jesus Christ with all my heart.

Often times though, I am reminded how fortunate I am to belong to a church that has all the pieces of the puzzle. One of those huge pieces is: A sealing power that binds families for eternity.  Go here to see my belief about this prophesy in Malachi.

I have to admit that when I see someone lose a family member to death, I want to forcefully proclaim that there is a way for them to still be with their loved one forever. I also want to give this most precious gift to my non-Mormon friends who have not been privileged with the blessing of the sealing power, yet. Really, what greater gift can God give us than for our families to be together forever? This talk by a female leader in my church was so powerful to me in explaining the true doctrine of the family.

One of the greatest blessings that I enjoy in this life is the certainty that my family has been bound together by God. When LG and I were married, we were sealed in a temple of God, but God’s power. Of course God’s realm is not just ’til death do us part, but is for time and all eternity. And because LG and I were sealed in the temple of God, our children were born “under the covenant” which means that they are sealed to us forever also. And because our parents were sealed, we are likewise sealed to them. And guess what…this work goes on for the dead and it goes all the way back to Adam and Eve. Thus, “the hearts of the children”.We can all be together forever. The only thing that could steal this promise away is our own unfaithfulness.

Go ahead and call it all jibberish if you want, but I know it to be true. There is no place in this whole wide world like the temple of God. Only the temple of God has given me a glimpse of what it will be like for eternity. And it is too good for me to even behold.

If you happen to be one of my few readers who are not Mormon and are genuinely interested in these temples of God, I just want to tell you that once in a while, you can go inside. The temple in Atlanta GA has been rennovated and before it is rededicated to God’s work, the general public is allowed to tour. Go here for details.

I thank God daily for the blessings of the temple where I learn about my Savior Jesus Christ and where I also have been the blessed recipient of eternal endowments and blessings. These blessings are available for all and I wish that more people could get past the “out there” stuff and realize that God is a God of miracles and his ways are not our ways.

Oh and for you non-Mormons who may visit us in Utah. Know that when you come out to Utah to see us, we will not only take you to the greatest snow on earth or the marvelous beauty of the Rocky Mountains or red rocks, but we will take you to the Salt Lake Temple. It’s gorgeous, it’s where we were married and it took the Mormon Pioneers 40 years to build. It’s an incredible place. I like to think that there are still many people on earth today that would give that kind of sacrifice for their God.



Scientific Method

Abigail was quoted in the Knoxville Sentinel today. She was dressed like Galileo when talking to the reporter. She was so proud that the way the reporter started his article was Galileo was there. “Oh yeah, he’s talking about me,” bragged Abigail. The irony of her later quote is what is killing me. I must blog about it. Don’t mind me as I ramble on about the whole experience. Sometimes this blog acts as my personal journal and our family historian. If you want the abridged version just read the next paragraph and scroll to the end.

I can only blog about this because Abigail is usually a great student. She always scores in advanced on her T-Caps. She is in all Honors classes. She got straight A’s her first quarter of middle school. So you can imagine our dismay when a few days ago, Abigail came home with her report card and there was a big fat F in Science. We were appalled.

My friend Rita said that when she saw Abigail at the school it
 reminded her of how they always depict God in the movies.
It wasn’t until I took this picture and added it to my blog
that I realized what she was talking about.

We have come to the conclusion that the grade is the fault of three bad combinations: 1- Our neglect due to the move. 2- Abigail’s complacency and 3 – We are pretty sure Abigail will eventually be diagnosed as ADHD.

What most people don’t understand about ADHD kids is that a lot of them are extremely bright. There is an ADHD subset that usually gets overlooked. They are the ones that do very well in school because they are so bright.

My husband was a kid like that. He was just recently diagnosed with ADHD as a 35 year old adult. Ritalin has been an eye-opening experience for LG. The first time he took the drug, he said to me, “Oh my gosh Alice, my mind is so clear. It’s crazy. Just imagine what I could have done if I had some Ritalin while in law school.”

Anyhow, back to the story. Abigail brought home this F. It was horrifying. I immediately e-mailed her teacher and talked to her principal on the phone. I am a little worried how this will effect Abigail’s placement at her new school after we move. The timing is awful, but hopefully we can get her new school to understand the extreme abnormality of this grade. The good news is that maybe now we can get her doctor and school to understand our concern for her ADHD.  They wouldn’t agree to look into the possibility when she had straight A’s, but now they will hopefully be able to see a little window into what we are dealing with on a larger scale.

When LG sat down with Abigail last night to review her individual assignment grades it was no surprise to us that Abigail said that on each low grade she had forgot to either turn it in, complete it, or study. She has science first period and even if she does pay close enough attention to instructions, which she often considers non-essential information, it’s gone by the end of the day. She is just not engaged by things that don’t require real thinking and she is simultaneously totally overwhelmed by the structure in this class. Her teacher has about ten things going on at once and it’s just too much for an ADD brain. Her teacher is great and really makes science come to life, but for an ADD kid, the way that she structures her class is brutal. It’s been an awesome on-going science project. Who knew that they actually do science projects in a middle school science class?

Let’s see. The Scientific Method at work:

1 Ask a question – Does Abigail have ADHD?
2 Do background research – Abigail is normally a straight A student.
3 Construct a Hypothesis – It would be unlikely that Abigail has ADHD given the facts.
4 Test your hypothesis by doing an experiment – Give Abigail a Science Teacher who assigns 6 projects per nine weeks and does very little to communicate with the parents or make sure that Abigail stays on task. See how she does.
5 Analyze your data and draw a conclusion – Abigail failed science yet still received either A’s or B’s in all of her more structured classes, therefore she probably does have ADHD or just hates science.
6 Communicate your results – That would be this blog post. Do you think I should e-mail it to the teacher? She would be so proud that real science was actually taking place. She might even use it for future class projects.

So, imagine our surprise when Abigail came home the same day as receiving her F all excited about her Galileo project. She was so excited to not just research Galileo but to dress up like him. She did awesome, huh? She got really creative and insisted on dragging out the Santa costume box. Of course it was at the bottom of the stack of moving boxes, but at her stubborn request we re-shifted the whole room to discover the needed beard and wig. Then she told us not to come to her presentation. I think she was trying to keep us away from her science teacher.

Well imagine our surprise when reading this in the newspaper article this afternoon: (Amongst our first failing grade ever, the irony is just a little too much)

Sixth-grader Abigail Gold donned a white wig and beard as she depicted famed early astronomer Galileo for the Living Space History Museum exhibit.

She and other students selected a person in history who had an impact on the space program, designed posters, dressed in period and gave oral presentations on their historical figures. 

Abigail said Thursday’s event shows science and math can be fun.

“I’ve always wanted to be a scientist,” she said. “A lot (of kids) think it’s boring, but it’s my favorite subject.”

When Abigail got done reading aloud about herself in the article, Sophia quickly chimed in:

“Abigail what it really should have said is ‘but it’s my favorite subject’, even if I did fail the last nine weeks.”

What I was thinking was that it’s a good thing that God gave Abigail such a bright mind because if anyone is ever gonna figure out how to beat ADHD permanently, it’s her. She has a love for science that I have rarely seen, even if it’s a failing kind of love.

Tennessee Bridge
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.
wah wah wah.

Really Sick

On Friday morning, I was surprised to find Abigail and Sophia ready to go while Bella was still laying on the couch in her jammies. LG explained that he told Bella she could stay home from school as she had thrown up minutes before.

“Alright”, I said, “but you look fine to me Bella, maybe you should try to go.” Bella was having none of that. I let her stay home. She acted fine all day long.

I picked up Abigail after school; Bella was at home with Daddy and wasn’t in the car for the conversation. Abigail felt it pressing to explain to me that Bella had succeeded at faking it. I told dad this morning that she did not throw up.


All she did was burp and spit.

As Abigail tattled away, I was thinking to myself that I wished I was a morning person so I could catch these things better. I was also thinking it was o.k. because Bella entertained her baby sister while I went back to bed for a few more zzz’s. And this mom can never get enough sleep. So if you don’t like how I roll, just pretend I was sick. I can also burp and spit on demand.