Flashback Friday...Fun with Santa

Man, I love vintage Santa photos! I wish I could post my very favorite Santa photos here, but I don't have copies. They are of my niece and nephews, and by the looks on their respective faces, you would think that each one of them was being shanked by the big man himself. Why is it that the sheer torture on their faces is so funny? I don't know...but it is.



Here I am, with my upscale, San Diego mall Santa. He looks nice enough, right? I have another one somewhere of Jimmy with the same Santa.



And here's Justin with another mall Santa...this time in SLC. SO nice. Justin had no fear of Santa...what's there to be afraid of, anyway?



Ummm...yeah. Here's baby Cliffie and Wino Claus...somewhere in Riverside. Cliff has always been a great judge of character.

Flashback Friday...Happy Birthday, Jake!

Can it be that so many years have passed so quickly? That my baby is going to be 12 in a few short days?

I never thought the day would come that I'd have zero kids in Primary at church...or zero kids in elementary school. Or that ALL my kids would not only be old enough to stay home alone, but to be left responsible for other children and get PAID for it! But here we are.

Jacob is the only one of our children who came as a complete surprise. To tell you the truth, we really liked the 3 year space between Patrick and Coree, and planned on doing at least that much time again if we had another baby. I had just been discussing contraception with some friends at a Pampered Chef party. (That last sentence was such a stereotype, it was actually painful to type.) They were laughing at the concept of counting days on the calendar...dismissing it as bunk. I was quick to defend it, saying, "I don't know, I think it's worked pretty well for us." Here's the double irony...as I stood there defending our reliable rhythm method, I was (a) unknowingly pregnant and (b) with our 5th pregnancy in 6 years. Figuring in how many months of those years I was either pregnant or nursing...then, yep...pretty "trusty" family planning, I'd say.

Anyway, I would dare say Heavenly Father knew best, and we are so grateful He saw fit to send Jacob to us, even though it meant having 4 kids in 6 years while I was Primary President and talking college classes and Cliff was a full time Marine and full time grad student, too. (Those were the days!)

My goodness, Jacob was such a sweet baby! He was so good. They say the 4th one has to be, right? He was the only baby I delivered in a military hospital, and that part of it was completely miserable (although I hear it's gotten better, at least at stateside hospitals, anyway).

Well, in our 2010 birthday tradition, here are 12 random facts or embarrassing stories about Jake, in no particular order:

(1) Jacob got so snug in one position in the womb, that even after he was born, his neck muscles had strengthened so his head turned to one side, even when he was upright. Because of this, his head started to shift, causing the back of one ear to align with the front of the other, one side of his forehead to protrude and the side of his head to flatten into the back of his head. For this, he had to wear one of those cool, head-shaping helmets. It was not a fun experience. The thing was sweaty and miserable, required weekly, hours-long, medical appointments for adjustments, and Tricare didn't cover it, so we had to hold a garage sale to come up with the down payment on the thing. If this post were about anything else, I'd say something about how we've seen the government run insurance that is in our country's future... and you may want to think twice about it. But I won't. Anyway, who knows if it helped, but unless he joins the military (or a cult), probably no one will have to see his bald head to find out.

(2) On Memorial Day weekend, when Jacob was barely six months old, he contracted infantile botulism and spent two weeks in the pediatric ICU. It would be a long post on its own, so I won't go into it here, but just know that by the time they figured out what was wrong with him, I thought he was on death's door...but that looking back over the events of the two days between signs and diagnosis, it was easy to see God's hand in what transpired. Luckily, they were able to get him onto a ventilator before he stopped breathing, as this neurotoxin spread and paralyzed his body. We will forever be grateful to Dr. Stephen Arnon at the Infantile Botulism Treatment and Prevention Center in Berkley, CA for making this orphan disease his life's work. There are less than 100 cases in the US per year...so not exactly big money to be made in a field like that.

(3) Jacob was (and still is) such a good sleeper! Too good sometimes. We have to check and recheck to make sure he's up and getting ready for school or church. Kindergarten used to wear him out. He'd come home from school, and after a snack, sometimes he'd say, "I'm gonna go take a nap." What kid seriously says that? Even as a baby, he'd just randomly fall asleep wherever he felt like it. I love him for that.

(4) Jake was my only thumb-sucker...and I LOVED that he sucked his thumb. I didn't see a big deal about it at all. But...when it didn't stop after he started Kindergarten, I thought I needed to intervene. I talked to our awesome dentist about it, and he handled it so well. He brought in a mirror and showed Jake how one of his front teeth was starting to push forward. He told Jake it was because he was sucking his thumb, and that he needed to stop or it would get worse. Jake looked SO sad and said, "But I just can't...it relaxes me down." But he did stop. After that, I only saw him suck his thumb during the night when I'd peek in on him, and soon after that, not at all.

(5) When Jake was in preschool, he had major shoe issues...putting on shoes that were not his, that is. Only, this rule went for anyone. If I had him with me in Target and I wanted to shop for shoes, I'd better not even think of trying them on. Sometimes, I'd do it anyway and he'd pitch a fit and scream until he cried...until I put them back in the box. We actually had to seek a behavior intervention over it. A behaviorist from the school district made him a social story, came over to our house and read it to him...and traveled with us to the shoe store. He cried at several points, and whenever he did, she'd stop and say, "Let's see what the story says is going to happen next." This story got us all the way through trying on new shoes up to the register to pay and out to the car. It was like magic...and he never had the issue again.

(6) Jake is the only one of my kids who did not like bedtime stories, or to be read to in general. He would start bouncing up and down in my lap, slapping the book. He never read (or wanted to be read to) for the enjoyment of a good story. All of this changed in Kindergarten, when he discovered that reading allowed you to gain information. Then he was hooked. He always headed to the nonfiction section of the library (picture books? Pssshhh!) where he could learn useful things like the how different WWII planes were armed, or how many chambers are in a scorpion's heart. This is still true today, although we have been a little more successful in getting him to read some of the more adventurous children's illustrated versions of classics. He still prefers to carry around books of facts in various themes.

(7) Jacob also was not a big toy fan as a preschooler. He much preferred mechanical things, from the time he was very young. [I came down the stairs one morning when he was about 18 months old to find him walking down the hall, holding a loaf of bread in one hand, dragging the toaster by the cord with the other, looking for a plug to make himself breakfast. He didn't ask for help solving problems...he just went about trying to solve them.] His most favorite "toy?" The vacuum cleaner. He used to have his own snuggle time with the vacuum in the laundry room, where he would stroke the attachments and ridges of the hose while sucking his thumb. When we'd go to Walmart, he wouldn't run to the toy section like most kids...he simply wanted to visit the vacuum aisle. He'd put away any stray attachments or hoses, and even question the other patrons, "Which one you like?"...probably hoping he'd met another vacuum-phile. They'd give him sideways looks, probably thinking, "I'm just here for some bags, kid." The closest Jake came to playing with a toy? The cream and lavender vacuum that went to Coree's Little Tikes dollhouse. It fit right in the palm of his hand for traveling vacuum fun.

(8) Jake was a climber. He could scale the pantry to get whatever I had hidden in the top, no sweat. Ditto for the top of the fridge. For this reason, if I didn't get a shower before Cliff left for work, I'd have to either (a) Lock Jake in the bathroom with me or (b) wait until Cliff came home for lunch, if that happened. One day, when Jake was 1 or 2, I came out of the shower to hear Patrick screaming, "MOM! Jake's face is bleeding!" Not only had Jake climbed up the drawers to the bathroom counter and pulled a razor down from the top shelf AND shaved himself with it...he got the door open and got out anyway. I had to hold him down and use a towel to apply pressure to the 15 or so little cuts on his face to stop the bleeding. He resented this completely and cried until he passed out. It's amazing this kid has survived for 12 years.

(9) Jacob is always willing to help. I'm not exaggerating. And if it involves tools or problem solving? Even better. He's always quick to lend a hand bringing in groceries, cleaning up a mess (he's my go-to guy for using the little Bissel carpet cleaner). The words I most associate with him? "I'm on it." I love it when he says that. Part of this is his personality, but I think part of it is also that I let him do so much from an earlier age. He started cooking at age 8. If we're having pancakes, it would be weird for Jake NOT to cook them. Same with stir-fry...that's his dish. I think there is a LOT to be said for letting kids try things out and not criticize their methods or results...just give positive suggestions for next time, if needed...or let them figure it out, if possible. And always just insist they clean up the mess. It only took me 4 kids to figure this out. So while Jacob is confidently solving his own problems and cooking his own meals, at least the others will have plenty to tell their therapists about.

(10) When Jake was two and three, his obsession with the military began. Especially pilots. On days when we'd meet Cliff for lunch at the North Island food court, he'd look for the flight suits. Every single one he saw, he'd point and say, "He pilot, too, Dad?" And Cliff would nod and say yes. And Jake would stare at them intensely, until the next one caught his eye. I don't remember exactly what it was that clued us in, but we figured out that when Jake would ask about the pilots, he was asking Cliff if they were pilots like him. He was really disappointed to learn that chaplain and pilot were not the same thing...and that his daddy merely got to ride on the airplanes that took off and landed on the aircraft carrier...he didn't actually fly the planes. At three, Jake could rattle off every ship in the destroyer squadron Cliff was stationed with...to the delight of the other guys in the wardroom...especially the Commodore.

(11) This obsession with aviation has taken him far in his short life. Since Cliff went from being stationed on an aircraft carrier, to a Marine Air Wing, to a Naval Air Facility (which was the winter home to the Blue Angels) to another Marine Air Wing, Jake has had ample opportunity for exposure. While he was at El Centro, not only did he get an up close and personal look at the Blue Angels, but got a personal "behind the scenes" tour of his favorite P-51 Mustang. Not to mention getting to sit in a Red Bull stunt plane, and then stand with the announcer at the airshow while the Red Bull pilot performed a new maneuver he named the "Jake Roll" in his honor. He's been able to go listen to speakers at Navy League meetings, and was even invited to be the personal guest of one speaker at the Gillespie Field airshow, and invited to fly with him in his Cessna around San Diego County the next day. All that poring over books of aviation facts (and all those hours of the History Channel) really paid off!

(12) Jake is obsessed with Nerf guns. He has an arsenal that is a little embarrassing. We removed the bottom bunk of his bunkbed to turn it into a loft bed. We had in mind, putting a desk under there to maximize the space in his room. He had in mind, gorilla chests full of Nerf guns and ammo. A few months ago he told me he thought Dad needed to bring home another one of his gorilla chests to accommodate his ever-growing stock-pile. (Gorilla chests are big, black, plastic chests with locks and wheels which are very popular for shipping gear back and forth from military deployments. Cliff has six of them, mostly at work.) I told him I drew the line at two...otherwise, it was time to start culling the collection. How many Nerf guns can one use at a time, anyway?

Happy Birthday, Jacob! You are such a blessing to our family...the best surprise we ever got. We love you!

Flashback Friday...Buds and the Hawaii Girls

Jimmy & Carrie circa 1970

Is that the sweetest sweater you have ever seen? How about that expression on my face? It hasn't changed much, actually...I still walk around confused, with my mouth hanging open. I have much more hair now, though. Other than before age two, it's been pretty thick, actually.

Today is my brother Jimmy's birthday. He's 18 months older than I am.

{Trivia: When I called my mom to tell her I was pregnant with Patrick, she spoke in very consoling tones. When I told her we had planned it that way...and pointed out that Jimmy and I were also only 18 months apart...she replied, "Yah...but not on purpose!"}

Whether my parents meant to or not, I was very lucky to be so close in age to Jimmy. We played all kinds of fun stuff together when we were little. {And when we were in high school...he had really cute friends (payback for all those times he wouldn't leave us alone when I had friends over to play).} I don't know whether it was because Jimmy was older or because I was a pushover of a girl or what...but we always had to play masculine games.

We played Army...which consisted of Jimmy using a kitchen towel as a sling or a head bandage, holding one of our great-grandpa's rifles and moaning while I pushed him around in our great-grandma's wheelchair.

At home we played "Island of Lost People"...only this was before the days of Happy Meal toys and the general action-figure overload that most kids have today. We had to get really creative with our "people". I had these perfume-bottle dolls, and Jimmy had a Gumby and that GI Joe rip-off (I think he was called Jungle Jim or something?) and other random objects that we would move around and create dialogue with, while they tried to find a way off the "island" on my bedroom carpet.

We also used to play Cowboys and Mexicans with our friends in the neighborhood. {Don't laugh! I think the name must have something to do with us being from So Cal. Other than that, I have no idea where we came up with the name.} Everyone wanted to be Cowboys, but there had to be Mexicans, or the game would be pointless. {Enter...the little sister.} I specifically remember one day in our back yard when I was four or five, Jimmy saying to me (in his most persuasive voice), "Don't you want to be a Mexican, Carrie? Grandma and Grandpa are Mexicans." And I remember thinking it over and being like, "Ohhhh...that's why they spend so much time in Mexico!" We did go to Mexico a lot...shopping, on camping trips, or sometimes just to eat dinner and back. (And I LOVED it there. They had the best cookies.) And I had heard my grandparents speak some Spanish, too. I don't know how long after that I believed my grandparents were Mexican...or if Jimmy really thought that they were, or he was truly a manipulative genius. I also don't remember if the logic worked on me that day...but if I was wagering, I'd bet that the part was played by the hermanita. {Disclaimer: I love me some Mexicans, always have. I think this had more to do with the fact that kids want to be on the winning team, and the cowboys are the "winners," whether they are fighting Indians or Mexicans. Just had to put that out there so you wouldn't think I was a four-year-old bigot.}

But even more than Gringos and Vaqueros, our far most creative game was "Buds and the Hawaii Girls." I know not the origin of this game, but it was one we could play anywhere...the scenarios were endless. Whether we were in the backseat of the car, or sitting at the counter, trying to avoid eating our dinner, we could get into character like thaaat. {*snaps fingers*}

{Synopsis: Two grown men, each named Bud (or...at least that's how we referred to each other) lived in constant fear of two Hawaiian women (clad in grass skirts and bikini tops). The Buds were best friends, fond of hanging out in bars, taking business trips together, and slapping each other on the back while saying "Hey Bud" with deep voices. The Hawaii girls had the ability to teleport, read minds, predict the future, and fly through the sky and directly through the walls of airplanes in order to attack unsuspecting traveling businessmen. (And by attack...I mean hug, kiss, tickle and in general, rub their half-neked bodies all over them in a disgusting manner that no self-respecting kid would tolerate.)}

The game went forward with each of us contributing to the storyline, while we acted out the parts. We were always both the "Buds" and the Hawaii girls were only represented in our imaginations...and by our physical reactions to their attacks. Those were good times.

When Jimmy was on his LDS mission and I was in the Navy, every letter he wrote to me, he signed, "Buds Forever"...and although marriage, children and life have taken the place of childish imagination, he is right. We are to this day, Buds forever. Distance may part us and our new families take priority...but I will never have another "Bud" like Jimmy. We've been through much together, and I would not have made it through adolescence without him...and to some degree, I owe my life as I know it today to those letters he sent so long ago.

Many years have passed since our biggest concerns were getting enough money for tickets to see Depeche Mode and getting to the phone before the parentals when the automated "attendance alert" from the high school came through. Many trials have also passed...including his young daughter's battle with brain cancer...a diagnosis she received on his 40th birthday, two years ago. (Thankfully, she's beating it!)

When we are all able to get together, I love to watch the interaction between his children and mine. They see each other less than once a year...but always pick up right where they left off. There is so much joy in it, and I look forward to my own kids having the same experience with their children. I wonder what they will reminisce about?

Happy birthday, Jimmy. I am grateful to be your sister, and will truly be your Bud...forever. I love you.

Flashback Friday...Eighties Fashion

January 1989...farewell party...leaving for bootcamp

Let me count the things I love about this picture:

(1) The one-side-longer-than-the-other-spiral-perm hair do

(2) The long-sleeve, high-neck, puffy-sleeve, hounds tooth shirt

(3) The sweet, retro, bolo-tie-inspired necklace.

(4) The baggy knit overall pants with big black buttons down the front.

And what you can't see:

The pants tucked into matching socks, with pointy, lace-up boots to round out the "totally eighties" look.

Somebody get me some Yaz, STAT!

Flashback Friday...Happy Mommiversary

18 years ago, at 1:38 AM, I began my journey into motherhood. Childbirth is a miraculous experience every time, of course...but the first time...the first time, it is completely surreal. By the time you get to this point, you have listened to heartbeats, felt flutters strengthen into kicks, maybe even spent sleepless nights counting movements or worrying about test results...or maybe (like me), spent months on bed rest with round-the-clock meds, trying to keep the contractions at bay so he can cook as long as possible. But this moment...the moment you see that this is an actual person that's been living inside of you...it blows your mind on so many levels.

I honestly don't know what I expected...all I know is I was completely unprepared for what I would see and feel. I can recall perfectly the moment I laid eyes on Troy. I remember his crying and flailing...and my screaming, "Oh my gosh, oh my gosh!" over and over again, in between sobs of joy, while unable to take my eyes off of him. He was a real person. He was mine. And he was safe and healthy.

Without going into all the {Nurse Ratched} details, let's just say that I left the hospital diffident, completely unprepared, and scared out of my mind.

{"That's it?! So they are just going to let me walk out of here with him?!?! Don't they know I don't have a clue what to do?!"}

But we figured it out together...and he's survived for 18 years (so far).

As seems to be the tradition for the kids' birthdays in 2010, I present to you...18 random memories of Troy (in no particular order) for his 18th birthday:


(1) Birth story in a nutshell: Troy was born 3 weeks early and was the smallest of our four children, weighing 7 lbs. 8 oz. I had been on bedrest since going into labor at 23 weeks. Within 24 hours of going off of the meds to stop labor (with the Dr.'s approval, of course) he was born....almost on my mom's birthday (an hour and a half too late). At least we tried. Incidentally, Troy hates being late to this day and would be early for everything if it was under his control.


(2) When Troy was eight months old, I had to go to Field Medical Service School for ten weeks at Camp Pendleton...about an hour from where we were stationed at MCAS El Toro. This meant Cliff had full-time, Mr. Mom duty...as I was mostly only able to come home on weekends. As hard as this was, Cliff and Troy's bond was greatly increased, and Cliff gained first-hand appreciation for what it is like to fly solo with the childcare. I remember coming home on weekends, getting instruction from my husband on what Troy liked and didn't:

Cliff {in response to hearing Troy's wails}: "What's wrong?"
Me: "I took away (fill in the blank here with something he shouldn't have been playing with)."
Cliff {in a slightly-testy, superior, "duh" kind of voice usually reserved for wives addressing their husbands on child-related matters}: "Well did you trade him?! He only likes to trade. Here... {handing me an Ernie doll} you should have traded him for this."
Me: "Well, Excuuuuse me!" {In my head. Hehe.....heh.}


(3) Troy was the size of a 3 year old at 12 months. We used to get all kinds of football references when we'd take him out (funny how that eventually came true). He just kept growing. He was the size of some five year olds at age two. Once some boys at the park asked me why he talked so funny. When I replied, "Because he's two", their eyes bugged out and their mouths fell open.


(4) When Troy was 15 months, we moved to Joliet, IL. Our house was situated between a triangle of freeway intersections, which we could cover in about a 15 minute loop. We took an almost nightly ride just so that Troy could look at the semi-trucks out the window. He called them "bocks" and would just repeat, "Ooooh, BOCK!" over and over...the whole ride. It was such a simple pleasure.


(5) Troy used to LOVE having the same ten books read to him over.and.over. I used to have fantasies about hiding them from him for a day. Now I love to reminisce about reading "Are You My Mother?" and "Ten Apples Up On Top". He has always devoured books and now I am grateful for his early addiction.


(6) Troy LOVED Thomas the Tank Engine. But I was too cheap to buy the videos. I used to put in a blank VHS tape and record the little 5 minute segments off of "Shining Time Station" on PBS. I seriously collected about 4 hours worth of those segments. Whenever he had a babysitter, that tape HAD to go with him. He used to carry a train in each hand. He wasn't picky about which, just as long as he had one for each hand.


(7) Troy's first Disney movie obsession was The Lion King. When he was 3ish, he used to put it in the VCR first thing in the morning. Some days, he'd watch it 2 or 3 times. He had a Simba that roared when you squeezed it, and he took that everywhere, too. He'd randomly share lines from the movie. "Yeenas...in the problem" [Hyenas...in the pride land]


(8) Troy did not dance as a baby, like (I think) most babies do. He really didn't care for music much. This really concerned me. There was a show called "Kid Songs" on PBS that was just part of the all-day, background-noise PBS-fest that was our preschool life. There was one song that would stop Troy in his tracks every time, though. "Ten in a Bed." Troy would stop whatever he was doing and run to the TV and laugh hysterically when they "all rolled over and one fell out." That is one of my favorite memories...listening to that laughter.


(9) I think Cliff's favorite baby memory of Troy is taking him out to the backyard while he did yard work. All Troy did was sit and hold the hose, but he loved being outside and made the cutest sounds, while Cliff beamed with pride at his beautiful boy.


(10) When we lived in Oceanside and Troy was about 5, we were on an outing to the Wild Animal Park with friends, who had a daughter (Molly) Troy's age. We parents were lagging behind, talking...when suddenly Troy looked at Molly walking next to him, and slid his arm around her shoulder. They continued walking like that all the way to the safari ride, while the adults stifled laughter behind them.


(11) Troy's Kindergarten teacher asked the class one day if anyone knew what gravity was. The rest of the children were silent, Troy raised his hand and proceeded to give the teacher a pretty textbook answer, completely blowing her mind in the process. Ours, too. We had no idea what he was staying up late reading.


(12) Troy entered Kinder through 2nd having passed both beginning and ending assessments for the year. His 1st grade teacher was convinced he could read and understand her college textbooks. At the same time, when asked how old he was, he would hold up his fingers to answer. He was a very young Kindergartener (his bday makes the deadline by just 2 weeks in most places) but we could not see keeping him back another year, when he was really working at least 2 grades ahead. Still, he now tells us he wishes we would have kept him back so he could have had another year to play football at Kubasaki. Priorities.


(13) I swore we would never have a video game system in our home. (I also swore we'd never own a second TV. Ha!) But secretly, I loved watching a 4 year old Troy get so excited while learning to play Super Nintendo's Star Wars under his dad's skillful tutelage. SNES was followed by Sega, Nintendo 64, Gameboys of every variety, Wii, Xbox 360, etc. It's funny when real life meets the things a young mom swears she will "never".


(14) While at the beach one day (my mom was visiting) when Troy was in 3rd grade, he kept telling me he couldn't close his eye all the way. I remember thinking, "Yah, right...you're fine!" When he persisted, I took a look. He blinked and only one eye closed. I told him to smile and only one side of his mouth moved. I instantly thought, "brain tumor, stroke, etc." while I packed everyone back in the van and we headed to the hospital. Turns out, he had bells palsy (very rare in children) and got to wear a very cool pirate eye patch to school while waiting for the problem to resolve. This, after a string of other bizarre maladies, led our Dr. to refer to our family as a "treasure chest of pathology". Thanks. We think.


(15) One day when Troy was around 7, I was sitting at the computer and heard him put something into the microwave and start it (no biggie). About 20 seconds later he commented, "I'm going to try my peanut butter spoon heated up." It took about 3 seconds for what he said to register...then, jumping out of my chair without saying a word, I jumped across the counter, ripped the microwave open (sparks flying), grabbed the searing-hot spoon and threw it into the sink. Evidently, we had never had the 'no metal in the microwave' discussion before that day.


(16) Troy has loved Patrick since day one. Two peas in a pod, I tell you. Even when 19 m.o. Troy bounced his cup off of newborn Patrick's head out of frustration when he couldn't have juice RIGHT NOW and it was Patrick's fault. Patrick made up for it by serving as a really cool surfboard for Troy when Mom and Dad weren't looking.


(17) When Troy was about 3 1/2 (old enough to know better), while mom was occupied with something else, he decided to help himself to some more juice from the fridge...which he spilled. Then, for good measure...decided to break some eggs, smear some butter and in general make a ginormous mess...with Patrick serving as accomplice. I forced them both to clean up the mess, and Troy gagged the whole time he was doing it. Funny how making the mess didn't induce gagging, though.


(18) When Troy was a baby, he used to wake up in the best mood every morning. He would babble and laugh while looking at himself in the mirror of the 'busy box' hanging on the side of his crib. Then he'd bounce on the mattress and rattle the crib rails while jabbering loudly. He was so big, we thought he'd shake the whole thing down some days...but Cliff and I would just crack up listening to his racket. I think this is my favorite memory of Troy. As he got older, he became way more subdued, and only those of us really close to him get to see this playful side.

I really do remember that playful baby like it was yesterday...and in the blink of an eye, he's a man. I'm so proud of the man he has become. So grateful to be his mom. So excited for whatever his bright future holds. Happy birthday, Troy...I love you, man!

Flashback Friday...Movies, Independence and Nostalgia

(Wow...look what I found! Proof that it is still there.)

Don't you just love reading something, or having a conversation that causes you to take an unexpected walk down Memory Lane? I do. I was reading about Damaris's first movie memories. I hadn't really thought too much about my own...until I started thinking about it, that is.

Very first of all, I remember being a pre-schooler and playing on the playground, at the drive-in, in my pajamas, with the other kids (also in their pajamas), waiting for it to be dark enough for the movie to start. (Ahhh, the 70s!) As of a couple years ago at least, the drive-in and playground in Santee still stood. {I wonder if kids still go in their PJs? I wonder if people still pop their popcorn on the stove at home and bring it...in brown paper grocery bags, delicious with butter spots...just like we did?} The only movie I can remember specifically is The Apple Dumpling Gang, but we did this a lot, so I know there were more...but I was really young. I do remember going in my dad's pickup truck, though. And riding in the bed of the truck, all the way there. {Yep...we did that in the 70s, too...because bad stuff never happened.}

We moved to a small town in East San Diego County for a few years (Lakeside). They had an old theater downtown, and during the summer, they showed a Disney-type, kids' matinee every week. My mom would drop off my brother and me (we were like 8 and 10) with money for the movie and some candy every week. I remember Escape to Witch Mountain, The Gnome Mobile, Mr. Toad's Wild Ride...but most of all, I remember the sense of adventure and independence. Those were the days! I know the old Lakeside theater is closed, though...because it didn't stay open past those first couple of magical summers (of our time there, anyway...it had been around a long time before that). Guess they didn't charge enough for the candy. I think it was vacant for some time, and then it became a church. I wonder if the building still stands? Probably not. It's probably a Super Wal*Mart by now.

One final, childhood, movie memory worth mentioning. ET. It came out the year we moved to Utah. {Tough time in the life of my family of origin, incidentally. We moved to an even smaller town...an oilfield town, which also had an old, quaint theater.} I went to see ET with my brother, Jimmy. (You know, the sentimental one from my previous post?) Anyway, he bawled through the whole ending. I probably did, too...but mostly I remember looking over to my left at him, repeatedly wiping at his emotion-twisted face with his sleeve, and thinking, "Wow, this is really eating him up." Not your typical 14 year old boy, for sure. Which is one of the things that makes him so special. I didn't say anything to him about it, we just pretended it wasn't happening. {I probably saved it to tease him later. Don't know for sure, but I'm guessing...knowing how valuable that ammo would have been. We loved each other, but hey...we were still siblings.}

Thanks for reading along, while I'm trying to get my blogging feet wet again. I'm feeling better about being here, so stay tuned for more. I would LOVE to read about your early movie memories, if you care to share. Happy summer!

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Flashback Friday...Buzz and Woody

There was a specific picture I had in mind for this flashback...but of course, I couldn't find it! I thought that with all this talk of my Toy Story nostalgia, I'd post pictures of Troy and Patrick as Buzz and Woody.


These pictures are not much to brag about...but I guess they will have to do. (But, oh that daddy is something to brag about! Isn't he handsome?)



A beautiful day in May on Coronado Island in San Diego, 1997.



Oh how I wish I could go back with today's camera!

(Wait...that would mean back to diapers. Never mind!)

Flashback Friday...Washington DC Trip

October 1996


Back in the day, when Cliff was a Marine, he attended the Staff Academy in Quantico, Virginia. We were living in Joliet, IL at the time, and I felt comfortable enough with the distance to drive by myself with a 4 year old, a 2 1/2 year old, and one in the oven, so that we could attend Cliff's graduation.

The graduation itself was pretty unremarkable. (Well, except for that part where Patrick was being really obnoxious during the ceremony, while I was trying to be prepared to take Cliff's picture. And I pulled him close and scream-whispered in his ear about how he'd better knock it off right now. And he still kept it up, so I pinched his behind. And then he screamed, "OW! Mommy, don't pinch me! DON'T pinch me! That's NOT nice!" Yeah. Not one of my finer moments.)

Anyway, after all that pomp and circumstance, we stayed a couple of nights in the Quantico BOQ. We shared one ancient bedroom as a family, and a communal bathroom down the hall with who-knows-how-many of our closest friends. Pretty posh. (I hear they have since remodeled.)

We thoroughly enjoyed Washington DC. We only had a couple of days to spend before we had to head home for Cliff to make it to work on Monday, but we packed in quite a bit. We hit all the big monuments, walked by the White House (the line was impossibly long so we opted not to stay) and went through several of the Smithsonian museums. We also went to Arlington, hoping to see some progress on the Women in Military Service for America (WIMSA) museum...but they had just broken ground and there was really nothing to see. (I'm a charter member and my profile can be viewed on screen there, now that it's done. I haven't been back to DC since, though.)



That's little Patrick to the left, Cliff's behind, and sweet Troy.



Funny how random memories can be. One of the things I remember most is trying to feed the pigeons. We bought popcorn from the nearby cart expressly for this purpose...and this young dad with five little kids in tow came over precisely where we were trying to feed them and the kids proceeded to try to annihilate the birds. One had a giant plastic dinosaur he was swinging by the tail trying to whack them, another was throwing his matchbox cars at them. The dad just laughed like some sort of hillbilly and said, "Git 'em!" I was pregnant (and therefore free to speak my mind) and I just looked at him and said, "You've GOT to be kidding me! Seriously?!" He said nothing, but eventually got the hint and moved his brood along. (Probably to go torture some homeless people...or light things on fire.)



Get a load of how skinny Cliff was! They used to PT him to death at that unit. I swear, half their day was mandatory PT. Honestly, I fed him well. He just worked it all off.




Sweet boys on the carousel.

(Trivia: I saw some boys like these at the bank the other day. They were playing under the counter, tickling each other and laughing while their mom counted out rolled coins. It reminded me of a day just two months after this trip, when I was in the post office, licking stamps for Christmas cards. {Remember licking stamps?} My boys were playing under the counter, much the same way. A woman came over to me and offered to help me stamp my envelopes {I had over a hundred}. I gratefully accepted her help, and when we were done, I thanked her. She looked me in the eyes and said, "God loves you and your children." I have to admit, I was taken aback...and my voice cracked as I replied, "Thank you. I know that." And then she went her way and I went mine. But I never forgot her kindness, or her unabashed words.)

God does love us...and our children. {Even moms who pinch their kids...and kids who throw things at pigeons...and dads who encourage them to do it.}

Flashback Friday...National Park Tour

Don't you just love a good road trip? This was June 2003. Cliff had just barely returned from his first tour in Iraq (as in, we didn't know if he'd even make the trip) and we went to my brother's wedding in Wyoming. We decided that while we were in that neck of the woods we'd better take advantage and see some sites. Cliff loves nature and national parks, so it was a perfect opportunity.

This also happened to be Cliff's "Golden Week" of birthday, Father's Day and our anniversary. As a matter of fact, Cliff's birthday fell on Father's Day (as it does from time to time). It was the day after the wedding, and we were trying to make it to Mt. Rushmore that night. Turns out, we were trying a little too hard and Cliff got pulled over for speeding just as we got into South Dakota.

Remember, we went right from Cliff's homecoming to packing and leaving for this trip. The van was still painted with red, white and blue window-chalked messages of "We love you, Daddy" and "Welcome Home...Our Daddy Our Hero", etc. If you look closely at the picture above, you can see some of it. (Trivia: That stuff STICKS. I kid you not, 5 1/2 years later, when our van was going to a new home, we were STILL finding little streaks of red or blue chalk.)

So back to the cop. He sees all this writing and asks what it's all about. Cliff told him he'd returned from Iraq less than a week ago and we had just been to a wedding and were headed to Mt. Rushmore. He took Cliff's license back to his car and came back a few minutes later and said, "In light of your service to our country, AND the fact that it's Father's Day AND your birthday, ("How did he know that? Oh yeah...duh! The license.") I'm going to let you go. Slow down.



We took SO many pictures...and these were not digital, either. (We didn't join the digital age until after Cliff returned from his second tour in Iraq the following year.) Rather than include a bunch of bad pictures, I just chose a few of my favorites and/or ones that tell a story. I have no idea where we were in the above picture of Troy. Could have been Mt. Rushmore, Devil's Tower, Yellowstone or Grand Teton. I just love the picture. He had just finished 5th grade and life was pretty uncomplicated.



OK, I know you can barely see us...but there are only like 3 pictures of me the whole trip...and this is the clearest one. At least proof that I was there.



Probably the thing the kids remember most about every stop we made...the dreaded "Jr. Ranger" program! We had just made the decision to start homeschooling...so I was a little hyper-vigilant in the education department and insisted they participate in the Jr. Ranger program at every stop. Each time they did, they earned a sweet little badge or patch. I would have LOVED this as a kid. I don't know what their problem was. (I think it's so funny that Patrick is seen chatting up the lady ranger in this picture. He's always been...Patrick.)



This was taken at a night time, patriotic program and flag ceremony. It was beautiful. Before they went into the closing song, they asked for any military members to stay after and come forward to help retire the colors. The program ended with the National Anthem, for which we stood (of course). As soon as it ended, the large crowd started to pour up the aisles and out of the amphitheater, but we remained standing, waiting for a clear path to head down and help with the flag (without having to swim up stream). Only...this little boy in the red jacket didn't get the memo. He saw a crowd, and just followed. It only took moments for him to disappear and us to realize he was gone. Talk about panic! A 4-1/2 year old boy lost at Mt. Rushmore in June! We pushed through the crowds, yelling, attracting as much attention as possible...accosting rangers as we went, who went into action with their radios, alerting everyone to be on the look-out for a blonde boy in a red jacket. I don't know how long it took, but we got word he had been found upstairs (he had even followed the crowd into an elevator!) by a lovely snowbird couple. To this day, Jake insists we are the ones who left him...not the other way around.



This is definitely Yellowstone. If you've been there, you'll recognize the geo-thermal activity going on in the background. You'll also remember the lovely, sulpher smell! (Trivia: A few months later, we were watching some of the videos from this trip. As SOON as these steam/boiling mud shots came on the screen...Jake reached up and plugged his nose. Like it was smell-o-vision or something!)

The entire trip was awesome (even though we tent-camped through the whole thing) and I would recommend it to anyone...but you'll need longer than you think, especially at Mt. Rushmore. It is incredible! It was especially timely and our feelings were especially tender, given what Cliff had just been through. (I would have even gone sans air mattress if that's what I needed to do for him to have this trip...and that's saying something!)



The End.

Flashback Friday...Were those really the days?

Tomorrow is it. Troy is going to walk across that stage, pick up his diploma, and start the rest of his life. Which makes me the mother of an adult. Over the past couple of weeks I keep asking myself...how did this happen? Up until today, I've been able to mostly keep my emotions at bay. As soon as I find myself reflecting on the occasion, I stuff it down...but it's always there, always on the verge of spilling over at the most inconvenient moments.

At the same time, I've surprised myself. I made it through the parent appreciation dinner with no tears (no thanks to Pa Jones), the Sr. award ceremony...even the Baccalaureate, with only the warmest of feelings, lots of laughter and good conversation...in the company of great friends, just like us, going through the same milestone. I don't know how. Living in denial, I think. Not really reaching out to touch what was happening around me. I couldn't get too close.

Then Tuesday I woke up and took a look at the sky and the weather forecast. We still needed pictures of Troy for his graduation announcement (yes, I just barely got those out in the mail, sorry) and we finally had a break in the weather AND the calendar. After work, we piled the family in the van, stopped at Family Mart for some Onigiri and headed out to Toguchi Beach. We put Troy through a multitude of poses, only to choose the very first one I took. (That's usually how I roll.) He looked so wonderful...so grown up...so TALL!

We needed to stop at the BX for something quick on the way home. None of the kids wanted to go in, so it was just Cliff and I. As we were leaving the register, we heard powerful shrieking and turned to see a couple with a two year old boy having a full-blown tantrum. It nearly took my breath away. This boy sounded and acted just like Troy at that age. The couple was even acting like we might have (trying to suppress their laughter while dragging his dead-weight out of the store). As the realization was hitting me, Cliff said, "Wow, he sounded JUST like Troy!" I could barely respond, "I know" as I sucked it up HARD, afraid that someone might summon security to attend to the crazy lady bawling down the escalator.

I was thinking about it all the way out to the car. In my head, I screamed..."I THOUGHT I'D HAVE MORE TIME!" Just yesterday, that was us. It seemed like we'd be doing this forever...and at the time, I don't think we thought that was a good thing...it was more like, "How are we going to do this for the rest of our lives?" as we are dragging a shrieking kid out of Wal*Mart. But oh, how I would love to go back and pick up my screaming toddler and kiss his big cheeks and look him in the eyes and hold his face and say, "Do you have any idea how much I love you? Do you know how lucky I feel to be your mom?"

"Why is this so hard? I shouldn't be feeling sad. Would I rather he not be graduating?" I posed these questions to some lovely ladies over lunch the next day. Then I told them the story about the sobbing tantrum-thrower in the BX (and the shrieking child). They each have young children, and they knowingly laughed at the thought of me pining for the howling two year old vs. the incredibly smart, accomplished, handsome young man I am about to launch into the world after years of investment. Which made me laugh, too. It is ridiculous when you think about it. This has been the goal...or at least the first of many.

Then why did I wake up in a panic this morning? I can no longer pretend this is far in the future. It's tomorrow, and it will come whether I'm ready or not. I am overflowing with pride, and so grateful to be the mother of Troy Stuart. We've been through a lot together, and I hope he knows how much I love him. I hope he remembers the hugs and kisses, the bedtime stories, the driving through multiple drive-thrus to get just the Star Wars toy he was looking for...and the endless chauffeuring. I hope he forgets the times I told him to quit driving me crazy; my frustration when it seemed every day he was making up a new set of rules to a game which only he knew; my lack of enthusiasm for reading the same ten books over and over and over; and all the other times I fell short as a mom.

As I'm watching him cross that stage tomorrow, through the tears that I am certain will come, I will be reflecting on the triumphs. I'll be thinking about the months of bed rest to get him here safely; the early intervention which helped him to journey from a four year old we didn't know if we'd ever have a conversation with...to the mature young man whose insight astounds me; the years of being told we should steer clear of teams and focus on non-competitive sports...to the boys and coach who embraced him and told him they'd teach him everything he needed to know about football; the worries about "socialization" to the young man voted "kindest" in his class.

I am sure I will survive tomorrow. I have the confidence I've gleaned in watching other mothers come before me. I just really had no idea it would be this hard.

Flashback Friday...Picture Perfect

Guess whose mom got the memo it was picture day...



And whose mom didn't?


Awesome.

At least he's cute...even in a faded, hand-me-down, Star Wars tee and bad haircut.

Flashback Friday...God Bless America!

As we head into this Memorial Day weekend...just thought I'd share this darling little patriot with all of you. It's funny...Cliff was a Marine when this was taken...and was not the most thrilled with his son wearing a sailor-suit. Probably the only reason he didn't veto it was that this little boy's MOM was a Sailor.

Hahaha....guess now the joke's on him, huh?

Hope you all have a wonderful and safe weekend...and that you don't just enjoy the extra day off...but take some time to remember those who gave the ultimate sacrifice for us.

We will never forget.

Flashback Friday...Lookin' Cool by the Pool!

When we lived on Camp Pendleton in the late 90s, the older two boys started swimming lessons...but I think we only did about 3 sessions total. It was hard with a toddler and a baby in tow. But when the kids were a little older (ages 3-8) we started doing every.single.session of swim lessons the Miramar pool had to offer each Summer (I think that was 5 or 6 sessions) and most days we'd stay for "free swim" afterward. The program was pretty awesome, but always full, so you had about 6 kids in a class. Still, their skills improved and they all did remarkably well in the water.


Troy, age 13..circa 2005, MCAS Miramar pool
(He started diving head first off of the high dive later that summer and looked pretty good, I must say!)



Troy, age 15...circa 2007, NAF El Centro pool

Then we moved out to El Centro, and while in some respects it felt like exile...there were MANY positive aspects about living there. Not the least of which...their swim program. It rocks!

Since it is such a small facility, it was not uncommon for our kids to be the only ones in their level (we had Troy and Patrick together, and then Coree and Jake in the next lowest level together). This was like having private lessons. The coaches were great and the kids' skills just took off. The older boys completed level 7 and the younger two, level 6 while we were there. Pretty sweet!

This week, Troy started lifeguard training on Camp Foster, where he hopes to gain employment for this Summer (and for the next year while he takes college classes and prepares for his mission call).

Hard to believe that little boy will be the one in the chair!

Good luck, Troy...we know you can do it!

Flashback Friday...If You're Happy and You Know It...

Oh my goodness how I love these smiles...


Whether pure joy...



Sweetness...



Or smug...



Smirky...



Crazy...



Squinty...



Full of anticipation...



Silly...



Giddy...



Or full of pride...this girl has some beautiful smiles.

We have all been enjoying the digital picture frame I was given for Mother's Day. It's nice to walk by and have some random memory splashed in your face. Looking through these has reminded me how much I miss this pure, genuine, "I love my life!" smile.

It's not that I never see it anymore, it's just that now that she's a teenager...it makes random, fleeting appearances. Usually she favors the more non-committal "that's mildly impressive" expression.

*SIGH*

Flashback Friday...Thanks for the Memories

I don't know about you, but I'm not a photographer. I rarely (if ever) take my camera off auto...and when I do, I'm taking a shot in the dark (no pun intended) anyway. When I read other peoples' blogs and they are asking us to excuse a lousy photo...or they whine about how something wasn't perfect (and it looks better than anything I've ever done) I'll admit, I get a little annoyed.

But, every once in awhile, I get lucky. And I do mean pure, dumb luck. Not that I'm saying my photos would win any awards...but sometimes they succeed at capturing the moment and truly preserving a memory.

Today, I'd like to share a couple of my faves (totally randomly) from my iPhoto files:


circa 2005...MCAS Miramar, Jake (age 6) running through the "post-game tunnel"



Summer 08 Grand Canyon, Coree (age 11)

That's a wrap!