He's Got a Point

In the first few minutes of Sacrament Meeting, Cam was irritating me to no end by poking at Aaron, teasing him, and generally being a pest. I'd had enough.

"Cameron!" I hissed, in my best chapel whisper, "You are 11 years old - now act like it."

"Mom," Cam shot back with a smile, "I promise, this is exactly what 11 year old boys act like."

Well played, Cam. Very well played.

Honey...I'm Home

We got home from my parent's house last night, and only a few minutes after walking in the door, the phone rang. It was Cameron's friend, calling to tell him that President Hinckley had died. (I thought that was a very mature and thoughtful thing for an 11 year old boy to do)

That was the first of several calls we received and made last night.

"Did you hear...?"

"I just saw on the news..."

"Just wanted to make sure you knew..."

Aaron, ever my sensitive boy, got a little panicky and needed some hugs and reassurance about things in general. He wanted to pray, so we did that and then went downstairs to watch a little of the "breaking news" reports. Aaron caught the phrase that President Hinckley had died "about an hour and a half ago" and began using it in his own conversations.

"Mom, up until about an hour and a half ago, President Hinckley was the only prophet in my life, huh?"

One station was showing a documentary about President Hinckley's life and we watched part of it together. We brought out an Ensign with the pictures of the First Presidency and the General Authorities and talked about change. We read his last talk from Conference.

You know how if you read a quote by President Hinckley, you can hear his voice, with all the inflections and tone right there in your mind. I love that. I will miss his voice, his humor and wit, hearing his testimony and the powerful messages that he wove around gentle stories of his life and his love for our Savior. I will miss him.

I didn't shed a tear though, until I started thinking about the reunions going on up in Heaven, and then I can't hold back. Can you imagine?

I have an unwavering testimony of eternal families and relationships, and that death is not an end, but a beginning. I'm so happy for President Hinckley!

He's with his wife again. He doesn't need his cane. He's able to talk to all the past prophets and friends that he's served with. He is with the Savior. The thought that won't leave my mind is that he's meeting Joseph Smith. They have lots to talk about.

Mostly, I imagine that Sister Hinckley is holding on tight to his arm and just about bursting with happiness. Finally, he's home!

She tugs him away from all the happy greeters.

See you later...we've got some catching up to do.

A Buttery Breakfast

With the new year, we switched from the slightly-too-early 9 am church schedule to the perfect 11 am block.

When church starts at 9, the boys are lucky if they have a minute to eat a bowl of cereal. Sometimes they polish off a Pop Tart as we drive the two blocks to the meeting house. There's not even time for toast.

But with church starting at 11, there is time for a nice breakfast. Something hot and delicious that makes the day feel a little bit special.

For the last few weeks, the boys have been requesting German Pancakes.

I was introduced to these as a teenager by my friend Valerie. Well, it was actually her Mother, Yvonne. She's the one that made them for us on Saturday mornings after a sleepover.

She called them Hootenannies - which was fun to say, and it made them even more yummy. I'd never seen anything like it. She baked them in a pie pan and when they came out of the oven, the edges had puffed up high and crispy and curled inward in an astounding way. Yvonne, never one to skimp on the use of butter, spread some on the inside and sprinkled powdered sugar over the entire thing.

It was the butter part that I found so unusual. At my house, the butter was for my Dad and my Dad only. The rest of us used margarine or Shedd's Spread. I don't remember wanting the butter or feeling like the margarine was second best. Mom just explained that my Dad grew up on butter and so it was what he liked as an adult. There was a slight implication that we would not like butter, and that pretty much kept us from ever trying it out.

Here at Valerie's house though, it was butter all the way. Butter for everyone! Butter on the table, butter on your toast, eggs cooked in butter, and most definitely, butter on the Hootenannies.

When Yvonne spread the butter (dare I say, slathered) on the hot Hootenanny, it melted into golden pools that absorbed the liberal dusting of powdered sugar. It made a sweet, buttery topping that was perfect for the mild pancake.

I loved those Hootenanny mornings. Thank you, Yvonne!

My boys love them too.

Wanna see?

Check out the edges, all puffy and curled up. Kids love this. Okay, so do I.

This is right out of the oven. My camera kept fogging up.

Let's add the powdered sugar.

Mmmmmmmmmm.....

Oooooooooooo........

Cameron requests half of one on his plate.

He likes the Cut...

-n- Shovel method of eating.

Aaron likes his cut up so he can eat it like pizza. I use scissors for this.

Chomp!

Let's get another shot of that melty, buttery, mouth-watering deliciousness.

Seriously, how could you not love this?

So what do my boys think about as they sit at the counter in their underwear (see note below), devouring this tasty Sunday morning breakfast?

Aaron? He's easy.

He's thinking, "I'm the luckiest kid in the world to have a Mom that makes this for breakfast."

Cameron's thinking: "I wonder what it would be like to have a Mom that didn't

take pictures of me while I'm eating?"

***Note*** I do suggest eating these in your underwear - or at least before you get dressed in your "good clothes". You know...powdered sugar and all.

I also suggest you make some this weekend.

***************************************************

German Pancakes...aka Hootenannies

6 eggs

1 cup milk

1 cup flour

a few dashes of salt

4 Tb. butter or margarine (yes, margarine will work too)

Preheat oven to 450 degrees.

Put 2 Tb. butter in each of two pie pans; melt as the oven heats up. In a bowl, combine the eggs, milk, flour, and salt. Beat until fluffy (use electric beaters) and smooth. Pour half of the batter in each pan. Bake for 20 minutes. Pancakes will puff up in an amazing and delightful way. Serve with more butter and powdered sugar.

*********************************************

Scripture Stories, the Resolution, and Doubt

2007. Little bench in the hallway where our scriptures sat from 12:05 pm every Sunday until the following Sunday at 8:55 am, when we snatched them up on our way to church. Handy...they were never misplaced.

Are you still reading after my scripture study confession yesterday? In the hope of redeeming myself, I have to explain that it hasn't always been this way. I have done better.

In 2006 in fact, the boys and I read the scriptures almost every night, finishing the Book of Mormon that year. Okay, okay...it wasn't the actual Book of Mormon. It was this:

This is an awesome book - it takes all the exciting stuff from several chapters and groups it together and retells it in a language that my boys can understand. And that Moms can understand.

There are a few gory pictures, couple of people being burned, stabbed, or otherwise destroyed and humbled. This was my favorite picture.

The year before that we were reading this version - even simpler.

Just a sentence or two to go with each picture.

So I have done better in the past, mainly reading with the boys. We really fell out of the habit last year though. And with Troy gone most nights, it's all up to me, yadda yadda yadda. Sometimes it would be ten o'clock when I was tucking the boys into bed and I just didn't have it in me. Blah blah blah.

I need to do better. I can do better. I will do better.


This year, with renewed ambition and resolve, I'm bringing out the big guns. Large print edition.



No pictures, just words.

Hold me.



A few days ago, I mentioned to Cameron that after the first of the year we'd be reading our scriptures every night (and by every night, I probably mean Monday - Thursday), and trying to hold Family Home Evening more often. It was something we really needed to be doing...it was my New Year's Resolution

He chuckled. It had to be a chuckle - he wouldn't have laughed at me, would he?

"We probably won't do that."

"What? Why not?"

"Just 'cause."

And with that, I accepted his challenge.

We started last night.

I Don't Speak Scout

It was a big night at Pack Meeting.

Cameron was receiving his Arrow of Light Award.

It's the highest honor a Cub Scout can receive.

I know this, because other people told me.

I'm not really a scouty kind of Mom.

We have a guy in our ward who does an amazing Arrow of Light Ceremony.

Phil gathers all the scouts around the "fire" and shows them this really cool arrow with all these colored beads and feathers. Each color represents a value and character trait and he talks to the boys about how they can incorporate them into their lives. He wears a very cool head dress kind of thing. He's the ultimate Mountain Man.

Phil is a scouty kind of Dad.

All the boys receive their very own Arrow. Of Light.

They can't take their eyes off their arrows.

Thanks Phil!

Cameron with Cori - his awesome Webelos leader.

He's getting this because of her.

Thanks Cori!

These boys sure can earn a lot of badges and strings with beads on them and such.

And pins! Check out all the pins!

Cameron has all those fancy things too.

We just keep them on a shelf in his bedroom so they stay...uh...not on his shirt.

Did I mention that I'm not really a scouty kind of Mom?

Sorry Cam. I'm proud of you.

Love, Mom

Feeding Thousands

Okay, not really. Not thousands. But a couple hundred at least.

Last Saturday night was our ward Thanksgiving dinner, and with my new position in the ward, I was involved from the get go.

The involvement part was a little new to me. As a general rule, I don't attend ward activities. Sorry. I don't go to enrichment meetings or dinners or ward functions. Again, sorry.

If I'm in Primary, I'm all over the Sacrament Meeting program and Primary activities. When I'm in the Young Women's program, I'm there every Sunday and at the majority of the activities. I tend to hunker down in the organization that I'm called to and give it my all. You can count on me.

But as for the whole ward stuff, I've kind of avoided it like the plague shied away from it for quite a few years.

So that's changing, right here, right now.

Got myself a new calling - I'm on the Activities Committee!

In 19 years of adulthood and holding callings, this is a first for me. I've been a teacher in Relief Society, a Primary teacher (many times), a Young Women's Advisor (many times), Primary and Young Women's Prez., a nursery leader, and a counselor in both RS and YW. Been there, done that.

But Activities Committee? I have to admit that my jaw dropped a little when I was asked to serve there. I may have even leaned forward and whispered,

"But I don't go to ward activities."

Hmmmmm. I guess I will now. They figured out a way to get me there.

Truth be told, I wasn't ready to leave the Young Women. I have loved every minute of the past 2 1/2 years. Loved the girls, loved the other leaders, loved going_to_camp, everything. Change is hard.

So back to the AC. We started having planning meetings right away - we had to orchestrate a Thanksgiving dinner for 300 people in less than two weeks. It was crunch time.

The committee was awesome. There's about 8 of us. Crunch time is actually kind of fun when you're all doing it together. We split up the big stuff like food purchasing, decorations, the Giving Tree (our version of an angel tree), and set up, and then sent out sign up sheets for the actual cooking of the food. TaDa! Ward party!

When Troy and I arrived at the church to start the decorating, the tables and chairs were already set up for us. The Giving Tree was being assembled and a few people were in the kitchen slicing turkeys and getting food into giant roaster ovens to stay hot. We had 30 banquet tables to get ready - salt and pepper, water, silverware, dressing, butter, cranberry sauce, etc. It was crazy-busy. (and kind of fun)

My friend showed up with her kids and they helped decorate. They're not on the committee. Another guy came with his 12 year old daughter and she helped with all sorts of things while he carved meat. Not on the committee. The couple in the kitchen, doing all kinds of cooking - not on the committee. This was a Saturday afternoon and they didn't have to be there! But they were.

When things really started getting going and the food was being plated, we had many non-committee people pitching in. A few women left their husbands with the kids while they dished up plates for a couple hundred. Left their husbands with the kids, hehehehe. The Young Men and Young Women did all the serving.

I don't even know who cleared the tables, took out the garbage and put all the chairs and tables away. The kitchen clean up was done by people who could've left as soon as their pie was gone. Instead, they stayed and did an outrageous amount of dishes.

And I mean, out-rageous.

This huge dinner, this ward event, wasn't put on and accomplished by just the Activities Committee. It was pulled off by the whole ward. I was amazed. And humbled.

I so want to tell the names of all these wonderful people - the actual committee members and especially all of the people who came and helped out even when they didn't have to - but I'm worried that I would forget someone. I certainly didn't see it all...but everything got done.

It was a good feeling - to help out, to be in the thick of things, to serve others and see the ward come together in a wonderful way. I kind of liked it.

Maybe this ward activity thing isn't so bad.

A Real Day of Rest

Aaahhhh, Sunday. A day of rest, right? Not so much in my home. Getting the boys up and ready for church can be as stressful as a school day, if not more so. Church involves "church clothes", which Cameron hates, the shoes, the pants (he's an elastic waist kind of kid), the button up shirt, everything. It means getting up, dressing, eating, leaving the house - all of which Aaron hates having to do. They both cry out about not wanting to go to church, and will give me one reason after another why they should be allowed to stay home. Once we get there, they are fine, but the getting there is long and difficult.

We have the 9:00 schedule, and getting there on time usually involves tears (at least one of the boys and sometimes me), begging (Cameron begging to not go, me begging Aaron to get up), negotiating (Cameron) irritation (over Troy thinking that he can get out of bed at 8:40), and yelling (me, because why should I have to put up with this? Just get ready! Heavenly Father wants you to go. You got baptized and promised that you would go. In this house, we go to church. I'll give you a dollar if you just get ready without complaining. Two dollars. If you're too sick to go to church, you're too sick to play computers. Eat!).

Don't you wish you lived here? Sunday mornings are loads of fun.

It's felt like a rough week for everyone. Troy had to make up driving time when his truck broke down, so he'd been gone all week and was unusually sleep deprived. Aaron is still getting in the groove as far as third grade is concerned and we'd had some really bad nights struggling to get his homework done. There was some residual tension and tiredness hanging over our home and I was not looking forward to the Sunday morning mania.

So we stayed home. Skipped. Played hooky. Pretended we were out of town on this holiday weekend. Closed the blinds and let the paper sit on the driveway.

It. Was. Wonderful.

No fighting, crying, begging, yelling or rushing. It's how Sunday mornings should be.

We all slept in and then we all cooked breakfast together. We made cranberry-orange muffins, bacon (mmmmm, bacon), eggs, juice, and we sat together and had an unrushed, happy family meal. We did the dishes together. We watched a movie together. We had a family meeting about when homework would be done and with what attitude (I made charts and contracts - we'll see how this week goes). Troy played some Xbox with the boys. I read to Aaron and both boys did some reading on their own. We had lunch and dinner together. Everyone has gotten along, things have been accomplished, and we've simply had the nicest day.

Why is it, that eliminating church has made this the "best day ever" for my family?

What are Sunday mornings like for you? Do you ever want to take a week off?

Compassionate Service

I have lots of random little stories about things that happened in California, but I'm taking a break from that to relay a story that I heard in California. Permission was given to share this with all of you.

My friend and accomplice, Kristine, was helping out with taking a meal to a family in her ward. She went all out, enchiladas with mexican rice and refried beans as side dishes. She said she always adds green salsa to the beans to give them a different taste than the red sauced dishes. She made an identical meal for her family that they started to eat after the meal had been taken over to the neighbor's house.
Her husband, Mike, takes a big ol' bite of the beans.

"Babe, the beans are funky."

"They have green salsa in them, remember?"

Another bite. "No. Really. They're twangy."

Kristine goes over to the jar of green salsa and takes a whiff. Fermented. Past its prime. Gone over. Turned. Definitely twangy.

The beans were completely inedible. And they'd served them to others.

To call or not to call? What would you do?

Birthday Wishes

Happy Birthday, to my sweetheart, Troy. I am thankful for you every day.

I love you for being such a hard worker. You are so responsible and respected by the people

you work for.

I love you for honoring your priesthood

and being a good example to our sons.

I love you for making me laugh

again...

and again.

I love you for making our family your first priority.

And I love you because you love me!


You mean the world to me.

All my love,

Wendy

Gee, Mom, I wanna go to camp

Ahhh, back from girls camp. This was my fourth year going up, and I finally got it right. I couldn't go the first day - Cameron was at Scout Camp and I needed to be here when he got back. I had to come home a day early - we were leaving on a family vacation. No set up, no clean up...now we're talkin'. We had a wonderful camp director (more on her later) and the YW Presidency was able to spend most of the time there, so I didn't feel too guilty. I'm the Laurel Advisor, so frankly, I'm just glad they'll let me come and hang with them, eat the food and make up cheers.

We're a small ward, and I think we are unique in that everyone really, truly gets along. I've been to camps before where the leader would slip off into her tent and sob quietly, unable to take all the contention any longer. I always put on a happy face before coming out though. But these girls amaze me. They have so much concern for each other, and I don't think anyone had an unhappy time. We laughed and told stories and just enjoyed being together. The girl's didn't want to go off to do Stake activities or be anywhere else - they wanted to be with us. We also had some previous YW presidents come up to visit, and a couple parents came up for testimony night. How cool is that?

It was a stake camp and the theme was Women of Worth. Each ward was assigned a woman or group of women from the scriptures, and then we just built our camp around that. We were the ten virgins - which thrilled me to no end, trying to make a cheer out of the Madonna song. Each night, a leader would do a devotional about the theme and on the night that I was there, it was Camp Director Canela's turn. She talked about how her first reaction when hearing that the five prepared women weren't willing to share was always "Well, why not? Sistah, share your oil!". I've always kind of thought that too. But of course, the oil is really our own testimony, our own faith, our own good works, and drop by drop, we have to fill our own lamps. We can't lean on the testimony of others, etc. For the handout, she gave us these:

It's an honest to goodness clay oil lamp from the Holy Lands! Made from the clay where Jesus walked! Like the ones the Ten Virgins had. At least that's what it said on the website where she ordered it from. Each lamp was wrapped in an Arabic newspaper. I thought this was the coolest handout ever. Canela even had lamp oil and a wick to show how it could burn brightly when there was plenty of oil. Cool theme, cool handout, awesome camp director.

Another reason Canela was so cool, and this is my favorite story from camp: She performed surgery on a Beehive. Picture this: A Beehive is complaining about her toe hurting; she stubbed it on a mossy rock in the stream and now the pain is just unbearable. And a bunch of the green moss is wedged under her toenail. Uh huh. In reality, she had an ingrown toenail that was so infected and full of green pus, I can't believe she came to camp.

A lesser woman (me) would have sent that Beehive home on the next transport, but not Canela. She pulled out the first aid kit, asked around for some toenail clippers and set up her own M*A*S*H* Unit. She had clippers, scissors, tweezers, alcohol, gauze, cotton, band aids, and one crying Beehive. All the surgical instruments were laid out on top of an ash-covered Dutch Oven (even one more reason to love Canela - the woman can cook!). Canela was so calm - she kept telling the teary-eyed Beehive just what she was going to be doing and why it needed to be done, how badly it was going to hurt and for how long. She just kept rubbing the girl's foot and trying to calm her before she cut into her toe like the field surgeon that she was. Another leader held the poor girl's hand and rubbed her back, and the rest of us pretty much watched in horrified fascination.

Canela made her cut down into the nail and into the pocket of infection. The green goo shot out of her toe. Using the hand-holding assistant as her scrub nurse, Canela asked for "alcohol", "clippers", "cutters", and "cotton and more alcohol", ending the surgery with some pretty vigorous squeezing to get all the infection out. Can't you just hear the Beehive crying? Post-op included a good soaking in some cold water, Neosporin, and a very impressive bandage. Maybe some Tylenol.

Seriously, I would have sent her home. Canela, you rock!

Oh, and then my final camp story is the miracle of me even making it home. I was going to leave with one of the visiting Moms, my friend Cori, after testimony meeting. It was late and we were saying our goodbyes, when all of a sudden, a Beehive smacked Cori right in the eye with the glow stick that she was waving around like Harry Potter's wand. It's just what Beehives do. Cori's contact flew out and landed in the wilderness. Now she's unsteady - the mismatched vision thing not working so well. So we decide that I should drive, even though I'm terrified of driving at night on canyon roads. And I'm kind of night blind. And there was construction going on, so the lanes were all screwy. And I didn't have my glasses with me. It was late, our judgement had lapsed.

We made it though. Cori held her hand over her bad eye, occasionally telling me to get back in the right lane. Scary! It was the blind leading the blind.

Good to be home.

How about you? What's your favorite camp memory, recent or long ago, wretched or heartwarming? Do tell.