You're Hecka Mean!

Dad, you know how we grew up using the word, "like," about every third word of each sentence? I always thought you were a little obsessive about that, and a bit out of touch with the language and it's evolution. I'm sorry about that.

Like all things I once judged you for, your dismay at the slaughter of your mother's English is something I have grown to understand. And to hear a really grating bit of slang fly out of the mouth of my two year old is what helped me get there.

Paige is (like my other two) entirely too fond of argument, and responds to everything with a tart little "Yeah" or a sing-song "noooooo", depending on which one directly opposes me. She's also taken to yelling, "Yeh mean!" with a nice little drawl any time we attempt to stop her from, I don't know, rolling around in mayonnaise on the floor. It's hard to find that funny, what with all the mayonnaise (substitute white-out, glue, nail polish, or any other substance you can imagine) we've been cleaning up.

So the other day we were all in the car enjoying a quiet ride home. It had been a quiet ride for about five full minutes before Paige burst out with an intense shout of "Yeh Hecka Mean!!" Now that's funny. Nothing to clean up-- just good, clean toddler angst. Plus, Raelynn and Miles laughed cheerily for the rest of the ride home.

The part that nags me is that my baby used the word--and I use the term loosely here--hecka. I've been working overtime trying to eradicate the rampant California slang that seems to be invading my children's vocabularies, and "hecka" is my prime target. So Paige busting out with it disturbs me. Deeply. It's, like, totally unacceptable.

But here's the flip side of Paige the Bull. After a week of Mike and I cheerily shouting out, "I'm MEAN!" with big smiles and as much enthusiasm as we could muster, she has informed me that I'm NICE. And I'm not just nice--I'm her most precious, nice mommy. I'm a pretty close runner up to her most precious goat friends, and her most precious baby rock. It's better than being hecka mean, ain't it?

My babiest of brothers, and the birthday boy

When I was in college, I took a course in teaching creative writing. Naturally, we had to do a lot of creative writing ourselves, and I found that almost every piece I did centered around Schuyler. Turns out it's easy to create a sense of character when the character is Schuyler. And if you know him, you know why. Schuyler is a whole lot of what anyone who knows him wants to be. But Schuyler has always been a pretty terrific kid. It isn't always those things that I think of most--it's the random stuff. So here's a little list of a few of the things which make me feel warm inside when I think about growing up with Schuyler.

1. He used to tell me that I was the only one who could really make good macaroni and cheese. I'd come back from a semester of college, and he'd beg me to make him a box. It was ridiculous, and it made me feel good.

2. He tolerated a lot of years of me trying to force education on him. I can remember making him listen to me read every night, everything from the Book of Mormon to Huckleberry Finn. I'm pretty sure it was torture for him, but I felt compelled.

3. His knock knock jokes were endless, and never very good. His best was the one about the grilled cheese sandwich, and if you remember, that wasn't even a little funny. It was so endearing. "No wait, wait no wait no wait no wait wait wait. Let me start again."

4. He once learned that a gas station clerk was working on her birthday, and he bought her a flower. He was, what, nine? A kinder soul you won't find.

5. When he was very small, he used to follow me around when he talked, which was a lot. I can remember hearing him roll on outside the bathroom, oblivious to the door I just shut in front of him.

6. He dumped the girl, but he kept the popcorn, dumped the girl, but he kept the drink.

7. I cherish the quiet moments I used to have with Schuyler; he felt like my own little one. I used to sit with him in the big blue rocking chair and sing to him at night.

8. When Schuyler got hit by the car, I slept on the floor downstairs with him because he couldn't be moved upstairs. He would wake up throughout the night and cry out, and I'd say, "I'm here, Schuyler. It's OK. I'm right here." He'd quiet right down and go back to sleep.

Schuyler's such a dynamic and worthwhile person, and I feel just plain fortunate to have been born in the same family. He's ever the entertainer, but so much more. Nobody gets me thinking like he does, and nobody leaves me laughing harder. I never could put into words all the reasons I love Schuyler, or all the things he adds to my life by being who he is. I just want to say--I appreciate you. And don't ever forget, kiddo, that I'm here when you need me. I'm here. Happy Birthday, bud.

I Found My Thrill...

There's a beautiful place about an hour from Sacramento up into the mountains where you'll find dozens of apple orchards, pumpkin patches, and Christmas tree farms. It's aptly called "Apple Hill", and we've made it tradition for the last five years to head up during apple season. It's a delightful way to spend a Saturday, so if anyone ever comes out in the fall, this is where we'll be taking you.





Some highlights from the trip: Paige went on her first train ride.


Raelynn opted to skip the train ride and take the three dollars. She recognizes a rip-off when she sees one, and was more than a little dazzled by the stalls on the way in full of all the knick-knackery you could wish for. Unfortunately, the stalls were as overpriced as the train ride, and she ended up throwing a dollar at a scented votive just so she wouldn't have to come home empty-handed. Live and learn.



The kids got to eat plenty of apples and pick a few, too.




Haystacks, pumkins and scarecrows abounded.




The farm animals are there to pet, but Miles has always been overly affectionate.



Raelynn loved watching a guy carve bears with a chainsaw. I narrowly avoided bringing one home (Mike wanted several).

There was even a bluegrass band, which smacked of Fruit of the Loom (only much younger). The kids enjoyed it, and it made me homesick. Aren't you supposed to be over that by the time you get to your thirties?

By the end of the day, the kids were pretty tired.

But everyone was revived by the real reason we return year after year: the donuts. You eat just one of the apple donuts from High Hill Ranch, and tell me it isn't worth the drive.

Mostly, though, Apple Hill gives Mike and I a relaxing day in the mountains, and it gives the kids a little more running room than they're afforded at home. Sometimes an open lane down the side of an apple orchard is just the freedom you've been needing.

Photos for No Reason

I've had some complaints (Tiffany) that I don't post enough pictures. That's because I don't take enough pictures. I'm a busy lady. But here's what I've got.

Miles just had his birthday party, and I almost posted a photo of the blowing out of candles on his awesome lego cake, or a picture of the kids playing. But I thought you'd like to see Miles practicing his acting skills. The gratitude is real, just not the shock and awe.

Noelle and Paige are kind of like sisters because they live so close to each other. This leads to a lot of girl fights, but also some really good moments.

Here are my two big kids on their first day of kindergarten and third grade respectively. I miss them all day (until they come home, at which time I sometime wish it were boarding school. Oh, come on. I'm just kidding. Mostly.)

I know this one's a little blurry, but I just love the way these two look at each other. I can't imagine two luckier people, and I watch their relationship with pure joy.

Magnifcent Reading!

I tend to read like I eat Twinkies: entirely too fast to really appreciate it. But I still love reading (even more than Twinkies, if you can believe it), and have just had an unusually beautiful reading experience.

The book is called Crossing to Safety by Wallace Stegner. It's not a gripping story, though it is interesting enough to hold attention. I think this is just what made it so enjoyable. The writing was really beautiful, and I was able to take the time to fully appreciate it. I didn't want to rush through it; I wanted to savor it. It also really appealed to me because it centers around a writer and English professor, and contains the kind of insights that lend themselves to that kind of introspective life, and I found myself reading with that feeling of YES!

I suppose the book has the same kind of tragedy and trouble that any other book has--there are life-altering job losses and diseases and marital strife. But the struggles are like benediction. It's taken and lived with, but more than that--it was turned into privilege and blessing. There was something really peaceful about it, and I highly suggest it to any of the three of you who read my blog. Enjoy. And if you don't enjoy, keep it to yourself, would you? I hate to cast my pearls before swine. (Do you like that, how I set that up so that if you don't enjoy this book, you're swine? Well that's right. Swine.)