une remise d'un diplome

One diploma down and at least two more to go!

SoSo went the distance this year and wrapped up about 9 months of full-day kindergarten in June. Mrs. Phillips and SoSo had a stellar year together. It was definitely time to celebrate! I think all school kids love a good school party, but I think full-day kindergartners just might love them best. And there was no better time to have one than on the last day of school. (Full-day kindergarten moms have theirs on the first day of school.)

Now a couple of thoughts on the general idea of "graduating" from kindergarten: I believe Sawyer still has at least a decade and a half of school days ahead of him. While I don't think it can quite be called cruel (after all 5-year-olds are largely oblivious to the idea of graduation meaning you're done with school or at least the one you're graduating from), perhaps it's a bit misleading and in any event unnecessary to "graduate" from kindergarten. I will admit, though, he looked darned cute in that construction paper graduation cap.

femme fatale

You might not think it from her picture. Scout's fluffy white coat and puppy dog eyes give off a serene, almost pure countenance.

But this dog is lethal. Just ask any doodad (furniture included) that ends up on a floor in our house for too long. She has devoured and damaged and destroyed to her heart's content since joining our home in February. A partial list includes so many items that's it's practically painful to put it in print--the legs of our bar stools, a post of our kitchen island, the bench at our kitchen table, our newly refinished deck, the leather ottoman (this one is not entirely her fault as the kids had already managed to tear it in three places--the stuffing was almost begging to be ripped out), Stinky Pete's gym bag, the case for the portable iPod stereo, multiple pairs of flip flops, multiple pairs of shoes, no less than three of Ethan's books, various items of laundry, too many pens/pencils/crayons to count, a yellow highlighter (ironically this one was a highlight for all of us as she later threw up portions of the plastic in a fluorescent yellow pool of goo), a button on a PS3 controller, a hapless and now footless GI Joe figure (that one was yesterday), a shoe insole (as I write), any stuffed animal that she can get her mouth on, etc., etc., etc. If pressed, I could go on and on and on.

As if the chewing capacity of a puppy wasn't enough work, Scout has certain other tendencies that might make me give her up if Jason wasn't good enough to remind me that I wanted the dog for our kids after seeing Marley and Me. She has marked her territory all over my territory. The house training was (and sometimes is) just that extra amount of aggravation and work to send me over the edge at times. She's done such an excellent job defining her territory that she now feels compelled to defend and protect her turf practically to the death. I have to keep her tied up when outside with us for fear that she'll go after any dog that passes by our house (look closely at the pictures and you'll see her leash tethering her to the banister while I took the above photos). A couple of unfortunate dogs have wandered into our house and felt the fury of our fraidy-cat (the fact that off-leash and ownerless dogs manage to be around our house often enough must be one of Murphy's laws of pet ownership). Behind her sometimes vicious bark, Scout is, yes, a fraidy-cat who used to cower on our walks when we passed a parked pick-up truck/mini-van/water fountain/large object.

I'd like to begin writing about her virtues, but I'm tired of thinking about her just now. She has enough of them, otherwise she wouldn't still be living in my house.

sur la touche

Because Ed spent so much time on the field this spring (black jersey and goggles in case you can't tell with all that gear on)...

...we all got to spend a lot of time on the sidelines. Here are some shots of his groupies at his last lacrosse event of the year...an all-day tournament.

Sawyer in a cozy stadium chair

Aunt Joni (and the wee top of Glenn's head)

Roxy, Scout's cousin

Aunt A-dine

Mom, no doubt cheering her boy on

Liam flitting around and not ever sitting still

Dad coming back to the sidelines after giving some fatherly advice to his son

"Grandpa and Grandma with the white hair"

tante nadine

Aunt Nadine is a regular around these parts now that's she's moved to the area. We can't get enough of her...especially her niece and nephews! She almost always comes bearing gifts and goodies galore. These are especially welcome the day after a nephew breaks an arm.

Balloons and chocolates and a HUGE Mickey Mouse card for the injured...

Hugs and love in the lounge chair with nephews and "Regular," another gift from Nadine and LiLi's second stuffed animal in as many days...

What would a boy with a broken arm want more than a light-weight plastic sword with which he can carry on his battling?

Merci, Nadine!

des animaux

From time to time in our wet Northwest winters, we all feel a bit like caged animals. Even as winter transitions to spring and spring to summer, gray skies and rain seem to dominate our forecasts. So one sunny Wednesday in May, we freed ourselves and spent a wonderful afternoon peering at some truly caged animals. It felt good to be on the outside...looking in.

Learning the swimming patterns of the sea lions...

Climbing the bronzed chimps...

Getting close up to see the tarantula at the insect zoo...

Sharing a scrumptious elephant ear with a friend...

Getting mauled at the Zoo Store by a wild Grizzly...

joyeux anniversaire a nous

At Zumba today, we cooled down to "Seasons of Life" from "Rent." The song is all about how you measure a year of your life and what makes it meaningful to you. So there I was: bending and stretching and listening and thinking...almost on the verge of tears. I just felt so much gratitude and love for my life and my family. Fortunately, I kept it together and moved on to our ab exercises, saving myself from embarrassment and questions.

At the beginning of this month, Jason and I celebrated our birthdays, both good occasions to reflect on this season of our life. With 14 years of marriage under our belt next month, four kids, and even a dog, we're no longer newlyweds, yet we're not quite middle aged either. We will have a child who can drive in 4-1/2 short years, and our "baby" is four. As of yesterday, Jason is serving in our bishopric. I'm beginning to pluck my grays, and Jas can't even count his.

We are growing old together...and it is full of love and goodness and wonder. I am loving this season of our lives.

The girls

From Nadine

The boys

With roses from our garden

A little "Hero" for our hero...

une soiree a l'hopital

Concerning raising kids and the dangers/accidents/chaos that comes with them, I've often felt and said that "life is a bunch of near misses." Well, since the events of this past Wednesday evening, I've permanently changed my motto: "life is a bunch of near misses and the occasional hit." When Stinky Pete ran in from the backyard as I was chopping sweet potatoes and onions for that night's Santa Fe stew and frantically told me that something was "really wrong" with Li Li's arm, I was unprepared for the sinking feeling in my heart as I stepped out onto our deck and spotted Little Li standing on the tramp with his left arm dangling unnaturally.

We pray as a family every night, Jason and I pray together every morning, and the kids and I pray together every morning. In all these prayers, we ask for protection and safety and the Lord's guidance. While this didn't spare Li Li from breaking his arm, I know these prayers were answered in the moments that followed. Though the details of the next few minutes are a little bit of a blur (adrenaline took over my body and I was all action), I am absolutely certain that Heavenly Father was taking care of us. As calmly as I could, I fetched Liam from the tramp, sent a neighborhood friend home, told Chloe to call Jas and yelled up the stairs to Ed that I was taking Liam to the hospital and he was in charge. Within 3 minutes of his accident, I opened the garage door and began loading that sweet little boy into the car.

As the garage door opened, our neighbor from two houses down, and a member of our bishopric, was coming up the driveway. Dana had been tending his grill in his backyard, heard the crying and the distraught yells to "Get Mom!" and knew something bad had happened. I'm pretty sure he knew something was up before I did. On his way to our house, he called another ward member and neighbor who is an orthopedic surgeon and let Jim know that our family might be needing his expertise. The second I saw Dana, I knew he was a blessing from the Lord and a specific answer to a specific prayer I had yet to offer. I was so relieved. He saw Liam's broken arm, gave him a quick blessing in his carseat and then promised to take care of the rest of the gang for me. Later that night, I learned he made Top Ramen for my kids and then brought his teenage son over to hang out with the kids until we returned, and entertained them with dodge ball and games. What a good guy.

Liam made sure the eventful night was even more noteworthy with his feisty attitude and cute quips. On the way to the hospital he exclaimed more than once in full drama, "I don't want to die!" I assured him with loving words, but he then yelled out in a whimpering complaint, "God doesn't like me." I told him God loved him and was not punishing him, that it was just an accident and that we would get better at the hospital. When the nurses inserted the IV, he cried out, "they're killing me" and "they're taking my blood out of me!" in a really melodramatic and endearing way. Poor guy. He was trying to make sense of it all. "They stabbed me with a noodle!" he told Jas when he arrived shortly after us. The morphine from the IV made his face itch, and he was making me laugh with his frustration at me as I tried to scratch the itchy parts but just wasn't doing it the right way (he wasn't using his left arm for obvious reasons and he didn't dare move his right arm because I think the IV scared him). The actual resetting and casting were tumultuous experiences, complete with Liam kicking one of the nurses and trying a few more times in vain. "They wouldn't let me get up when I wanted to," he remembered later.

Morphine helped him relax a little before the resetting

Maybe a little graphic, but an up close shot before the "procedure"

It was wonderful to have Jim, our friend and a worthy man, taking care of our little guy. Jim said the double breaks were about as favorable as they could be--a clean fracture of the ulna and a greenstick fracture of the radius. The "reduction" was over in a breeze and the cast (from shoulder to hand) was on not much longer after that. We knew Liam made it out of the sedation just fine when the nurse asked him if we wanted a popsicle and he asked if he could have two. Soon after, we were on our way home from the hospital with a stuffed bunny (that he later named Hot Sauce) in tow.

With some of the monitors and gadgets attached just before sedation

Post-procedure, learning to handle a popsicle with one hand

Even after going through the wringer, Li Li's spirit shines through

Sweet boy

A kiss from his daddy

Sitting up for the first time after the "reduction"

The sweetest moment of the whole night came after we arrived home. Stinky Pete was sick to her stomach with worry and sorrow and guilt. She and her friend had "launched" Li Li at the same time on the tramp (possibly with a little mischievousness because she hadn't wanted him on the tramp with her) and when he landed, he broke his arm. So while Jas and I were busy getting Ed and SoSo and the dog ready for bed, Chloe was crying and hanging out with Liam on our bed. When I went back to check on them, she told me with a cracking voice about a conversation they had: "I told Liam I was sorry, Mom. And, do you know what he said? He said he was not mad at me and that he wanted me to be happy." I smiled and looked at Liam and told him that I loved him and that it was so good of him to tell her that. Then he looked at me and asked, "Does God like me now, Mom?" I told him God loved him more than he knew and choked up myself.

At some point the next morning, he yelled out to me in the kitchen, "I love you, Mom!" I replied, "I love you, too, Liam." I added for good measure, "God loves you, too." In his very cute 4-year-old "duh" attitude, he replied, "I know that alread-ee."