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I know some people who are embarassed by almost anything. I don’t get embarassed very often. I think it is because the root of embarassment is caring what other people think about you. Self evaluation has always mattered to me more than societal evaluation. There are always exceptions of course. Today held a shining example of a truly embarassing moment. Howard and I had brokered a deal with the Young Men’s activity group in our ward that we’d make a donation to their budget if they would come and dig eight post holes in our front yard. Our baby grape plants need structure to support them. The teenage boys and their two adult leaders arrived on schedule. I remained in the front yard to help out and give directions. I’d already layed out the posts where I needed the holes. Gleek and Patches were “helping” as well, mostly by drinking up all the lemonade. That’s the backdrop to this alarming display performed by yours truly.

I stomped on a shovel with my right foot to drive it into the dirt. The shovel twisted under my foot throwing me off balance. I stepped to the side to regain my balance, but instead of the ground, my right foot encountered one of the posts. The post tipped under my foot and threw me further off balance. My weight had already shifted to the right foot, so in order to remain upright I had to twist and bring my left foot across, causing me to pivot. I was halfway through the pivot when I realized that Patches was right where I needed to step. By this time everyone else realized that I was in some kind of trouble and I had their full attention. I could not miss Patches. I tried, but center of balance was a long gone memory. I collided with Patches causing his begged for lemonade to spill all over him. I managed not to land on him by taking a couple of staggering steps and rolling. During this last maneuver my carefully bound hair came completely loose. I ended up flat on my back 15 feet away from where I’d had a little shovel bobble.

There was a very long moment where everyone in the yard wondered what on earth had happened and wondered if I was injured. I sat up, saw the stares, and did what any mortally embarassed person would do. I hid. In this case I hid by hyper focusing on Patches who was sitting on the lawn crying and dripping with the remains of his beloved lemonade. By paying attention to Patches I didn’t have to actually look at any of the folks who witnessed my bizarre acrobatics. Once Patches was settled with a fresh cup of lemonade I went into the house to regain my composure and to tame my wild hair.

I suppose I could have stayed in the house and made Howard go out to finish the supervision, but this was my project. I was the one who knew how things needed to be done. Besides the best way to erase and embarassing moment is to confront it directly in the presence of the witnesses. If I stayed in the house those teenage boys might have found humor in telling tales of what that wierd Mrs. Tayler did for no apparent reason. Instead I went out and made a story of it, describing it in much the same ways that I did above. At least this way if they tell the story, it will be my story and I can laugh with them about. But I don’t think they’ll bother to tell it now because instead of a bizarre event, it is now just one of those bobbles that happen to us all.

Anyway, I now have posts in the ground and once I get the cross pieces installed, my grapes will have a place to grow.

Today my kids all had money burning holes in their pockets. Barnes & Noble lured us in to the store with a summer reading program and we departed with four purchases. It concerns me a little that my kids all seemed to feel that it was constitutionally wrong to walk out of the store without spending money. It makes me very very glad that they’re all so willing to pool their money to make sure everyone got what they wanted. In all it was a good outing although I could have done with fewer toys in the bookstore and some lower prices.

I discovered the perils of inappropriate footwear when I went tubeing on the Portneuf river in Lava Idaho on July 3rd. My mom volunteered to watch Patches at my brother’s house. This allowed him to have a quiet crowd-free day with a nap and me to not have to watch a 3 year old while riding the river. Kiki was off at camp, so I just had Gleek and Link with me. I was wearing flip flops. Tennis shoes were what I needed to have worn, but even the flip flops were better than going barefoot which was the only other available option without a 40 minute drive.

The Portneuf river was running higher than usual this year since Idaho had more than it’s usual quota of snow last winter. We knew this going in, but none of the crowd expected the result. Apparently this particular ride is fairly leasurly with tubes floating lazily from catch point to catch point. This year all the catch points were underwater. The ride was fast rather than leisurely.

Gleek, Link, and I were together on a three person tube. Gleek in front of me, Link behind, with me in the middle dangling my legs to provide some control surfaces. At first we were all excited and cheered at each swoop over rocks. I realized very quickly that white water meant rocks close to the surface and if I wanted to keep my feet I needed to pull them up onto the tube. Several times I nearly lost my shoes and in between mini falls I spent a lot of time trying to turn the tube around so I could see where we were going. I kept watching for a place to stop so that we could regroup, but I couldn’t plant my feet firmly in those flip flops without losing them. Also the current was strong, it swept us along quickly. I was not frightened, but I had to pay attention every minute to steer us.

About halfway through the 10 minute ride, Link slid from his perch on top of the tube into the middle of the tube hole. This meant that half his body was dangling under the water. A mini fall was coming and I knew those rocks would scrape him unless he could get back on top of the tube. Unfortunately he was behind me and we were moving fast and I could not stop. He got dragged over that fall. I got him back on top of the tube. I could see that it was a minor scrape on one knee, but it was bleeding. Blood always makes my kids panic. Link spent the rest of the ride terrified and crying for a bandaid. Gleek saw the blood and was scared too. I was unable to allay their fears because I couldn’t stop and all of my attention had to be spent steering. We finally reached the exit point. Fortunately some of our crowd was there to help tubes exit the river. We all got out. Link’s knee was bleeding and I discovered some bleeding scrapes on my feet that I’d been too busy to notice earlier. Link and Gleek both vowed they’d never ride a river again. I vowed that the next time I ride a river I’d be wearing tennis shoes. If I’d been wearing proper shoes I might have been able to stop for a moment.

Much of the rest of the group had also had something of a rough ride. One inflatable boat arrived half sunk because a hole had been torn in the bottom. We all discussed the matter and decided that we needed a different section of river. Fortunately several miles down river provided us with a place where the river was wide and shallow without rockfalls. Once we got there Link and Gleek played in the water for awhile. They were reassured enough that they consented to ride with me for a section of this river. That was a pleasant and relaxing ride. Link liked it enough that he wanted to do it several times. Gleek decided that playing with sticks in the shallows was more entertaining.

A group of older kids and adults, did decide to go back and ride the rough section again. Part of me wishes that I’d gone with them. The fast water and short falls were fun. It was the frightened children and improper footwear I’d cheerfully do without. In the end it was a good day. At least for me. Gleek and Link have very vivid memories of that first tube ride. I’m afraid those aren’t so good. But at least they have a story to tell, right?

Patches is so much improved this morning that I’m going to revert to thinking he had strep throat and be grateful that we live in a world with antibiotics.

Thanks to everyone who offered sympathy and sore throat recipes. Unfortunately Patches is only 3 so we couldn’t really apply any of them, especially those calling for swishing or spitting. But I’ll be using them the next time I or any of my older kids gets a sore throat. Which hopefully won’t be this week.

7:05 pm. What a long miserable day this has been.

Patches cannot eat because his mouth and throat hurt too badly. I took him to the doctor this morning. The doctor took one look at his throat, didn’t bother to do a strep test and gave me antibiotics. Unfortunately after 12 hours the antibiotics have had zero effect and Patches has developed blister like sores in his mouth. Some asking around netted me the information that Utah is currently suffering an outbreak of Hand Foot and Mouth disease. HFM is a virus which can’t be treated, it can only be endured, and it lasts for about a week. This is going to be a long long miserable week. Patches is starvingly hungry and can’t eat. He doesn’t even want to drink because his mouth hurts. So we have hunger cranky along with pain cranky. Talking hurts, so he can’t tell me what he wants. On top of all that every time he falls asleep he swallows and the pain wakes him back up. So we have tired cranky as well.

Patches hates this. He is very angry with me because I have failed to fix it already. He also desparately wants me to comfort him. He feels the same way about his blanket which he alternately clutches and throws across the room. Advil and Tylenol seem to only be of minimal help. Distraction seems to be the best medecine available to us, so it has been a day of movies.

To add to the joy of today, all the minutes I’ve spent not taking care of Patches have been spent down in my office wading through piles of bills, reciepts, and quarterly reports. We’ve gone back to more money going out than coming in. I knew we would until the release of the next book, but I still don’t like it.

Now I need to completely sanitize myself and make dinner for all the other kids without playing the part of Typhoid Mary. If other kids get this monster I’ll spend the rest of the summer in misery.

Another gift of last weekend’s family reunion were some insights into my children their personalities and behaviors.

Kiki left the reunion early to attend a 5 day educational camp, so I didn’t expect to learn about her. However watching the two female cousins who bracket her in age and how those cousins interacted with their mothers taught me a lot about typical pre-teen behaviors. It was so nice to see my 12 year old niece whining at her mother over hairbrushing, because I’ve had the exact same arguement with Kiki more than once. In particular I noticed a tendency for these pre-teen girls to try to make anything that doesn’t go exactly right into the mother’s fault. So when today Kiki tried to tell me that it was my fault that she still struggles with typing because I should have made her learn it two years ago, I was able to identify it as normal pre-teen behavior and keep my cool. Kiki didn’t much like my counter argument that I was forcing her to do it now so that in two years we won’t be having this same conversation. She may not like it, but she will be practicing typing this summer. And I will be keeping my cool because I’ll be able to recognize pre-teen behaviors instead of being baffled by the changes in my daughter.

My insight into Link came in one of the moments I was ducking responsibility. Other adults were in the kitchen busily chopping food for a dutch oven cookout, I wandered out back to where Link was jumping on the trampoline. I watched him for a moment, thought about my resolution to swim through life rather than just wading, then I climbed on the trampoline to jump with him. Link was delighted. We spent some time jumping and then we just sat together on the trampoline. Link grinned at me and snuggled into my lap. I asked what he was enjoying about the reunion and my boy of the monosyllabic replies began to babble to me about all the things he’d enjoyed. Among other things he told about making his box car for the derby using spraypaint. He informed me that it wasn’t a car at all, it was a tank. The paper plates that I’d assumed were poorly placed wheels, were in fact armor. The single cup on the front was not a cyclops headlight, but a cannon. None of this information had been told to anyone before, not even when Link was asked on camera to describe his car before the races began. I think the sum total of his on-camera description was “This is my car. I made it.” Link’s head is full of amazing thoughts and ideas, but he needs a quiet space and a calm moment for those thoughts to shape themselves into words. I need to create more quiet moments to talk to him.

Gleek is a strong willed person. I’ve known this ever since she was first able to run away from me. Lately this has manifested in refusing to obey instructions until I’ve repeated them mutiple times, repeated them angrily multiple times, and finally begin moving to bodily apply consequences and require compliance. I had a conversation with several siblings about the pattern which resulted in me deciding that I need to skip some of those steps. I need to request once or twice then move directly to applying consequences. Gleek loves the trampoline at my brother’s house. She never wants to get off of it. With 11 kids around, turn taking was a must, but Gleek steadfastly refused to exit the trampoline. I was inside the house and someone came to appeal to me to make Gleek behave. I figured she’d already been asked nicely, so I didn’t say anything at all. I was going to simply climb onto the trampoline and remove her to the house where we would discuss being obedient to house rules. Unfortunately I tripped climbing on the trampoline and ended up with one leg down through the springs. I persevered though and as soon as the pain lessened enough to let me know I was only bruised not broken, I grabbed a wide-eyed appologetic Gleek and carried her into the house. This event made a distinct impression on Gleek. Thereafter I only had to walk towards her looking intent and she would hop right off that trampoline. She wouldn’t do it for anyone else though, just me, although threats of fetching me did seem to have some effect. With Gleek limits need to simply be limits, not starting points for negotiation.

During the course of the reunion I realized that Patches does not like crowds. He was fine the first couple of days, but by the third day he’d reached a sort of overload. He wanted a quiet place to play by himself and there were simply none available. Unfortunately I didn’t recognize the extra crankiness and clinginess for what they were until we had a complete breakdown. The tantrum began at a picnic dinner, continued through the ride home, paused when he fell asleep on a couch, then started up again after 20 minutes of sleep. Patches was very very angry with me. When he woke crying, I went to see what was wrong, and the first thing he did was try to hit me. This is completely atypical behavior for easy going Patches. Fortunately he wound down enough that a judicious application of ice cream resolved the tantrum. I was very careful for the rest of the reunion to make sure that Patches got quiet time when he needed it. I watched and he definitely avoided the crowds whenever possible. When he couldn’t avoid the crowds he was much crankier than usual. This is an important personality trait for me to understand about him and I’m glad to know it.

One of the big events of the reunion was a boxcar derby. Each of the kids selected a box and was turned loose with spray paint, regular paint, duct tape, paper plates, and any other materials they could cage from their aunt & uncle. They were to each make a car with a hole cut for legs to go through so they could run while wearing the car. All of the grandchildren adopted this project delightedly. They painted and created with fervor. Patches carefully painted his entire box bright blue and I helped him duct tape on some paper plate wheels. Gleek began painting her box orange, but got tired of merely painting before the job was done. She made multiple scratch off shapes, but none of them actually adorned the car. We put paper plates on for wheels, but before the event she requested that they be removed so that she could have a flying car. Link created his own car using green spray paint. The paper plate wheels were taped to the middle of the sides with an additonal wheel on the back for no apparent reason. On the front he had a single plastic cup as some sort of cyclops headlight. Boycousin1 went minimalist with just painting his box black. Girlcousin1 ended up with a car labelled “Supper” because she misspelled “super.” Girlcousin2 achieved a swirl of colors that would have been right at home in the 60’s. Boycousin2 carefully constructed a battle car. Boycousin3 created wings for his car. My brother the engineer actually stayed up until 1 am creating a multibox tow truck complete with towing hook in the back. So creativity was rampant and everyone was paint speckled and pleased.

Then came the racing. The cars raced around the track three times and had to make a pit stop each time. The first pit stop was to put on and take off a pair of socks. The second was to get faces sprayed and wiped. The third was to drink two cups full of water. All the kids ran delightedly although the race of little ones kind of petered out rather than actually finishing. Even the infant Girlcousin4 attached a car to her stroller and raced. We had a cameraman’s race where all the dads and uncles had to run. Keeping in mind my decision to swim rather than wade, I joined one race. During the race I alternated between carrying Patches-in-a-car and Gleek-in-a-car. The extra pounds and inches that Gleek has really made a difference there.

In the end everyone got a candy prize and all the kids were parked in their cars for a drive-in movie while we ordered pizza. Fun was had by all.

My brother has a four bedroom house. Last weekend that house contained 11 adults and 11 children. The four married couples each got a bedroom while my two bachelor brothers got couches, my sister-in-law’s brother slept in the storage room, and the kids all slept out back in a trailer. It was pretty packed. This kind of crunch isn’t unusual for my family. We keep saying that we need to rent cabins or something, but not actually doing it. In years past my main focus during reunions has been managment of my kids. I had to make sure that little ones got necessary naps and other sundry mothering tasks. Shortly after my arrival I realized that for the first time in 5 years my kids weren’t the youngest around. Not having to fend for an infant or toddler freed me up enormously. I switched myself into a ‘facilitator’ mode and quietly tried to do all I could to make the reunion go smoothly. I folded laundry, washed dishes, wiped tables, prepared some meals, and hauled stuff to and from vehicles. It sounds like I spent the whole weekend working, but there were also times where I lazed around because other people had those tasks well in hand.

Sunday night Howard and Kiki departed so that he could drive her to a camp the next day. Later that night one of my sisters was due to arrive with her husband and toddler. I realized that they had more need of the bedroom than I did, and so I cheerfully vacated and went to sleep out in the trailer with the kids. For 5 years I’ve been the one who had special consideration because my kids were youngest and because I often attended these events sans Howard. (He was too busy with Novell travel.) This year I got to give special consideration to someone else because they needed it and I didn’t. It felt so good to be in a position to give.

Church starts at 11 am. It has started at that time since January 1st. And yet for the last couple of days I’ve been confused into believing that Church starts at 9 am. I don’t know how it happened. But I repeatedly informed my visiting parents that church began at 9. This morning I set my alarm and got up at 7:30 so I could make breakfast and get everyone ready for church on time. I did that despite having insomnia that kept me awake until 1:30 am. I hauled everyone out of bed, fed them breakfast, and hustled to get them all ready for church. At 8:50 I had everyone, including my parents ready to head out the door. I went looking for Howard and found him wearing jeans, completely unready for church. That’s when it all unravelled.

Church starts at 11.

I just wish I’d realized it before I got up too early this morning.

I’m going to nap now.