Winter Wonderland

Out our front window when we woke up this morning:

naked

I have tons of naked pictures of Emilia and I realized the other day that I have very few of Mira.  "I must remedy this situation!" I thought.  Of course!

 Emilia couldn't go through a whole shoot without being photographed.  She gave me a winning smile for this one.

I love sleeping babies

playing around

When I cleaned up the living room in anticipation of getting our new furniture, the girls thought it was great fun to have so much space to run around in. Here are some pictures of then being their adorable silly selves.

Halloween

For Halloween, we had lots of fun this year. Emilia was Ladybug Girl (she is a character in a series of really cute books), and Mira took over as Princess Leia. Steve had a work party where they had games for the kids and food for everyone. Emilia got some candy there.

Then we went to the ward's trunk-or-treat. I had never heard of a trunk-or-treat growing up, but they are pretty popular here. Instead of kids going around the neighborhood to trick-or-treat, a bunch of people decorate the trunks of their cars and park in the same parking lot (our church building for this one) and the kids go around to the different cars to get their halloween candy. My girls wouldn't eat the pulled pork at the work party, so we got some chicken nuggets and french fries. They ate those while waiting to get more candy at the trunk or treat.

After the trunk-or-treat, we went to Grandma and Grandpa Watts' house, where Steve took Emilia door to door for about a 1/2 hour. Then we got a picture tour of France from Nick and Wilda who had just returned from a week-long trip to Paris. All in all, it was a fun Halloween for all of us!

Hooray for a new house!

I was going to wait until  I got all caught up to tell everyone the news, but that is taking WAY longer than I thought it was going to, so here it is:

We FINALLY got a house!

After looking at around 60 houses and putting offers in on 8 of them (6 were short sales and we withdrew our offer on one non-short sale after the inspection came back), we found a house we are excited to buy.  We will close on the 26th of September unless we can manage to speed it up by a week.  It is in Springville for those of you who know Utah County. It's in a nice neighborhood right up next to the mountain and it faces south (which is good when it comes to shoveling snow). :)

If you want to see some pictures I can send you a copy of the MLS listing photos.  Just send me an email and let me know.

I'm looking forward to getting my girls into a more permanent situation, getting Emilia into preschool, possibly getting a pet, and painting the walls!  Give us a month, and then you are all welcome to come visit.  Hooray!

CUWP (Central Utah Writing Project)

A mentioned a while ago that I would be trying to renew my teaching license and that it would involve taking some classes.  One of the classes was a week-long course (8am - 4pm Monday through Friday) at the end of June.  I have amazing family members who took care of the girls for me (thanks Mom, Megan, Haylee, Nick and Wilda, and Steve!), and it ended up being a very insightful, inspiring class.  I learned a lot of new methods to teach writing and get students interested in doing it.  I also wrote a lot.  Thanks in part to this course, I now have all of my requirements met and submitted to the Utah State Office of Education.  As soon as my background and fingerprint check comes back clean, I will be a fully registered teacher again.  And thanks in large part to a diligent mother-in-law, I will be "teaching" classes for BYU Independent Study.  Teaching is in quotations because for the two classes I am currently assigned to, I don't have to do anything.  I am just a name they put on the home page of the online class saying there is a real teacher in charge.  The rest is up to the student and the computer systems.  So I get paid to do nothing.  Pretty nice gig, huh?

I also thought some of you might appreciate some of the writing I did at  CUWP, so I'm going to share it with you.  Feel free to comment on it here, through email, or on Facebook.  I would love to hear if anything struck a chord with you or brought back some memories.  So here goes:

Hometown Celebration

I miss my hometown.  Of all the places I have lived, there are things I found there that I never found anywhere else.  One of the things I miss the most is the sense of duty to God and country that the people have—a sense of being connected to those around you and to the land.  Mandan, North Dakota, is a small town in a sparsely populated state, but the heart of it is huge.

Many of my fondest memories surround the 4^th of July.  When we were little, we went to the parade every year.  Thousands of people gathered along Main Street, little ones along the curb, parents and grandparents in folding lawn chairs or in truckbeds along the side streets. Some people watched from the tops of the old brick buildings, waving and hooting from up high.  We eagerly, greedily, awaited the candy that would be thrown our way, inching a little closer, a little farther into the street, until watching parents called us back.

The school marching band banged by, old cars and putting tractors, beauty queens and local bar bands rocking their tunes; karate schools, dance classes, fire trucks, policemen, politicians; and the veterans.  Everyone stood for these defenders of our freedom.  Cheered for them, respected them, hands over hearts.

After the parade we would crowd the booths at “Art in the Park.” Food vendors and artisans selling their fare.  Boy scouts from church sold funnel cakes, one of my parents always helping, always bringing us some of the mouth-watering treats.  Summer is still not complete until I have one.

In younger years, we had a meager budget, but we never went without fireworks.  Everything goes except bottle rockets in our little town, so we had fountains and firecrackers, snaps, smoke bombs, moving cars, flower blooms, roman candles, artillery shells, Saturn missile rockets, and at the end of the day, the fireworks display from the rodeo grounds.  If we lived close enough, we could feel the booms reverberate through our chests, loving every minute of the loudness and light.

Sometimes we went to share fireworks with other families, but nothing could beat doing our own fireworks at home.  The thrill of throwing firecrackers before they explode in your hand, painting the street with smoke bombs, squishing the fiery black snakes between our fingers or under our soles. After we moved to Division Street it was even better.  On Division Street, we were at the top of the city, looking down over the treetops, seeing a city’s worth of families celebrating our country with thousands of dollars worth of sparkles. It was like nothing I’ve seen before or since, and something I’ll never forget.

Being a Frohlich

Means hard work and duty

Playing cards, and a love of beauty

Seeing the country from the back of a van

Eating your food as fast as you can

Helping a friend or a stranger in need

Growing a garden or flowers from seed

Loving your country and political talk

Throwing a ball or taking a walk

Being a Frohlich is both good and bad

But they are the best family I could have had

Fame

“Public estimation or popular acclaim”

Sometimes I want it too much

and sometimes not at all.

When something’s done right

or beautifully—

painstakingly crafted;

heart and soul and time given;

Praise is welcome,

hoped for,

sought after.

But sometimes

in the dark of night

watching the rise and fall of little breaths,

the world’s acclaim

  is nothing.

I yearn only for her smile,

her laughter;

the things I do unimportant

compared to what she is capable of.

I desire her confidence

  in her ability to achieve

  in her beauty

     and inestimable worth.

I hope only that she knows

   my love,

   my faith in her.

And feels safe;

  secure enough to journey out

and find her own definition

of fame.

House Rules

1. you help with chores every day except your birthday
2. I, as the oldest sister, am right, unless mom or dad say otherwise
3. say please and thank you. and bless you every time someone sneezes, even if  they are so far away you could barely hear it and have to scream it for them to hear you back
4. Never use words that describe bodily functions.
5. never wipe your nose with your hand
6. You have to ask mom if she needs help with cleaning or cooking because if you don’t she will be mad that no one knew she needed help
7. Dad can swear, but nobody else can
8. You can eat as many treats as you want as long as you ate a good dinner.
9. family always comes before friends
10. no playing with friends on Sunday
11. If you hear mom whistle, it’s time to come home
12. Always refer to elders by their titles.  ie. Aunt Kathy, mr. jones

Anytime anyone sneezed, we had to say “bless you.”  Especially if “anyone” was mom.  Your parents probably said things like, “Can you say ‘thank you’?” Or, “Say ‘please’!” My mom said, “What’s the magic word?” (meaning say please) or “what do you say? (meaning say thank you).  Now that I look back on it, my mom seemed to be big on keeping things a mystery.  Making you guess.  Anyway, my mom was big on please and thank you, but “bless you” ranked right up there on the list of essential Ps and Qs.  I don’t know—maybe it was a traumatic sneeze in her childhood, maybe her brothers withheld their blessings when she sneezed because they wanted all the good stuff.  Whatever the case, my mom ALWAYS made us say bless you.  I remember as a small child being reminded of it constantly whenever my mom or one of us kids achoo’d.  I also remember as I got older, my mom being in the bathroom—the one place in the house we were NEVER allowed to interrupt her, no matter what—when she sneezed.  It didn’t sound like it had hurt her or like she had fallen in—she was prone to sit on top of the toilet and read, so that may not even have been a concern—and we weren’t supposed to interrupt her, so I just continued doing whatever I was doing.  When I hear from the bathroom, “Well?”  I wasn’t quite sure who she was talking to, so again, she was ignored.  Then I hear my name in her “you’re in trouble” voice.  “Sabrina!” So I walk back to the bathroom and say “What?” through the door to find out what I had done.  “Why didn’t you say bless you?” The question seemed so ridiculous I didn’t know where to begin an answer.  “I don’t know,” was all I came up with.  “Bless you?”  “Thank you,” she said, and that was the end of it.  So now, no matter who sneezes, no matter how far away or how ridiculous the circumstance, especially if it’s family, I ALWAYS say  “Bless you.”

Historic

Set in stone

Old buildings

Monuments to past lives

   Past times

Beauty in the details

  In the pride taken

  In work well done

Columns, pillars, loops, swirls

  Checkerboard walkways

  And fish scale grates

  Intricate murals, stained glass;

Old trees watching over –

  And living under – it all.

Old buildings connect me

   To the past

Make me wonder

   About the feet that trod these halls

   Simple lives; complex problems

   Now over and done.

I lay a  hand to stone or wood

And ask it to tell me a story

So that they are not lost

And I can find home.

Mom School

From Sandra Cisneros’s “Eleven”

When I became a mother, I expected to feel different, to be different.  Like Sandra Cisneros says, “…when you wake up on your eleventh birthday you expect to feel eleven, but you don’t.”  It was something like that.

Until I became a parent myself, I thought my mom and dad did mom and dad things.  Like there was a school they went to that taught them what parents do.  Teachings such as: tell your children to go to bed before they want to; make them sit quietly while you have a conversation with friends; and kiss scraped knees or pinched fingers because it relieves pain.  But when I became a mom, I didn’t feel any different.  I felt like me, the me at three, at 14, at 25.  The same me I had been yesterday.  There was no school except life.  I found that I made my daughter go to bed before she wanted to because I needed time to NOT be a mom, where I could remember there were things I liked to do before I had kids.  I found that I desperately wanted her to sit quietly while I had a conversation with friends, not because it was the thing to do, but because it is really hard to keep a train of thought going while constantly being asked questions like, “Where is my shoe, Mommy?” and “Help me swing, Mommy!” and “Can I have fruit snacks, please, Mommy? Please, Mommy?  PLEASE!” I found I kissed scraped knees because no amount of talking or holding made her stop crying, but after I kissed it, it was, magically, all better.

This realization that parents do not become something different when they have kids was strange to me, something new and different that kept nagging at me.  Like the spot on a tooth that you keep running over with your tongue.  Why had I never realized this before?  Why hadn’t anyone explained this to me?  Why had I never realized that the woman who was there my entire life, my mother, had hopes and dreams and aspirations besides making me into a good member of society?

So now I’m a mother—a mother who struggles with relating to a 3 year old and playing with a toddler, a mother who has hopes and dreams and aspirations that she has to strive to achieve late at night and during naps, a mother who wants to help her children grow into productive members of society—people who have confidence, and integrity, and compassion.

I think the reason my realization was so bothersome is because I didn’t know how to balance it, how to allow both ideas of motherhood to co-exist peacefully in my head and in my heart.  I still don’t know, but I’m learning.  I’m learning how to be a mother and a dreamer, a housekeeper and an artist, a teacher and a student.  And I have hope that one day, when my children are grown, I will finally have figured it out.

Things (this was just a brainstorm activity, but I thought it was fun)

Things that sneak up on you…

The jumpy parts of movies

No longer being able to sleep comfortably anywhere you want

A kitten playing pounce

Your own insecurities

A little extra weight

Bad habits

Divorce

A surprise party

Deadlines

Practical jokes

A head cold

Darkness

Things that turn pink…

Cheeks

The clouds at sunset

A white daisy in pink water

Cried-out eyes

Things you line up…

Dominoes

Your day

Books

Toy soldiers ready for war

Possible suspects

Tick marks

Train tracks

Elementary school kids

Jumbled shoes

Parts of a plot before writing

Dancing partners

Individuals for a family photograph

Data