Better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick

Yeah, it's been awhile.

Nobody needs to get excited that I'm up and blogging again. I'm making no promises. But I have some things rattling around in my head that I want to get down.

Life has a way of jerking you around. You think things are how you want them, and suddenly they change. I hate change. And yet it seems to be the one thing in life I can always count on.

I am reeling today from two recent changes in my life.

First, my BFF of two years moved away a couple of weeks ago, taken 3 hours away by her husband's new job. It's a really great opportunity for their family: Better pay and benefits, shorter commute, solid company that values its employees, opportunity for promotion-- really a no-brainer. I was as supportive as I knew how to be. I was heavily involved in the process of packing and moving. I tried to do whatever I could to smooth the incredibly stressful process of moving a family of seven, like a good friend should. I'm thrilled for them, truly I am. But I am also totally and completely left behind, and feeling somewhat sorry for myself about that.

Desolate is the word that comes to mind.

And while it's true that I have more time for my own projects now, and I'm keeping up on the housework better than I did for the last month (which surely pleases my husband), I miss her terribly. I spent the last two plus years spending at least part of almost every weekday with this chick, and that will never happen again. I feel like someone died. And even though I can still talk to her on the phone and go to visit from time to time, it will never be the same again. And that makes me very sad.

Did I mention I hate change?

Second, my oldest daughter went to college this week. I helped her move her things to her apartment on Wednesday. I have felt oddly unemotional about the whole thing, and have wondered how I could be so untouched by this huge event. Perhaps I've been so preoccupied with the First big change (see above), that I didn't really give much attention to this other thing I hate but can't control.

It was our idea, my husband's and mine, for her to move out for college, even though the school is only 10 miles to the north of us. We believe that children are meant to grow up and live their own lives someday - and we've based our whole philosophy of parenting on the principle of independence. We wanted her to have the full college experience, and believed that is hard to do when a student commutes from home. She's learned as much as she can while living at home, and it's time for the next stage of her growth living independently, or as much as one can be independent when mom and dad are paying for room and board, anyway.

The move went well, and our goodbye was tear-free. I actually haven't spoken to her since then, although my husband has. I think about her several times every day, wondering what she's doing and hoping that she's enjoying her new life.

And then this afternoon I was planning what to fix for dinner tonight, and my mind automatically calculated what quantity of food to prepare based on who would be in attendance. And then it hit me: she won't be here tonight, and will never eat dinner here on a regular basis again. And suddenly her move became real, and those oddly absent emotions rose up without warning and made my eyes sweat a little. I felt a little silly that my grief took two whole days to surface. My friend apparently thought so too, judging by the chortling that came over the phone line when I shared my quasi-epiphany with her.

And now I'm sitting here thinking of all the things we didn't do before she left, and wishing I had paid more attention and planned better for her exodus. My bad. My loss.

Please Lord, no more changes this month.

A Brainiac Lives Here

I have resisted for as long as I can. I have resisted because I don't want to be one of those moms who brags about her children's accomplishments, but alas, I guess am one of those moms. I can't fight it any more. Please forgive me, world.

Karianne, my oldest, is a beautiful, talented, funny, oh-so-cool young lady. She is also astonishingly intelligent. I knew this, and I thought she knew this. So I was a little puzzled when she was so very nervous to take the AP Biology test last May. I mean, yeah, it cost a little bit of money, but it was purely an optional thing; take the test, and if you score a 3 or higher, earn some college credit. Score a 1 or 2, and nothing is lost. No biggie. No pressure. Right? No of course not -- except from the mother with exceptionally high expectations. Ahem.

On a scale of 1 to 5, Karianne scored.... a big fat FIVE!

I am unreasonably proud of her.

Is that a sin?

Karianne's Good News!!

After a tense week of choir auditions, Karianne found out this morning that she made Ambassadors, Spanish Fork High School's show choir! I received a call late last night from the choir president, informing me of her success, and asking me to help them "kidnap" her for breakfast. At 5:30am, three of the current girls from Ambassadors knocked on our door, and since I've been sleeping on the living room couch, I was right there to let them in. They went into her room, turned on the light, and yelled, "You Made Ambassadors!!!"

Karianne squinted through blinded eyelids. "Wha...?"

"Get up! We're taking you to breakfast!"

"Um. Okay..."

By the time she returned home at 7:30am, she was fully awake and ecstatic. However, her joy was marred by the sad news that her BFF, Christina, didn't make the choir. "I want her to be in it with me so bad!!"

Bittersweet - sometimes it seems like most of life is like that.

Playing with your mother's camera can get you in trouble.

So I was looking for laundry room pics to satisfy your insatiable need to waste time here, when I came across some very funny shots of my oldest. Apparently these are self-portraits, taken with my borrowed camera.

Just in case you're wondering, no, I did not photoshop the eyes on this adorable girl. These are unedited photos of the real thing.

And yes, she gets comments on her unbelievably blue eyes everywhere she goes.

"I'm just ga-ga over this adorable guy in my guitar class!"

"Listerine gives me minty fresh breath!"

"How did I get the rotten luck of having Driver's Ed at 5:30 am?!"

"But at least my driving partner is a dreamboat! I hope he asks me out!"

"Cept that once the week was over, he never spoke to me again! I guess my mad driving skilz didn't impress him after all."

"But guess what! I got asked to prom by two different boys in the same week!"

"What?! Mom found those photos and posted them on her blog?!? "

A funny thing happened on the way home from the Orthodontist

After the shocking orthodontist appointment, I was famished, so we went to Taco Bell. Karianne was driving, and I thought it would be good for her to experience a drive through. She ordered successfully, and we pulled forward to the window. As we stopped, we both noticed at the same time that she was about three feet away from the window. She said, "Oh. Do I need to be closer?" I said, "Yes." And giggled.

Unfortunately, there was a car behind us, so backing up and angling closer was not an option. Just then the Taco Bell worker opened the window, and as luck would have it, it was Chelsea Talbert from our ward. She laughed with us about the unfortunate placement of our vehicle. Karianne opened her door and handed over the cash in exchange for our food. Chelsea continued laughing until we pulled away. I think Karianne's head deflated an inch or two right about then.

Seeing as how the dinner plans called for ingredients that I didn't have at home, Karianne then chauffeured Susan and me to Macey's, our family's favorite grocery store (that's their motto--and it's true!). When we got there, she parked perfectly, and we got out.

Karianne and I play this little game when we go somewhere together. Each of the front doors on the van has a master locking switch. We each try to be first locking the door. This time I won. I locked the door from the passenger side just as she closed the driver's side door. She did a little double take, and I grinned wickedly at her through the windows, to let her know that I had won. Then Susan shut her door and we went into the store.

We had a lovely time at Macey's. We smuggled in our Taco Bell bag, feeling all rebellious, and bought a 44oz Sprite to share at a table in the deli. After consuming this ridiculously late lunch (it was 4:30pm), I resisted buying the yummy pumpkin chocolate chip cookies at the bakery and instead put more sensible items into the cart, like egg nog, steak, candy, and ice cream. Hey. At least one of them is healthy. And the candy was for my cub scouts. Consider also the fact that I had two adorable, highly persuasive teenagers which I love with me, and well, you can see that I had no chance. Besides, this post is not about what I bought so why am I defending myself to you?

Anyway.

After handing over the money, we pushed the cart out of the store and to the van. I reached into my pocket for the keys. Nothing.

"Dang! Where are my keys?"

I looked in my purse for the keys. Nada. I turned to Karianne, aka "the driver", and said, "you have the keys, right?"

Karianne did not give the response I was hoping for. Instead, her eyes got big, I mean really big, and she ducked and slunk to the driver's side door while I repeated the futile search again, hoping for a different result the second time around. Who moved my cheese?!

"Mom? The van is still running."

This took a moment to soak into my Sprite marinaded mind. How could the van be running....?

Oh. NO. I turned and frowned at her in disbelief. Say it isn't so.

"Mom. The keys are in the ignition."

That's ok, I thought, since I have a spare key in my purse. My old purse. Which was sitting at home on the counter next to the toaster oven.

I clapped my hand to my forehead and raised my face to the sky in my best Luke Skywalker imitation. "Noooooooooooooo!"

I looked back at Karianne, who had mysteriously transformed from a confident teenager to a frightened little kid. I vaguely noticed the other shoppers in the parking lot staring in our direction. And then I laughed. The ridiculousness of the situation couldn't be ignored. Sure, she'd gotten out of the car without turning it off and walked away, but I was the one who locked the door. Actually it would have been impossible for Karianne to lock the door on her side--the van will not lock from the driver's side if the keys are in the ignition. And because I was just as much to blame as she was, how could I be mad at her? If I got mad at her for something I'd done, then I would be a hypocrite, and I'm trying to set a good example for my offspring, here.

I assessed the situation. There was a spare key at home in my purse. Nathan was at home, so I could call a neighbor to go get the key and bring it to me. Tom was the next idea. I looked at my watch: 5:10. Tom worked out at the gym just a few blocks down the street from ~5-5:40. Perfect! I called his cell phone -- no answer. That meant that his phone was in the locker room.

"Ok," I said, "Dad's at Gold's Gym. We'll go and get dad to bring us back and open the van with his keys."

"What do we do with the groceries"? Susan asked.

Uh... "Leave them here, behind the van."

Karianne looked at me like I was crazy. "Why don't we just bring them with us?"

I snorted. "I am so not carrying several bags of groceries to Gold's Gym with me." Then a new thought appeared. "I know: we'll hitchhike. That will be way faster."

Karianne's eyes bulged again. "We can't hitchhike!" She said it like it was a dirty word.

"Sure we can," I said. "Why not?"

"It isn't safe!" I could hear her think "duh", but wisely, she didn't say it out loud.

"It is if you pick the right ride, "I said. "Tell you what, you and Susan wait here, and I'll go."

"We'll get mugged!" Karianne gasped as an involuntary shiver slid down her spine. "Besides, it's cold out here!"

"Fine. Why don't you two go back into Macey's with the food and wait at the deli. I'll call you when I get back."

With that, I turned and surveyed the parking lot to identify a friendly looking person to ask for a lift. There was a couple loading bottled water into the back of their pickup--no room in the cab for me. There was an older woman getting into her car -- I figured I'd scare her if I approached asking for a ride. Then, I saw her: a young mother loading her groceries and two young children into her four door sedan. Perfect. I approached, explained my situation, and asked if she could possibly give me a quick lift to the gym. She laughed and agreed, and didn't seem scared of me at all. Amazing.

Once at the gym, I had Tom paged to come to the front desk. After a minute, they let me wander onto the workout area to see if I could find him. Where was he? A ward member saw me and came over, and said that I had just missed him. I looked at my watch - 5:20. ?? He wasn't usually done by then. I called his cell again. No answer. I called home. No answer.

Why doesn't he answer his phone? He should have it with him. Why doesn't anyone answer at home? Calling a neighbor was starting to look like the best option after all.

GREAT. Now not only am I stranded without a car, but my kids are stranded somewhere else, with melting ice cream to boot. My sense of humor was starting to wear thin.

Still looking for my stolen cheese, I called Tom's cell twice more, to no avail. Then one more try at home.

"Hello?" Nathan said.

"Nathan!" I yelled into the phone. "Is dad there?"

"I don't think so....lemme look downstairs." I waited. "Nope, he's not here... oh, wait. He just walked in the door."

Finally.

The ice cream was only partially melted, and my girls will hopefully recover from the trauma of being abandoned at Macey's while their mother hitched a ride with a complete stranger. I have since transferred my spare key to my NEW purse, and Karianne thinks that it will be awhile before she leaves the key in the ignition.

Dinner was late again... but this time it wasn't my fault!

Riding Shotgun

I've been pushed out of the driver's seat. Once upon a time, the only time I rode shotgun was when Tom drove. I haven't actually driven a car for three days now--because Karianne has her learner's permit.

She's a good driver so far. A little nervous when other cars are around, but she's done splendidly. I appreciate that she is very careful, and takes the responsibility of wielding a 2000 lb weapon seriously.

In order to be ready to get her license next spring, she must complete 40 hours of driving practice; 30 daylight, and 10 at night. Tonight was our first adventure after dark. She was scared at first, but after half an hour of tooling up and down the roads, she was grinning ear to ear. I hope she'll be able to calm down and go to sleep at a decent hour.

It's a lot of fun for me to watch her practice this highly anticipated skill. It reminds me of the summer ten years ago when she learned to ride a bike. It was scary too, and she was so tense that she got a stomach ache. But after a couple of times around the school parking lot, that same wide grin spread across her face, and she called out joyfully as she whizzed by, "This is the funnest thing I have ever done!"

I think those were her exact thoughts tonight.