Sunday School kids

I teach the sixteen and seventeen year old in Sunday School.  Some of them I've taught a long time.  I used to teach with Aneesa, which was a dream come true for three years.  There are three youth Sunday School classes and we taught the middle one.  Then Brother Fuller left for a mission and the Sunday School presidency split us up and had her teach the middle class by herself and me teach the oldest class by myself.  I'm glad to have stayed with the kids in Sunday School, but I sorely miss teaching with Aneesa.

The kids are Hayes's group.  Ethan, Jeffrey, and Cecci Porter, Chalese Jensen, Savanna Roberts, Jordan Jolley, Jason Wedel.  I used to have the kids who were a year older, also - Misti Swann, Madi Moser, Mindy Weeks, Wyatt Bowles, Brennon Henderson, Niels Stegelmeier, Carlton Baird - but they're mostly gone now, off to missions and college and the singles ward.  Only Carlton is left and he'll be leaving next month to go to college.  And I'm kind of looking forward to it because he always refuses to participate and is on his phone the whole time.  I don't even know why he comes.  His parents probably make him.

I love these kids.  They are so great.   They come up with the funniest things and such good insights.  I have enjoyed teaching them so much.  I like to think I'm a good teacher and I think most of the time I am.  It's a stretch to teach every week.

I've been worried about the kids this summer.  Jason Wedel hasn't come to class for four weeks in a row.  And he's been avoiding me.  He saw me and refused to look at me when we were both at Makayla Holliday's reception.  I saw him after church this last Sunday and tried to talk to him but he didn't want to.

And I'm worried about Cecci.  Something is up with her.  She posted a picture on Instagram of some punk kid, talking about how much she loved this "man", and how grateful she was that he had come into her life.  And she's always posting pictures of herself in different poses, and a lot of pictures with her sister Anyssa and brother Oscar, who I think are NOT good influences on her, especially her sister.  I think Anyssa is aspiring to be some kind of striptease dancer, from the pictures and video she posts.  It's appalling.  And it's especially appalling because I've watched Cecci grow up from this little, sweet thing with bangs and glasses into a really beautiful young woman.  She's so quiet and shy in class.  I don't know if she knows her own worth, and is thinking that a hot dancer is the best and most valuable thing she could be.

It worries me.

I know these are terrible pictures but I like them.  I took them when I was teaching my class as well as Aneesa's because she was gone.  It was sometime this last spring.  I asked if there were any volunteers for the opening prayer and they all raised their hands.  I had to get a picture of it.

HOTT MAMAS

In January I was looking into starting to lift weights.  Aneesa had told me numerous times about how Aaron had become so much more healthy, had lost weight, and had strengthened his back since he started to lift weights in the mornings three times a week with his buddies.  I asked him if I could come too, and Aneesa tactfully told me that I couldn't join that group.  Turns out it is an elitist, snobby, Westside-graduates-only, sports-enthusiast weight lifting group.  Not her words.  

So I decided to form my own group and I convinced Aneesa that she should do it with me.  I told her that it would be called the Westside Non-Elitist Weight Lifting Club but she hated that name.  She told me to come up with something better.  After some thought, I came up with HOTT MAMAS, which stands for Her Own Time To Meditate And Modify her Amazing Shape.  HOTT MAMAS.

Aneesa always encourages me in my little weird eccentricities.

So we met Tuesdays and Thursdays - almost without fail, for six months.  Aaron kindly made us some routines and printed them out and taught us how to do them. It really helped that we were about the same fitness level and strength.  We could set the weights for one level and both of us do them.  Dumbbells, barbells, planks, lunges, pushups, crunches, bench presses...we did it all.  We were amazing.  

And then I broke my collarbone.  

The doctor said no lifting weights for twelve weeks and maybe even sixteen.  I envisioned HOTT MAMAS fizzling.  

But after a week, we hit upon walking the track.  We still meet at 5:30 Tuesdays and Thursdays and we're usually able to walk twelve laps and sometimes thirteen in an hour.  That's three miles.  

It's great.  We talk and talk.  Sometimes Aneesa calls it her therapy.  

The above picture was taken one morning when it started to rain just a couple laps into our walk.  It drizzled and drizzled and pretty soon we were soaked.  One of us suggested bagging it and going home but we toughed it out and finished our hour.  A rainbow came out and we took a selfie, with both of us looking extremely goofy.  I don't think either of us has mastered the art of selfies, a fact which I think neither of us cares about.  

It's wonderful.  What would I be without Aneesa?  This is what I would be: fatter and grumpier.  Thanks, Hott Mama.

Happy Pioneer Day

Todd and Cec's son Loclan is soon going to be a big brother!

Ellie and Tati in the bouncy castle

The flip flop piñata - or in Craig's words, the thong.

                                           

Deana made an appearance but didn't bring CaileeMae, much to Ellie's disappointment. 

Mac's prayer and doing the dishes

Last night we were going to bed and could hear the clatter of dishes in the kitchen, which I decided to ignore.  Brigham poked his head in the door and asked me if I was aware that Mac was doing the dishes.  I walked to the kitchen and peered around the corner to find Mac squatting on the edge of the sink, running cold water over the dishes and swiping at them with the brush.  

I went over there and looked over his shoulder at what he was doing.

"Are you washing the dishes?"

"Uh huh."

"Should we finish them in the morning?"

"Uh huh."

He turned off the water, I got him down, and he went to bed.

Mac has prayed the same prayer for the past month whenever it's his turn:

"Heavlyann Father.  We thankee for the day.  Please bless Mom's arm.  So it will heal.  And we need to clean up our messes to help her.  And Jesus died for us.  So he can live with us another day.  In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

It touches my heart every time.

Relief Society gone awry

Had a hard time in Relief Society yesterday.  The teacher was giving the lesson from The Teachings of the Living Prophets, President Bensons words about the priceless blessings of the temple. In the middle of the lesson, she starts talking about President Boyd K. Packer's quote about how the greatest threats to the church are feminists, homosexuals, and intellectuals.  And she's printed these three words out on a paper and she taped them up to the board. And she said isn't it wonderful to go to the temple where we don't have to see these three things.

I sat there, aghast and confused.  Have we entered some alternate lesson dimension?  What is going on?  Did I fall asleep and miss how this applies?

And EXCUSE ME???  I consider myself a feminist and intellectual.  And while I'm not a homosexual, I have people I care about who are.  And feminists and intellectuals and homosexuals can go to the temple as long as they are worthy.  Why is she pinning this forty year old, divisive quote up on the board to label people and to stare down at us the whole lesson?

I wanted to say something.  I came pretty close to saying something.  But the problem was that this particular teacher is notoriously bad for being able to handle comments in class, especially comments that don't agree with her own point of view or open up a new thought or basically go against whatever she thinks.  She gets flustered and doesn't know how to handle it.  And I didn't want to be the one who did that to her.   So I sat there and didn't say anything.

But now I'm wishing I hadn't.  Surely there were other sisters in Relief Society that day who are also cursed with being either a feminist, intellectual, or homosexual.  I should have piped up.

3:00 means movie time

This is Mac and Josh watching a movie in their favorite spot.  I've made a rule this summer about no movies or screens until 3:00 which has been a pretty good thing.  Last summer there was entirely too many movies and I didn't want a repeat of that.  After lunch, they start asking if it's 3:00 yet.  

Their favorite place is the stairs, with the iPod or iPad on a stair and their foreheads leaning against the next highest step.  It's pretty funny.  I think it has something to do with the fact that there's no food allowed in the living room.  Funny little boys.  

Happy day of magicfulness for Josh. Or not.

Happy birthday to Joshie today.  Oh my laws could this day have been worse.  Actually yes, I'm sure it could have, but it really was pretty bad.

Craig is chopping today.  The dump wagon started off the day with a flat tire so he called Ron Kelller Tire to come fix it on the double.  This is the third time they've been out this week to fix the same tire.  They finally got it fixed and everyone started chopping - two hours later than they thought they would.  Everything was going strong by lunchtime, with no time to quit.  Craig was running the chopper and Brigham was running the bagger, and I realized that they weren't going to be able to take a break and celebrate Josh's birthday.  And we couldn't do it in the afternoon because Ellie had to milk.  And we couldn't wait until evening because I had my shift at the family history center.  No time for Josh's birthday.

Josh had requested macaroni and cheese for his birthday dinner (gag) so that's what I fixed for lunch.  We sat down to eat it minus Craig and Brigham.  When we were done I called Craig to see if he and Brigham to take a mini break to eat cake and open presents.  He said not only could they not stop, but Harley had just called to say that she was going to be late for the afternoon milking and did I know of anyone who could fill in?  Ellie was scheduled to milk with Harley but she's not able to milk alone.  I didn't have any ideas.  Oh, and by the way, he had heard that the employees had crashed the silage trucks into each other.  WHAT???!!!

I never heard anything more about that and saw the silage trucks going by the window without dents so I decided to assume that was a nasty rumor.

I put a brave face on things and lit Josh's candle by myself and tried to sing as loud as I could with Ellie helping.  After Josh blew out his number 4 candle, we went on the treasure hunt that I had set up for his present, ending up in the bike trailer outside where Josh found his new John Deere trike.  After he tried it out, he wanted to know where his other presents were and accepted things with good grace when I told him that's all there was.

After the festivities, such as they were, Ellie got ready and headed out to milk all by herself until Harley arrived.  And I sat at the table and ate another piece of cake, and then another.  And now I feel sick.

Poor Josh.  He didn't seem disappointed, but I wonder if his little four year old mind and heart is wondering why his special day wasn't so special.  He only gets one birthday a year.  It should be so great.  I wonder what I can do to help him, and myself feel better.  Something.

Craig

I've been thinking about how my injury has affected my relationship with Craig.  While we've had a great marriage, my dependance on him the past few weeks has changed our relationship.  The first few days after my accident, he was in charge of my meds and would set the alarm clock to wake him up.  He would bring them to me and lift my head up off the pillow so I could swallow them.  He came with me to all my appointments.  What sticks out most in my mind is how he helped me get dressed in the morning.   Most mornings, he would wait to go out to do his work until I woke up.  He would help me get out of my clothes to shower and then wait until I was done to help me get dressed.

It was just so sweet and tender.  I was so reliant on him and he did everything for me that he could.  I got to where I just wasn't comfortable if he wasn't around.  Brigham wanted to go to see a movie in Logan with his friends and I went along to supervise his driving.  The whole time we were gone, I felt uneasy and on edge because I was gone from Craig.

I'm not better enough that I can dress myself and take care of myself pretty well.  Once in a while I get my arm stuck in my shirt, but most of the time I do fine.  As I regain my independence, I find that the tender reliance I had on Craig is waning - and I miss it.

In General Conference last, President Packer spoke about marriage in the last conference talk he would give.  He said, " When entered into worthily, this process combines the most exquisite and exalted physical, emotional, and spiritual feelings associated with he word love.  That part of life has no equal, no counterpart, in all human experience."

I agree.

Le Tour de France

   For three weeks in July, Craig and I become     obsessed cycling fans.  We love watching the Tour de France.  Two days ago there was a terrible crash that involved a lot of the peloton.  I think there were at least two broken collarbones, one broken wrist, and Fabian Cancellara, a favorite to win the whole tour, broke two vertebrae in his back and had to abandon the race.  

    Exciting stuff.

Except that since my accident, I have way too much empathy for people crashing and hurting themselves.  It used to be entertainment to watch the crashes, but now it causes small flashbacks to my own accident and it's not so much fun to watch.  

But the tour is still fun.  The scenery is so beautiful.  It seems like every other mile, they are highlighting another five hundred year old church or monastery.  I would love to see it someday.  I'll have to work on my french.

A Little Mexican Lady in my Garden

Yesterday was Sunday.  I was discouraged.  To tell the truth, I think it was more depression than discouragement.  The garden was a mess of weeds.  I couldn't believe that only two weeks of neglect could make it look like that.  And Hayes is gone to camp and Brigham and Ellie are both working quite a bit on the farm and Mom is already helping me so much so I had nobody to ask for help.

I sat on the pew waiting for sacrament meeting to start, trying not to cry.  Several people wanted to ask how I was doing, including Bonnie Jones.  I said I was doing fine and she said not to worry, that everything would wait for me to heal.  I said yeah, except the weeds in the garden wouldn't wait.  I regretted saying it as soon as it was out, because I didn't want Bonnie to think I was asking her for help.  Heaven forbid I ask for help.  And whether she did or not, she said that she loved me but she didn't do gardens.

So then I felt worse.

I sat in my chair last night feeling pretty bad and wondering why it was so hard to ask for help.  Why can't I get on the phone and call the Relief Society and ask for help with the garden?  Why do I feel like I should do it all myself?  Isn't that what they are there to do?  To give relief?  But who would I ask?  My visiting teachers, who have already brought me meals?  Heather and her kids who are busy with their new house?  Aneesa who has her own huge garden to weed?  I didn't know who to ask.

This morning I was in my bathroom when my mom poked her head in and told me that there was a little mexican lady in my garden.

"What's she doing?"  I asked.

"She's weeding."

"She's weeding???"

I had to see this for myself so I went out there and indeed there was a little mexican lady in the garden.  She didn't speak much English at all but she said her name was Luce and that Wesley Beutler had sent her.

Wesley Beutler.  The bishop.

I broke down as I watched her pull weeds.  She already had about a third of the garden cleared and was going strong.  It was beautiful.  Craig and I had to leave for my doctor appointment and when we got back, the garden was free of weeds.  There wasn't even piles of them, they were completely gone.  It was like she had descended from heaven to weed my garden and then had ascended again when the job was done, like a angelic visitation.

I don't know how Bishop knew.

Independence Day

Lining up for the mile run

Independence Day in Dayton is always so much fun.  5K run in the morning, then pancake breakfast. Home to shower and then patriotic program, parade, dutch oven lunch, and then games for the rest of the afternoon.  We always park ourselves on the west side of the field with the Tolmans.  It's always fun to see old friends that have come back for the festivities.  Aaron and Aneesa are in charge of the day, Aaron being the mayor, and we do what we can to help.  This year we donated the shirts and then I was the parade announcer.  The kids rode their bikes with the rest of the Primary and Craig was supposed to ride in the fire truck with the bishopric but I think he walked with the bikes to make sure Mac and Josh were okay.

The neighbors are shooting off fireworks so I think sleep is going to be hard to come by for a while.  I'll just sit here in my recliner while we finish watching National Treasure.

Josh quit pretty early but Mac ran the entire four laps - and he had ran four laps before the even began "to warm up"!!

Josh and Mac showing their catch from one of their favorite parts of Fourth of July - the fishpond!!!

Reclining is now my life.

My life now consists of sitting in my reclining chair.

Craig and the kids have been so great.  Brigham saw me nodding off as I was trying to read Mac and Josh a story and took over.

I can remember telling my patients years ago that the day of surgery is terrible, that the day after surgery isn't much better, the day after that was also bad, and then usually the third day was when a lot of people turned the corner and started to feel better.  I can only hope that it's true because life doesn't seem so peachy right now.

And I was even offered the chance to announce the fourth of July parade in Dayton - which I've always wanted to do and I really don't think I'm in any shape to do it.  Aaron says he'll let me do it next year.

Sigh.  No Gran Fondo, no parade, no nothing.  Just sitting in my recliner.

A picture taken from - what else? - my recliner.

Still here

My adamantium plate, I am now Wolverine.

Blogging this from my beloved recliner.  Obviously, I made it through and I'm still alive.  Not even a near death experience, dang it.

Yesterday Craig and I arrived at the surgery center and got all checked in.  As the tech was taking my vitals I saw there was a vinyl lettered sign on the wall listing Intermountain Healthcare's values.  I remembered being tested annually on those.  I asked the tech if he knew what they were and he fumbled around, guessing, not even close.  That was funny.

The nurse started my IV while another nurse asked me all the preop question, rate my current pain, blah blah blah.  He referenced Brian Regan's pain scale skit and when we told him we were huge fans but hadn't seen that one, he found it one his phone and handed it to me.  It got me laughing so hard I couldn't stop and was a great way to put me at ease.  Asked him if he knew the values.  Nope.

We had to wait awhile for the actual surgery and by the time the OR nurse and anesthesiologist came into my room I was a bundle of nerves.  Craig kissed me goodbye and they wheeled me in.  I moved over to the skinny OR table and craned my head looking at all the big lights and machines.  I knew it was just another day at work for them but it was a singular and frightening experience for me.  I asked them if they had ever had surgery before and Dr. Clissold said, "Oh yes, Kris has had a brain transplant."  Turns out they both actually had been operated before and that made me feel better, that they could empathize.

I was determined to keep my eyes open even as Dr. Clissold said he was giving me something to make me feel sleepy.  Nope, not sleepy.  Not sleepy.  Not.....

Fade to black.

Waking up in the recovery room and telling the nurse that I had dreamed about biking, which she said was strange because most people don't dream.  I don't remember having the dream, only saying it.  Wasn't hurting but was HOT, sweating all over and feeling like I had a thousand blankets on me.

She soon wheeled me back to the surgery center where Craig was waiting for me and it turned out that I had been gone about three hours.  Before the surgery, we had scoffed when we found out they had blocked out a two hour time slot because surely the whole operation couldn't take more than an hour.  Craig said that Dr. Murray had come to see him and told him it went well but that there had been a third piece that hadn't shown up on the X ray that he had to tie into the configuration and there was still a gap so he used a piece of cadaver donor bone.  That was surprising.

Everything went pretty quickly after that, waking up and sipping juice and getting out of bed to walk around and receiving my instructions and being wheeled out of there.  The post-op nurse, McKenzie, said that years and years ago when she was a teenager with a ruptured appendix I had taken care of her and she remembered me telling her that she had to get out of bed even though it hurt.  I hope I was nice to her.  She didn't know the values.  Dr. Clissold and Kris hadn't either.

Drove home, determining not to be nauseated and I wasn't for the most part.  Deana offered to keep the little boys overnight which was great.  Got home and parked in my recliner.  Heather came to visit and then we watched a movie.  It was a nice quiet evening, drifting in and out.

Last night I slept in the bed next to Craig, woke in the middle of the night for a couple hours and then slept for a little bit again.

And this morning I feel pretty good!  I quit the Percocet after two doses, it makes me to groggy.  I think Tylenol and Celebrex are going to handle things just fine.  I even showered and ate Fruit Loops.   Just waiting for my little boys and for Grandma Lynn to get back from Mesa with Ellie.

So grateful to live in a day of modern medicine.  And a little confused.  We went to the doctor last week and he said he didn't think it would heal well without surgery but we were unconvinced.  The research said that 70% of people with my break healed fine without surgery.  I kept going back and forth about it, my mom squarely on the side of not needing surgery, until Craig said it was enough research and we should probably get the surgery.

So the way it turned out, I probably wouldn't have healed well without the surgery and would have lost a lot of strength and ability in that right arm.  Why didn't I receive more direction on it?  Why didn't the Spirit tell me clearly that I needed it?  I feel like I was left to myself.  Little unclear about that.

So nice and peaceful sitting here with my laptop and my phone and my book and my scriptures and soon, a nap.

Final Goodbye

This is what I posted on Facebook:

Tomorrow I’m having surgery to fix my broken collarbone.  I’ve never had surgery before and I’m a little nervous about never waking up.  Just in case, I wanted to tell everyone goodbye and thanks for all the great memories.  And it’s all good because I have faith that life goes on and that families are forever.  I’m excited to see Evan again and I’m also pretty excited about never again having to chase cows in the middle of  the night.   Not to say that I won’t miss Craig and the rest of my kids.  If someone could bring them a casserole once in a while, that would be great.  Oh, and garbage day is Tuesday so someone is definitely going to have to remember that.

It’s been a wonderful ride.  I love you almost all of you and I would probably love the rest of you if I knew you better.

Goodbye. 

And this is what people replied.

Kayla Reeder Roberts:  Ha ha... I'll have David text Craig a reminder every Monday night about the trash.  Seriously though, best wishes for a speedy recovery.

Thomas Campbell:  Holy Crap.  That must've hurt.  Good luck!  I'm sure you'll do great!

Anne Holliday:  You should probably settle beefs you've had with people for a long time too.  You would hate to die with that in the back of your mind.  And I think social media is the best platform for that.  So I'll just grab some popcorn and watch :)

Anne Holliday:  Also, goodbye.  Maybe.  

John Cox:  You gotta keep posting stuff like this it makes my day.  It's a collar bone for heaven's sake.  I broke mine in the middle of Russia and I a still alive.  Your not gonna die.  Although seeing Evan would be pretty cool.

Tawnia Nielsen Zilles:  You are hilarious!  Hope you heal quickly.  What did you do to break it so bad?

Diana Campbell:  Suzie...not to sure I like that sense of humor, but...give Ruth, Nick and Audrey a big hug!  Now seriously!  Just relax, and breath.  You will be fine.  

Tracie Reilley Keller:  I will be thinking of you.  You will do great.

Joshua Campbell:  That X-ray looks HD compared to the original.  Did you get another one?  BTW: Fireworks look pretty cool from above.  

Amber Leonhardt:  This post is a little morbid, Sooz.  No dying!!  Good luck tomorrow, love you.

Tyler Leonhardt:  I died once.  Not a big deal really, you just gotta walk it off.  :)  For reals though, I hate sleeping pills for the exact same reason, so I understand the anxiety.  You'll be fine though.  Have swift recovery!

Loretta Page Dailey:  Think about this differently!  It's so nice to be put under because it's like you don't exist for a just a minute and  neither do any of your problems.  You WILL wake up before you know it and wish you could have slept just a little longer

Anne White:  Suzie, you'll do great!  Your bike will be waiting for you, to get back on!  Speedy recovery friend.  

Sunnie Larson Streadbeck:  That looks like a nasty great!  I'm sure you will be just fine but the thought of your kids without their Momma makes me a little teary.  Good luck!

Nate Kennedy:  You'll be fine.  The world would be an awful place without you!  I almost didn't wake up from surgery while I was on my mission.  Scared a lot of people, but somehow I slept right through it.

Erik Carpenter:  What will happen to your cows.  My freezer is empty.  I have a hankering for some beef brisket.

Marsha Porter:  Wow!  That is a broken bone!

Carolyn Moyle Christensen:  Prayers for you, funny woman!