Beethoven In All Of His Confectionary Splendor

"Then let us all do what is right, strive with all our might toward the unattainable, develop as fully as we can the gifts God has given us, and never stop learning." 

-Ludwig Van Beethoven

Well, the master cake decorator out-did herself this year. I asked her what she wanted on her birthday cake this year, which should have been worded, "So, what are you doing for your birthday cake this year?" She knows that if she wants it done right, she best do it herself. But you know, if she was in the mood for a non-creative, non-artistic cake, I wanted her to know that I was willing and ready.

"I think I would like a Beethoven cake this year." 

All Righty Then. You're on your own. She wasn't completely on her own. I baked the cake, slathered on the base layer, and tinted the frosting for her. Then I just stepped back and let the child work her confectionary magic. She naturally switched on some Beethoven to inspire her while she worked.

I cleaned the house like a madwoman as she worked. Occasionally, exclamations of shear delight would come from the kitchen. I'm not sure if it was the music getting such a rise out of Jessica or the fact that Mr. Beethoven was coming together so nicely. Perhaps it was a little of both. I came in to see the finished product and was quite shocked. She did all of that with a toothpick and a piping bag? This child truly can work with any medium.

I believe the master himself would have been pleased with the likeness. This was a difficult cake to cut into. It broke my heart a little bit to slice into the genius' chin, but we had hungry guests to feed. Thankfully, we captured him on film before everyone began to ingest Beethoven. For some people in the room, it may be the only way they ever take in the master.

But for this young lady, it was only one of a thousand ways she enjoys what she considers the greatest composer who ever lived.

Birthday Girl

"In a daughter you see a glimpse of yourself, only better."

Seventeen years ago today, this 5 pound 11 ounce baby girl came into our lives, 24 days early. She's been ahead of her time ever since. She comes home from school exasperated at the teenagers she has to deal with on a daily basis. I have to remind her that she is, in fact, one of those dreaded teenagers, but not for much longer. She is almost all grown up, and I have no choice but to helplessly sit back and watch it happen. It is happening in such a lovely way, that I can't mourn it. I simply embrace the transformation of my little girl into a beautiful young woman. She is changing from my dependent daughter to my friend, and I welcome the change. Happy Birthday, Jess!

I Was There

"Being a full-time mother is one of the highest salaried jobs in my field, since the payment is pure love." 

-Mildred B. Vermont

The boys have been learning to play the recorder in their music class in school. Every year, the music teacher puts on a little recorder program and allows the kids to show off their skills to their parents. It is a simple event, not very well advertised. The kids usually get to play for an audience of about five parents. I love being one of those parents.

It is one of the great joys of stay-at-home-momhood. The joy of having the option to attend any and all of your kids' events. Whether it's watching your daughter perform with a prestigious orchestra for a festival at Abravenal Hall, or watching your sons toot a most enjoyable rendition of Amazing Grace on the recorder, I love that I can be there. I love this phase of my kids' lives, where they are experiencing and learning new things almost daily.

I have come to understand that maybe the greatest gift a mother offers her child is her very presence. That a child can look up and consistently see the face of his smiling mother may be what gives that child self-esteem and confidence to explore the world. It is a confidence they need, not only as a toddler, but as a child, adolescent, teenager, and quite frankly adult. I can remember being there as my babies said their first words and took their first steps. I can remember their little faces lighting up as I gave them a hearty applause for their efforts. Those faces still light up when they see their mom walk into the music room for a performance they didn't even think she knew about. And those same faces beam as they receive yet another applause from that one-woman fan club who is so proud of them for masterfully playing Merrily We Roll Along without a single squeak.

I don't know what my children will remember about their childhood. I don't know how many of my little daily efforts they will even remember. But I hope that as they reach back into those far corners of their conscious, they will just remember my quiet presence. I hope that they will remember consistently looking up to see that smiling face in the audience. I hope they will remember that hearty mom-applause just a little louder than the rest. And when they reminisce about their shining childhood moments, I hope I can always say, 

"Yes, I remember. I was there."

A Boy And His Legos

"A child who plays and works thoroughly, with perseverance, until physical fatigue forbids will surely be a thorough, determined person, capable of self-sacrifice." 

-Friedrich Frobel

We took Jonah on his special Birthday Date last night. It's about a month late, but he wanted to wait until he had saved up enough money to go buy the latest Hobbit Lego set that he's had his eye on. He has been carefully accumulating cash for the last 3 months. He was about twenty dollars short. Thank heavens for the arrival of spring and the resuming of his and Spencer's yearly lawn-mowing job. I've never seen a kid more anxious to get out and mow the lawn than Jonah was yesterday afternoon. 

He chose to go to Cantina Mexican Restaurant for dinner. I can see that I have trained my kids well. If I can brainwash all of them to choose mexican food every time, I will consider myself a success. He was more excited about the strawberry daiquiri than anything else, although he does like himself a good taco.

We enjoyed having some one-on-one time with our little Jonah, who isn't so little anymore. Dinner time at home means jockeying for position on the conversational floor. I believe the phrases heard most often at dinner are, "You're interrupting me!" and, "Can I finish my statement now?!" When two talkers marry, mealtime conversation with their offspring can be really fun and really exasperating. It's nice to get away with each child individually at least once a year.

Once we had consumed enough chips and salsa to feed half of Mexico, and once I had consumed enough Mango Daiquiri to cover my geographic tongue with cankers the size of Mt. Vesuvius, it was off to Target for Jonah's long-awaited major purchase.

He located the box on the top shelf immediately. He had to check out all the features on the back. He had just enough money left-over to buy himself two bags of candy. It was a most successful shopping venture. We came home with one content little boy.

Due to Jonah's diligence last night, he was free from all other obligations and could retire to the basement with his new toy and could begin building with feverish abandon. We won't see him until it's built. We'll have to drag him from the depths of the basement to eat. Unfortunately, tonight Jonah is not free from obligations. He has soccer practice and piano and homework to do.   Who has time for homework when you have an awesome goblin cave to construct? We will do our best to help him find some balance. 

How I wish it were summer. Then Jonah could build to his heart's content, and I would be content to watch him do so. Deep down, I believe he is developing more problem-solving skills putting together that 841 piece goblin's lair, than he ever will doing a boring math worksheet. But he has to do the boring math worksheet so that he can go to engineering school and someday become the Lego Engineer that he so very much wants to be. It's a concept we're trying to pound into our kid's minds. Do the things you have to do right now, so that one day you can do the things you want to do. Don't stifle tomorrow's possibilities with today's poor choices. Talk to me in ten years, and I'll let you know whether any of it got through. Anyway, Happy Building, Jonah! Happy Building!

Nineteen Years Ago

"I'M ENGAGED! Today has been the happiest day of my life!! I'm sitting here looking at this beautiful ring perched on my finger, and I can't believe it. I'm going to marry Neil Watson on August 5th. If I could only express in words my joy. I have fallen in love with a man far more wonderful than I ever dreamed of." -Journal Entry April 23, 1994

Nineteen years ago this very moment, I sat with butterflies in my college apartment, waiting for my dad to pick me up and take me home. I was excited to see my family, but I was beyond myself with excitement to see my boyfriend. Neil and I had been carrying on a long distance relationship for six months now. We had only been in one another's physical presence maybe a dozen times, but our emotional and spiritual relationship had developed quickly and deeply through phone calls and letters. Yes, Neil told me he loved me before he kissed me. It was one of those Jane Austen-like romances. But now that our relationship had blossomed beautifully on a deeper level, I was ready to actually be with this boy I had fallen in love with.

I was leaving Ricks College for good. I was hoping to go home and marry the man of my dreams. We had gone ring shopping during one of our twelve dates, and I was hoping that Neil wouldn't take too long to propose. 

That night, Neil picked me up and took me to Temple Square. "This is it, I thought." What was it going to be? Did he have buddies hiding behind one of the bushes, ready to pop out and serenade me as Neil got down on one knee and proposed? Would it happen by the fountain? We walked hand in hand around the square, stopping to enjoy the view of the beautiful temple. Finally, we stopped on that slab of cement sitting across from the temple. The locals know exactly what slab I'm talking about. It's the square of concrete that every newly-married couple stands on after they have been married. It offers that perfect picture of the couple with the temple standing behind them. Every LDS Utah-raised female of the 80's had dreamt of one day standing on that slab with the man of her dreams.

We stood on the slab and looked back at the temple. My heart was pounding out of my chest. It was the proposal I had always dreamed of. Neil looked into my eyes, and said...."Well, should we go?" 

"Um...o.k." I was a little stumped. Really? He brought me all the way to Temple Square, the day I got home from Ricks, and he didn't even propose? I gathered my composure, shrugged my shoulders, and decided that today was not the day I was getting engaged.

We drove home to Neil's house. He said that his parents had some left-over dessert at the house and asked if I wanted some. I wanted a diamond, but dessert would suffice, I suppose. Treats tend to appease me rather quickly.

His parents were nowhere to be found when we got to his house, but there was a pastry box sitting on the counter. Neil said, "You open the box while I get some plates." The box was taped shut. Hmmm. If the dessert is left-over, why is the box sealed shut? Of course, the thought didn't even occur to me as I wrestled with the pastry box. I finally got the thing opened, and this is what I found.

I was shocked. Completely surprised. I didn't even suspect. For the first time in my life, and perhaps the last, I was speechless. Neil took me into the dining room, where nice china was set up and a small vase of roses sat on the table. My ring was wired into one of the roses. It was perfect. A perfect surprise proposal. 

It's funny. I told Neil after the fact, that I was sure that he was going to propose at the temple. He looked at me funny. It had never occurred to him that I might think he was going to propose there. Apparently teenage boys of the 80's didn't have the same romantic visions that teenage girls did.

And the rest is history. 19 years of perfect history. That was not the last time that Neil would surprise me. It has happened again and again in the smallest and most perfect ways. I had no idea the journey that lay before me with this exceptional young man. No idea. He is my joy. He is still the love of my life. 

Nothing or Everything

"There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me." -Jane Austen

This little boy of mine is not an "All or Nothing" kind of kid. He is a "Nothing or EVERYTHING" kind of kid. Most nights, Neil and I have to use every power of persuasion we can muster to try to somehow convince this kid to do the bare minimum of responsibilities each night. It often takes all night to get him to do an hour's worth of work. 

But not last night. Jonah insisted that he wanted to get two nights worth of work done in one night so that tonight could be one of complete leisure for him. Naturally this is the week that his teacher assigned double the homework due to the dreaded CRT's  looming in the distant future. This little boy of mine did 3 pages of math, a language page, 45 minutes of reading, and a double session of piano practicing last night. Rather than the normal exhaustion that follows a night of begging, pleading, and fighting our Mr. Jonah, we were exhausted from the rigors of aiding an over-zealous son in accomplishing his unreasonable ambitions. We were still up until 10:00, but two nights worth of work is complete.

The frustrating thing here is that on the nights that Jonah insists on doing nothing, I know that he is perfectly capable of doing everything. I had a wise stake president once say that the most significant word in the sacrament prayer is "willing". In the case of my son, will is everything. With him, "When there is a will, there is a way." Sadly, the counterpart is also true, "NO WILL....NO WAY!"

I am grateful that his will was in full force last night, because I am now looking forward to a most enjoyable night with my son, as he enjoys his night of complete leisure.

This Little Home

"While we are living in our native land, we fancy that these streets are indifferent to us, that these windows, these roofs, and these doors are nothing to us, that these walls are strangers to us, that these trees are no more than other trees, that these houses which we never enter are useless to us, that this pavement on which we walk is nothing but stone. In after times, when we are there no longer, we find that those streets are very dear, that we miss those  roofs, those windows, and those doors, that those walls are necessary to us, that those trees are our well-beloved, that those houses which we never entered we entered every day, and that we have left something of our affections, our life, and our heart in those streets." 

-Victor Hugo

As I sit here typing, I look out the window at my tiny backyard and at my cluttered kitchen counters holding the many items that I lack the cupboard or pantry space for. I think of my tiny garage that almost, but not quite fits both cars comfortably and of my unfinished laundry room downstairs that I wish was a nice finished upstairs laundry/mud room perched conveniently off my garage. Yes, there have been many times that I have considered selling this home and upgrading into a little nicer home. A multitude of reasons have kept me from acting on such a desire. One such reason is that I remember how wonderful it was having all of the warmness and security that comes from growing up in one house. I want my children to have those same consistent memories and that same sense of security.

The home that harbors all of my sweet childhood memories was the home that I spent 12 years of my childhood in. We moved into a red-brick bungalow in Salt Lake City in December of 1979. I was 5 years old. We lived in that home until December of 1991. The home was really no more than a square box, covered in red bricks, and topped with a pitched roof. Built somewhere in the 1940's, the home probably contained a total of about 1400 square feet of living space, but it contained all of the space necessary to fill my years as a child with warm wonderful memories.

Within the walls of that tiny home, I grew from a child to a young woman. I climbed trees and had backyard adventures with my dear siblings behind that house. I can still hear the laughter and battle cries of children deep in imaginary play, a play that bound us together and left us inseparable even through the challenges of adolescence and adulthood. The quarters where close on that little corner in Salt Lake, but we didn't seem to mind. I shared a bedroom with nearly every sibling at one point or another in that home. All sorts of shenanigans transpired behind the backs of our busy parents. We were a little band of mischief-makers causing our innocent trouble in the security of a small but clean and safe home. We knew every square inch of that house. There were portions that we thought were surely haunted, areas that we stayed away from at any expense. Old bungalows, built in another time, carry such quirks and eccentricities as to let a child's imagination roam freely. We spent many an afternoon searching for that secret passage we knew existed somewhere.

Ours was a simple existence in that little house. We could not rely on large televisions, video games, swing sets, or recreational rooms for our entertainment. But we had a closet full of board games, a backyard that was a playground for our imaginations, a basement that lent itself to all sorts of amusements, and good conversation to be had in every corner of the home. What came from the confines of that humble home were six children bound to one another with an unbreakable friendship, six children who prefer witty conversation and some good food over any other entertainment, six children who hold warm family traditions as one of the great necessities of life. I experienced illness and energy, sorrows and triumphs, drudgery and happy family traditions all in that home. I learned my work ethic doing the types of chores that many people of my generation never experienced thanks to newer more updated homes. I was nurtured, taught, and raised in that home. In that home, I developed my personality, my sense of humor, my character, and my testimony. Much of who I am today began in that little house in Salt Lake all those years ago. It was a blessed place.

And so, I will stay here in my little house. I will stay in this home with all of its inconveniences and quirks. I will stay here so that my children can laugh about their many adventures in this little house, so that they can reminisce together about all of their shenanigans behind my back, so that my children can grow up with a sense of constancy and security, so that they can wake up looking at the same wall each morning, and walk up the same steps each day after school, so that one day, when they have left this house, and life gets difficult, they can remember a simpler time in a simple house where they were loved and where they became who they are. And hopefully the inner strength that was nurtured within the walls of that childhood home will find its way to the surface, and they will carry on, knowing that they have a God and family who loves them very much. 

Right Makes Might

"I believe it can be said that by the formal test of offices held and great deeds accomplished, he was the least qualified man ever elected, perhaps ever nominated by a major party." -William Lee Miller

I just finished a most fascinating read. This book dealt primarily with Lincoln's virtues, as the title indicates. It was all about his ethics and his sense of morality and integrity. The book ends at his inauguration, so the focus is on everything leading up to his presidency. Forgive me for sounding over-dramatic, but although Lincoln was not a perfect man, I believe he may be the closest our country has ever come to a perfect politician.  

I was shocked to learn about how little actual experience Lincoln had in politics before he became president. He had only served one term in Congress several years before the presidential election. He had spent the rest of his time as a private citizen and an attorney and might have remained so if not for the Kansas-Nebraska Act. Lincoln had always been against slavery, but had considered it a tolerated evil in his country.  The Kansas-Nebraska act threatened to change slavery from a tolerated evil to a good, that was to be embraced and allowed to spread throughout the country. Such a possibility got Lincoln all fired up and anxious to get back into politics.

He gave a speech in New York that put him onto the national scene and contributed to the possibility that this country lawyer could become president. He believed that slavery was more than just a social or economic issue. He believed it to be a moral issue. He said this, regarding the Southern slave owners:

"Holding , as they do, that slavery is morally right, and socially elevating, they cannot cease to demand a full national recognition of it, as a legal right, and a social blessing."

"Nor can we justifiably withhold this, on any ground save our conviction that slavery is wrong. If slavery is right, all words, acts, laws, and constitutions against it, are themselves wrong, and should be silenced, and swept away. If it is right, we cannot justly object to its nationality-its universality; if it is wrong, they cannot justly insist upon its extension-its enlargement. All they ask, we could readily grant, if we thought slavery right; all we ask, they could as readily grant, if they thought it wrong. Their thinking it right, and our thinking it wrong, is the precise fact upon which depends the whole controversy."

He concluded his speech with these powerful words:

"...Let us have faith that right makes might, and in that faith, let us, to the end, dare to do our duty as we understand it."

An opinion that circulated among many Americans during Lincoln's time was this... "I don't agree with slavery, but there are those who do. Who am I to stand in the way of someone else's personal choice?" Are we not grateful that Lincoln would not allow such complacency to continue in the country he led? We owe a debt of gratitude to this president who had the moral courage to say...This is not a personal choice. This is wrong. And it eats away at the very moral foundation upon which this country was built, and it must be removed.

Was slavery the last great moral dilemma of this nation? I don't believe it was. Do moral issues circulate through our courts and legislatures today? Absolutely. Are there men and women today with the same level of moral integrity that this great president held? I absolutely believe there are. I guess the greater question is, will this nation elect, support, and uphold such a person? That I don't know. But I hope so. I most certainly hope so.

I do know that as citizens of this great nation, we can, in our small capacities and little spheres of influence do our part to uphold the ideal that, "right makes might", and "dare to do our duty as we understand it." I believe our nation will be better for it.

I Married Well

"Dreams are what guide us, art is what defines us, math is what makes it all possible, and love is what lights our way." -Mike Norton

When I was young, I would dream of marrying a cellist. I had romantic visions of being serenaded at night by a fine man in a tuxedo.

Instead I married an engineer. And what I did not know as a teenager, was that the vision of my man seated at the table, helping three children with math homework simultaneously, would make my heart flutter quicker than any fine-dressed serenador.

I give Jessica this advice...Don't marry a musician. You two will only compete musically. Marry a math guy. He'll bring home a decent wage, and an in-home math tutor is an invaluable blessing.

Waning Elementary Days

"When mothers talk about the depression of the empty nest, they're not mourning the passing of all those wet towels on the floor, or the music that numbs your teeth, or even the bottle of capless shampoo dribbling down the shower drain. They're upset because they've gone from supervisor of a child's life to a spectator. It's like being vice president of the United States." -Erma Bombeck

Well, it's done. We pulled it off. Hobby Lobby really came through for me this time. I was looking for those cheesy plastic dinosaurs and stumbled across plastic dinosaur bones! That is not broccoli on the box, but in fact fake foliage, and yes that is a Lego explorer/dinosaur excavator. 

All I can say is that I don't know how my mom ever did this without Hobby Lobby, a Cricut cutting machine, and Google. Maybe my kids are right. Maybe the 80's really were the dark ages.

This marks an end of an era for me. No more county reports. It's all a little surreal as I see the elementary experience waning for me. I've been up to my elbows in elementary school for 12 years now, and I have only two short years left. Part of me wants to do the Toyota Jump. But another part of me looks at my growing children, and I get a little panicked. My years as supervisor are starting to wane, and I can see that spectator role in the distant horizon. Here's to the last two years of field trips, readathons, construction paper, and class parties. 

Procrastination Passed Down

"The next time you're tempted to sin, just say, 'I'll do that tomorrow', and that way, you'll procrastinate your way right to heaven." -Neil Watson

This was the joke Neil started his mission farewell talk with. When I heard it on his farewell recording as a newly-wed, I laughed and laughed. Why? Because it made perfect sense to me. If it weren't for those darn sins of omission, I may very well have secured myself a spot in the kingdom of God by now. If it were only a matter of procrastinating doing bad until tomorrow and not so much about doing good today, my eternal reward would be in the bag.

But alas, here I sit with Jonah's county report due tomorrow, and I have done nothing more than look in my closet for that blasted construction paper flip-chart we are to fill with fun facts about Uintah county. Every time I tell myself that this is the year that I will not procrastinate my child's county report until the night before. I was determined to work on one page a week this time around. One page a week, I tell you. Who can't chisel out 20 minutes a week to work on a simple map of Uintah county? Apparently I can't, because the entire ordeal now stands before me. I'll be making a trip to Michael's and Hobby Lobby in ten minutes to procure me some plastic dinosaurs and card stock and glue for that lovely county float...the pinnacle of the county report experience. 

I try to avoid jealousy, but when moms are posting pictures on Facebook of their child's county float, in all its completed glory, a full ten days before it is due, the envy boileth over. If there is such thing as a "Super-Mom", she most certainly is not a procrastinator.

I have two teenage daughters who could very well be crowned the Princesses of Procrastination. This frustrates and baffles Neil. "Where do they get it from?" he marvels, "I have never been a procrastinator!" And then I remind him that he stands before the Queen of Procrastination bathed in all of her postponing glory. I tell him that if he marries royalty, he better plan on a home filled with courtly procrastinators. This life would be no challenge at all for my children, if they did not inherit some weaknesses to overcome. And since Neil has none to offer the gene pool, the entire burden rests upon me. Fortunately, I have a plethora of vices and weak things to pass on to my poor innocent children.

Yes, Neil was raised by a mother who lived by the tried and true principle of "Get all of the yucky tasks over with first, so that only the fun stuff remains." And by the way, she was a super-mom. He would come home from class in college and immediately begin work on homework that wasn't due for a week. And what do you know, it took him a whole week to complete the assignment. It's a good thing he started early. I, on the other hand, would start a 20 page paper at 4:00 a.m. the day it was due. And what do you know, I really did need an entire term to work on that paper. Headaches, and sob-fests, and frankly, a poorly written paper would always ensue. It's how I have always rolled. I'm pretty sure that I've taken a good four years off my life due to these procrastination-induced frenzies over the years.

Tonight should be a real treat, especially because Sabrina has group lessons. I am seeing Little Caesar's on the menu for dinner tonight, and I am pretty much planning on my printer going out on me. It wouldn't surprise me at all if I got to Hobby Lobby to learn that there has been a recall on all glue in the country, as well as all plastic dinosaurs. It is the natural consequence given to all procrastinators, and yet we never learn. 

Here is proof, that I've pulled this off twice before. I can pull it off one last time. Wish me luck.

One Last Blissful Day

"Traveling is like falling in love; the world is made new."-Jan Myrdal

This marked our final day in San Diego. We began it in a most enjoyable way, with a trip to the San Diego temple. 

Grandpa agreed to stay with Jonah while the rest of us went in to do baptisms for the dead. Apparently half of Utah was in San Diego for spring break, and they all seemed to be assembled in the temple this particular morning. It was standing room only in the baptistry. If ever you feel alone in a strange land, gather to the temple, and you will realize that you are not alone. Neil performed baptisms and confirmations for the whole family, even for myself. I hadn't done baptisms for some time, and it was a treat to be in that font with my husband and surrounded by my children.

There is nothing like a trip to the temple with several generations of those you love to remind you of the very eternal nature of families.

Now we were hungry. We stopped in Seaport Village for a mediocre lunch and an over-priced ice cream.

My kids can be such clowns!

When we went to Bryce Canyon last year, Jonah discovered that they made coins for all of the national parks. A lover of coins, he purchased one, along with a book to house it in. Since then, he is ever on a quest to fill his book with national park coins. He kept asking us if there was a national park in San Diego. I told him that I was quite sure that there was not, but lo-and-behold Neil stumbled upon a national monument while perusing a map of the area. I told Jonah that we would visit the sight, but that there was no guarantee of a gift shop or coins.

The Cabrillo National Monument ended up being my favorite stop on the trip. Perched on the very end of this little strip of land, the view is breathtaking! We learned about Cabrillo. The first Spanish explorer to land here in San Diego in the 1500's. I'm afraid I got a little camera happy. I couldn't help myself. There was a quaint little lighthouse up the hill to boot.

And yes, there were even Cabrillo National Monument coins. My little collector was all smiles.

I was most thrilled and surprised to find a national cemetery located right on this little peninsula. Why do they not advertise these things? Please don't think me morbid, but I took a ridiculous amount of photos of this cemetery. The perfect lines of the grave markers juxtaposed against that blue ocean left me snapping shots like a lunatic. 

The kids were tired and grumpy, but I told them that I was getting out to see this place, and if they were wise they would do the same. There aren't national cemeteries on every corner, and even fewer in such a picturesque location. Everyone took me up on my offer but Jonah. I think he was on about his 25th tantrum of the afternoon. He was better left in the van.

That is a military destroyer off in the distance out for some afternoon training I suppose. A poignant moment for me.

I told the children to be on the lookout for those who fought in the oldest wars. The oldest we could find were men who had fought in the Spanish American War. Jessica filled us in on exactly when that war was fought, seeing that she's the big AP student and all. They say there are men buried here who fought in the Mexican War. For those of you who don't know your history, that war was fought probably 20 to 30 years before the Civil War. That is some rich history there. I would have loved to spend a whole day learning from these monuments. 

This place was just a poignant reminder that freedom is not free. 

The next day, we made the 12 hour trek back home. It was hard to leave our beloved West Inn. I quickly got used to the idea of someone cooking me breakfast while I blissfully slumbered in a most comfortable bed. I would miss someone making that bed for me and cleaning my bathroom while I lounged next to the pool with a book and some ice water. 

One thing I knew I would miss was sleep. Oh precious sleep! You see, I am usually either a raging insomniac or a night-terror riddled maniac. I wake up most mornings feeling like I've been run over by a freight train.

But not this week. I slept deep and long here in Carlsbad. My bladder didn't even wake me up in the night. There is something about being away on vacation that allows my brain to shut down and my body to relax. It was very replenishing. That's why I had so much energy and wanted to see the world, because I was rested! Wow! Is this how other people live? Do they actually wake up with energy, and ready to start the day? I'm a little envious. I am determined to figure out how to bring the spirit of vacation into my mind and body so that I can somehow sleep at night. I think it might involve getting a maid, a cook, and a hot tub, but I'm still in the brain-storming phase of things. I'll keep you posted.

Until the next blissful getaway. Adieu.