Dunk'd

Our stake hosts an 11-year-old day at Girl's Camp every year. This is a chance for all those who are too young to attend camp to sneak a peek at what's in store for them. I volunteered- enthusiastically, actually- to drive the four girls from our ward- my daughter, two of her good friends and a girl who had just moved into the ward. It was early in the morning when we left and the trip was unusually quiet on the way up. The quiet didn't last long, though.

At camp, they toured the facility, ate lunch, swam in the pool, did crafts and went canoeing. All of the girls had been told to bring swimsuits and towels in anticipation for these events. I, however, did not, figuring I'd be the official photographer.

This was not to be. Apparently, every canoe needs an adult- seaworthy or not. And the camp committee had counted me as one of those adults. If I didn't canoe, some of the girls wouldn't get a turn. Not wanting to spoil the fun, I stepped up to my responsibility. I warned the girls that I didn't come prepared for a swim and that we would have to canoe carefully. I'm sure you have already figured out how this story ended. Yes, the canoe tipped and everyone went in. The girls loved swimming around. Me? I am still shuddering when I think about stepping on the bottom of the lake, ankle-deep in gunk and muck. Nasty. I was wearing my nice, cool tan capris for the day, which happened to be pretty transparent when wet.

Apparently, not very good swim attire.

On the way home, the girls sang all the silly camp songs they'd learned and giggled. I think in just a few hours, they had captured the spirit of Girl's Camp- mostly just forming and cementing friendships, singing a lot and giggling even more. It was wonderful for them to get a taste of what they are in store for next year. They are all really excited to go for the real deal.

And, yes, I'd like to go again too, even if I have to canoe.

Short people

(Disclaimer: I realize that there are quite a few Lucy posts in my blog. For that, I apologize. I don't love Lucy more than my other three kids. There just isn't much blog-worthiness to video game playing or TV watching, which is pretty much all they've done this summer.)

Yesterday, while Lucy and Randy were off playing their own electronic games, Ty, Emily and I sat down to watch a Harry Potter movie. Attracted to the noise, Lucy came to investigate the fun we were having without her. She looked at the TV and asked, "Is this the kind of movie that gives nightmares to short people?"

That's when I realized that was how she viewed herself. She's not young or little, just short. She sees herself as our equals in every way, except she needs her "ladder" (ie: step-stool) to reach things. She understands that this vertically challenged situation will be rectified eventually. Until then, she reminds us daily that any differences we may think we see are figments of our imagination. We may put her to bed early, but she will not fall asleep before we do, and is down-stairs constantly to remind us that she is still awake. She needs no help from parents or siblings when getting dressed, combing hair, playing games or anything else for that matter. She realizes her spelling skills are weak, but figures a couple of weeks of kindergarten will fix that.

I love this little, sorry, SHORT person. She is creative and intelligent. She is stubborn and head-strong. She breaks into sobs and laughter effortlessly, often one right after the other. She is funny and extremely clever. I have to tread carefully however, because she becomes very perturbed when I laugh at the things she says. She makes it tough, though. For instance. . .

. . . This morning, Tyler and Lucy were playing their "Do-you-love-me?" game. Some background- when Lucy was really little, much shorter, we would ask her if she loved various people in the family. She said "yes" to everyone, except Tyler. He would pout and she would laugh. That has always been their special game. Today, Ty was going through the family and he got to me.

Ty: Do you love Mommy?

Lucy: No.

Ty: You don't?!

Lucy: (sigh) No, Daddy is the only parent I love. Because he's hot.

OK, how do you not laugh at that?

A Cautionary Tale

by Lucy Welker

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess and her best friend was a pink dragon. The dragon was a girl. They played together. They had fun at Chuck E. Cheese's.

But then, the evil Mom came.

But then, she exploded.

The End

A Grand Trip

Jason constantly ribs his parents about never taking him to the Grand Canyon as a kid. Here he is- a native Arizonan- and has never visited the source of his state's nick-name. I'd never been either. My parents took all my brothers and sisters while I was slaving away in beautiful West Yellowstone, MT the summer before my senior year in high school. But that's another story.

Since we were going to be in AZ anyway, Jason's parents decided it was time to "right the wrong" or "shut Jason up"- whichever version you want to believe. They had been camping in northern Arizona for Independence Day and it was convenient for them to move their trailer over to Flagstaff. The weather was beautiful. The canyon was beautiful. Everyone enjoyed the few days away from the heat. Randy even ate at restaurants on the trip- twice! I don't remember the last time he ate a grilled cheese sandwich, but he confidently ordered it and then ate every bit. Lovely! As we were leaving the park, we saw a giant elk, peacefully chowing on road side grass. He was amazing. I don't think I've ever seen an animal that large, outside of a zoo.

Again, I've posted a slide-show of our pictures on YouTube. Jason took some great shots. Hope you enjoy.

Fourth Fun

Every year, my family gathers in Sierra Vista, AZ to celebrate Independence Day. It's evolved into a really big deal. They start with golf and a visit to The Cove- an indoor wave pool with slides, hot tub and diving boards. Then they head to the Youth Center that they've rented for their private party. They eat, play pool, foos-ball, ping-pong, air hockey and eat some more. The party is complete with Sierra Vista's fireworks show- the "largest fireworks display in Southern Arizona."

Every year, I'm jealous.

But this year, we trekked from hot, humid Houston to hot, dry Arizona. Our 4th of July was tons of fun. I asked my kids about their favorite part of the day. Lucy said she loved eating. She ate a hamburger bun and soda. Yum. Randy liked playing pool. Emily and Tyler loved the fireworks. Jason and I agreed that the best part was being with family. Every time I looked up for a head-count, my kids were with different cousins, aunts, uncles or grandparents.

We had perfect weather, perfect fun, perfect (practically) family. The only thing that would have made our holiday positively perfect was to have Robert's family, Susan's husband and my youngest brother -who's in Basic Training, right now- join us.

Maybe next year?

(What?! No pictures?! Actually, we took way too many. Click here to "oooh" and "aaaah" our slide show.)

It Will Never Happen to Us

But it did.

Apparently, we are just one of 10 million Americans that are victims of identity theft.

Actually, I take that back.

My 5-year-old daughter is the victim of identity theft.

A couple of months ago, Jason and I decided that we wanted to purchase the peace of mind provided by an identity protection service. We (actually, Jason did all the hard work) did a lot of research into whether or not we wanted to protect our identity ourselves for free, or hire a company to do the hard-work for us. We compared several companies and decided to go with Debix. We felt the price was right and liked their proactive action.

After enrolling, we started getting reports on our credit and everything was clean. Except for Lucy. Apparently, someone in North Carolina and California has used her Social Security number to secure over $12,000 in car loans and debt settlement payments. The good news is she is not financially responsible. The bad news is she would have had severe problems in the future when applying for jobs, college or her own loans. Thankfully, that's all being taken care of now.

Yesterday, I took her to the sheriff's department to file a police report. On the way, she asked why we had to see the police. I told her that she had her own "special number" that was for her to use and for no one else. Someone else was using her number and the police were going to help us get it back. She really loved the idea of having a number that was hers and hers alone and was angry that anyone else would use it without her "permission."

The few hundred dollars that we've spent on Debix has already paid for itself. I highly recommend their service to anyone. In fact, I have a "friends and family code" to use if you would like to join up with them. But whether you go with Debix, another firm or choose to protect your identity yourself, take those steps.

Take them now.

Wise Cracks

All the world is abuzz over the news of Jon and Kate Gosselin's separation. On this morning's news, a commentator asked an "expert" if the stress and fame of being on TV brought about the end of this marriage. The expert said no. "The cracks were already there," he said. "Being on national TV just exposed them."

So, I've been thinking a lot about "cracks" today. I can't think of a single marriage that hasn't had some kind of cracks- some created by the couple themselves, some created by choices made, some because of what life has thrown at them. I believe it's what you do with these cracks that determine the longevity of a marriage. Let me illustrate . . .

Once upon a time, there was a young married couple. They got into a fight. Words were said. Feelings hurt. The wife angrily stormed out of the house. Shortly after she left, the husband received a phone call that his brother had been in a serious motorcycle accident. He scribbled a note to his wife, explaining that he had gone to the hospital and left. Somehow, that note disappeared. And when the wife came home, her husband was gone. And gone for a long time. Thoughts raced through her mind, that her husband had left her and left for good. She realized how silly the argument was and what her marriage meant to her. When he returned home and explained what happened, they determined that nothing was worth fighting over again. My mother says that was the only fight she and my dad ever had. Sure, they disagreed at times. Everyone does. But my parents never used words that were intentionally hurtful or demeaning to us or to each other. There were plenty of potential cracks in their marriage- constant moves and long separations due to military assignments, snotty children (not me, of course), and financial stress- but my parents sealed up those cracks to prevent them from destroying the foundation of our family. That was the kind of home I was raised in and the kind of home I wanted to have myself.

The night before I married my amazing husband, I stayed awake thinking about the changes the next day would bring. I wanted a marriage like my parents, but knew that simply being married in the temple was no guarantee. I wondered what would guarantee a long, happy, eternal marriage. I determined that there was nothing that could guarantee freedom from divorce, because I can only insure my own actions and choices and no one else's. But what could I do that would guarantee that I wouldn't erode the foundation Jason and I were about to establish? I decided that there was one little thing that I could have complete control over- and that was the words that came out of my mouth. I promised that I would never deliberately say anything meant to hurt my husband, nothing that I would regret later. While it's a little thing, I can honestly say that I've kept that promise to him. I've said plenty of things that are hurtful, but usually because I've opened my mouth before my brain had fully processed my words. I've never said anything to deliberately wound him. Because once they've been said, that hurt can never be truly undone.

I am in no way judging the Gosslin's, or any other family, for that matter. They have plenty of finger-pointing and enough of advice to choke a horse. I just want to publicly thank my parents for their example and to express my love for my own true love. He is always right beside me, expertly spreading mortar in any cracks that happen to appear.