back from hiatus and an actual conversation

Roofs leak, girl's camp meetings must be attended, I run an orphanage, and mommas visit. What can I say- life happens, and the first thing to go is luxury time, sorry for the silence.


My mother's day gift form Girl Child? Laughter, oh and toast in bed- crumbs brushed over to Schroedad's side of course.

In sacrament meeting on Mother's day the primary children always sing, Girl Child got all the way to the stairs this year before skittering back- a record.

Actual Conversation prior to the meeting's start

Smarty Pants: Are you going to go up there and sing to me this year?

Girl Child: Ok, but only if you promise to cry (after a lengthy pause for consideration I might add).

how you know

How do you know it's conference weekend in Utah?

just in case there was the temptation to go out and love spring- Heavenly Father helped you out- seriously He did. Take a look


Before conference

During conference

Just as conference was finishing

...but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it. 1 Cor 10:13

just exactly right

You know what's funny- sometimes I'll pray for something, get an answer and not recognize it. My blindness is an art form.

How lucky I am that Heavenly Father is all perfect and stuff, and He'll patiently tell me again, and then send some fantastic thing to get my attention, so I'll recognize just how cool He really is.

Let me explain- the 10 virgins program; that sucker stretched me way beyond my comfort zone. I thought I was being so good and serving just like I was supposed to, even though I didn't necessarily jump for joy about it at first. It was scary. Silly me, I wasn't the one being all righteous and self sacrificing- it was an answer to my prayers. The kind with flashing lights and a neon sign, the kind that I finally pay attention to. Message received.

I learned that I'm supposed to stop worrying about all the stuff I've been nuts about- and just focus on living. And not just any old living- living the gospel kind of living. Sharing my testimony more boldly, and being a living example of it. I'm actually not in a state of limbo, like I whined and complained about being in, and I'm happy to know it.

apparently I didn't try hard enough

Some how, and by that, I mean the word 'yes' came out of my mouth when I wasn't looking, I've agreed to something I never thought I'd willingly do. Actually 2 somethings I really didn't ever want to do.

I don't know what possessed me to think it was ok to agree to sing, in public, by myself, but that's what I've agreed to do. When I realized what, exactly, I agreed to, I nearly fell over in one of those dizzycauseiforgottobreathe spells.

I'm more of what you'd consider a shower singer- home exhibition only. And no, the church choir thing doesn't count- cause that's a choir, not a solo. And strangely I feel morally obligated to be in the choir- maybe because my mom was the choir director once?

And worse, this really nice lady called and was chatting to me about the PTA, and she said they were thinking of someone to be on the board and my name came up. Somewhere in between the compliments, and not really understanding what was happening- I became the treasurer for the PTA for next year. I think that was mostly due to my ego being easily inflated that I lost my senses momentarily.

Don't worry, I'll be on my guard from now on. No more fast ones being pulled on me, by those tricky people who I just can't say no to. Dang them for being so nice, and complimentary. I guess I didn't try hard enough during the DARE program.

Big Baby: post script

Our prize for sewing 13 hearts.

The other wards made 273. each
We had crafts to do people. cute ones.
and we are not motivated by competitions, see above as to why.

p.s.
I think I may have inadvertently made you think that this was not a good prize, oh but it was, it was the best prize of all. It was given to us by one of the stake because she knew we'd love him and take good care of him. So she made up the award and gave us the baby. He is coveted by all.

*Lightning has struk my brain

Some things I learned at girls camp, in no particular order:

The leaders are always chattier late at night than the girls- who knew?

Our camp director is the craftiest person I've ever met, I love her.

I love doing crafts, when I don't have to come up with the ideas (see above).

Beehives are very darling and very excited!!

Mia Maids and Laurels are very darling, but much more subdued in their excitement.

You have to watch out for the quiet ones.

Even speaking at church is worth it, if I get to go to girls camp. maybe.

I love girls camp, don't love the prep work, but love girls camp.

There is no such thing as too many swedish fish, until there is, you know?

'The cat came back' will never leave your head once you sing it. It get's trapped in your head and stuck on repeat, it's a good thing you do the fun hand slap thingy to the chorus is all I can say.

Sharpies + table paper= hours of entertainment

We had the best skit, even though they were all lip syncs really, ours was definitely the best.

A grown up should have proofed the song choices, since the YCL who did the choosing probably did not know the meanings behind most of the songs she chose (don't stop believing? seriously?).

My most brilliant discovery at camp:

I now know what makes childhood magical- I'll impart my knowledge freely. The magic of childhood is just showing up for stuff and having fun, childhood is gone when you are in charge of the preparation- and can no longer just show up for the fun.

p.s. *please tell me that you know what movie that is from! I'll love you even more- I promise

In case you wondered where I've been

I am tired, bone deep, exhausted, body-won't-follow-brain's-instructions-tired. Girls camp is the reason for my current state of being. Who knew it would be the leaders that would be the ones keeping everyone up at night? I thought for sure I'd have to do some after hours shushing. I never dreamed that I'd be the one being shushed. And just when we'd get our paroxysms of laughter under control- someone would say something funny and we'd be off again- giggling uncontrollably.

Oh, I must tell you about the hill. We lived in the cutest cabin at the top of the hill. We ate most of our meals at the pavilion at the top of the hill, but all of the meetings were at the bottom of said hill. It was steep, and long, and we had to walk down and back up it about a million times a day. I came to hate the dang hill. At first, I would say to myself, self, this hill will make your bum look awesome- so suck it up and maybe even run a little. By the end I said to myself, self, I loathe this hill and I refuse to walk it again today, inevitably the hill required more trips down and back up. It must not have had the proper sacrifices made unto it, is all I can figure.

And now that I'm home from camp I see that my worries have only grown. The funny thing is, is that before I left I was worried about my 1 pre-teen daughter, and all of the complicated emotions that entails, and now I've come home with 11, full blown teenage kids, that I love and will now worry about. It's strange how that happens.

I have so many swirling thoughts in my head, things I learned by watching the girls, and things I learned about myself. But those have to be for another day because I need a nap. A well earned nap I might add, since the camping gear is put away-mostly- and the laundry has all been washed.

It's 2 o'clock, and I still haven't showered. Gross, I know. I've been catching up on life, mostly on the computer, but still, catching up. But if only the laundry were this fun.

Now that Trek is over and the 4th of July breakfast and bake sale (of huge success) is done I can breathe normally again-but really, I want to cry, cause my house- of recent immaculateness- is the crap shack again.

How does this happen? I still don't know. It's like I look away from the glory and beauty of a clean house for one second, and BAM out of nowhere, mess elves come and ruin everything.

I have exactly 4 weeks before girl's camp, that means 4 weeks to make the house nice and organized, and clean again. To get all of these dishes back to their owners, and put the sod in. And sadly I fear, I will probably come home to the crap shack after camp, and have to start all over again. But the smell and roar of a campfire, and the fun of girl's camp is so worth the trade, but don't you think?

the trek saga: part 3

And Lo, it came to pass that the trek was to be embarked upon, and it was good.

It was breezy, not too hot- the perfect day to trek if ever there was one. Our company was first out and apparently we set such a fast pace that we were more than half way done before lunch time. The consequence: women's pull after lunch, and red company got moved to the back {those strong Strongs- setting the pace!}. We splashed through mud, pulled through puddles, and the Schroedad even carried one of our daughters across on his back. The missionaries told of heroic stories of perseverance and rescue, we were all humbled.

Our Stake President called all of the men together and took them up the hill- told them that we women didn't really need them and they needed to be worthy enough for us to want them around, or something that went a little like that.

We sang 'As Sisters In Zion', were told that we are stronger than we think we are and that we could do this. That when our trials come, not to ask why me, but instead to ask why not me. Our trials are what acquaint us with God and we're pretty lucky to be chosen to be tried. I cried. we prayed.

We pulled our handcarts up the steep hill, lined with misty-eyed men, we sang hymns to them while they watched in silent awe. By the end the young men were pulling hats down and sunglasses on to hide the tears, the old men were freely weeping. As were the women. We were strong, and brave, and happy.

After lunch we finished our trek, crossed the Sweetwater river and came home. The youth square danced, the leaders joined in and cheered on. We met with our own Bishops for a fireside, I missed my kids. The Bishop taught an amazing devotional, we sang 'Because I Have Been Given Much' and cried again.

After the fireside the kids ran around telling tales of their day to friends and stayed up way too late. Bishop put all of our stray kids to bed around 1:30- the ma's and pa's were all happily in dream land by then. I'm glad he, at least, was a good parent. I think we all decided we were off duty at 11.

The next day we were to stop on the way home at Rocky Ridge Hollow, but guess what, the bus broke, again. At least they'd emptied the bathroom- so the rolling golden turd was no longer an appropriate name for the broken bus. We did some shuttling, and eventually made it there.

As we filed by the mass grave of the 13 individuals who died there we were serenaded by a violin playing. It was silent and reverent, almost like the temple. A testimony meeting was to be held, the youth filled up all of the time- nary a single adult was heard.

The Stake president called for another bus to be brought up, since the repair didn't actually work on said bus. So most were sent home- some of our kids stayed behind to wait for the last bus, I fretted like any mom would. I gave them all of our bus snacks- they'd get home way after we would, I was sure. Not a good idea, especially since the anti-nausea medication I'd taken wore off around Evanston. Just in time to get obscenely nauseated through the windy Parley's Canyon.

I have a testimony that sometimes prayers get answered exactly how you ask them to be. For I prayed mightily, "please don't let me puke on the bus", was my plea. I made it 3 steps off of the bus and into the grass, I think I'll be more specific next time. Something more like "please just let me puke in my own toilet" where the bishopric and the whole bus won't see.

The fireside the next day was fun, we got to see all of the pictures taken on trek (I don't have them yet or you'd see some of the better ones). None of our kids wanted to go home, they were still enjoying the trek high, and I can't say that I blame them. It was a remarkable experience that I won't soon forget.

The End- as promised

The trek saga: part 2

And it came to pass that we finally made it to Wyoming, to which I am positive I am allergic. As we rolled in to Martin's Cove 4 hours late, I thought to myself. "Self", I said "there is a whole lot of sage brush and desert-ish space not so far from home in Utah, why, oh, why did we drive all the way up here just to trek through some sage brush?"

We did not receive handcarts to push, due to the tardiness of ourselves-thank heavens, as we trekked up to Martin's Cove. It was the hottest part of the day, and it came to pass that I was unimpressed- until we got to the part where we were serenaded with 'Come Come Ye Saints' and we heard the plight of said saints and started up the trail to the Cove. It was an epitomic ( I think I just made that word up) experience. I was awed that they were willing to come to Zion right away, instead of waiting for the train (I would've waited I'm sure). The faith that propelled them through the sweltering heat, step after blistered step, into the freezing cold, truly amazes me. And lo I was humbled, and grateful.

Even though we had to set up our tents in the dark-ish, I'm so glad we went to Martin's Cove, it got all of us in the right frame of mind to walk in the pioneer's footsteps the very next day.

Part 3- the end... tomorrow

the trek:part 1

The good news is that trek was fantastic- I'd do it again in a heart beat.

The bad news is that we were on the smelly gold bus, more dignified than another colored smelly bus, but don't you think? The gold was what made it sort of endurable-ish. Oh but I 'm getting ahead of myself. I'll start at the beginning so you can fully appreciate the whole story of the smelly gold bus.

We were up at 4:45, in the am. We dressed in our darling pioneer clothes and dutifully went to reenact the arduous trek of the hand cart pioneers. The shiny gold bus was ours to be endured, except we didn't know just how bad it would be when we commenced loading that bus.

And so it was 30 whole minutes into the trip that we first broke down on the side of the freeway. As we unloaded 2 of my girls made a sign, 'polygamists need help' it read. Clever girls, too bad it only collected honks and waves, but no real help for our leaky bus.

I have a simple math equation for you:
what do you get when you combine
1 smelly gold bus
plus
1 windy canyon road
plus
smarty pants
?

A recipe for near disaster is what.

It's a good thing Ma H was prepared with, and willing to share, prescription strength anti-nausea medications. I haven't been car sick in a long time, this bus was testing all of my strength I tell you, every last bit.

After 10 long, smelly, and slightly nauseated hours, too many break downs on the side of the freeway, one potty stop- not at the back of the bus, we finally made it to Wyoming...

Part 2 tomorrow

crisis situation averted

Emma- no reason

Thanks to some good advice, a fabulous husband, and a neighbor worthy of sainthood I am no longer a stressed out zombie. Unfortunately The Schroeder has stared to stress out (finally) and is in the cave of doom that I was in a few days ago.

I'm feeling pretty good about things right now because somehow we managed to convince a reluctant young woman to go with us- a feat worthy of Hercules even. Now to help her get packed and her clothes figured out... It's a good thing the dang flag is done-ish, heavy on the ish. But really there are 2 days left and maybe 10 more things to do- I think it'll be ok in the end, and if we forget something it's no big deal.

Hopefully the thing I don't forget is something really important like the tents, more likely it'll be a personal comfort like deodorant, and I'll be the smelly kid for the trip. Even so, it's no big deal.

You know that primary song, the one about pioneer children and how they sang as they walked and walked and walked and...you get the picture. Well trek has started to feel that way to me. We've been prepping for it for 6 whole months, and now, just before we're about to leave, I'm so sick of it I could just about barf.

I still need to finish our family flag and I just can't get myself to do it. Our kid who I was counting on to be the creative force behind the whole thing bailed last minute leaving me hanging. Do we even need a family flag for pete's sake? Who really cares if there is a flag or not? I don't that's who.

I feel a bad attitude starting, and I'm doing my best to squish it before it ruins the whole danged experience. Pray for me people.

yesterday's lesson: meh

Sunday's Lesson Report- in technicolor flames now with a post script

I toiled over this lesson for months, months I say, result: meh. I think this means I shouldn't teach the combined lesson again. Seriously at one point I actually said 'cricket, cricket' into the microphone- it was on- and still no response.

I could understand the lack of commentating if it were before 10 - but our church starts at 11:30, so I'm left with the realization that it was my so-so teaching and lesson that elicited this reaction- and not just from the youth, most of the leaders were awfully quiet too. Not sure where I went wrong, (even donuts were served just so their blood sugar levels would be nice and high) so I'm left slightly confused about it all.

On a more exciting note we BBQ-ed and had ourselves a huge grease fire on the grill- flames shooting into the sky, melting the chair that sat next to it huge. It was like the 4th of July, a red neck 4th, but still I felt a strange urge to say the pledge and sing the Star Spangled Banner.

It's what I envisioned the stadium of fire to be like when I was younger, I also wondered how people survived it- so it just goes to show that I had a much better imagination, sick as it was, when I was younger. I wonder what happened to that crazy imagination of mine.

p.s. It was the ym/yw combined lesson that I taught- that in and of itself may have had some bearing on the lack of response

today's lesson: no whining

This Sunday is 5th sunday, and I have to teach. Since I forgot to schedule it in to our teaching schedule, and I didn't want to redo it yet again, I decided to come up with my own lesson. I'm sure I'll only fill half of the time and then be sad I didn't just teach from a a manual and redo the dang schedule again, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.

Hopefully Lehi's family will hold their attention for the whole hour. The lesson is about the differences in the amount of effort each put into gaining a testimony and the consequences of their choices. I'll give you the run down.

So Nephi- he's the youngest, he prays and thinks about the visions his father has- and he gets to see them, and gains a testimony.

And Sam- Older than Nephi but not the eldest, prays about it and trusts his father and Nephi. He has faith and gains a testimony.

Laman & Lemuel- the elder brothers- not so much, they do wonder but don't pray and then just bicker and fight, never gain a testimony and they end up dwindling in unbelief.

Even after L&L saw angels, heard the voice of God, were shocked by the power of God they still never gained a testimony, why? They never put any effort into it, and they kept thinking how they'd be better off in Jerusalem, and they complained- a lot. point of story- don't whine, and do some work, and some other such moral. Hopefully the youth will get it- and I will manage somehow not to slaughter it even more than I already have. Maybe I should take food- that's pretty much a free pass right?