Happy Un-Birthday, Gracie

Your un-birthday was perfect Tiny Girl. Daddy went to work at 4 a.m. and I got a text from him at 5:15 a.m. to look at the sky. I wandered out to the back porch to watch electricity snag the blackened sky over and over again. The thunder shook you in my belly. It was magnificent, but not what you were waiting for.

A few hours after crawling back into bed, some of our favorite people in the world showed up, Aunts and Uncles and beautiful cousins and we sat around the living room and talked and laughed for a good long time, wonderfully happy to be a part of each others' lives. Eagerly hoping for you to join us. It was bliss, but not what you were waiting for.

So we went to Seven Peaks with Uncle B and Aunt A and J. The second we got there the rain started, then the lightning, so we blew that popsicle-stand and went to In-and-Out for hamburgers and fries. We laughed hard as Uncle B mandated that people over 45 who did not know the drill at said restaurant and ordered their hamburgers "animalized" should not be allowed to dine there. It was delicious and funny, but not what you were waiting for.

Daddy and I went to Walmart. I'm just glad of all the brilliant things that had happened yesterday, that's not what you were waiting for.

Late that evening curled up on the couch with a wonderful book, the rain plummeted down, the lightning scratched the sky, and the thunder rocked the windows. We opened up the whole house to the glory of that storm. I sat at the screendoor and watched the clouds curl in all different shades of blue and black, and joined my three great big tears with the rain, because of all the days I would have liked to have given you for your birthday, surely I would have picked this one. It was enchanting, but not what you were waiting for.

So the storm passed, and the trash from the burgers was taken out, and we're going back to a sunny Seven Peaks in just a few hours, and while I'm really quite content to wait, I wonder what is the glory that will bring you here to me that you are waiting for?

His and Hers

This is what Paul and God grew this summer, right next to what me and God grew this summer. Though clearly what he grew had way more exposure to the sun than what I grew. Sun exposure or not, they're both beautiful if you ask me.

This baby could be here any day now. I am officially one week away from my due date. There is progress for sure, but not necessarily the progress that says she'll be here tonight, it's the progress that says, Don't worry brain, I've still got this thing under control. Yes, she'll come but don't hold your breath. It's that kind of progress. Which is manageable most days and then other days you about go out of your mind because the "progress" makes you pack the hosiptal bag and then the "progress" leaves you with nothing to do but worry about all the stuff you still don't know. And you think to yourself, I had nine months to prepare for this day, why do I feel like I have no clue what to expect!?! So you do what every rational woman has done, I'm sure, since the dawn of time.

You cry.

Maybe you had days like that? If you didn't than neither do I. I am just saying it wouldn't surprise me if that's how a different woman might react. But not me. I am way above being overwhelmed by something as routine as child birth.

or not...



And that's Josh eating what Paul and God grew.

Ruger. It's the dog's name.

"If you so much as set foot downtown, you will be sorry. I am in a prayer circle with the DA. I am a member of the NRA and I am always packin'."

"Whatchu packin'? .22? Little Saturday Night Special?"
"Yep. And it shoots just fine every other day of the week too."

-Blindside

A little .22 Ruger.

We named the dog after it.

The future dog, that is.

That is IF we ever have a dog, its name will be Ruger.

The trouble is, I don't really like dogs.

The smell, the hair, the....well I can think of a few more things I don't like about them, but lets keep this polite. The point is, RUGER is perhaps the coolest name for a dog EVER.
It reminds me of the fact that Paul wanted to name our first daughter Baretta. In similar fashion.

That idea was dismissed.

Immediately.

But it's a funny idea.

And FAR better/more appropriate than some of the other names my sweet Paul has come up with...
--------
An entire shooting excursion was planned this morning around this puppy right here.

My dad lent it to Paul for his birthday. He was happier than a dog at the duck pond.

Funny thing is, at 9:30 this morning, I got a phone call from the other side of the lake with a dissapointed confession that it had been left at home. I glanced up at the top shelf of the closet, and there it sat in all its weighty-ness.

I saved the day by driving it clear to the other side of the lake, where the motly crew met me at the car door with great enthusiasm. The entire way there I wondered how the conversation would go if I got pulled over.

Um, yes officer, I was speeding. You see, my husband needs this handgun I have sitting here on the front seat.
......
What does he need it for? Officer, com'mon. It's a Glock. Just SAYING it makes a man feel powerful. YOU know that.
......
Thank you officer, I knew you'd understand. I'm sure your wife would run out the door to bring you yours too.
......
Why yes, officer, I am. 37 weeks and 1 day. Just waiting to pop.
.......
I probably won't but I'm sure her daddy will teach her to shoot just as soon as he can.
......
You have a wonderful day too.

Upon arrival, I encountered "The Spread."

1 Rifle.

3 Shotguns.

2 Pistols.

As the hero of the day, I was honored with the first shot from the Glock.

I look like I am trying to shoot it and hide from it at the same time.

I am.


But I got more comfortable as the morning progressed.

Isn't he hott?

Happy Birthday, Paul. From me, my dad, AND Ruger, our future dog.

Maybe.

But whether he actually becomes a member of the family or not, his name is RUGER.

P.S. Does it surprise anyone that this is Paul's most recent, favorite song?

P.P.S. My mother would like it made perfectly clear that my dad purchased both a Ruger (though not the one featured here) AND the Glock for her. Which is a funny story that maybe she will grace us with on her blog one day.

The Education of Herrick Men

There's something wonderful about the 4th of July in Provo. Here, it is an EVENT. Everyone MAKES something of it. There is so much to do and even if you just do the bare minimum (which was my style this year,) it is grand. And because I am married to a Herrick, it was also (as it is every year since I became a Herrick) an adventure in fire.

But first, Gracie and I were very patriotic together.


We need to teach Daddy to take magnificent pictures of us.... The whole mirror thing is sub-par unless you learn how to make it look artistic.

The evening of the 3rd started out with Ice-cream Sundays, then we packed Josh's Stroller tighter than a Sherpa's burden, and walked to our very most perfect firework watching spot. The spot where the ground shakes and noise deafens and the soul soars with glory.

And reverence. Experienced by the very old and the very, very young.



But of course, I forgot the part where we were anything BUT reverent. The part where other mothers found it imperative to warn their children about behaving like us. You see my brother-in-law, Rob, got this great idea that sparklers could be held and enjoyed from one's mouth.


At which point I leaned over to my sister-in-law Alli and whispered, "Do you see what I have to teach my boys NOT to do one day." She laughed until she realized her boy Josh was already being educated.... and she knew her task at hand.

And then to no-one's surprise, Paul joined his brother Rob. Of course. They're Herricks.

Not a second later did a women whose boys were also being "educated" by the Herrick Men voice her opinion in a line that I'm SURE was intended more for the Men than her sons said, "Don't you ever, EVER, EVER do THAT. EVER."

And that became the catch-phrase of the weekend. Everything those Herrick Men did that maybe they shouldn't have was proceeded by the words, "Don't you ever, EVER, EVER do THAT. EVER" and then they did it.


Like on Sunday, when we embraced once again, the yearly tradition of lighting our own fireworks.

Herrick style.

Because it's not enough to just buy a whole bunch of gun powder encased as a toy and just light it.

No no.

This is an opportunity for Herrick Men (and I should not exclude my own brother, Blake) to pull out their MacGyver skills. To properly enjoy the holiday, they must make all sorts of tripods to strap the fireworks to, and then they must create make-shift fuses so that one firework lights the next firework in a chain reaction meant to compete with the Stadium of Fire itself. It gets to be a pretty hefty looking contraption. Very impressive.


Except for the small detail that it has never...actually worked...at least not in the way they hope.


This year, there was even a slight emphasis on FIRE rather than WORKS.

But every year the brothers try and every year they get a little better. Which means every year the wives worry a little more if this will be the year that an appendage is lost or at least very badly burned. Suffice it to say---I am full of thoughts like "Please Father---don't let anything bad happen. I know they are being ridiculous, but PLEASE."

And I secretly wonder to myself, as the mother of Future Herrick Men, how many times will they hear ME say, "Don't you ever, EVER, EVER do THAT. EVER," only for it to become a catch-phrase as they run off with their dad and uncles?

But I wouldn't trade those Herrick Men for all the Rules in the World. Especially not my favorite one.

To My Dad

That's my sweet cocoon of a husband taking a nap on a makeshift bed, complete with a nappy, spare pillow. You see, he's filthy and exhausted after working so very hard for our family. And I love him for it.


No one person could ever possibly teach another person ALL there is to know about a certain subject. Especially in the area of GIANT LIFE LESSONS. There's too much to learn and they're called life-lessons because you keep deepening your knowledge and understanding of them your whole life. That's what I think.

However, in this particular life lesson, my dad's teaching stands out. It has for a long time, and probably always will.

My dad taught me to work.

He taught me to enjoy it.
He taught me that to shirk it is cowardly.
That to perform it creates stability that allows happiness---peace even.
He taught me that to embrace it creates beauty.
That to avoid it creates problems (that some how always cost money, no matter what the nature of the problem.)
That to balance it is essential.
That to overdo it is much harder than many are willing to admit.
That there are few good excuses when it's sloppy.
That to rest from it is essential.
That it is the great leveler.
That some of the better compensations for it rarely involve money.

And because my dad was one of my most influential teachers of this subject matter, I would like to thank him.

Because I get it.

And I'm happy, in large part, because of it.

Thank you, Dad.

One of My Favorite Games

Paul: I love you.
Me: You do?
Paul: Yep
Me: Even though I am nuts?
Paul: Nuts is a relative term.

We literally have this EXACT conversation every day.
Why?
Three reasons.

1- Sometimes I still get a little fluttery on the insides at the thought that he does. (Don't be grossed out. You know we're the gushy type.)
2- Frankly, there's a lot going on these days and in the deepest recesses of my heart, and sometimes much closer to the surface, I feel a bit batty.
3- Paul learned long ago that I get the biggest kick out of repeated conversations. They're an inside joke, and I love an inside joke---makes me feel all connected and whatnot. Another one goes like this:

On the phone:
Me: How are you?
Paul: Good. (Pause) How are you?
Me: Good. (Pause) How are you?
Paul: Good. (Pause) How are you?
Me: Good. (Pause) How are you?

But the trick to this one is making each "Good. (Pause) How are you?" have a completely different but superbly realistic intonation i.e. enthusiastic, friendly, awkward, grumpy, jovial, seductive, quizzical, skeptical, etc.

Try it. I dare you. How creative can you be?

And now I wonder.
How are you?

Why I Think I'm Good At This...

Teaching of course.

Now, I worry (though only ever so slightly) how this post will come across because I fully intend to tell you why I am good at my job. But not in an arrogant way, in a "holy-cow-this-fits-me-like-a-perfect-pair-of-shoes-that-I-really-like-to-wear" way.

I will start by saying this. There is only ONE aspect of my job that I loathe.

Recess duty right before or right after school.

I JUST HATE IT.

If I could pawn it off on someone else EVERY TIME, I would.

But I digress.

Six reasons why me and teaching work.
I'm not sure if they are in a particular order.

1. I LOVE to be in charge.
It's true. Ask my immediate family (although they have some nasty word for it like "bossy" or something. I prefer the phrase "management oriented.") A classroom is a microcosm, a mini-corporation. I am responsible for a certain product and it must be produced amongst and amidst MULTIPLE and complex variables, and it's an exhilarating thrill to produce it every day.

2. I NEED to be loved.
Everyone does. Everyday, I must stand in front of multiple people (yes kids are in fact PEOPLE---though I get the impression that sometimes others view them more like pets) and I must win their affections over and over. I must earn their loyalty, their respect, their admiration, their trust. There is nothing in my position that entitles me to these sentiments. I must live and interact with these people in such a way that they willing give them to me --- against all odds sometimes. And when they do, my soul soars.

3. I NEED to LOVE people.
My favorite pastime is not reading, exercising, or even singing. It is TALKING. I will sacrifice hours and hours of precious sleep if it means I have the chance to get a glimpse of someone else's soul and then share with them part of mine. I spend a majority of each day learning about these people and what makes them tick. What frustrates them. What inspires them. And then have the opportunity to try to provide for some of their needs. And I am happier because of it.

4. My other favorite pastime is organizing stuff.
I have a collection of Barbies from my childhood. I don't remember ever making up more than handful of scenarios for them. Dramatics were to be played out by ME (see below) not some doll. The purpose for dolls as far as I was concerned, was to look pretty in their immaculately organized house. So I spent hours organizing their house OVER and OVER and OVER again. And as a teacher, there is the obvious organization of classroom supplies and furniture that must occur, but it's so much more. One must figure out how to organize time, and teams, and lessons, and units, and people in such a way that not a minute is lost. So that when a kid leaves my room everyday and then at the end of the year he RECOGNIZES "Hey, I learned a bunch of stuff. And it was cool."

5. I always have an audience.
I'm not sure of any other profession in the world where my amateur Spanish, Texan, or British accents would be so VASTLY popular. Where my somewhat classically-trained voice would be so praised (or imitated---because sometimes a teacher MUST declare it opera day where all communication must be SUNG until you're laughing so hard that breathing becomes an issue), where my storytelling would be so admired. Where a disheveled lab coat, pipe-cleaner glasses, and wacky hair would make me something of a legend.

6. It makes a difference.
In the back of my room, in giant cutout letters is the phrase, "I can do hard things." We talk about it all year long. We point it out to ourselves all year long, when we have and when we haven't. We push and we push and we push all year long, until I have taught them and they have learned how to multiply 3-digit times 2-digit numbers. This is a hard thing (for both of us) and when they can do it, our eyes are a little more bright and our backs are a little more straight and our grin is a little more wide and we soar. Together. Cuz' it was hard. And we did it. And now we have faith that we can do even more.

And so.
I teach.