Hans is Eight

The littlest Hansie Boy (Hans, Hansie, Hansie Boy, Hansen, and sometimes The Hansie) got baptized!

And on his very birthday even! (It seemed almost too good to be true when he learned that his stake-scheduled baptismal date would land on the very day he would turn 8. It made him feel very special. And we all made a great fuss over the fact.)

We all like this boy SO MUCH. Oh it's true enough that he can bellow and mope with the best of them (for example "This is the worst day ever!" he's been known to wail after some small, perceived injustice has befallen him); and no child has ever come out of bed--when he should be going to bed--more frequently. Nevertheless, it is universally agreed amongst the family (particularly the older set) that never has a more pleasant and agreeable little lad existed.

One of the most pleasant hours I've ever spent, in fact, was the hour that involved just the two of us driving off in the cold and dark for his baptismal interview, answering questions and chatting with the bishop, then driving home together talking about it all. He was just so ... oh I don't know ... a delight to be with and to listen to as he chattered away about things like stars and black holes, then answered questions from the bishop with such unpretentious and joyful little thoughtfulness. On the way home he said to me, "Mom, I know another symbol Jesus going under the water could be. It could be kind of like how far he'll go for each of us." 

Dear boy. 

Perhaps we should just keep him 8 forever.

All of the family, other than his missionary sister Goldie, got to participate in the baptismal program. 

Summer and Mette did opening and closing prayers.

Penny lead the music.

I spoke on baptism and Daisy spoke on the gift of the Holy Ghost (giving him a darling little treasure box--just like my mom has occasionally made for the grandkids--full of items symbolizing what the Holy Ghost will do for Hans).

The youngest four all sang "We'll Bring the World His Truth".

Abe baptized him (while Jesse and Anders served as witnesses).

And Mike confirmed him.

Such a happy day!

And, of course, the day included a few other things as well. ... 

(He wanted to decorate his own cake. It's ... the Eye of Sauron on it's tower.)

Happy 8th birthday Hansie! And happy baptismal day! You are a bright and delightful little human! And we love and adore you!

This Morning. And Etc.

This morning had an extra early start. Mike and Jesse needed to leave at 6:45 for a visit with Jesse's eye doctor/specialist in Ogden (we've been seeing Dr. Bullard since Jesse's extreme eye allergies first caused him to rub a hole in his cornea clear back in about 1st grade).

Their leaving was a bit earlier than it otherwise would have needed to be because one of our cars had to be dropped off at an auto shop along the way. (Which meant Jesse drove a car on his own--following Mike through Sardine Canyon in the dark. We are certainly breaking him into driving on his own now that he's got a license.) 

Their departure with two cars also meant that Penny and Anders would need to take the bus--which comes along about a half hour before they usually leave.

I drove them to the bus stop to shield them from a walk and wait in the cold. 

(We've had quite a cold streak settle over us [some polar vortex that has reached its icy little fingers all the way to us]. This morning was -1 when we headed out. So cold. I usually like the sound of crunching across snow, but somehow when it's this frozen walking on it gives me the same sensation as fingernails on a chalkboard [or, as most disturbed me when I was little, the lid of a porcelain jar scraping across the top before settling on]. On the positive side: the usual muck that my kids track in through the winter months has decreased markedly since ... all muck is frozen solid!)

But back to this morning. Early start. Back home to get little kids off. And now I've got a sick little Starling here on the couch by me. Between the hours of 9 pm and 7 am she threw up about every hour on the hour. I probably didn't help by letting her drink water when her stomach clearly could not keep anything down, but she kept whimpering so pleadingly for water that I couldn't deny her. (And anyway. throwing up water might actually feel better than repeatedly gagging and heaving up nothing?)

I've got water boiling for all of the toothbrushes that were remotely close to hers. Not that that will help much when Summer came out this morning and mindlessly took a long drink out of the same cup I'd been using for Starling all night! Sigh. (It did occur to me, after having a few children, that every choice to have another was, among many other things, a choice to spend many nights cleaning up throw up. It is a fact.)

And that's an entry I guess? Well. So it is. Oh except I might add: despite all the cold, we have had very little snow this winter. (The only reason we currently have any here at all [to make the unpleasant sound I was referring to] is because it's been too cold for the tiny bit we've had to melt.) I hate to note this, but ... had we gotten our foundation poured during the exceptionally warm fall like I'd hoped to, we couldn't have asked for a better winter for house building to carry on. Alas. And alack.

Now, off to switch some thrown-up-on blankets to the dryer! Huzzah.

Moving Back into Routine

The holidays are receding in our mental rearview mirrors, and we are re-establishing all our regular routines and comings and goings around here. The college kids have left us. And I'm back to waking up at 6 or 6:30 to get the day going. Older kids heading off into the cold and dark at 7 or 7:20 (depending on if they are taking the bus or driving). Younger kids heading out between 8 and 9 (depending on if they've got before-school piano/orchestra or not). 

I've taken down the last of the Christmas lights (I left them up for several extra weeks simply to prolong the amount of time of more light in the house. There are just never enough lights in the evenings for me). And Mike, whose hours--during the last several months of 2024--were actually quite a bit lighter than they have ever been before, is back to being gone for 13 or so hours a day. Which, especially during the dark months, always feels very heavy for me. Why is having him gone so hard on me? I don't even know for sure. But it always is. But, January. Return to routine and normal. Not that things have settled into ordinary without a few hiccups and extra demands and big happenings (all the college kids back for Hansie's baptism for one--which I'll write about later). We've had propane tanks run dry, and kids sick and throwing up, unexpected reasons to run down to Ogden, days off for the high school and the middle school during parent-teacher conferences, meetings with our builder and with the county over green belt stuff, etc.

(Of course, maybe all of those departures from the day-to-day sorts of things are the routine and ordinary.)

In any case, a few photos that have just been floating about--homeless--for the last several weeks. 

Penny before Sadie's

The first set of photos with my new lens on my camera. Not good lighting or anything. Just excited to click the shutter closed! And there Anders, Daisy ... and Shasta were. 

Little friend when we had to do a tiny report for school about a "community helper" of her choice. (I may have heavily influenced her towards one that we already had a costume for.)

Crazy hair day. Starling, Mette and Summer all had snowmen buns.

These hoodlums helped Mike build a trough for the steers' hay.

Gaming. ...

Doing Abe's trick of hitting the top of a glass bottle half full of water in just such a way that the bottom blows off. Still none of us can do it but Abe. 

Abe's third year of ice-climbing in Ouray with friends. 

The moon setting Monday morning. 

Goldie's last transfer she's the Sister Training Leader over a district that a friend from our old Pleasant View ward is serving in. Small world!

Silver Jubilee

Sunday was our 25th wedding anniversary. 25! A quarter of a century. If I were to look it up, an anniversary that big would probably even have a special name. A golden or a silver or a ... bronze?

OK, I just went and looked it up. It's a "silver anniversary". One site even called it a "silver jubilee"! How's that for something? A jubilee??? We may have missed a golden  silver opportunity to do something really grand! (I just told Mike this and he informed me that the wife always plans the "silver jubilee". Haha. So I guess the blame for any lack of celebrating lands squarely at my feet.)

As it was, we loaded up the van and the Bronco with enough snow gear, sugar cereal, and games to clothe, feed, and entertain an army (11 being practically an army); stopped in rain and mud to stock the goats, chickens, and steers up on hay and grain; and then drove to Bear Lake (me in the Bronco, Mike and the kids in front of me in the van).

It was the second most treacherous drive through that canyon that I've experienced. (Yes, there was one worse actually!) The forecast rain turned to a blizzard of wind and snow. (Though not until we were too far in for turning back to even be a possibility.) It was dark. And during many points I truly could see neither Mike's lights in front of me nor anything about which direction the winding canyon road was turning. It was pretty terrifying honestly, and I was clutching my wheel tensely and praying out loud nearly the entire way--sometimes almost in tears and basically crying out for help for me and for Mike and the kids in front of me--wherever they were. Every time I would be most certain there was no way to know where to go ... the reflection of one more road marker would become visible and give me another foot of guidance, or a car's lights would appear out of the snow coming towards me and I'd see the curve of the road again for a minute. Some perfect metaphor for a talk in there, I am sure. And should I share this? At one point I felt quite distinctly that a distant and deceased Norwegian cousin of mine (whose family Shannon and I have been finding and doing temple work for) and who I've felt an especially strong connection with was sitting next to me letting me know that help was here. Not only would I be safe, but Mike and the kids were already being protected as well. It was such a strong and certain comfort I could hardly believe it. (Though the roads got so much worse after that reassurance that I doubted the certainty I'd felt many times over the remaining drive! A metaphor there as well. "Did I not speak peace to your mind concerning the matter?" Yes. But I forget. And need it repeated quite often. Ha.)

But, as you've likely guessed by the fact that I am here typing this, we arrived safe and sound at the cabin! And all that wildness turned instantly to peace and still--quiet, snowy, white night and us, in excitement and relief, forging a path through it all into a cozy cabin. (Or one that would get cozy once we got the heat going anyway.)

There was sledding.

When the kids were all getting geared up, I asked Mike, "How much do you need me to come sledding with you guys? ..." 

He responded, "3."

"Out of 10?" I asked, hopefully.

He nodded.

Hah. Such a good husband.

"Yes!" I pumped my fist inward, hugged him, and sent them all off while I relaxed on the couch and got caught up on a mess of disorganized photos.

But every now and then a text would come through with a few delightful pictures! (Well, perhaps we shouldn't call Hansie's bloody lip "delightful”. But the rest!)

And there was snowshoeing. (Mike had to head back to Logan on that day, but I sent Abe, Dais, Pen and Jesse snowshoeing while the rest of the kids went on a "snow adventure walk" with me. ["Snow adventure walk" can also be translated as "Every kid is suited up and ready to do more sledding, but we accidentally left all the sleds in the back of the van that the snowshoers took and need to make everyone still think we are having fun.")

Daisy took all the snowshoeing photos--which, sadly, means there is no her in them.

(Jesse taking a box for a spin as they headed to the car on first leaving to go snowshoeing.)

There was also New Year's Eve. We played games and went into Garden City for the tree-burning bonfire and fireworks. A fun atmosphere.

Summer looks like such a cute little rosy-cheeked gnome that I can hardly handle it.

In the end I suppose it was a pretty good way to celebrate the beginning of this family 25 years ago. Hurrah. Happy New Year and Happy Silver Jubilee.