What's going on?

I guess when your children are young, everything is soooooo busy. There is so much to do in life. There are so many things I want my children to experience, and a lot of these things they can and should only do when they are children. Really, can they go trick or treating when they are big teenage boys? Would they really be interested in starting piano lessons when they are teenagers? Maybe, but will we have money for the lessons in ten years. Maybe, maybe not. Anyway, I feel like I'm racing against the clock to make sure my kids do all they can while they can. I try to not be overly stressed about it though. There is only so much we can afford, and only so much we have time for. We took the kids out past Delta, Utah to dig for trilobites. We were quite successful but we found out that one of our children didn't like it. He wasn't too good at perservering, especially when he saw that other people were finding more than he was. I was so mad that we'd drivin so far so he could have this experience and he ended up hating it. But of course my husband talked some sense to me and reminded me that our job as parents is to expose them to things. If they like it, great. If they don't, they don't. There's nothing we can do to force them to like something. I hate shrimp! There's nothing anyone can do to make me like it. I wish my son liked hunting for trilobites, but he doesn't. Oh well. I'll live.

This particular child received a rock tumbler last Christmas. A really nice rock tumbler. He finally pulled it out and threw some dusty rocks into it. You can see them at the beginning of this post. I couldn't figure out how to move the picture down to this part. Anyway, I was really impressed with how they turned out. At least he likes to tumble rocks. Who wouldn't? They turned out so nice and smooth and pretty. I remember the yearly road trips my family and I would take from California to Utah every year. We'd have to stop for gas several times throughout the trip. In the Sierra Nevadas and in Nevada. In the gas stations and casinos, where my dad would sometimes stop to throw away his money, there would almost always be a big box of gems and geodes and things of that nature. You could fill a little leather bag full of the "treasure" and feel like you owned a bit of the Old West. I saw my kids burying their hands in piles and piles of polished rocks at the "This is the Place" monument in Salt Lake City. I understand that desire. I used to love the feel of smooth, polished rocks.

Halloween came finally. After four years out of the country, we were finally able to celebrate this holiday in the USA. My husband told me, "If you go into labor on Halloween, I'll be so mad!" I was a bit worried that I might screw it up for everyone. Fortunately, our baby stayed put and I was able to experience the stress only a mother feels, the day before Halloween. I think I should now be grateful that I've been out of the country for four years. It's saved me from having to scramble around finding costumes for my kids who become more demanding every day. I think I bought my first Halloween costume this year because I didn't want to "deal with it". I did, however, make my four year old's costume because he wanted to be R2D2 and I saw a really cool R2D2 helmet that a girl made online. I copied it and he was very pleased. They got tons of candy and I guess in the end I was happy for them. I remember the day after Halloween when I was a kid. My brothers and I would always get together and have a big trading time in front of the TV. I'm sure most American kids whose parents let them eat candy did too. Why keep a Baby Ruth if your brother wants to give you his skittles?

Our baby girl finally came on the 2nd of November. I won't bore anyone with the whole story. In short, she came on her own, she came quickly, and we have all adjusted nicely to this new addition. Her name is Helen Kleio McCollum. I know, it's not unique enough. But for us, it is. Helen of Troy is pretty unique, and Kleio is the Muse of History. Google it.

Plus, Helen of Troy and Hector of Troy were brother and sister in law (if you consider Helen and Paris husband and wife, which they weren't really) Hector, as you see above, is growing nicely. Especially in the chin area. He and his little sister will get along wonderfully we hope. Here he is reading train books with daddy. His favorite word is "Choo choo".

What a pair! Atticus and Sherman started piano lessons back in September and they are learning so much. They had their first piano recital last week and did great.

Helen made her first friend around her three week mark. What she likes about R2D2 is that he's soft, he likes to beep, and he stays in one place. Cinci is nice enough to share him with her.

Here's my nephew eating by himself at Thanksgiving. All the other kids were running around the church playing games and trying not to scream too loud. For the last four years we've celebrated Thanksgiving abroad. I think while we were in Turkey we didn't even celebrate it once. We were so poor I didn't have the energy nor means to do anything different than we normally did which was make a meal with what we already had in the little fridge. I don't even think a bird the size of a turkey would have fit in the fridge we had at the time. In Qatar the first year we celebrated famously. I remember I was pregnant with Hector, the kids wove placemats, and we bought orange plastic chalices to drink from. I made two whole chickens instead of a turkey and we drank shirley temples. It was very fun and the kids enjoyed it a lot. We actually talked about what we were grateful for before we took our first bites. Then last year in Qatar I made our family eat only the things they had to eat on the Mayflower for three days before Thanksgiving. Then we went to the meal that the church planned and had Thanksgiving dinner there. My kids didn't enjoy it as much as the previous year but I think they were grateful they could eat whatever they wanted again. This year there were so many festivities going on that I couldn't arrange to have the three days before Thanksgiving be devoted only to the Mayflower diet. We only did one day and that was enough. I made up another batch of hard tack, we ate our oatmeal made with water (yuck), and instead of frying fish fillets for everyone, most of us had fish sticks. I even splurged and let those who wanted lemon have it on their fish. We enjoyed Thanksgiving with our family. Aunt Wendy, who isn't really my aunt but my sister in law, went all out as usual. She loves to cook and try new recipes. Every obscure word involved with cooking or names of foods that are rarely eaten in the United States I learned from her. I suppose she deserves a special nickname. Perhaps "Sunset Lady" would be okay. I'll have to consult my husband for more ideas. Anyway, because of Sunset Lady, we did not have to slave away in the kitchen that day. We arrived at the church, which is where we had our meal, and everything was already there. Perfect! It was nice to be around family for a change.

Here's Great Grandma Hill with little Helen. There are 92 years in between these two ladies. Words can't express what thoughts come to mind when I look at this picture (and I'm not trying to be sappy). I guess I'll let the picture speak for itself.

Can Sentimentality ever = Practicality?

Today I spent a good chunk of time going through the storage area I have in my in-laws house, which we happen to be living in right now. We've thrown all our toys, bedding, and clothes, and other sentimental documents and items into this small room. Since I found out about two months ago that I'm pregnant with a little girl, I've come to the realization that I will have to get rid of a lot of the boy clothes we've accumulated over these past 7 years. We have four boys. So, I went through them. I looked at each outfit and remembered who wore it the most. Some of the things we've barely used. Bibs, for example. There are a pile of unused bibs in my to-go box. I made four piles of keepers. One for each of my children. They included the outfit they came home from the hospital in and a few other select outfits that I can't bear to part with. I even kept a 18 month bomber jacket that my in-laws bought for my first born, which he hardly wore. The thing is he's really into airplanes and I thought I'd keep it, just in case he has a little boy someday. I can't believe I'm thinking that far ahead. Is this unhealthy? Me, saving clothes for my grandkids? Am I turning into my mother?

Here's a photo of Sherman on his 2nd birthday at Oakmeadow Park in Los Gatos, California. My home town and one of the most popular parks in the area. The sweater he is wearing was purchased one winter day when Jonathan, who actually had to dress the kids one morning, realized, "These kids don't have any clothes to wear!" So he packed them up and took them down to Wal-Mart for a shopping spree. No doubt a skill he learned from his mother, one of the best shoppers I know. When I came home from school that day I found the children decked out in Sesame Street and Mickey Mouse sweatsuits. That is why I'm sad to see this little sweatsuit go. Whenever I see it, I remember the days when Jonathan and I were both in school still and Atticus and Sherman dealt with our crazy schedules. Our luxuries were going to IHOP with cousins and actually buying something frivolous at Wal-Mart instead of just groceries. This little sweatsuit was one of those frivolities. Life was simple and good, very good. Sigh.

Anyway, I'm trying to think of a way to use these little outfits in a practical way. Is it possible to make something sentimental practical? Can it be done? Well, my husband is gone for a few more days and my creative juices are flowing. Maybe I'll think of an idea.

I got rid of a massive box of clothes. Actually, I haven't gotten rid of them yet. They are sitting in a box outside the storage room right now. But it is a step in the right direction. All those little clothes covered the sweet, chunky bodies of my little boys. Atticus, who is now a walking bunch of angles, used to have creases. Those clothes bring such sweet memories I feel like I'm about to cry. I know, I'm pregnant. Lately, I've cried at about everything I've read the kids. Cecily's Summer and Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet just to name a couple. I bawled my eyes out watching White Fang last night.

Well, instead of crying over little clothes, I'm going to spend the rest of this evening putting clean sheets on my bed. Then I'm going to lay on it and think about either health insurance or the next step on my chalkboard project for the schoolroom. Good night!

Beets and Arrows

It's been way too long since my last post and since I do not keep a journal, I feel guilty that I haven't written. I need to write more often. I like remembering. My third son, Cinci, has an excellent memory and lately has been telling me the minute details of events in the past and then asking, "Do you remember? Do you remember?" Of course I don't. I'm Christine. The woman who can't remember the plot of a romantic comedy seen in the last year. It's kind of sad that my memory is so very bad. That's why this blog is so important to me. I must press on.
Our summer came and went too quickly! We left Doha the very same day Jonathan finished work, stayed with friends in London for five days, Jonathan took Atticus and Sherman to Paris on the TGV, and then we flew to San Francisco. We stayed with the parents for ten days in California and then drove to Utah to finally settle in a home. Not our home, but a home that will be ours for the next year. We camped as soon as we could and then on the 20th of June real life started. Jonathan is at school and work and I am home with the kiddos trying to make life interesting.
This evening while Jonathan put the kids to bed I went outside and shot some arrows at our stack of straw that we hauled home for just that purpose. When it got too dark to aim decently, I decided to weed our small vegetable garden. Then I became inspired to plant some more seeds in the empty spots where nothing was growing. Beets. I needed beets. I will definitely have to make some borscht this fall. This is actually my first vegetable garden and I know I'm not supposed to plant seeds in the ground this late in the summer. But hey! I had them and I had some empty spots. If they don't grow, oh well. If they grow and then get frozen, oh well. You live, you learn. Who knows if I'll ever have a chance to plant a vegetable garden ever again in my life? Jonathan and I could go anywhere next summer. Anywhere! What if I'm living in a high rise apartment building in the middle of Dubai? What are my chances of gardening there? As I look at my small garden I feel pretty satisfied that its still alive. I drive by neighbors who have massive, very symmetrical gardens, with rows and rows of crops. It's intimidating! When I see them just growing under the sun I think that I should be trying harder. But something that I've learned in my life that may only apply to me, Christine McCollum, is that I should never, absolutely never, NEVER, bite off more than I can chew. For the sake of my own sanity, and especially the sake of my dear husband and children. Things never turn out right if I try to do too much stuff. I think that's one reason why I never do my hair in the morning, rarely wear make up, make very simple meals, spend no time decorating my home, and am a lamoid when it comes to fashion. None of those things would factor into a Christine sized bite.
So, just for the record, Sherman lost his first tooth sometime between June 2 and now (I have a bad memory), Cinci got his first set of stitches last week because he walked into a wooden balcony support at the neighbors house, and we found out that we are having a baby girl in late October.

Our lives passed away . . .

The blowing out of Sherman's 6 candles.

I believe the Book of Mormon is a true record of the people that lived on the American continent centuries before the arrival of Christopher Columbus. One of the men that wrote in the book was named Jacob and he states very beautifully, "And it came to pass that I, Jacob, began to be old; and the record of this people being kept on the other plates of Nephi, wherefore I conclude this record, declaring that I have written according to the best of my knowledge, by saying that the time passed away with us, and also our lives passed away like as it were unto us a dream, we being a lonesome and a solemn people, wanderers, cast out from Jerusalem, born in tribulation, in a wilderness, and hated of our brethren, which caused wars and contentions; wherefore, we did mourn out our days."
Being married to a man that is probably more passionate about history than he is about me, I have gained an appreciation for primary sources. This gorgeous writing above has always been on my list of 'poetic' verses from the scriptures. Only now has it started flashing in my memory as we prepare to move from Qatar and start afresh again. Especially the part where he mentions that his life and the lives of his people have passed like a dream. Even though six days still remain before we get on the plane, I am already starting to close my little book of Qatar 2009-11 and go to look for a place to store it on the shelves of memory. I know that whenever I pull out that book to look back, it will be "like unto me as a dream". Just like my childhood is, or my episode in Spain as a teenager, or the mission I served for 18 months in Toronto. All dreams. All shelved away.

"Time passed away," also has made me think about how time keeps moving. Last night Back to the Future was on. Michael J. Fox is a great runner, by the way, and I love the 'life preserver' vest he wears. Anyway, the playing with time that Hollywood does, and also many authors have done, really is pleasant and fascinating because time is something that we all value. Who wouldn't want just a little more time? A little more time in that moment? A little more time with that person? To see what it was like to live in that time? Etc. So, my time and your time is passing away as I write and you read this post. It will never come back and I ask myself, "What should I be doing with my time?" Jacob still speaks today for many Mormons through this record he left. Do you have a record? What would you like to leave behind after you pass on out of this world?

I keep no record. I keep a few papers here and there of my kids' drawings and writings and a few tangible memories. A written record? I guess this blog will have to qualify until I settle down in a house to call my own. And maybe my kids won't care about my record. But maybe others will. I love hearing about how my mother could buy doughnuts for a nickel when she was a kid, how she ran barefoot all day through the orchards, and how her father taught her how to plant sweet corn.

All this while, as I ponder the mysteries of time and the universe, I still enjoy these moments and try to really enjoy my children as they are. Sherman turned 6 years old today. He is a fine, generous, young man who certainly does his name justice.

Costa Rica is calling!

I'm feeling full from the two Ukranian dumplings I just ate. The weather is great. It was great last night too. Skies were grey and cloudy, wind blew, even thunder sounded (once), and the palm trees swayed back and forth. Gorgeous! It took me back in time to another place and I told my husband who was pushing the stroller next to me, "I want to go back to Costa Rica so bad!" When I was 19 years old I got it into my head that I was going to go and work in Costa Rica. It was a bit strange because I didn't know anyone there, nor was there anything in particular that I wanted to see there. I had traveled a lot (de mi propia cuenta) before that time and I had the travel bug. I was itching to leave my boring life in the Bay Area of California. It really wasn't that boring, but young people are never satisfied. I mean, people in general are never satisfied. I flew to San Jose, stayed in a hostel, met a girl at church, moved in with her, found a job teaching English to little kids, hated it, quit, and traveled around the country looking for an exotic job at a beach resort or something like that. All the men gave me greedy looks and the managers were slimy so I went back to San Jose and moved back in with my friend, Zuhayla. We had some good times together. She was practical, I was ditzy and naive. A perfect match. I met one of her good friends and fell in love. You know, that kind of young love that you think is real and could be if you really tried to make it work. Well, it didn't work, and I returned to the US resolute to serve an LDS mission. Costa Rica knocked the ditziness right out of me. I wanted something real, substantial, worthwhile, rewarding, and self-sacrificing. But the whole point of my post was to express the draw Costa Rica has on me. I haven't been to any other country south of the US border except Mexico. Not real Mexico mind you. I guess you could call it it's own little place. Tijuana. But anyway, Costa Rica is pulling on me. The life in the streets. The chaos, the interaction, the smells, the moisture, the attitudes, the loudness of the ladies, the spunkiness of the mothers, the bravado of the men, the tastes, the language. So many things. I remember I took a road trip with this friend of mine to Guanacaste, the hottest part of the country up on the Pacific coast. We stayed in Brasilito. It was so hot and the mosquitos were so thick I barely slept. But it didn't matter, I had no kids at the time. Sleep only becomes precious when you are a mother. We walked one day to the next beach over, Playa Conchal. To describe it would seem cliche. All those words they use to describe your dream beach destination. My vocabulary isn't extensive enough to outdo those descriptions. But what I really remember was the contrast between Brasilito and Conchal. Both beaches were great. But in Brasilito there was a community of native Ticos (Costa Ricans) living in shabby houses. The kids ran around shirtless. I wondered if and where they went to school. There weren't that many structures around. There was one little shop where you could buy a few food items but nothing substantial enough to feed a family with unless you were going to feed them gummy candies and soda pop for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. The sand was light brown, the structures were brown, the people were brown, everything was brown. I liked the feeling there. The freedom. The price of the water. In Conchal everything turned white. The sand and the people. There was a resort that was built about 1000 feet inland, just inside the trees, that was full of slow moving westerners. White people, turned pink from laying out too much. They were all lounging about in their paradisiacal swimming pools. They would bob over to the poolside bar and order their mind numbing cocktails and look around and be relaxed. We tried to buy some water there, but the price was crazy! Of course, I could afford it, but I wasn't willing to waste my money on water when I could buy it in Brasilito for much less. So I walked back and did. That was my very first glimpse of a luxurious lifestyle. I'd never seen such behavior in my life. Even growing up in a well to do area of California, I'd never seen such contrast. Anyway, I remember thinking about how it would be fun to live in Brasilito with my kids someday and have them run around shirtless all day. Of course, it wasn't a sure thing that I would ever get married or have kids at that time. But my life has moved forward and I do indeed have kids and a husband. If we moved to Brasilito they could be free, not worry about traffic, and I wouldn't have to do laundry very much because they could wear the same pair of shorts every day. We could eat fruit all day and every day. I guess the mosquitos would be the problem. And in my free time I could teach the local urchins to read in English and Spanish in exchange for some home made Gallo Pinto, my most favorite food in the whole wide world!

Cuando tenga mi casita, when someday I have my house

cana dulce y buen amor, cana dulce and good love

una vida noble y buena, una vida noble y buena, a noble and good life, a noble and good life

pasare sin un rencor. I will pass without a grudge

The above is a Costa Rican song that my Tican friend taught me. We sang it together back in 2008. You can check it out on YouTube if you want. Just type in Cana Dulce and it will come up.

Gingerbread Train Station 2010

We've been working on establishing holiday traditions since we've been living overseas. Making and decorating a gingerbread house was one of them. Last year we did our first one.

This year we vowed to do something a little more extravagant. I found an idea online for a gingerbread train station. "That's it!" I thought. Plus I already had the train cake pan. So I designed this one myself. What usually happens is I start out with grand ideas but they diminish as time goes by. So I got started with what you see in the photo below.Then I finished up the top triangular part with sugar cookies because I did not want to make a whole other batch of gingerbread. My husband is not partial to gingerbread. We had kids over to decorate on Christmas day. "One for me, one for the station, one for me, one for the station," I could hear them thinking as they popped the candy into their mouths.

As you can see below, I never bothered to finish the other half of the roof. I figured that it had enough candy and it looked good so I considered it done.

We ate it last night with our faithful neighbors Sophia and Christian for our New Year's celebration. We exploded some party poppers and ran around in circles screaming. Then we dumped all the candyless gingerbread in the garbage can. I am quite grateful for the clear counter space again.

Happy New Year to you all!

What's wrong with this picture?

Dukhan 1

Our adventures in Doha have been pretty exciting. Ever since Atticus saw one of his friends using flippers he's wanted to buy some for himself. So with his allowance for last month and for the next three months he got some finally. Sherman got some too and so did Daddy. So we thought it our duty to go somewhere to use them. Where to go? Where to go?

For those of you who aren't familiar with Qatar, it is a small peninsula on the Arabian Gulf about the size of Connecticut. You'd think there would be plenty of places to go snorkeling on a peninsula. Our neighbors had just made a trip to Dukhan and seen quite a bit of sealife. So we embarked on our journey across the country. Fortunately, we live out in the boonies of Doha anyway so we were halfway there. It's true! Looking at the map it shows Doha on one side and Dukhan on the other. It takes just as long to get from the coast of Doha to Education City (where I live) as it takes to get from Education City to Dukhan's coast. There is so much traffic congestion in Doha that it makes me never want to go out. Well, not really. But sometimes. Anyway, the picture below shows you the scenic drive we had while driving west. Going west! Ahh! It felt great to be out in the open. The nice four lane highway, completely empty the whole way there. We saw some wild camels out chomping away at the shrubbery. Then we saw a herd of them running along. It was great. I was just too slow to get a photo. I was too taken in by the beauty of the drive. Ha! I never thought I would consider Nevada's desert beautiful. Well, it is. I'd take Nevada's desert over this one any day. At least you get some color in the sky. On some days it's so dusty you don't even want to breathe. The photo below is of the Emir's palace. This is a photo of it from a distance. I've heard of people trying to get photo's of it up close but were asked to leave by the gaurds. You can't see the palace. It's inside this massive wall surrounding his household. It is literally a walled city with streets inside it. He must have hundreds of servants. Hundreds!

So I have only two photos of our trip to Dukhan. One on the road there, and one on the way back. Sorry people. No good shots. We got there, the sky cleared up. It was sort of blue. We got to the beach and it was empty! Not one person could we find on that beach. It was a bit windy! What's a little wind? Wimps! So we drove out there and followed the instructions of our neighbor on how to get to the part of beach that has the reef. We got our van stuck in the sand. It sucked! Getting your van stuck in the sand at a secluded beach that no one is likely to go to until the next day is a little bit nerve racking. Especially for Jonathan I'm sure. For some strange reason I don't panic when he's around because I notice that he does it for me. I got out of the van and encouraged the kids to also. Why sit inside and worry? We tried to push it. We tried putting stuff under the wheels for them to catch on. We tried going forward, then backward. No luck. Then we prayed. Then this really nice Qatari man and his family drove by and helped us. He and Jonathan managed to get our car out of the sandpit while his cute, half naked little boy galloped in the sand with my boys. A godsend!

Hector was pretty pissed off that he had to stay in the van the whole time. The wind outside was strong but it also started to rain a little. We managed to keep our kids outside playing for a good 45 minutes before it was too painful. Painful because the wind blew up sand, but sand mixed with rain hurts. Small pellets of wet sand pitter pattering all over your skin starts to sting after a while. We didn't even try out the snorkeling gear we bought. The waves were too strong. I know, it sounds unreal. Waves in Qatar. The beaches are unusually calm in Qatar normally. We just picked the wrong day.

So that was the latest adventure of Bunsy and her Tumbleweeds. And to top it off, we saw a real ball of tumbleweed roll across the highway in front of us on our drive home.

P.S. I realize that the revealing nature of these photos may destroy any hope I might have had in getting at least one visitor out to Doha during our life here. Doha does have some beauties and from now on I will try my best to capture them. Hopefully, someone will change their mind and want to visit.

Does anyone know how to get a picture to fit in the frame at the top of my blog?

So, where did you learn to ski?

Atticus and Sherman in the airplane.

My husband is the bestest! He took care of Cinci and baby Hector while Atticus, Sherman, and I went off to Dubai for a three day vacation. I stayed with a friend, Tiffani, and I am so thankful she doesn't put a lot of effort into decorating her home. I was a little scared because my boys can get pretty rowdy sometimes, but there weren't any glass coffee tables, fancy vases or porcelain statues for them to break. She put up with my kids lack of manners and my lack of preparedness, and did it all with a sick child and a 7 month fetus in her belly.

My main reason for taking the kids was to get them started on skiing. In Dubai they have a big snow dome where they have ski lessons, snowboarding lessons, and all that other fun snow stuff. But Dubai not only has the snow dome, but it has the tallest building in the world and the craziest malls too. If I were to go back to Dubai this is what I would have done differently.

1. Not rented a car. Taxis are abundant and cheap.

2. Not stepped foot in any of the malls without a knowledgable friend (AKA Tiffani Bates) to direct me.

3. Taken my husband with me.

4. Not missed my flight home.

5. Not cried so much. I'm such a baby.

This was the very first time that I've ever been in unfamiliar surroundings without my husband (since we've been married.) It was hard. At least when we were together one of us was taking care of the kids and the other could deal with getting us where we had to go. I missed him a lot. I've taken for granted how fun it is to discover things together. He's a wonderful travel companion with a lot of passion for the unknown. Atticus and Sherman were really excited about the Burj Khalifa, the tallest building in the world, though. As we exited the airport and got on the freeway we saw it towering above everything else. It almost doubles the height of the next tallest building near it. It really is a sight to see. Very shimmery and sharp. The kids just giggled as they looked at it.

Ski Dubai, the snow dome place, is an excellent place to go to have your kids learn to ski. Not that I've taken my kids to the real slopes. I really don't know anything besides Ski Dubai. But I think its great, and I'll keep coming back every time I can. You don't have to worry about any equiptment, clothing, or driving up a snowy mountain. You don't even have to bring a jacket for yourself. Atticus and Shermy just wore shorts and a T-shirt under the suits they rented. Their classes only lasted an hour, which is perfect for their ages. They loved it and did really well. Last year I was thinking about taking them to Austria or Germany to ski, but I'm so glad I chose Dubai. Much more affordable and comfortable. I remember the days when I would go skiing at Brighton in Utah. I just don't like having cold toes. I'm a wimp about being cold. But I won't let that keep my kids from learning to ski. What if they love it and are really good at it? What if they like being cold?

Atticus in his ski class.

We are home in little old Doha now. It really is little. Little, stark, dusty, and perfect. Perfect for me and my family right now. Our trip to Dubai was great though. I'm hoping Jonathan will take a trip there during his vacation because not only do they have Taco Bell there, but they also have a Baja Fresh!

Bertha Sanchez Dryg

As of this month, all my grandparents are dead. It's hard to believe that I'm not the third generation anymore in family photos. Jonathan and I are getting older and find ourselves one step closer to grandparenthood, which is pretty exciting to me. My father's mother, Bertha Dryg (Sanchez) passed away earlier this month. She was 98 years old and lived a very colorful and adventurous life. Despite the many years that I lived just a few blocks from her, I have very few memories of her. Sadly, I can sum them up on one hand.

1. When I was 5 or 6 years old my grandparents were taking care of me for an evening and they took me to the mall. As we walked past a toy store, there I saw her in the window. "Dream Dancer, she turns herself around!" was how the commercial song went. It turns out that I cried and whined for them to buy my this toy, and they actually gave in! I couldn't believe it. I never would have tried this method on my parents. That's why when my grandparents commented on my spoiled behavior to my parents, they were puzzled. That was the only time I remember my grandparents watching me.

2. My grandmother gave the biggest parties on Thanksgiving and Easter. These were almost the only times I mingled with my fathers side of the family.

3. She always wore earrings with a ball on them, or a big stone. Not dangly ones. And she has given me a few jewelry boxes over the years.

4. She told me a story once. Her mother was a midwife in Bolivia and sometimes she went with her to help out. After helping a woman give birth to a premature child, a very premature one, my grandmother was to run the child to the priest before it died. She said the baby was no bigger than a matchbox. She ran as fast as she could, checking every so often to see if it's heart was still beating. She made it to the priest's house and the child was blessed, but died minutes after. Years after hearing that story I learned that my grandmother gave birth to one of her children all alone on the floor of a small shop she ran. I'm sure what she learned from her mother helped her out in that situation.

I guess I can only think of four memories. The rest I know about my grandmother comes from stories or things I've heard about her from other family members. She did tell me what her favorite song was. "Wayward Wind" by Gogi Grant.

I wish I had a recent picture of her with me in Qatar so I could post it along with this, but I don't. Thankfully my sister in law, Tara, just posted one on her blog. She's great about pictures. There is this one picture that I saw of my grandparents when they were married and when I saw it I thought, "Wow! My grandmother was a beautiul woman!" Anyway, I am sorry I didn't make the trip to see her before she died.

Goodbye 2009!

From the adventures of bunsy and her tumbleweeds

On New Years Eve I watched as my children and some friends galloped through a mist of sparkling confetti screaming at the tops of their lungs. Then I joined in the frenzy that took place shortly after as they devoured our small gingerbread house. Just seeing their glee made me float back in time to moments of similar happiness that I experienced with my siblings and friends and cousins as a child. Never did I experience these moments alone. There was always someone else there. People are so important in life. My children have eachother, thank goodness, they have me and Jonathan as parents, thank goodness, and they have a wonderful extended family that we get to play with every summer. Occasionally they have good friends to play with too. When I look back at this year that has just passed I find myself focusing more on the people we've met or visited than the places we've been or things that we've accomplished. Really, I haven't accomplished much. My

resolutions for last year were not fulfilled. In fact, I had to read last year's post to remember what they were. I just had one. To love my husband better. The only thing I did better this year than in previous years is give him a really good birthday surprise. I'm going to repeat the same resolution again this year. Without him, our family life sucks. If he's not happy I'm not. I know that everyone says, "If Mom's not happy, no one is." Well, I disagree. I think the saying can go for Mom and Dad. If the head of your family is not happy, no one in the family can really experience true happiness. You may feel like you're happy but it isn't real. It's just a cover and the truth will jump out and scare you when you least expect it. I want true, real, happiness in my family this year so that's my resolution, to help my husband be happy and feel my love.

As for the year that has passed, what can I say?

"God has been good to us!. . ." -Mrs. Bennet

Just as Jane and Elizabeth Bennet were married off and brought such satisfaction to their family, God too has made my pathway bright and beautiful. All the hardships that I thought were so horrible at the time, weren't so bad. I don't even remember them right now so I can't tell you what they were. Well, I remember one now. My sewing machine broke and I cried about it. I know, lame. The point is, that happened a few days ago, and today everything is great again. So here I go, onto another year with hopes that I can see life from different perspectives other than my own. Happy New Year!

It's my Mom's birthday!

My 30th birthday while we were in Turkey.2008

The table we eat on in our kitchen is almost always dirty. It's one of those chores that is never complete. We are always using the table for something. Eating, computer work, crafts, etc. It's a wonderful and useful place. But that's not my point. My point is that I am 31 years old now and I feel like I am like that table. The activities I occupy myself with come and go, sometimes I'm clean, sometimes I'm dirty, but in the end all I really am is a tool. A tool to be used often and definitely worth the maintenance.

So in my life I've done a lot of things, seen a lot of places, and met a lot of people, etc. Sometimes I find myself measuring myself that way, by the things, places, and people I can manage to accumulate on some sort of list. But really none of that matters. What matters to me right now, what is on my table right now, is that what I'm doing right now is bringing me happiness and perhaps bringing someone else some happiness at the same time.

I'm so happy being a mom to my boys, being a wife to Jonathan, being physically healthy, having a very easy life (so easy that its scary to think what's in store for me in the future), being American, etc. It's a great time of life for me. I'm 31! My kids drew me some very thoughtful pictures. Atticus even made me a little gift and wrapped it up himself. I sort of had to force this to happen but hey! How will they ever learn to think of others on their birthdays if I don't make them think of me? "So, what did you boys do for me for my birthday?" Jonathan topped off the artwork with a bag full of chocolates. You just can't go wrong with chocolate. Then we went to church and I was asked to sit with Sherman's class during the Sunday School time in Primary. When the Primary President was welcoming visitors he stood up and walked up to her and started trying to tell her that it was my birthday. Of course, it was really hard for her to understand him because he stutters a little and his pronunciation is unique but he got it out finally, and the whole time I was just sitting there feeling really uncomfortable. I was torn between forcing him to sit down and shut up, and letting him share the news. I just didn't want people to think that I put him up to it. Oh, that Sherman! Always willing to share the latest news with everyone! Another reason I didn't stop him was because I would want him to do that for someone else if they were too shy to announce it. There are a lot of people that need Shermans to talk for them so I just couldn't stifle him this time. The children sang me the Happy Birthday song and then I was able to sit down next to my Shermy and strangle, I mean, hug him.

After church Jonathan surprised me really good. We were hoping that New Moon, the movie, would be coming out here in Doha but it didn't. So he told me that there was this movie about Hugo Chavezs' life and a party type thing going on at the Venezuelan consulate and we would go to that. So he got a babysitter and we went but of course we didn't go to the Venezuelan consulate. We went instead this awesome hotel!

It's the Four Seasons Hotel in Doha. I'd never heard of the Four Seasons Hotel before coming here. It's a really classy five star hotel and its 20 minutes from our home! I took Jonathan there for his birthday just a month and a half ago but we decided that we probably couldn't afford another night there until next year. What a surprise! I was so excited. I love the cake they give you on your birthday. Not only did they have one cake waiting in the room on arrival but they also brought another one after our dinner in the evening. Boy did I eat a lot of cake! We had to take the second one home. So we relaxed, went to the mall and walked around, watched TV, etc. In the morning after our buffet breakfast, which I couldn't really enjoy because of all the cake I stuffed myself with the night before, I decided that we should go get the kids. I swore last time we were at this hotel that we would bring the kids because their swimming pools are so nice. So Jonathan got a five o'clock check out and went to get the kids around 12. Plus, I'm sure the babysitter needed some relief too. Here are the boys all ready to jump in the pool! Atticus is really wired. Can you see him in the back

From the adventures of bunsy and her tumbleweeds

The kids had so much fun going down the slides together. Jonathan must have worn himself out with all the picking up and throwing and carrying he had to do in those pools. It was so great. The kids had so much fun and I had so much fun watching them. Of course, I just sat around most of the time like a beached whale. Thankfully this post will not be graced with a picture of me in my bathing suit although Jonathan did get a few.

Here is a faithful picture of Doha's city center. Lots of tall buildings, lots of construction, nice big roads all next to the Persian Gulf.

Mothering a muddle? No.

Sometimes I have time to look back at my life. What I used to be, what I am now, and occasionally I try to look at what I'll become if I continue in the same path I'm currently in.

I used to be a very creative little girl with unique interests. Very unique. I shunned trends, which is wrong. Just because they're a trend doesn't mean they are lame. However, when I was young I felt that most trends were impractical, self serving, and wastes of time.

When I was 11 years old I got my first job. I started delivering the afternoon newspaper and made a lot of money. I never went through that wasteful stage that most kids go through where their first wads of money disappear in an instant. My spending habits were very focused from the start. I bought a stereo. A pair of binoculars. A membership to International Pen Friends. A camera. Stamps. Notebooks. Pens of all sorts. Art supplies, even though I was never very good at art. Sheet music for the piano, although I was never very good at the piano either. I felt that my use of money was very practical. Whether it was or wasn't doesn't matter. The point is that I was able to envision something I wanted, and then make it appear with work, time, and money. What a power!

I think that's how time became so important to me. It can be used in so many ways. To our advantage or disadvantage. I was very into accomplishing things in a short amount of time. After I spent a year on a foreign exchange program in Spain I realized that not only can you spend your time doing something useful. You can do something useful somewhere else. Somewhere interesting. Anywhere in the world.

There are so many ways to live life. So many ways to learn about the world. However, I've slowly slid into a muddle. Perhaps many mothers do. I don't want to excuse myself however. I have ceased to dream those grand dreams I used to dream. I don't think about them anymore, in fact I don't know what they are anymore because I haven't thought about them in so long. I guess if you stop thinking about something you do forget it. A simple lesson. I blame it on mothering. Mothering took me, who still had plans, and gave me a helpless baby instead. What could I do? Of course, what any mother would do. Take care of it and love it to no end. And perhaps have more and more and more babies. Then slowly those previous plans float away and are gone forever. And maybe its a good thing. Maybe those plans were dumb and immature. Trying to recall them, I think they were. If they were so grand I would be able to remember them. Perhaps my muddle isn't a muddle after all. This mothering has molded me into a different creature. My time, work, and money goes elsewhere now. It goes always to them. The result I envision is much grander than anything I could have

From the adventures of bunsy and her tumbleweeds

So I have given up my old hobbies for new ones. Ones that are meant for me at this time in life. Cooking. Sewing. Song learning. Poem memorizing. Cutting. Pasting. Sleeping in strange positions. Story telling. Imagination fostering. Packing. Unpacking. Picture taking. Memory making. Enjoying the moment. Waiting. Worrying. Listening. Leading. Following. Letting.

I should probably take up a few more and I surely will as my children grow. Perhaps decorating might be beneficial on the guests eye, but really I don't think I'll ever. It's too impractical for me and definitely too impractical for my husband. Quilting? Yes, maybe. Gardening. Yes. Meditating. Yes, I hope.

Here's a picture of what you might need very soon. No, you are not going to join Little League. Your job is much more dangerous. You never know when you are going to be attacked and pounced upon by three crazy and quite bony little boys. And since you like to read laying down, these attacks could prove fatal. And I figured that if together we have produced yet another male heir (to our vast fortune, ha ha) this will come in handy a few extra years.

Happy Father's Day!

He thinks he knows how to swim. Next time we go to the pool, don't let me forget to bring those water wings.

Shermy

The 3 Amigos.

I threw this one in because Peter and Wendy never post any recent pictures of their kids and you have no idea what this little rascal looks like. So here she is. She's a pinkie.

Here Shermy is running through the gardens at Thanksgiving Point with a very Shermanesque look on his face.

What has fatherhood done for you? Well, from my perspective I've noticed two changes. One, you don't drive fast anymore, not even in your Porsche. Two, you actually stress over your duty to provide for your family. Stress isn't good but in your particular case, it is a noble thing. I thank you and your children will someday thank you for your sacrifice of peace of mind.

There are a few other things that I thought I'd never see happen. Like one day when there was no one to watch the kids and I had a test or something, you stayed home with Atticus and Shermy. After they woke up in the morning you couldn't find anything "cute" enough to dress them in. So you didn't dress them. You drove them down to Walmart to purchase several very "cute" sweatsuits featuring Lightning McQueen and Mickey Mouse. For a man who is too cheap to buy himself (or let me buy him) new shoes when the soles are falling off, this extravagance was quite unexpected.

There are many pieces of memory in my mind as I go over moments in our past with our kids. The blurry image of you going up and down on the excersize ball with Atticus firmly snuggled in your arms for hours. Literally. The cry was too much to endure. You much preferred the bounce. The blood that got on your green polo shirt when Shermy was born. The strange coincidence of wearing the exact same shirt when Cinci was born. The echoey laughter of our family as we swam in the hotel's warm indoor pool in Antalya. The quiet pride we felt so often walking the streets of Turkey with our little ones, being so happy we chose to have a family. So happy it was God's will that we could have one. Daily walking by what we could have been, but never looking back sadly.

Parenthood changes us daily. Fatherhood teaches you what you need to learn most, although I know you mostly prefer to learn from books. I can't imagine what you'll become farther down the line of fatherhood. You are already such a good man and father. I could use the usual words like wonderful, nice, great, awesome, loving, patient, perfect, excellent, da da da da da da da etc. but you interpret words in such an intense and intricate way that I can't use the wrong one, or use one that is already used so lightly and commonly. So I'm sorry if I can't describe you in words. I hope these pieces of memories of mine will bring to mind and help you remember what you were and help you realize what you have become.

Burt Family Reunion

Atticus found a friend. Cinci found some rocks.

Uncle Cameron spent over an hour taking the kids on 4-wheeler rides.

Shermy was too scared to get near the fire so he found a safe spot to chill and look cool.

Cinci fell in the canal and Grandma did not fish him out. She just screamed for cousin Doyle to do it, which he did promptly. No harm done, not even a cry came from Cinci's little mouth. Just some shivers.

We aren't really members of the Burt family. Grandma Burt is my Grandmother's youngest sister. They were very close thankfully and that's why the Burt family still remains my family. I rarely see them and rarely keep in touch, but when we do get together I don't feel myself an outsider. We really had a lot of fun and looking at my kids throughout the day reminded me of myself 20 or so years ago. My mom would bring me and my brothers up to Aunt Pat and Uncle Gene's house where we could swim in the canal and tube down the Duschesne river and just run around outside in the dirt and smell the fresh air, have the cows for company, play with my second cousins, see the stars clearly at night, wonder about the indians (native americans) that used to live beyond the river. Such a different place than I was used to. And they always had Honeycomb cereal to eat and these plastic star shaped bowls that were made to look like patchwork wood squares. Great memories! It was these visits that made me love nature because I sure didn't learn it in Silicon Valley.