Oh, I see how it is.

Ariana is in a play–She gets blog time.

Vivi says something cute–She gets blog time.

Baby Tad drools–He gets blog time.

I make gourmet pickles with fresh cucumbers from my garden–I get NOTHIN’.

Clausen Kosher Dill Pickles

2 dill flowers
2 garlic cloves, peeled & halved
1 1/4 lbs. (8-10) pickling cucumbers
6 long sprigs fresh dill
1 tbsp coarse kosher salt
1/2 cup white vinegar

Put dill flower and garlic in bottom of mason jar;
add the cukes, put sprigs of dill in center of
cukes, add salt, vinegar, and fill jar with boiled water
that is now cool to within 1/8th of top.
Put on seal and ring, shake to dissolve salt,
set upside down on counter away from sunlight
and heat. Let sit 4-5 days flipping the jar
either upright or upside down each day.
Let sit upright 2 more days then refrigerate.
Lasts about 6 months.

A glimpse into our Family Home Evening:

BT: “Vivi, why did we need to leave the spirit world and come to earth?”

Vivi: “To get a body.”

BT: “And who got body?”

Vivi: “I got a body.”

BT: “And who else got a body?”

Vivi: “Momma got a body … Momma got a BIG body!”

Thank goodness for the perfecting power of the resurrection. I obviously need it! 🙂

Being a play is not easy.you MUST go to many practices.And normally you must wait a while before you know what part you get.I was lucky.to me i got a good part.MONKEY#1!true,I’m not the main charterer or really even close but at least I got a part. I’ve wanted to deify gravity or have wings so two in one great!And I got to be in 3 plays! oh and in theatre practice=perfect!

Seven thirty a.m.

Sunday

Birds chirping

Clock Ticking

Children sleeping

Mother smiling

The sound of silence

(Baby Tad seems to have figured out how to sleep through the night on a fairly consistent basis. He did get up at 3:00 a.m. one night this week, and this morning is the latest he’s ever slept).

Baby Tad has developed a nasty little habit of biting the hand that feeds him … only it isn’t a hand that he bites, if you know what I mean.  I flick his nose (as I’ve heard you’re supposed to do in situations like this), and he just stares at me with his big blue eyes and smiles.

And so today, at 8 months of age, Baby Tad dined on rice cereal for the first time.

Vivi had a blast getting to help but was very discouraged when he wouldn’t make the sign for “MORE.” Although I’m a bit sad that I’m no longer his favorite source of nourishment, I am grateful that his other mother can assist.

We had to give him a bath after his meal, and I had him all shiny and smelling so good. But wouldn’t you know it.  I turned my back for 2 seconds, and the next thing I knew, he had crawled all the way INTO the fireplace and was covered in soot.  🙁

. . . but I DO know something much more important than that!

As I perused the “Family History” section of our family library the other night, I discovered a treasure–a spiral-bound, photocopied book entitled “Illustrated Children’s Stories, Vol. One.” Fifteen years ago, my Aunt Anne and Aunt Chris (my dad’s two sisters) got the younger grandchildren and great grandchildren together and had them illustrate stories about our ancestors.  Some of the tales were familiar to me, but others, even some about my own dad, were new.  What a fabulous idea to help instill in the younger kids a love for their ancestors, and what a precious treasure for subsequent generations to have these stories compiled in one place!  Thank you, thank you to my wonderful aunts and cousins who took the time to put together the fabulous volume of stories.  When is Volume II going to be published??? 🙂

Our family is still laughing about one of the stories we read the other night:

“Why I Don’t Know Who Beat the Fight”

This letter is from Uncle Tad. Dad (Grandpa Milton Hess) asked him to watch a boxing match on TV and report to him who won. Dad had to go to a church meeting and needed to miss the fight. This letter explains why Tad wasn’t allowed to watch the fight and report the score. [I will spell and punctuate just as Tad did.]

Dear Daddy,

This story I am about to tell you will explan [explain] why I don’t know who beat the fight right about you went Joeie Geamberea was winnig [winning] untill the 6th round then I asked mother where Stephen was she said down the basement with the trains. I knew that Steve should not play with the train without you there. So I went to investigate. When I got there Steve was pushing the engin around the track, and everything was unhooked. I lost my temper and Pow right across the head. he balled and came upstairs mother got after me and said “Wait till daddy heres [hears]” I don’t mind if you swat me one come and do it right now  mom turned off the t.v. and sent me to bed  I pleeded [pleaded] to try to get her to turn it back on but no. I bawled about tell now [’til] now. and prade [prayed] and prade hard, I’ve got the devil behind me now. when I was crying I told her I and her had hurt your feelings I meen [mean] it to. when you go and work for the lord you are intidld [entitled] to have a fight told to you at least. I’m awful sorry, It was all my falt [fault], I’ll find it to morrow on the sports page I don’t know why this had to happen on almost your birthday. I’m sorry I hurt your feelings you may punnish me. I remember up to the ward show once you went with us and you sent me back to the boy scouts to get some penuts [peanuts] you had your hart [heart] set on them and all they had were hard and when I todl you I felt a sick awfull inside and had a lump in my throte [throat] Just now mother came in and said I would get some kind of punnishment for being up late  I’ve got it coming. It is after ten now so I will close. I just wanted to tell you my story.

Love, Tad H.

I still love every one. And my jenerus [generous] father I love him and my jenerus mother I love her. I am thankful for you both.

(This story was illustrated by my cousin Sam, who passed away from cancer a few years ago–another reason why this book is such a special keepsake).

Thankfully, my dad (baby Tad’s namesake) “got the devil behind him” and went on to become the amazing man he is today. (You’d never believe it from muddling through all the spelling and grammar errors in his letter, but he also went on to get his PhD).

As I read this letter, I was also touched by a few other things–

• My Grandmother was holding down the fort with five or six young children while my Grandfather was away at a church meeting.
• It was 10 p.m. and my Grandfather still wasn’t home from said meeting.
• Even though she was probably sorely tempted, especially after my mouthy dad said, “I don’t mind if you come and swat me one; come and do it right now,” the letter makes no mention of my Grandmother leveling a “POW right across the head” to teach her son a lesson. Her “wait ’til your father gets home” approach seemed to have been quite effective, and sending my dad to his room was enough to evoke the feelings of remorse which ushered in the subsequent repentence process.

Today after Sacrament Meeting, I sat in a stupor in the back of the cultural hall (because, no matter how hard I try, we rarely get to church early enough to sit any closer), contemplating how I was going to get my mammoth diaper bag, Vivi’s church bag, Baby Tad, and his awkward car seat through the crowded hallway to Sunday School.  As I sat there and tried to formulate a plan, surely in response to my silent prayer, a dear friend went out of her way to find me and offer assistance. And then another friend arrived at my side, gifting me a baby sling/nestling to help keep my busy boy safe and sound on my hip while still allowing me to try and get things done around the house each day.

Upon arriving to Sunday School, I sat down next to another friend who promptly took Baby Tad and fed him a bottle while I soaked in a wonderful lesson taught by yet another amazing comrade.  

After church, we enjoyed a delicious dinner prepared by … you guessed it … yet another sister who will also be picking Vivi up tomorrow morning to take her to the park to play with other kids from the ward.

As BT headed off to church again for more meetings this evening, I was struck not with grumbling but with gratitude.  From perfectly-timed phone calls to heart-felt notes, home-baked goodies, play dates and especially prayers, I have been blessed immeasurably by my sweet sisters in the gospel who are keenly in tune with the spirit and who put into action the principle taught in Sunday School today: One way we can more fully pay our devotion to God is to come to church prepared to “seek out and strengthen others.”

In addition to feeling incredibly grateful for those that lighten my load, I felt a prompting and a promise that if I come to church more fully focused on seeking out and strengthening others, the frustration and loneliness I often feel on Sundays will be tempered.

During the week, BT would be most comfortable in holey duds… cut off shorts coming apart at the seams, t-shirts that have seen better days (i.e., the early 1980’s).  But on Sunday, it’s all about “holy” clothes… suit, white shirt, tie. He wears church clothes from before sunup until well after sundown.

Because I want Baby Tad to grow up to be just like his amazing father, when I found some ties on clearance at The Children’s Place (99 cents each!), I knew that I had to have them.  I may be just a tad biased, but I think my little guy looks awfully cute … just like his big sister.

As I read this note from my dear Aunt Chris, visions of the old church movie “The Mailbox” flashed painfully across my mind:

I have taken Grandpa Hess to get his mail several times in the last little while and it is always empty except the dumb ads  It would mean a lot to him and me if you would occasionally send him a little note in the mail.  Not E-mail because he doesn’t get on the computer much anymore.  He may not even remember that you have sent him a note or even who you are but it would be so fun for him to get little notes of love instead of an empty mail box.  I don’t know how long we will have this great man with us so please take this advantage and do this. 
Love Aunt Chris

 (Vivian & Great Grandpa Hess, Summer 2007)

All it will take is ten minutes a week to write my amazing, aging Grandpa Hess. I know, because I just sat down and did it.  And whatever pleasure it brings him to receive the note will be nothing compared to the love and gratitude I felt as I wrote it.

I’ve tucked away the last two letters my grandfather wrote me (also addressed to his other immediate family members).  Although the content of the letters will be of no interest to anyone else, I feel compelled to include a few excerpts from one of them and will post links to the entire transposed documents later.

One the letters is the substance of the testimony my grandfather bore in Sacrament Meeting back in November 2004. I wouldn’t be surprised if this was (and will be) the last time he bore his testimony in church.  He told of a party being held to honor his Navy Battalion during WWII:

“The Battalion was made up of good, skilled men, solid citizens; but of course they had never heard of the Word of Wisdom . . . and so I didn’t fit in very well at the party.  The Executive Officer of the Battalion said to me: “Oh Chaplain, you will be just like the rest of us in a few months.” I left the party early that day and drove in my jeep back to my tent in the Unalaskan Hills; and on the way I sang at the top of my voice and with tears in my eyes: “True to the faith that our parents have cherished. True to the truth for which martyrs have perished. To God’s command, soul, heart and hand, faithful and true, (I) will ever stand.”

Grandpa Hess, may I ever be found staying true to the faith that my GRANDPARENTS have cherished. True to the truth for which you and Grandma sacrificed so much.

I pledge to you “to God’s command, soul, heart and hand, faithful and true, (I) will ever stand.”

“. . . Hell has officially frozen over.”

No, not because we started our Memorial Day by eating breakfast at the Dream Cafe–sharing a Monte Cristo sandwich and cloud cakes like we always do.

Or because we then met Lisa at Grapevine Mills Mall and caught a matinee of “Night at the Museum 2.” Although, actually going to see a full-price, new release movie is, indeed, a rarity for our family.

And nothing had frozen over yet when we went to the Bass Pro Shop so that the girls could see the fish; however, Lisa did scare the bejeebers out of Ariana while she was looking at a big FAKE shark . . . came up behind her, shouted “boo,” and Guppy screamed like she’d just been attacked by Jaws.

But after we left the Bass Pro Shop, the temperature started to drop as we headed east on highway 635 toward the Galleria. We nearly had to turn on the heater as we parked in the “Purple” parking garage.  And then it happened.  BT entered the American Girl Boutique and Bistro and he started to shiver and shake . . . but not with excitement. I am so proud of my BT for getting in touch with his “feminine side.”  He did say that if Baby Tad ever has “issues,” it can all be traced back to that fateful day.

I was dying to take some pictures to memorialize the event, but I was afraid that something might mysteriously happen to my precious camera in the middle of the night if I did. BT doesn’t get mad, but he does get even.