Halloween is so Lame!

I have a confession: I HATE Halloween!!!! And NO  not because its eeeevil(please say that in your best Church Lady impression)...I hate it, because it is LAME....

And if that makes me a bad-er mother, I mighty fine with that...

Maybe its that the rug rats were small when we lived on the prairies and trick-o-treating involved snowsuits, toques and frost bite...

Maybe its that I needed five costumes ever year and at least one of those costumes would get peed in, every single year (although we don't hold the $70 princess costume incident over Bailey's head much anymore)

Maybe its that the amount of candy 5 die hard monsters bring in, is enough to send our dentists son to college and drive me drink (I totally mean root beer)...

Maybe its that at least one of the rug rats (cough *Dallyn* cough) ends up with nightmares...because his sisters show him some SCARY movie and clearly they don't value my beauty sleep or their lives...

Or just maybe its that the not so Superman brings home enough discounted candy from work the day after to foil my plans of maybe swimming in public again.....

Or maybe its that I've lost complete control and this was the costume Dallyn came home with tonight....

 

Apparently he didn't hear the part when I said no masks (completely his money so what ever)...

 

Definitely not the plush monkey with the banana costume that made it through all five of the rug rats...

 

Halloween is so LAME

Shine On...

Yesterday was our ward's annual primary presentation...Honestly my favourite Sacrament meeting all year...This was my first time ever leading the music for the Presentation...I honestly wasn't (that) worried or nervous, I guess years serving in the church has taught me at least one thing...It  ALWAYS work out :)...

As I rushed to get ready that morning {How come nobody ever wakes up Mom??) I glanced at this hanging in our downstairs bathroom...I think the girls got them at Girl's camp a few years ago....

The perfect thing to remember as I walked out the door...

Favourite parts..

A little girl that laughed out loudly as we sang CTR....whole congregation laughed, could not keep from laughing myself...AWESOME (a girl after my own heart)

The little boy who said "God is the richest in outer space..." in his talk.

The three young girls who sang "I'm Trying to Be Like Jesus" as a trio...and brought the spirit into the meeting like only children can.

The way our primary's voices soared on "When I am Baptised"

Primary Music Leader is the best calling ever!!!

The kids did amazing, a true reflection of not only who they are... but whose they are. It is such a privilege to be taught by them every single Sunday.

 

 

 

Just a little Faith (Grant's Post)

      So to start off I would like to tell you this is not Robin.  This is her husband, Grant.    I do have to just take one moment and tell you one thing.  Stories you have heard about me that may paint me in a less than a manly light have been greatly exaggerated.  :) I think to boost the ratings.  I really don't do that many silly things, say that many silly things or cry at all.  I AM A MAN, Manly man.  There,  glad I could get that out of the way....

     I skipped Church today!  There I said it.  Member of the bishopric and all,  I just couldn't go.  Spent a great day yesterday in Vancouver at the temple with the Youth from our ward and really enjoyed the day.  Felt the spirit and just enjoyed the peace the temple brings into our lives.  So what changed?  Why in 12 hours could I not go to church?  I will tell you my dirty little secret.  I am bipolar.  Wow,  there it is I said it.  This is the most public forum I have ever used to say that.  It is really terrifying actually to put that out there.  Some of you are going to get it and others won't.  You know what?  I am okay with that.

     So what does being bipolar and not going to church have to do with each other?  Sometimes nothing and sometimes everything.  I will tell you another little secret.  I hate crowds.  I hate having to put on a smile,  if I am feeling particularly down and pretending that all is okay.  It really grinds me.  So I avoid it and that is how I felt this morning when I woke up.  I just could NOT do it.   I was having a good weekend and then something changed and I just could not do it.  SO what changed?

      I will divert for just a moment and talk about something else for a moment.  I had a particularly hard day at church last week.  Someone said something that just grinded me hard.  Don't get me wrong this person had no idea it did or even knew the flaw in their logic.  I had relied on the same logic for years and unfortunately it got me no where. This person was talking about someone whom is chronically ill and not attending on a regular basis.  They basically indicated that the person was lacking the necessary faith to overcome and attend.  WOW. There are some fundamental flaws in that but I will not get into it right now.  I will tell you this.  If you are suffering from a mental disorder you best seek professional help.  No amount of extra scripture study or prayer is likely to cure you.  I know miracles happen, but sometimes they happen thru the proper care as well.  This is where I said some will get it and others will not.

       Let me be clear on one thing.  I have a deep and firm testimony of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.  I have seen the overwhelming evidence of God's mercy in my life.

"We must remember that we did come come earth to find our worth, we brought it with us." Ardeth Kapp. 

I have often felt worthless, useless and overwhelmingly sad, and on the other side of my bipolar I feel anxious, agitated, and angry.  I don't stay up late on my manic phases painting rooms or going on cleaning benders for days on end.  I feel anxious and agitated, anger flows freely and with out thought.  So where do I fit in in a gospel that preaches Christ like attibutes and I so often fail.  I say my prayers, read my scriptures, get priesthood blessings and also see a psychiatrist and take regular medications.  That's where I fit in.  It is not my lack of faith that keeps me ill but a lack of brain chemicals to balance out the load of human emotion.

       I am a child of God like you, I just need a little extra help.

 " I testify that no one is less treasured of God than another.  I testify that He loves each of us--insecurities, anxieties, self image and all.  He does not measure our talents; He doesn't remember our professions or our possessions.  He cheers on every runner, calling out that it is the race against sin, not against each other." Elder Jeffery R. Holland.


       "Our perfect Father does not expect us to be perfect yet.  He had only one such child.  Meanwhile, therefore, sometimes with smudges on our cheeks, dirt on our hands, and shoes untied, stammeringly but smilingly we present God with a dandelion--as if it were a  rose or an orchid.  If for now the dandelion s the best we have to offer.  He receives it, knowing that what we may later place on the alter.  It is good to remember how young we are spiritually." Elder Neil A. Maxwell.  


      So when your brother or sister stands at the alter sick and broken with their dandelion and you with your rose, do not question their lack of faith.  Embrace them, encourage them, maybe wipe away some of their smudges with your tears of joy that they are there at all.
      I would close with a little advice from a sick someone to all out there who may be suffering needlessly through overwhelming feelings of sadness or inadequacy.  Seek help!  You are not alone in this.

You Calling {*}Fat???

 

 

I was having an Awesome day...no seriously. I got up with my Seminary kids (and stayed up) and totally had the urge to clean (which may or may not have been encouraged by my Superman's slight wifely duty ;)  guilt trip) I had the main bathroom and three bedrooms cleaned before everybody left for school...

 

And just kept going.... Kitchen, Dining Room & Living room were finished by 11 and I was feeling AWESOME...

 

I even dug out underneath the couches in the Rec Room (the rug rats are nasty)...sorted the mail/paperwork...found my birth certificate and 5 pairs of finger nail clippers...Found the floor in the laundry room and sorted off my sewing table...swept the drive way...I had totally gone all  "Stetford Wife"..yay me...

 

Then I heard the garbage truck, running super late...I totally wasn't worried...I wasn't in my jammies...we only had one can...(Usually I'm racing out in pj's praying they will ignore the bag limit)...

 

For the first time ever...

They left the sticker and my garbage!!!

 

What the Heck!!! I looked at the tag..."You calling {my garbage} fat???"

 

As if..Come on, really??.... I then went to move the can....It wouldn't move...

 

Apparently the kids threw out 40 lbs of potatoes when the cleaned out the pantry, then crammed 3 bags of heavy garbage on top of it...

 

Brilliant!!

 

Now I have a very clean house...and fat garbage.

 

I guess we have a dump run in our near future....

 

 

You've Changed! The Blessing of Courage :)

“None of us is less treasured or cherished of God than another. I testify that He loves each of us-- Insecurities, anxieties, poor self-image, and all. He doesn't measure our talents or our looks; He doesn't measure our professions or our possessions. He cheers on every runner, calling out that the race is against sin, not against each other.”
― Jeffrey R. Holland, The Other Prodigal, April 2002

I heard this quote again in a Relief Society workshop several months ago...I have heard it used several times before, in many different settings, the "race is against sin, not each other" is the part that always stood out every other time I heard it. But this time I heard something I hadn't paid attention to before, stuck out ...

He doesn't measure our talents or our looks; He doesn't measure our professions or our possessions...

Okay I did understand the "looks" part and the "possessions" part before. But for the first time I heard "he doesn't measure our talents and professions part...I had not realized that before (It's that whole sleeping through Seminary thing, isn't it?). It gave me a lot of pause for thought...And that part of the quote has played on repeat in my mind many times over the last several months....

Rewind: My Superman is a busy man....Is the patriarch of a big family of teenagers who won't stop growing, showering, talking, eating, fighting or laughing....Is the first councilor in the Bishopric, a calling he loves and is (was) an Assistant Manager for the largest retailer in the world, a job that took 50-60-70 hours/ week, but a position he was proud of, and had worked hard for...

Then fifteen months ago an illness that we had thought was long behind us, reared its head (damn you :(: ) We knew things would have to change, but our main focus for that time was getting through this unwanted and unexpected relapse. My Superman hung on (by his finger nails) to his family, his faith, his calling and his job...

The loving support of friends and wise doctors made survival possible for all of us...

Back in early summer Grant sat in the doctors office overwhelmed with all that was piled upon his plate....As our wise doctor (this guy is amazing) listened he stooped Grant and said... "None of my happy pills will fix you...I couldn't even do all that you do (big family, demanding job, big Church responsibility) and I'm healthy...you have to make changes in your life and lessen the STRESS...more pills won't fix that, you have to fix that....

We talked longer..."church" to the doctor seemed like the easiest thing to drop...Grant and I knew that wasn't the answer for us, but completely understood how the DR would see it that way....Grant's calling to the bishopric has been one of our greatest blessing...it has been a blessing of protection and many times the only source hope we had...We left that doctor's office grateful, but overwhelmed by the choices ahead of us....

We were walking the several blocks back to Grant's work when he said..."Robin, It's the last day I can apply for the TLE manager at work." What?? No!!! You have worked so hard to keep your position...People will see it you stepping down...We can't afford it....I thought he had lost his mind (more ;)) I was so angry I turned and walked the opposite direction home as he said "Robin I know it's what I have to do"...As I cried all the way home that part of the quote, played on repeat in my mind...

He doesn't measure our talents or our looks; He doesn't measure our professions or our possessions...

Stop it!!!....My faith was the last thing I wanted thrown at me, in that moment I was too mad at my Super hero....But I really knew it was MY problem. I was proud of my husbands job and accomplishments I took great pride in that...It boiled down to my pride and what I thought others would think, instead of being worried about Grant's best interests first...I was worried about me and my fear of change....

By the time Grant came home several hours later I had calmed down enough to apologize and as he told me he had applied for the position, I felt a complete sense of calm and knew he had done the right thing....

The position switch has taken several months..... This is the first week Grant is the TLE manager, absolutely none of my worries have materialized...We will be fine financially, people at work have been nothing but understanding and I have watched my husbands stress level plummet...

He has every Sunday off now, is home for dinner(crap I now have to make it) and only works 'til 8 pm one night a week...

Blessings.....because Grant had the courage to make a change. I love that man.

Nobody Would Believe Us....

Warning: This post is honest. If honesty disturbs you. Don't read my blog, ever.... I wouldn't want to scare or offend you. You are already having too much fun in your perfect world:)

I do not share the following for pity....(The only pity I need, is the fact that the Superman and I didn't understand "family planning" and now have five teenagers under one roof ;))

Kelli and I say often...Nobody would believe us if we told them...What life for us was really like for us growing up....It's a best selling novel (which i will write, I'm serious), a hoarding reality show(which I watch when I need motivation to clean my house) and a bad day time talk show(the only thing than got me through the preschool years) all rolled into our reality...And no...even we don't understand it.....




Do you know what its like to drive you mother to the emergency room after she has made a complete arse of herself at a restaurant while out with her young Grandchildren....Eating her T-bone steak, like a chicken drumstick and flinging food everywhere, slurring her speech....She needed her stomach pumped, she had oded before we picked her up for dinner...It was Father's Day....

Or what it's like to pick up a Bacel margarine container, to throw it out and realize your mother had used it as a toilet...and then to find more than a dozen just like it, strung throughout her filthy home...Her explanation she was too tired.

Or what it's like to have to call the police, because your mother has disappeared....Police officers, K-9 units searched, her picture appeared on the 11o'clock news....We found her the next morning...getting her hair done...She had spent the night in a crisis bed for abused women (she wasn't one) "Well at least now, I know you care about me" her only explanation....

Or getting the call from ICU..."Your Mom is here on life support"  walking into her room while she is conscious, but still intubated...She writes on a white board "Why did you let me live!!"....

Or what it is like to have to sign the papers to commit your mother??

We do.

Do you know what it's like to have your father call 15 times a day and remember nothing???

Or, watching him shake uncontrollable because he can't get the wine bottle open fast enough?

Or, getting a call from Adult Protective Services???

Or, realizing that your father has nearly starved himself because he has forgotten how to eat or bathe or dress??

We do.

I don't even bother to ask why Kelli and I won such a lottery....But the reality is we were raised by two mentally ill parents in a home plagued by alcoholism and neglect. Not really the "Love at Home" reality one hopes for....

But in some unexplainable way we always knew we were loved. It was our normal and we had each other....

Somewhere in my teens I remember thinking "something is seriously wrong with her", But I knew nothing of Mental illness...even though we had spent our short life time living it...

Marriage for me and BYU for Kelli took us away. We were running.

Three years later Mom's diagnosis came....psychiatrists, hospitals and eight out of control years followed...Death brought stillness, but little peace.

That was eight years ago...

Three or four years later... we could no longer deny that Dad was self destructing, But our hands were tied as he pushed everyone and thing away. Every manner of help refused. Until the call from APS came, allowing us to bring Dad home in February...Dementia and lifestyle had taken an unreversable toll...He died on Good Friday.

Do you know what its like to walk into your mother's home, 6 month's after her death...With garbage bags, gloves and a dumpster and painfully sort thru mountains of garbage to find baby pictures and birth certificates and heirlooms?

Or eight years later,  six months after your fathers death walking into a home, you swore you would never return to, with gloves , masks and garbage bags and a dumpster and sort thru deplorable conditions to find something not destroyed by rodents or animals to remember your father by?

Kelli and I have been to hell and back with both our parents...It's something even we don't fully understand. But I can tell you that there is no consolation prize here...Trips to Disneyland, Inheritances, Heirlooms do not soften the blow. I know people mean well when they refer to such things as  benefits....But for me...its a sad reminder of their tormented lives. Sad compensation.



Our real compensation here: Strength and Hope in our lives now.  Instead of our upbringing destroying our lives it has solidified our faith. Both Kelli and I have been blessed with beautiful families, that do not resemble the chaos of our childhood. The legacy my parents leave is not that of their illness and dysfunction but reflected in the lives of their eight grandchildren....And their daughters. There is always hope.

The grief and pain is still tender for Kelli and I, hearts still ache especially when its quiet and still. Tears flow often. Understanding friends lighten the load. Those who say weird things,  just add to our ever  growing "How does it feel to be an orphan?" list of Dumb questions. AKA: What not to ask/say to those who have buried or are buring a loved one....

Doin' Disney

Disney is amazing...I loved going often as a kid. But have to admit taking my kids back (for the first time) twenty years later, was the best ever...It really is a magical place and our family needed this more than any of us imagined. Their smiles say it all!

 

 Wait for it.....

 BEST. PICTURE. of GRANT. EVER!!!! Makes me laugh every time I see it. Oprah, sad movies, Campbell's Soup commercials, and The Tower of Terror...Things that make superman cry....

Two wonderful, happy, fun days with my entire family. We so needed this.

Emails and the Edge

I really thought I was fine...We had survived California well, hadn't we. It's over, mission accomplished. I'm not going to cry about this anymore. See I'm happy , I'm counting my blessing..See I'm running  moving forward...That's what I'm supposed to do right? I'm fine! Right ?!?!

Back story: Madison is the only one of the four (in school) who has had trouble catching up since we got back. Since Monday she has complained that her teachers (just two really) are not understanding..."Just get the work done and hand it in" "But mom, they are not helping me?" "Madison come on just do the work"....I really wasn't listening and thought Madison was just whining....I responded to two teacher emails complaining about Madison's lack of effort, sympathetically siding with the teacher's concerns saying I too was concerned....I am all about holding kids accountable....


Then I read this response again:

Thanks for getting back to me. Madison is starting to get caught up, and she's telling me that she's very close to getting all missing assignments in to me, but so far I have not seen them. I am going to suggest that Madison go to the Learning Assistance room this week for extra tutorial help at lunch and during X Block until she is caught up. If she does not get caught up this week, or does not go to the Learning Assistance Room, then I will sign her up for Room 100 where her attendance will be monitored. Neither of these options are to punish Madison....


Wait what??? Has to be caught up this week? Monitor her attendance??

This was my response (figuring the teacher did not know why we were gone)

Madison's recent absences were because of the death of her Grandfather and our obligation to clean out his home in California. It was a troubling difficult situation that is to personal to detail here. This was not a vacation and the absences were unavoidable....While I understand that you do not see this as punishment, Considering our circumstances, I would ask if you would please just give Madison a little more time.... Thank you.

Teacher's response:

I wasn't fully aware of why Madison was away....(thinking it was a family vacation to Disneyland)

I had done all I could before we left to inform teachers (phone, email) explaining the nature of the trip....

That aside: I was most disappointed in myself for not listening too and supporting Madison, first...and not being so preoccupied with appearing the "ever-responsible parent"....

Today was an overwhelming feeling of guilt, for the things my kids had to do in California. Nobody should have to do what they did, Kelli and I shouldn't of had to do what we did...But they did and we did...My kids worked their butts off, completely without complaint or judgement. I don't think I realised until today how physically and especially emotionally exhausted that was and the affects we all are still feeling....

For what ever reason having to defend Madison {if people could only understand how much she, herself did in California) today... brought an avalanche of tears, anger and guilt. It's been a rough rough day.

And I realise I'm not really okay, yet.

Returning to {our} Normal

Yesterday was the first day in weeks, possibly months that I had nothing to do...

 {Well unless you count 7 loads of laundry, getting the twenty bottles of hair products, in the shower, down to three bottles and  scrubbing the bacon grease of the back of the stove, wall and fridge oh, and folding laundry on commercials (daytime tv is so lame)...}

By nothing I mean I didn't have to go any where that required a bra (good thing the kids didn't call from school, eh?) It was actually nice to get the house "mom clean" with out the normal audience of annoyed teenagers. With everybody back at work and school today, my house was mine again and I loved the peace and quiet. Until...

Everyone walks in the door just in time to start dinner....

As we sit down for steak (thanks Superman). I quickly come to sad realization that we are some delightfully twisted combination between Honey-Boo-Boo's family and Laura Inglis family, tilting heavily to the Honey Boo-Boo side.

The first thing that comes out of Dallyn's mouth..."You know Dad if you put in a Urinal, I'd stop peeing on the seats" "You could just learn to aim" Which then lead to a discussion on circumcision...I'm serious...Yes there is something wrong with us...if you figure it out. Let me know...I gave up years ago....

The conversation only went south from there and I quickly reminded the offspring that anything even remotely referring to the "birds and the bees" was no longer aloud to be discussed anywhere but Dairy Queen. "Does anyone want to go to DQ??? for a refresher??" "No mom that's okay"....

When its time to clean up all of my scholars suddenly have copius amounts of home work, until the Superman steps in with "Kitchen Now!" Bless him!?!....

We round off the evening with my epic fail in parenting and a confiscated i-something...I'd tell the whole story, but it only makes me look like an idiot no matter how I try to spin it....Lesson learned. At least it ended quickly with apologies.

Family prayer and bedtime couldn't come quick enough...

This morning brought a fight over shotgun (the front seat, not the weapon) and a sick of school rug rat...sigh, So glad life has really returned to normal.

Bithdays in Heaven

[Les and Bob, Late 1940's]

Dad's 77th birthday would have been today, his first birthday in heaven... I miss him.

I didn't remember until this evening and have to admit tears have been kind of close to the surface since. Not all sad tears though ...There is gratitude that he is now free from lifes' torments and sorrows and reunited with his beloved mother Beena and brothers. Those tears are happy ones.

 

Happy Birthday Dad. We love you.

[A picture sent to their oldest brother Bill, while he was serving during WWII Les 7, Bob 4  1943]

 

{As we cleaned out Dad's, most things were beyond rescue...But there was a small space in the bottom of an old entertainment unit that had been left unaffected from dust and rodents....It contained family history and pictures we had never seen before. These two pictures of Dad and his younger brother Bob were among those treasures. Tender mercies.}

 

 

You Guys Mormons?!?

"You guys Mormon??"

Asked the only neighbour that came out to talk to us , when we cleaned out Dad's house last week...Yes!?! Kelli and I kinda said in unison, a little surprised. I guess Kelli's Utah license plate was her first clue....

"Well, my Aunt joined your Church after she had a vision several years ago..."

Kelli and I gave each other that look {crap where is this going}

You guys are a good people. This neighbour then went on and told us how well the Church had treated her Aunt and how much they took care of her...She had nothing but positive things to say

Kelli mentioned that my dad was raised Utah and was actually Mormon too...The neighbour had no idea and was a little surprised {The fact that she had also told us that Dad would drive down the street and flip every one off, in the same conversation, made it kinda hard to tell, I guess}

I hope it's easy to tell that we are Mormon and not because we drive a 15 passenger van and have 87 kids. And not because we can make funeral potatoes blindfolded and we have 17 cases of Mr Noodles in our pantry.

I hope you can tell we're Mormon by they way we live our lives and especially by the way we treat others.

I hope the answer is obvious.

Nice One, Dad

We found some surprises at Dad's house.....

 

 

A BYU music stand from the music department??? Dad never went to BYU. He was a die-hard Utah State Alumni. So the story behind how he got his grubby hands on this, I am sure is a good one....Kelli is horrified that our father apparently was in possession of "inaccurately acquired" BYU property, that she is now compelled to return to its proper place....

 

 

 

 

 

 

So, my Dad's last visit to the Island was in 2009...When we checked him in to go home the ticket agent mention that there had been some "issues" with Dad's flight to Canada and he would be escorted through each gate on his way home....I thought oh, well that's nice of them to help Dad?!?

 

Well, we found a very official letter addressed to our father from these people....

 

I would copy it here, but do not want to be flagged or something....

 

Let's just say Dad had an "incident" at a connecting airport and "maybe" attempted to exit thru two security gates, to smoke....when he was "supposedly stopped by the TSA agents he became belligerent and cursed at them...According to  said letter TSA had decided to drop charges and close the file after Dad's apologetic response to previous letters...No wonder he never wanted to fly to Canada again.

 

 

 

 

Dad had an issue with "borrowing" things from restaurants....Salt shakers, order number signs, cutlery...and this....

 

The distinctive red tray from In and Out Burger...Like that wasn't obvious?

(We made sure we at there lots this last week)

 

 

 

And he used this as a coffee table....A timpani (the huge drums at the back of an orchestra)

 

 

 

Only thing is it wasn't Dad's it had "Property of Santa Ana College" stenciled on the side of it...How he managed to "borrow" this is beyond me Especially considering he drove a VW Beetle

 

 

Still shaking my head, thanks a lot Dad !?!

 

 

 

Everything We Prayed For.

This trip to California absolutely terrified me...I was a complete wreck. Worried about everything. Would we have problems at the border? ferries? would there be enough money to make the expensive trip? car trouble? health problems? bringing things back? exhaustion? time?... My list of worries was endless,  I felt completely weighed down....We had prepared and planned for everything we could but my faith was still shaky.

I cried through our family prayer before we left, as our Superman asked for safety and comfort....

Our past road trips have always had varying elements of the Gong Show. Missed/cancelled  ferries, stuck behind avalanche control for hours, car trouble, running out of gas, threatening to put screaming children up for adoption at the next town, barfing and every other bodily function imaginable....Road trip have never been my idea of a good time, ever.

Our past record only added to my worries. As I left Courtenay 12 days ago I really wondered if we would return in one peice (still married, with five children and all our limbs)

We never had one problem and for these krazy Kramers that's more than a miracle....

In the last 11 days we have driven 56 hours, cleaned out an 1800 square foot house, spent 10 nights in hotel rooms, spent an amazing 26 hours at Disneyland, eaten at least 30 fast food meals and never needed so much as a band aid.

As I sat on the ferry last night , while my offspring played poker with skittles and star burst (don't judge, I have no idea were they learned that either). I couldn't help but reflect on how blessed our lives have been over the last two weeks. Every need and worry was covered often before we even realized it.

We were protected and comforted and had add strength all the way along....In the moments, especially in the stifling heat at the house, when I was ready to give up, in my mind I would hear " you can do it" "its going to be ok" "just keep moving".

As I sat there last night, while the guy in front of us was softly and beautifully playing his acoustic guitar (Oh Island, how I love you). My heart filled with gratitude as I realised we had been blessed with absolutely everything we had prayed for.
.

Canada???/ Well Played Madison

We have been asked a few times where we are from...

You guys are from CANADA?!? Yup, Vancouver Island....

I have an Aunt in PEI, is that anywhere near you?

My sister went to Montreal, recently is that close to you?.

Not sure a map would even help these people, its purple, above Washington State ;)

----------


Down here safety and security are not the same as home....While out for dinner at one of the restaurants we always went to as kids, Kelli proceeds to tell us that the area we were in is not as safe as it once was...There had been a murder across the street recently and a shopping area close by was not safe to be in alone at night....While at dinner Grant also embarrassed the heck out of Madison....

So after dinner while the kids were headed to the van Grant runs over to a pharmacy in the same parking lot...Madison somehow seizes the opportunity and hides behind a pole at the exit to the pharmacy (I would never encourage such behavior;))....As the Superman walks out the automatic doors, Madison jumps out at him...Grant screams like a girl and almost punches Madison, before realizing it was his offspring...

None of us could stop laughing as our shaking and slightly disturbed super hero gets back in the van...Grant holds up hands that can't stop shaking...."Well played Madison, well played"

Spiders, Mice and Dust, Oh My

I walked out of my childhood home for the last time today...Honest relief , a sense of freedom.... Cleaning out that home was tough....Accepting that your father lived in conditions that most would consider deplorable. Really heartbreaking. I did not have the emotional response to my childhood home I expected. I think those tears happened long before now and I had moved on, I just didn't realize it.

Driving into Yorba Linda, I didn't recognize any of it until we were two turns from my house. Street names the only thing that had not changed....My neighbourhood was much, much nicer than I remember, Dad's house was not....

Nothing had changed, same fixtures and flooring from forty years ago, even the yellow and green light switch with the doll on it,  from our room as little girls, was still in place. Not a single piece of furniture had even moved in  more than 25 years. I think life on the inside of that place had simply stopped...It's not my job to figure out why.

Light bulbs, faucets, toilets, appliances were used until they broke and then that convince was just set aside and forgotten about. Dad did dishes, threw out garbage ( just food wrappers really), washed his clothes and took care of his car, but that was it. He fixed and cleaned nothing beyond that.

Mice had over run his house when he lived there, when we raised concern, he had told us, he liked them, I think he thought of them as pets....their evidence was everywhere now. Twenty five years of dust, dirt and grim also covered every surface and darkened every window and wall. Cob webs where everywhere ....The filth was overwhelming.

105 degrees F (41 C ) heat (thanks Cali, for reminding me why I could never live here again) gave us the complete hellish experience .....

Armed with gloves, masks and garbage bags, a Goliath shop vac and a 30 yard dumpster...we begin a full day of the Merrill version of "hot yoga"....

I waffled between complete sorrow and pity to anger and frustration...Bottom line, he didn't have to live like this...but for the most part chose to. And now, for the second time, the Merrill twins were cleaning out a parent's home, this time on our birthday....

It was hot, disgusting work , but the filth made the decisions easy...dumpster it is. We filled the 30 yard bad boy twice in less than six hours.  The clean out was very much "putting lipstick on a corpse" we weren't fooling any one. My parents wrecked their house....

After 40 years of their accumulating,  Kelli and I savaged very little....stuff packed in 8 x 8 x 5 feet of a moving truck and me two small u haul boxes and a conga drum...

The complete time at the house....9 hours Monday , 4 hours Tuesday and 4 hours today....

The fact that we finished so quickly just one of a multitude of tender mercies this week....

Maybe it will hit me later. But for now it's time to say goodbye to Hillock View Plaza....

And time to move forward.

The Power of Ten

So when a family comes together like this...

 

We can turn this...

 

and this...

Into this..

and this...

 

in four hours.

 

Miracles of many hands made the endless job fly by. It was hard to accept that these were the conditions Dad lived in... This will not be the legacy we leave our children.