Homecoming 2019

Keilie had her first date/Homecoming last night.  It was a day to remember!!

12:00pm

The Hair

1:30PM- 3:00PM

The Day Date/ Table Prep

Wanting to keep the inside a surprise, Evan took the kids through the garage for the day date of games and snacks in their temperature controlled garage/game room.  I used this time to try my hand at table settings!

 Jamie helped me make the menus and place setting  placards.  Don't they add so much to the splendor?!

 Thank you, Pinterest, for your ideas for all of this!  I couldn't have done it without you!

Keilie told me they played Uno first, but soon wanted to challenge each other at some Mario Kart.  Her excitement telling me about their yelling, "competitive yelling, not mean yelling," which doesn't surprise me in the least.  She is my daughter after all...

3:00PM-5:45PM

The Finishing Touches

 I love these two so much!  They got their nails painted the same color, and Ellie used Pinterest to get ideas for Keilie's makeup.  SO MUCH FUN!!!

6:00PM-6:30PM

The Pictures

 Because of the laws in Washington where you cannot drive friends for the first six months after receiving your license, the girls needed to be dropped off for the date.  The guys stood waiting, ready to greet their beauties at the door of the car.  It's pretty neat that Randy was the one to drive and drop off his daughter for her first date and dance.

 The Corsage

 The Boutonniere

 The Group: Kiersten Thompson, Sam Summers, Keilie Dirks, Evan Porter, Sydney Clifford, and Kaden Burrup

"I wish my CTR ring was en-pointe."

6:30-8:00PM

The Dinner

8:30PM-12:00AM

The Dance

After dancing, they changed into some comfy clothes and went to Kaden's house to watch Gnomeo and Juliet.  She said she had a blast, and that she felt beautiful.  Not the word I'd choose to describe her, if I'm being honest.  I think I'd choose something like "stunning," or "gorgeous."  I cannot believe that my sweet Keilie went to Homecoming and on her first date!!  How magical!!

His Hands

I love it when things are put into our path that we can then share with someone in need, when we can become "His Hands here on earth."  Kimberly shared this with me today, something that was shared on an Infertility page but that applies to something I have been struggling with for many weeks now.  I have cried countless times over the last few weeks, and even more over the last few years, about the fact that I feel as if I am becoming a hardened person because of cancer.  However, maybe I'm not as terrible as I've berated myself over, and convinced myself I am.

If there is one thing that I am 100% certain of in my life right now, it's that I feel very, very traumatized.  I needed this today.  This gives me hope, even though it feels truly like I am steamrolling towards a very real nervous/mental/emotional breakdown.  I don't know what to do to stop the course my body and mind is on, and am praying that I'll snap out of this in October, like I did last year.

Complex

Tyson was making his lunch on Wednesday morning, when he abruptly stopped spreading his jam and just stared at his unfinished sandwich.  About 30- seconds later, he turns to me, "Mom, I think my math is just too easy for me this year.  Yesterday when we were working, I finished what I was supposed to and then turned to the last page.  I was able to do it in my head."  I've seen this happen for years, so it wasn't so surprising... until I asked him what the problem was that he was able to do in his head.

5,066 x 6

Stunned that my 9-year old was claiming he could do this kind of multiplication in his head, I had him show me.  Sure enough, he got it right.  So we sat down and worked on something a little harder.  56,789 x 12.  He started by doing it a different way than I would have, but he did, in fact come up with the right answer.  I showed him the way I was taught, to which he said, "That looks so much easier than I do it.  Show me."  So I did.

Just now, as Tyson was making his sandwich, he, again, abruptly stopped for a bit and just stared at his unfinished sandwich.  "What are you thinking about, Ty?"

"I'm just thinking about the way you showed me to do that math.  I think I still remember."  So I gave him another problem.  And my 9-year old sat down and did it correct, in record time, after being shown how to do it one time two days ago.

Randy and I watched the documentary about Bill Gates.  They talked all about how his mind works, how much/fast he reads, how much he comprehends, how he craves knowledge, everything.  Tyson's brain is nowhere near his, but I seriously see so much potential in the way he analyzes and processes things.  He's four years old telling me that four 2's in eight, and he knows this because he'd been counting the drawers in our kitchen.  Ever since then, I've noticed many times that his mind thinks of math problems at random, but regular intervals.  It can be very frustrating to see him go into his own mind as he thinks when he's supposed to be doing something else, but it also fascinates me, too.  He does complex math in his head!!!

I can't believe I am saying this, considering how mentally and emotionally fragile I am right now, but I am actually seriously considering homeschool for this kid.  He's doing math right now that both Shelby and Brennon are doing (Shelby is where she needs to be, Brennon is slightly ahead), sometimes even getting the answer right before they do.  In fact, Randy posed a math question to Keilie the other day that Tyson answered almost immediately, seeming as if he didn't even need to think about it at all.  Randy and my eyes met, stunned.  I may not be able to help him at home for long, but I can teach him all the way up through algebra and then find tutors for the other stuff.  I'm telling you-- this kid is going places!

Cynical

When Shelley asked the Primary kids how they felt they did for the Primary Program yesterday, Lexi Butler said, "I know the program was great, because Sister Dirks was crying."  It's true, I am a crier.  The gorgeous music with its beautiful lyrics sung by a child's voice gets me in the heart every single time.  It seemed that just as I got my emotions back in check, another song would come on and start me back up again.  It's never a sob, but tears do flow.  I'm hoping that it was at these times she saw me cry, and not at the end, when I was crying for another reason.  Yet again, my sorrow got me right in the mind and heart.

One of the last speakers told of witnessing her little brother's baptism.  When she told how neat it was that her older brother, Jacob, one of Caden's friends, was the one that baptized her little brother, I felt all the air go from my lungs in a rush.  My jealous, broken heart screamed out, "Of course he got to do that," as I remembered my devastation as Tyson said how sad he was that Caden died before being able to baptize him.  And then I couldn't stop the tears.  It is infinitely more difficult to be reverent when your sorrow wants to come out as a wail.  I have the hardest time reigning in my sorrow tears when it hits a certain point, so I worked hard to control myself.  To no avail.  So I just sat there with my eyes closed, not raising my hand to wipe the tears, in case it brought attention to myself, and just allowed them to fall to my broken heart.  A river of tears to give meaning to my drowning heart.

I wish I wasn't so hard.  How horrible I felt that I was so cynical of a child's baptism.  That got me crying even more.  I feel like such a bad person when these feelings pop up.  Why can't my first reaction be joy anymore?  Why can't I just put aside my own worries for even just ten minutes?  Zachary gets ordained-- Jealous.  Friends Graduate and go of to college-- Jealous.  Jacob baptizes his little brother-- Jealous.  And if I am being honest, I do feel a stab of anger.  Just like all others, I had a good sob in the car and at home (as well as the Chapel, obviously) yesterday, took a nap, and woke up feeling a bit better about the whole thing.  Now I feel nothing but joy that Clayton got to have his big brother baptize him.  But I sure didn't when I heard it.  And that makes me ashamed and sad.

The refiners fire is humbling me right now, I hope.  I didn't have this heart before cancer, and I'm working hard to soften it now.  I don't want to continue down this path, I don't want to stay this way forever.  Jealousy and cynicism are ugly, hateful, and hurtful.  But they are real for me right now in the depths of this grief.  I wish so many things about myself would come back, because the person I am right now is just a depressing shade of what she used to be.

Freddy

I love having a little boy that is still all boy!

Gold

Opened my mailbox to see the package I've been waiting for had arrive.  And then I saw the packaging and started to cry as I hugged it to me tight.

I loved Amazon before, but it's nothing compared to how I feel about them now!  Thank you, Amazon!!!

Perspective

During intense periods of anxiety like I am experiencing right now, one of the things that is greatly impacted by it is my sleep.  It's a vicious cycle.  I'm so full of anxiety that it pushes me to go, go, go, move, move move.  This makes me physically and mentally tired by the time I go to bed.  You'd think that I would sleep like a rock, but instead my mind continues throughout the night.  Many times I wake up with a pounding heart, sweaty everything, gasping for breath without even having a dream to prompt such reactions.  I wake because my body is actually in a panic attack.  One such panic attack happened this week.  As I was trying to calm myself down, I thought back on the dream I could remember perfectly.  It was a good dream, calm and nice, yet my body woke me in a jolt with panic.  I woke exhausted, ready for another day of go, go, go, move, move, move.

For weeks now, I've woke at least an hour before my alarm.  Not all are in a full-blown panic attack, but all are something that jolts me awake, something where there is no chance I can go back to sleep.  I feel it begin in my brain, like adrenaline pulsing from my brain, down through my veins, waking everything up with electricity.  Many times, my eyes aren't even bleary, although it is much too early for me to be awake.  As soon as I start to feel it, my mind and heart reach out in prayer.  "Heavenly Father, I am so, so tired.  I don't know how I'll make it through the day without rest.  Help me make it through this day."

With days and days with me waking at 5:20am, exhausted and ready to start my day with a good sob, I was even more devastated to wake at 3:00am yesterday morning.  I did everything I could think of to help me go back to sleep.  Nothing worked.  I went through the day like a freight train, barely able to sit down for anything.  As I prayed before bed, I thanked my Heavenly Father for helping me make it through another day.  My watched logged 1,200 calories burned, I was truly good and exhausted.  "Please, Heavenly Father, help me sleep in tomorrow.  I am just so tired."

When I woke in a panic this morning, huffing and sweaty, I looked at the clock, and sighed a massive sigh of relief.  "Thank you, Heavenly Father, for helping me sleep in."  It was 5:20am.  How quickly my perspective changed in reference to my recent inner clock going off at 5:20am when I was presented with a 3:00am instead.  5:20am is not enough for my taste, but it's what my body wants right now, so I'll just be happy.

Life is like that sometimes.  We complain about something until we're given a glimpse of what it truly could be like, and then we're happy with what we have.  I'll take 5:20am every day, if it means I don't have to wake up at 3:00am.  I'm heading to bed now thinking back on a childhood chant Ashlee and I used to say: "I hope I sleep good.  Really, really good."

Lard

While at the gym today, Jamie told me that her father-in-law had gone to an allergist for his eczema.  I had to laugh at what he was told to do to help alleviate his symptoms.

2 Zyrtec in the morning and 2 at night, every single day.
Cera Ve, which is the recommended lotion of choice, should be used often.
And soak in a bath every other day until your skin is good and pruned, and then lather up with....

Crisco.

We're trying it out.  Love that my Mister gets to Lather with Lard every other day!  Delicious!!

Suggestions

As I was getting everything ready to go on a walk this morning, my finger accidentally skimmed over the screen of my phone to access this page.  I had to laugh.

This has actually happened to me twice now, so now I know my phone is trying to tell me something.  See the Maps Destinations? "5 min to Regal Nails."  1) I haven't been to Regal Nails in more than five years, so why the heck would this even be a viable suggestion, and 2) I'm a nail biter that does very little for the general upkeep of my phalanges.  It's a disgusting, bad habit, believe me I know, but I've actually awakened in the morning to find my homegrown-for-6-weeks nails bit down to the quick-- I don't always choose to bite!  For my phone to suggest this destination is just silly.  Siri must be drunk again...  Now, if it said Costa Vida, then, then I'd understand!

Parade of Homes

Today Randy and I not only got to spend the day together doing something we love, but I got to do something I've wanted to do since 2007: Parade of Homes.  In Casper, the tickets were always much too expensive, so we really haven't looked into it much, thinking it was still that expensive.  This year, we decided to check into it after Jamie said our good friend had won tickets from a radio station while driving home from work.  I considered going out right away to get tickets, but was just too tired.  Randy and I said we'd grab them before it began at 9:00am.  Jamie called me around 8:00, asking if I wanted to go.  When I told her Randy and I planned to go, she asked if I'd gotten the tickets yet.  "Don't!  He won 12 tickets!!"  This just kept getting better and better!!

Parade of Homes was everything I had dreamed it would be.  We got to walk into homes, which, as you know is a hobby of ours (we both look at Realtor.com every single day, just to look, not to buy), and see the very best quality, the very best craftsmanship, the very best views, the very best ideas, the very best... everything!  I wasn't hoping to see homes that I could picture myself living in (although I wouldn't mind living in a few), but the ones that had amenities, and extras, and bells and whistles that I could stare at and oogle.

My second favorite home (I have three favorites) had the most amazing views of the entire Tri-cities -- a one-of-a-kind type view-- but also had what I feel is the most opulent Master Suite I have ever been in in my entire life.  Double doors led to a MASSIVE mirror that made the entry feel twice as big.  I asked Randy if he liked the light fixtures before realizing it was just one reflected back at me.  Behind that, with entry on either side of the mirrored wall, was the closet.  Luxury department store type closet.  I could fill about .1% of those shelves and rods with our clothes, but it was beautiful to see something I've never seen before with my own eyes.  Then I turned to the right and saw the bathroom...

Imagine this: A vanity on either side, with the most amazing mirrors and lighting fixtures ever.  The ceilings of this house were like 12' ceilings, so it felt like you were in a Greek bath house, it was so big.  The tile on the floor is the most expensive tile you've ever seen.  Directly in front of you, maybe 12' away from the entrance of the massive bathroom is a massive, beautiful stand-alone tub.  There is a tall wall from floor to ceiling, but it is only as wide as the tub.  On either side of this tub is an entry to a massive shower.  Rain faucet above, with a spray faucet as well, with the most beautiful, complimentary tile to match all other tiles.  Like most homes we saw, this shower had a different tile for the floor, side walls, and main wall.  I cannot begin to tell you how massive this bathroom is.  And I got to walk around, to my heart's content, and just look.  I got to experience 13 homes for as long as I wanted, no rush.  *Swoon*

Before we left our home, Randy asked if this was going to make me want to remodel our home.  I told him that I do have ideas for updating this home, but I didn't feel I needed them now.  Truly, I live in our dream home, I see no reason to change a thing right now.  Before we made it to our last home on the list, Randy was brainstorming all the ways we could update our Master Bathroom.  "I think I'm ready to start ripping out walls and the tub, just to see what we have to work around."  And just like that, we may have a remodel on our hands.

My emotional state is very fragile right now (which I know I'll write about later, when it doesn't hurt so much), so I was near tears a few times revelling how wonderful it felt to feel happiness.  It was so much fun spending time with my Mister, doing exactly what we loved, together, looking at beauty that I don't get to see in any of the homes we want to buy or build.  Parade of Homes was everything I imagined and wanted it to be.  Randy even said we will make it an annual thing!

Tonight Tyson prayed, "Heavenly Father, we're thankful that Mom got to do something today that she's waited a long time to do."  Amen, Tyson.  Amen.

I could live in our current home for the rest of my life.

Tara and Jason, if you ever read this, thank you again for giving those tickets to us.  It was a beautiful day for so many reasons!

UPDATE: October 1, 2019.

Randy in a tentative voice, "You know.  We could just be grateful for our big bathroom and save the money of the remodel."  Remembering what I've said all along, you can imagine my giggle at his tentative voice, as if he was nervous I'd be disappointed...  We are not going to renovate our bathroom.

The Missing

I felt it again this year, the switch of my emotions, only this year it feels much harder.  After weeks of pain, grappling each day to understand what makes it so, I think I've pinpointed what makes this September to October countdown so much harder than last year: experiencing things this year that I'd only prepared myself for mentally.  As I've said before, knowing something and living something are two very different ways to understand the same thing.

I've been working myself up to this year for a very long time now.  Once I realized he was going to die, I started to look ahead for things that he wasn't going to experience.  I had to allow my hopes and dreams for him to die too, closed up in his casket at the same moment his face was stolen away from me forever.  I began to mourn things that parents almost count as guarantees: Graduation, College, Mission (not always a given, but for Caden it was), Marriage to a woman that cherishes him almost as much as I do, and kids of his own that I could snuggle and spoil.  It's one thing to mourn those things when they were a distant possibility, albeit one that he was never going to achieve now that he was dying, and another for the day they would have happened to actually be "today."

I was doing the dishes when Randy said, "Oh, the two-year anniversary is basically next month.  It's one month and eight days now."  I literally felt myself stiffen as the realization hit me.  It was still August, a normal month, one that doesn't hurt, but that was taken away from me with those two tiny sentences.  From that moment forward, my life has progressively, rapidly gotten harder.  (Please note that I do not blame Randy for this-- I'm setting the stage for what's to come with the simple fact.)

Four days later, the first of many "to comes" happened.  One of Caden's friends, Zachary Graves, was sustained an Elder in the Melchizedek Priesthood.  Again, I felt that jolt, that bullet in my heart.  I was so excited and happy to hear this was happening for him, but it hurt me deeply to see the beginning of his friends preparing for missions.  I had planned it in my head, how I would feel, but it was nothing to how deeply it hurt when it actually happened.

Tuesday and yesterday were the hardest days so far.  His friends packed their cars, headed for college.  They were leaving home to begin their lives, while my son is buried 1.5 miles from my home.  I knew it would be hard to see them go, but I didn't understand the pain of the situation until it was ripping me to shreds from the inside.  His support system is leaving, heading off to adventures unknown.  It's so confusing to feel such happiness that they are, that they get to, yet hate them for it too.  The guilt alone of that statement has me second-guessing my frankness.  It warmed my heart to hear that Zachary Bagley, Caden's best friend in the whole world, stopped by his grave to say goodbye, yet it had me sobbing in my closet with my bathrobe shoved in my mouth as I rocked back and forth until I ran dry.  It's all so confusing, this joy and sorrow for the same thing.

I've come to the understanding that I'm going to struggle for a few years.  I truly have faith that everything worked out as the Lord intended, that Caden is in Heaven right now serving a mission, and that I will one day see my sweet boy again.  I know that my Heavenly Father knows my heart right now, that I am working through these experiences the best I can, and that a way to truly understand something is to actually pass through it with our mortal body, mind, and heart.  So I'm going to struggle as they get their mission calls and leave.  I'm going to mourn as I watch other mothers meet their missionaries at the airport, posters in hand, neck craning and near faint as they catch that first glimpse of the face they love most in the crowd, taking their child home once again.  I'm going to mourn the graduation announcements, just like I did in May.  Wedding announcements.  And so on.  I'm going to mourn, but I'm also going to celebrate too.  Because I love these kids so much for what they did for Caden while he was alive, and what they have become in my heart through it all.  I am happy for them, even if it hurts so, so, so much to watch them go on with their lives without us.

I love my Heavenly Father.  I am grateful for my life.  I have a firm testimony that will not be shaken because an outcome is not what I want.  But I also know that as I kneel in prayer and cry out to Him, "I hope you know I'm having a hard time," He sees my heart and continues carrying me for just a bit longer.  I feel so broken.  The Missing pain cannot be described.  Mostly because, like so much I've said in this post, you can read the words but until you actually live them, you will never understand the depth of my meaning.

I love you, Caden.  I love you, I love you, I love you...

Prompted

The Facebook post I was compelled to write this afternoon.  I could not rest until it was done, so someone out there must have needed it.  The Spirit has worked through me many times over the last few years, I don't know why he would stop now.  I'll always listen, even if writing it rips my heart out and makes me bleed for hours and hours.

I recognize that the last few years, my posts, which are on Randy's account which I use every once in a while, have all been about Caden and cancer and sorrows that I still can't believe are real. I imagine it is something that people scroll past, because they know our story and don't want to hear more about it-- it's a living nightmare after all. But I'd like to think, when the feelings are as strong as they are today, the need and pull to write as strong as it is right now, that Heavenly Father is prompting me to reach out with my words and raw emotions to help someone else. We weren't always a cancer family. We didn't always understand the way we do now. Maybe my truth can help someone else.

Yesterday was just another day in a long row of days without Caden. I woke feeling completely exhausted-- enough so that I actually laid on the couch to say goodbye to my kids as they left for school. Everything was hard. My anxiety became too much, so I walked. And walked. And walked. 12 miles total without thought as to a destination. I cried many times along the side of the road, doubled over and sobbing loud for the whole world to hear. I just couldn't contain the hurt. I wanted to be anywhere other than home. I wanted to run away, hide from the pain and sorrow that was drowning me, cutting off the very air in my lungs, daggers shredding up my heart from the inside. But I held on for the other four kids that need me when they come home. I barely made it through the day, just as I have for the past few days.

As I was going to bed, thankful that the day was done and that I'd "survived," I looked at the date to see whose turn it was to pray (I pray on odd days when it is odd years...), and knew what had made the day so hard-- It was September 9th, the day, two years ago, when we were told that Caden was for sure going to die of cancer, that there was nothing else they could/would do for him, and gave us the number to a hospice nurse they trusted to ease him into the next world.

I consciously didn't know what day it was. But my mind and heart sure did. I didn't "think" to have a bad day, or "plan" to have a bad day because I looked ahead to see it had once been a bad day and could be a bad day this year too, but my heart sure felt it. I never understood that our days are not only kept by ticking clocks, appointment books, schedules and planned days, but by the counting of days of a mother's heart. Until now.

In our Faith, young men leave their families for 2-years to serve a mission. As we approach the 2-year anniversary, just 24 days away, I can't help but feel deep, gut-wrenching sorrow that this month is not the countdown to the celebration it would be if he was coming home in just over three weeks. No, because my son will never come home again. My son died. I will not see him in this life ever again.

September is Childhood Cancer month. The statistics and memes that are all over the internet, posted mostly by families just like ours, mean so much to us. Caden didn't have a lifestyle that lead to this. He did not drink, did not smoke, did not do anything but live as a child until he was forced to grow too quickly into a man overnight. He was healthy, and then he was not. He was running and playing and dreaming of life, and then he was lying in a bed, too weak to move, having poisons pumped directly into his heart to hopefully save his life. September was just another month before his diagnosis. Then it became a month to get the word out while he was fighting every single day just to live another day. Now, being the countdown month to the hardest day of our lives, October 4th, it has become a month that I fight to survive each and every minute of each and every day of my life.

Cancer has changed me. Some things are good: I love deeper, look harder and more, and appreciate so much more than I ever did before. But I have been changed in ways that scare me, too. I don't think I'll ever be the same. Cancer steals, cancer kills, cancer freaking sucks. Hopefully, one day, a vaccine will eradicate it to just a memory, like polio, mumps, and things like that. I pray- on odd days during the odd years- that I'll be around to celebrate the cure. Until then, wave if you see me walking aimlessly around town, doubled over at times, but always working hard to fight a fight that threatens to overtake me.

Cancer is not always pink. Sometimes it is yellow for the children. But it always brings the same colors to every single heart it touches: Black. No matter whether they survive or die, it kills something in you you never saw coming.

Metal Detector

Tyson came in tonight, limping badly and sucking in breath through his teeth.  He'd been outside kicking a ball around, with me inside worrying the entire time about his arm, so that's what my mind was on when I asked, "Did you hurt your arm?!" even though he was limping.  He sat down, pulled up his foot, and there, stuck in his heel, was a jeweled bow.

Since it wasn't too deep in the grass, and the metal wasn't too badly rusted, I knew it had to be a recent loss.  Sure enough, it's one of Ashlee's girls' earrings.  Broken arm on the 5th, earring through the foot on the 9th, what's next?!  He scrubbed it with soap, put his shoes on, and went back out to kick the ball around.  I need that arm to heal quicker-- his activity causes me heart palpitations!!!  That, and the Jury Summons I received in the mail today...

Support

Tyson dressed out today in full uniform to support his teammates for their first game.  My heart couldn't handle seeing him not be able to play, knowing how much he really wanted to and how devastated he was, so Randy took him while I walked off my anxiety.  Randy said it was really cool when his teammates ran up, cheering, and surround him like he had just won the game they were about to play. 

"Tyson's here!!  Hey, Tyson!!  Sorry I kicked that ball."

That last one was said with real remorse, while all the others were said with such joy that their friend had come to support them.  It wasn't enough just to go to the game, he was part of the team in full uniform, cheering them on in their first game of the season.  I'm so proud of my boy!

Savage

Tyson loves soccer.  Probably more than food sometimes.  He asked us almost weekly, if not more, when the soccer season would begin not two seconds after the whistle blew ending his last game from the season last year.  He just loves soccer.

We signed him up for a more competitive soccer league this year, wanting him to get more coaching.  I've been happy with it thus far.  He practices an hour and a half on Monday's and Wednesday's, with an hour practice for Keeper Training on Thursday's.  Because the season's first game is scheduled for tomorrow, Coach scheduled an additional practice for yesterday.  I arrived a few minutes before the end of practice, maybe five minutes or so, and watched as they played.  Tyson was in a yellow jersey, with everyone else either red or green, so I knew he'd acted as the Keeper for a little bit.  As he ran around with the other boys, I noticed him holding his right wrist, but didn't think anything about it other than he must have to go to the bathroom.

Coach called the end of practice, and I watched as they put their hands into a circle to call out the end of practice with a cheer.  Tyson put his right hand in, pulled it back, turned slightly, and put his left hand in.  Again, I didn't think too much of it.  I watched him load his soccer bag with his gear, kind of confused as to why he was taking so long and why he wasn't using both hands to hurry things along.  As he turned to me and started walking down the hill to the car, his face crumbled.  I was worried that something had happened at practice that had hurt his feelings, but instead found out that something at practice had hurt his arm.

Seated in the car, keeping his arm close to his abdomen, Tyson reached with his left hand across his body to grab the seatbelt, hold it with his chin, and grab for more belt with his left to snap it in.  He was not using that right arm, and was crying to tell me what had happened.  Having watched him out there running around just minutes before, I was so confused watching him.  My help was delayed as my mind grappled to understand that he wasn't faking it.

"We put the goals closer together to play a scrimmage game.  One of the boys drop-kicked the ball into the goal.  I jumped up and reached to stop the ball, but it hit me so, so fast and really hurt.  Because of the pain, I dropped down to the ground.  I had to pick up my right arm with my left arm, but it wouldn't stay up.  It just hurt so much.  Coach had me do some stuff and said it looked like it would bruise, so I need to ice it for fifteen minutes, give it a break for ten minutes, and then ice it again for fifteen minutes.  But, Mom, it just hurts so bad."

Tyson is not one to cry often.  He's taken some hard lumps and just walked away, so I knew something was really wrong.  I called Randy, telling him that Tyson could potentially have a broken arm.  It wasn't as obvious as Caden's had been, but the way he was holding it to himself and telling me about it seemed a bit worrisome.  At some angles it looked weird, and others it looked fine.  It wasn't swelling a bunch, but he couldn't move it certain ways without calling out.  Because it was so late, the only option we had was to go to the ER.  Since it wasn't super obvious, and because we knew it could wait a bit even if it was broken, we decided to wait to take him to the Urgent Care first thing this morning.  We filled him with Ibuprofen and sent him to bed, wondering if he would sleep through the night.

He did, and woke being able to use it, saying it didn't hurt too bad.  When we asked him to clamp his fist, move it, and do a few things, he seemed completely fine, if not a bit sore.  Hearing from his coach how fast that ball was coming at him, it wasn't too far out of the realm of possibility that it was just majorly bruised, even if it wasn't black and blue.  Randy asked him to bump it a little, but Tyson showed us just how much it felt better by hitting it much harder than I would have liked.  He said it hurt, but couldn't tell us whether it was because of the injury from last night, of from how hard he'd hit it just then.  We decided it must be bruised and sent him to school.

When he came home, I could tell something was wrong.  "Mom, it just kept getting worse and worse today.  My arm really hurts."  Randy loaded him in the car for the Urgent Care.  15 minutes later, I got these pictures.

Broken.  Remembering how Caden screamed out when he had his set (even if he was semi-unconscious and didn't remember a thing), I'm grateful the bone didn't separate!  He will now be in a brace for 3-4 weeks, and will not be able to play his first game of soccer of the season tomorrow morning.  Can you imagine how fast that ball was coming at him to break his arm in mid-air?!  His coach assured me that he would never have let him go back out and play if it would have hit him in the head, and wouldn't have had him go out there if he knew the extent of the injury or Tyson wouldn't have been adamant about wanting to play.  All I have to say is this: How savage is my little guy for wanting to go back out and play soccer when his arm was broken?!  He didn't want to play keeper again during the rest of the practice, with how much it hurt, but he didn't want to sit out either.  As soon as the adrenaline of the practice was over, the pain really set in good and hard, but he played through the pain while he was out on the field, even if he did have to hold it close to his body for protection.  I sure hope this thing heals quickly.  Tyson loves soccer.  It's as simple as that. 

Answer

After finishing up her homework yesterday after school, Keilie and I ran to Target to get supplies to answer Evan in a fun way.  She'd already told him she'd go with him when he asked, but it's customary to answer in a fun way too.

 I love watching this girl using her art talent.  She does everything by hand and tries things she's never done before without fear.  "I think I'm going to try the cursive hand-lettering..." and free hands it as if she's done it a thousand times before.  She astounds me with her wicked skills.

 The glitter that's all over my floor this morning doesn't even bother me, because she was so proud and excited for what she'd done.

 "I copied his sign by doing the *U.  I should have used the blue glitter with the red around the burst, since I was trying to stay with the Spiderman theme.  (Referencing his proposal) I want to write in small letters, "Even though you are not Tom Holland" right here.  I wonder if he'll bring the Starbursts tomorrow to school and share some with me.  (Giggling) He should be happy I didn't just glue a few of them on and call it good."  The giddiness in her voice as she said all of these things was so contagious!

Since Dara hadn't been a part of Evan's asking, I made sure to let her be a part of Keilie's answering.  I sent her pictures of Keilie working on it, telling her I'd let her know if Keilie finished it that night, and when we were on our way so she could be there and take pictures.

"He knew something was up when I told him to make his lunch before showering."

She sent me a video of him opening the door, them talking a little bit, and then Keilie's face when she realized that it was being recorded.  {Shy smiles}"My mom told you?!"  That's right, I told her!  Moms want to be included in all these fun rites of passage!

"We told him a member of the Bishopric was coming.  You should have brought your dad!"

Randy had wanted to go, but the second he said he wanted to watch her give it to him, she begged him off and demanded he stay home.  "Mom's just going to stay in the car.  {Looking at me} Right?!"  I smiled inwardly, because I knew I'd get to see what transpired because Dara and I were in this together, and assured her that I wouldn't get out of the car.  I kept up the charade by instructing her to park in a portion of their driveway where I couldn't see the door.  And then I smiled, knowing what was awaiting her when she rang that doorbell:)

I sure hope the fabric swatches get here soon-- I can't wait to see the color she chooses.  I want to order the dress straightaway so that it can get here already!

Teach

A couple weeks ago, Wendi Trappett called and asked if I would be willing to host a Mutual night in our home, teaching the girls how to cook something.  Having just come from Ashlee's house to make jam, I asked if I could teach them how to make freezer jam even though it didn't involve cooking.  I plied them with promises of tasting it while here and going home with their own jar.  They were all for it.

As I contemplated how I was going to set up my kitchen so that I would feel more organized, I started to get nervous.  Really nervous.  "What were you thinking asking to teach something that you've never done on your own before?!  Something that you were kind of confused about when you were at Ashlee's!!"  Let me just say, I read and re-read the recipe, went over how Ashlee did it in my head, called Ashlee to tell her my ideas for setup and execution, and then got to work setting it all up.  The moment the girls and the leaders showed up, I was ready.

(Sydnee, Naomi, Katie, Shaedynn, Shelby, Jordyn, Zoe, Bella, Brooklyn)

It was a hit!  With 8 pounds of strawberries, we were able to make three batches (12 pints) of jam in just 45 minutes.  Granted, that was with four girls cutting, two girls manning the seedless cranking, three girls measuring, and all girls stirring at one point or another, but still-- 45 minutes start to finished.  Wanting them to actually sample it while there, I made freezer biscuits and pulled out a pint that I'd made with Ashlee.  The sighs of contentment made all the prep stress worth it!  They talked, they laughed, they ate, and they worked.  Our home was filled with sights, sounds, tastes, and smells of joy.  I feel so blessed that they asked me.  I'd do it all again in a heartbeat.