I HAVE A BRILLIANT NIECE

My brilliant niece with her granddaughter--who has Oreo-teeth--at a party thrown for Lezlie's parents (my sister and brother-in-law) celebrating fifty years of marriage.

My niece, Lezlie, took her boy to BYU Idaho to start school this last week. They were standing in line for him to get his ID photo taken. When it was finally his turn the woman in charge said something like, "His hair is too long. It touches his ears. You will have to take him to a barber and come back."

(BYU rules are very strict. The kids have to sign a moral code and there are dress and grooming standards. If the kids want to go to school there they live by the rules.)

~~Now, if you ever get a chance to meet Lezlie you are in for a great experience. She is quick. Quick witted. Quick to do everything--she graduated from college and had her first baby when she was twenty--or maybe she was nineteen and turning twenty that year, I can't remember for sure. She graduated in Journalism but raised a family of six instead of going to the TV studio every day. She has written ten books (and more under contract) for children. She is a love--I am enchanted by her. She sparkles, she grins, she teases, she is a deep thinker and works hard at everything she does. She has taught each one of her children to hold to the standards of their religion and they are all smart and savvy. They will all make major contributions to the world.~~

So, when that woman said the words "barber" and "come back," and Lezlie and Daniel had already stood in that line FOR EVER Lezlie wasn't buying it.

"Do you have a pair of scissors?" she asked the woman. I'm sure she used her innocent-I-need-help face. When you see that face you would do anything for her.

"I think so," the woman said, digging through her stuff. You know about women's "stuff." There could be anything inside the depths of a woman's purse. She produced a pair of scissors, which Lezlie borrowed and in a minute or two Daniel was up to the grooming standards, got his photo ID taken and hopefully will have realized that he has a pretty smart mom.

Now, if that had been me I would have drug my child to the barber, got back in the l-o-n-g line and missed my plane. And that is why I am a mother of old children who know how to handle their lives and sometimes mine too. Bless all of our little cotton socks.

Long live young mothers who know what to do and how to do it.

PS If Lezlie couldn't have found scissors she would probably have gnawed his hair off because, after all, she's clever and WAS NOT GOING TO THE END OF THE LINE. You should buy her books for your wee ones. I tell you, she's brilliant.

SHEETS DRIED ON THE LINE--A PERSONAL HISTORY STORY

When I was a kid I was often Mom’s partner in the weekly sheet changing. As the clean sheets were shook out into the bed they released the dried-out-of-doors smell. We both breathed deep. I knew when I climbed into bed that night it would smell the same.

When the bed was completely made I lay on the bed. Mother stood there shaking her head with a smile on her face. As we went from room to room I christened each bed with a trial run. After I got up I had to re-fluff the pillow and make everything look nice again but it was worth it.

Mom finally got a clothes dryer. She dried everything in it for a month or two and then, gradually used it less and less. Soon breakfast cereal was stored on top. She used it to fluff almost dry towels or if the weather was bad, but really, it became the cereal storage shelf.

When Mom died, all of the out-of-town family stayed at Mom and Dad’s. Every bed was used, every couch made up with fresh sheets and blankets. The day after the funeral, as we were loading sheets into the washer, I told my niece, Lezlie that even after Mom got a dryer she hung all the sheets on the clothes line.

“You're kidding," Lezlie said. "Why?”

“She loved the smell of sheets dried out of doors. And she was thrifty,” I said.

“Hum,” Lezlie said, a little frown forming between her eyebrows. Her mom always used the dryer and so did I. Lezlie had never "pinned" clothes on a line.

I went upstairs for another load of sheets and towels and to tidy the bathroom. It took me awhile to get back downstairs as I kept finding things that needed to go in suitcases.

When I got to the back porch the washer was empty and Lezlie was gone. The dryer was silent. I went out the back door and peered through the breezeway.

I saw several pink sheets, hanging next to white pillowcases embroidered with blue flowers. The wind was playing tag around them as I saw a yellow sheet being hung with weathered clothespins.

“What are you doing,” I called to Lezlie.

She peered around the sheets with a grin on her face. “This is what Grandma would do,” she said. “She liked sheets dried on the line.” She paused for a couple of seconds. "And I like what Grandma liked."

I grinned back at her. "Me too."

I always will.

THE MIRACLE OF THE SLEEP-OVER SISTER

Let me tell you about a miracle that my sister, Julie, participated in. Actually she was the star, she was the rescuer, she prevented tragedy.

This happened years ago. Her daughter was in college here at BYU. My kids were young; Her Excellency of Mousehole wasn’t even born yet. I was an overwhelmed young mother. I wasn’t one of those women who run a perfectly organized home with gourmet meals. Oh, wait. I did pretty well in the meal department. You could set the clock when I called the family for dinner and they were delicious--the meals were delicious, not the family. But, then again, who can resist a baby or a toddler or even a child, and on occasion, a husband? So maybe the family was delicious, too.

I was overwhelmed one week and I had prayed for help. I remember actually saying the words, “Heavenly Father, please send me some help!” I had no idea where it was going to come from.

My sister showed up on my doorstep the next day. She lived forty miles away and this was a rare occurrence for her to just show up.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

It was the middle of the winter, driving from Salt Lake to Provo is sometimes a challenge in the winter and that particular day was overcast and snow was predicted.

“I don’t know. I just felt like it,” she said.

I think the Holy Ghost whispered to her and she listened.

“I want you and Lezlie to go to a movie,” she said. “I’ll go home late this afternoon.”

“I can’t do that," I said. "You and Lezlie go to a movie.”

“Nope,” she said. “I’m staying here. I’ll watch the kids and tidy up a little.” She was insistent and forceful. She’s an older sister and so “insistent and forceful” come naturally to her.

So, Lezlie was called and she and I went to the movie. I don’t remember what we saw. I do remember we laughed and laughed. I have always had a loving relationship with Lezlie. She’s funny, and whatever she does I think it great. (Go here and see her books.)

When we got back, Julie had cleaned my house and taken care of the kids and then said, “It looks like snow. I think I’ll just stay the night. I’ll just sleep right here on the couch.”

Julie still had kids at home. I don't know who took care of them while she was at my house or who was going to get them off to school the next morning. This is one of the details that make this miracle--well, miraculous, that things were being taken care of at home. Maybe Gordon was a willing participant in the miracle.

And no one in her right mind wants to sleep on a couch but she was insistent and forceful and I was the younger sister. I was used to her deciding things. We had a whole lifetime-history of her deciding things, so I agreed. We stayed up and talked for a while. It was so nice to have her to myself, that didn't happen often. We finally made a bed with sheets and blankets on the couch and she said, “I’ll be fine.”

The next morning, when I got up, Taylor was sleeping with her. “Why is Taylor sleeping here? The couch wasn’t uncomfortable enough, you had to add a child?”

“Well, it was a funny thing,” she said. “It was the middle of the night and I heard something. I looked up and Taylor was on his way to the front door. I think he was going to go outside.”

Taylor had been sick and sometimes he sleepwalked when he was sick.

“So, I said to him,” she said, “‘Where are you going, Taylor-bug?’ but he didn’t answer, he just continued toward the door so I grabbed him and snuggled him down and he went right to sleep.”

It had snowed earlier that evening and was bitter cold. The possibility that she saved Taylor’s life was a real possibility. I don’t think either one of us realized it at the time but as all the miracles in my life, the realization that the hand of the Lord was watching over my family, came later.

How grateful I am to my sister, Julie, for preventing a tragedy in our family’s life. She didn’t know why she came. She gave me a break and sent me to the movie with Lezlie. She helped with housework that was overwhelming. She saved Taylor's life.

Three miracles. I had prayed for some help and help came, and for something I didn’t even know I was going to need help with. But someone did and sent Julie.

DO THINGS WELL, LIKE KATE, WHO IS GOOD AT BEING GOOD...AND HUNGRY

This is Kate, my hungry four-year-old granddaughter. She's the one who somersaulted onto the cat and catapulted (ha!) her off the sofa the other day.





We tended Kate today and it's always entertaining to see how soon she is going to be hungry and all the things she is going to find in the cupboards to ask about. Here she is eating carrots in her tent we constructed in the family room.

Here's what she ate:

a banana

carrots

crackers

mac and cheese

a chocolate truffle

more carrots

Valentine conversation hearts

a cherry bagel

She was here a little more than three hours.

When Ruby--age 2--is here she puts everyone in the Children's Nativity set to bed, they all lie down. Kate put them all to bed, too. Even Baby Jesus got taken out of his real bed to make a bed on the cold hard ground. Poor baby Jesus.

This cabinet is one I had when I was a child. It now holds markers, paper and coloring books.

After Kate left I went outside to take a picture of the mountain but it's too hazy to get a decent one so I took a picture of my cheesy birdhouses. This is the one that started my collection--the one on the right.

Deverl--a real Mormon name--made this for us when he was our home teacher. You can tell who Deverl home taught because we all have one of his birdhouses. This one and the one you can see part of are the only ones that aren't falling apart.

I remember where I bought all the ones that are falling apart and, in some cases, I remember talking to the people who made them. One woman was so proud that she and her dad had built birdhouses together. The problem is, they stapled them, didn't even use nails. Every time her birdhouses fall apart in a new, creative way I see her face and make that noise in the back of my throat. As You can see, Deverl screwed his birdhouse together. It will still be standing after the mutants run amok.

I have told my children that one day the mutants will be marauding and I will watch from the front porch and tend the kiddies while they are off fighting the battles. My front porch will hold me and about four kids, if we snuggle. I must campaign for a bigger porch. Or less mutants. Or less me.

The rest of the cheesy birdhouses and the snow shovel, thrown in just because I forgot it was there.

This is my welcome angel. Her welcome sign now just says...well, nothing. So she's holding a sign up for all the world to see with no message. She is not representative of her owner. I always have an opinion, even if it's wrong.

And last of all, here is the big mouthed frog, hiding under the chair made of tree branches, that my children's-book-writer niece, Lezlie Evans gave me.

When she was a preteen, or in her early teenage years, she used to tell me the Big Mouthed Frog joke. I loved it. She was so dramatic. (She has more personality than should be allowed--she should have to share with someone who doesn't have enough.)

I loved her joke and made her tell it over and over. Last year, for my birthday--which is one day shy of five months away--get those presents ready--she brought me a big mouthed frog to remember her by. As if I could ever forget Lezlie.

I don't know that this post really has a purpose other than to say that if you are going to do something, do it as well as possible unless it's to be a non-lasting thing. Like dinner. You're going to eat it up and forget it tomorrow so if you make a mess of it, its no big deal. If you are going to build something like a house, even a bird house, it ought to be made well.

Although, make enough lousy dinners and one of two things will happen. You will get sick and die of malnutrition or some horrible disease attributed to your food choices or you will get taken out to dinner.

Well now.