Emily’s Musings

On Sunday, we went to David’s great-aunt’s 90th birthday bash. Well, it was more like a social in the back yard, but I would like to image it as a “bash” because that’s what I expect when I turn 90 . . .

When we lived in Utah, we lived next door to this great-aunt for five years. It was exciting to see so many relatives, and members of the ward (a.k.a. a Mormon congregation) at this “bash” that we hadn’t seen in over seven years.

David asked me if I happened to talk to this “one” couple, and I said I had. He related the conversation he had with them to me and I thought, “YOU ARE SUCH A MAN. A WOMAN WOULD NEVER OMIT SO MANY DETAILS.”

Couple: “Hey! Where are you guys now?”

David: “We’re staying with my parents right now.”

Couple: “Oh . . . . .”

END OF CONVERSATION.

The ultimate “silencer.” Nothing says “I’m a lame” more than “I am a grown man, with a pregnant wife and a toddler, and two dogs, LIVING AT MY PARENTS HOUSE.” Can you blame the guy? He has no idea where we have been for the last seven years. How is he to know that we are “in-between” places and we choose to live in Utah to spend some time with our families this summer while I have this baby?

A woman would have said, “My husband is half way through medical school and he is studying for a major exam right now. We move to Louisiana in August so he can start working in in a hospital as a student doctor and since his clinical rotations don’t start until mid-August, we decided to spend the summer in Utah (instead of anywhere else while he studies for this exam) to see family and share the birth of our child with them. IT WOULD HAVE BEEN ONE VERY LONG SENTENCE LIKE THAT.

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Hannah and I went to the mall today to buy some essential things, which is my least favorite kind of shopping. It is depressing to spend money on stuff you need. It’s like buying gasoline. No one wants to pay for it, and I have never known anyone to come home excited after purchasing gasoline. Or heck, deodorant, or socks, or toothpaste for that matter. Somehow, spending money on things you don’t necessarily need, but want, is MUCH, MUCH, MORE REWARDING.

Too bad today wasn’t one of those days.

We had lunch in the mall food court, and while I was trying to convince Hannah to eat a curly fry (she is not like normal children who gobble up fries and chicken nuggets) she looked at someone behind me and smiled a HUGE SMILE. For a split second, I thought maybe she saw someone we knew . . .

Interrupting my thought, she pointed, smiled, and said in her loudest outside voice, “JESUS!” Lo and behold, there was a dude in line at Subway sandwiches, with long brown curly hair, that looked just like Jesus. Except, this dude was wearing black skinny jeans, converse shoes, chains on his belt, and he was carrying a skate board.

I almost (and really, I mean ALMOST) walked up to him to tell him my 22 month old child thought he was Jesus, and if you in fact are Jesus, (which I’m positive he wasn’t) she would like an autograph.

I know kids say the funniest things as they get older, and today was just a little piece of what’s to come out of my little one’s mouth. It’s times like this that make “necessity shopping” totally worth it.

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Some ladies from my church came over to visit me the other day to welcome me into the ward (in the Mormon world, a “ward” is another word for “congregation”). They asked me where I moved from and they were all surprised to hear I moved from paradise. As I tried to describe Saba to them, I found myself at a loss for words, which rarely happens to me.

How do you describe such a beautiful place without pictures? It was like describing the colors of the rainbow to a blind person. As I talked about Saba, I realized how much I really loved that little island. I miss the beauty of it, and I think I could handle all its little quirks (like grocery shopping only on Wednesday, boats that don’t come in, mail that takes over a month, $12 a gallon for milk, $5 a gallon for gas, and other annoying things) just to see it again. David and I really loved every minute we were there, and only on a few days (when I was longing for real shopping, family, and fast food) did I complain about being “stranded” on a deserted island in the middle of the ocean.

I did attempt to explain this beautiful island, but I’m not sure how successful I was without pictures.

How do you describe the view from our patio? The runway, rainbows, and ocean?

Or this view of the ocean and the islands of Statia and St. Kitts?

Or the view of St. Barths from our porch?

How about this sunrise?

Or the sunrise we woke up to on Christmas morning last year?

Or this sunrise?

Or this one?

Or how about this beautiful sunset on the other side of the island?

I tried to explain that all the homes were cookie cutter houses, that were white, red roofed, and had green shutters. I think this picture displays it much better than I could explain it.

I tried to explain how the whole island was a big hill and everyone walked up hill, both ways, EVERYWHERE.

Some of the hikes had beautiful views like this one.

This cruise ship would come by our house every Friday, January through April. It was something I looked forward to every Friday afternoon. It was so nice to have such an amazing view from my patio.

Everyone seems to have a “scary runway story.” Well, this RUNWAY TRUMPS ALL THOSE STORIES because this is the WORLD’S SHORTEST COMMERCIAL RUNWAY. At 440 meters long, you have ocean surrounding you on three sides. Even though I flew in and out of this island 30 times, (YEAH, THAT WOULD MEAN ON AND OFF THIS VERY RUNWAY) I still prayed and held my breath that I would survive.

This is a view of the runway from Upper Hells Gate.

I tried to explain that iguanas hung out on my walkway and in the garden . . .

And that Hannah wasn’t afraid of them. They were afraid of her!

Wild goats ran up and down my driveway and all over the island. I kind of miss the pesky things.

I explained how the roads were REALLY, REALLY, NARROW. Nothing like a photo for proof.

It’s not always perfect weather in the Caribbean, and sometimes it rains. A LOT. We were always grateful for the rain because every household was responsible for collecting their own water. On the day this photo was taken, 17 inches of rain fell in 12 hours. Everyone’s cistern was overflowing, and THE ENTIRE ISLAND WAS SO HAPPY. Notice how hard it is raining . . . the water is white capping down the road.

And lastly, I tried to explain how small our church group was. It consisted of medical students, so the membership fluctuated every semester. Church was held in our house, and I never thought I would say this, but I miss meeting together as a small group. And hey, you couldn’t beat the billion dollar view during church from our house.

David and I really miss the simple life that Saba offered. We are anxious to return one day with Hannah and this new little guy because he and Hannah are our Caribbean “souvenirs.”

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Dear Hannah,

You are now 22 months old. Our family has had some big changes in the past two months, so this letter will have many pictures to show your development, and the major life changes you have endured like a champ.

First, your daddy graduated from the basic science program at Saba University School of Medicine. What does this mean? He is half way through med school which makes him half a doctor, or as we like to to call him, a “tor.” He will earn the “Doc” part when he graduates in 2010 when he becomes a REAL DOCTOR. We all can’t wait for that day.

With all big accomplishments, come big changes. That meant we had to leave our beautiful home on Saba, in the Caribbean. Saba was your first home. You have grown up as a Caribbean baby, playing with rocks, geckos, iguanas, and swimming in the ocean. As much as we loved it there, the only reason we could live in the Dutch West Indies for an extended period of time is if your dad was in school. Since he finished the program (thank goodness for that! I I would DIE if he became an eternal or professional student) we have moved back to the states where he will do clinical rotations.

(This is what a Caribbean baby tan looks like compared to a Utah baby tan.)

The whole family (including the whining dogs) arrived in Texas at the end of April. You traveled so well. It took 19 hours to get from our doorstep on Saba, to Daniel and Lydia’s doorstep in Texas. Not once did you have a meltdown, or cry, or bother the other passengers traveling on our plane. I owe you BIG TIME for that. Someday you are going to read this, and I’m sure you will remind me of how you were such a calm and easy baby, and then your are going to ask for something BIG. I know it.

We went sailing with a friend of ours in Texas. (Who is a dentist and tried relentlessly to convince your dad to go to dental school instead of medical school. He now refers to your daddy as a “real doctor” because apparently, dentist’s aren’t real doctors.) You LOVE boats, and the ocean, so we thought you would be very excited about this sailing excursion.

However, about five minutes into the sail, you said, “All done?” SEVERAL TIMES. Then you would point out other boats on the water and say, “SEE EM!” with all the energy you could find in your little body. I don’t think you realized you WERE ON A BOAT. When I pointed out the water, and told you we were on the ocean, you shook your head and said, “No?” I know I was telling a little white lie, like moms do from time to time, (like when you demand more marshmallows, and I tell you they are all gone even though there is an entire bag waiting for you in the pantry). You are smart enough to know the Caribbean ocean is CLEAR, and turquoise, not dark blue, and murky. When your daddy took you to the front of the sail boat, you looked back at me and said, “FUN!” Good, I’m glad you finally figured out what were were doing was fun.

It has been very interesting to see the world change through your eyes. The first couple of days in Texas, you asked me to go swimming, and you kept looking out the back sliding door asking me about the ocean. You would say, “Ocean? Go?” Again, and again. It broke my heart to tell you the ocean was all gone. You no longer talk about geckos, iguanas, the ocean, or going swimming. It makes me sad to think of the life we left, but it also gives me comfort that you have adapted to your new life of BIKES, WALKS, and SWINGS. THIS IS ALL YOU TALK ABOUT. ALL DAY. EVERY DAY.

(I’d like to point out that your dad put your hair in pig tails on this day. He is multi-talented.)

You are still obsessed with “messes.” Part of having fun at the park is cleaning off EVERY WOOD CHIP, ON EVERY STAIR.

Texas is known for BIG TRUCKS. In fact, I think Texas alone supports the BIG TRUCK industry. Driving around town, you would yell, “TRUCK!” every time you saw a truck. Which was like every other vehicle.

While eating at Taco Bell, (I had to have it because your baby brother was TOTALLY craving it and I had been deprived of such fine cuisine for over two years) you noticed some balloons tied to the back of all the chairs. I am embarrassed to say this, but at almost two years old, YOU HAD NEVER SEEN A BALLOON. You looked very thoughtfully at them and then exclaimed, “CIRCLES!” Yes, they are indeed circles that float up in the air. You poor thing, I will have TONS of balloons at your birthday party in two months. That is if my pregnant brain can remember something that important. You affectionately call them “a banoon.” Yes, you put an article in front of “banoon” every time you talk about them.

You are an excellent sleeper. In fact, I think your grandparents might start asking you for advice on how to sleep 12 hours a night. There was one night of adjustment when we got to Texas, and you had a meltdown when we put you in a Pak N’ Play at Daniel and Lydia’s house. I would ask you, “Where is Hannah’s bed?” and you would point to the portable crib, and cry, “Hannah’s bed!” Then I would ask you where mommy’s bed was, and you would point to the bed and cry, “Mommy’s!” After establishing the bed assignments, you relented, and went to bed just fine.

You were an excellent traveler driving from Texas to Utah. You sat for 22 hours, and really, I don’t even have the patience for that. We are now staying at your Grandma and Grandpa Lesher’s house in Utah. You made yourself at home quite quickly, living by the “toddler rule” which is, “WHAT’S MINE IS MINE, AND WHAT’S YOURS IS MINE.” Several times throughout the day, you will say, “Hannah’s!” Just to make sure that I KNOW WHAT YOUR PROPERTY LOOKS LIKE. It is amazing how much stuff is yours anyway, like kitchen utensils, tweezers, and the T.V. remote control. Speaking of the T.V., you never showed any interest in watching it on Saba. However, since finding grandpa’s (who you call “Demnis”) “Chase Lounge Chair,” you LOVE to watch T.V.

You’ll watch anything really. You just love to relax on that piece of furniture and tell grandma “watch it!” Because obviously it is grandma’s responsibility to turn the T.V. on for you. You follow your Grandma Gloria around all the time and tell her what to do. We refer to you as her “shadow.” You usually convince her to go for a walk, or to the playground by saying, “COME ON!” No one, even your grandma who has a bad back and is recovering from knee surgery, can resist your enthusiasm and charm.

You used your special charm on your grandpa “Demnis” by talking about bikes, ALL DAY LONG. You would look at him and nod your head yes, and say “BIKE!” with such enthusiasm, that he could not resist your darling little face. It only took two days of taking about bikes, and Dennis drove you down to the store and let you pick out a bike. WE ARE ALL GRATEFUL TO HIM. WE COULD NOT LOOK AT YOUR INNOCENT FACE ASKING ABOUT A BIKE ANYMORE.

You love to give us updates on your whereabouts or physical wellbeing. You point out when you get a “bonk” and then say, “Okay?” Just so that we know you are indeed, OKAY. If the injury is in need of a kiss, you will walk up to the closest adult and say, “kiss it?” Most of the time, we don’t know you had a “bonk,” but we are always glad for the update.

You are very sweet to me, and point out where baby brother is ALL THE TIME. Probably because you can’t miss my belly, and that is indeed where he is. You kiss my tummy, and then point out that you also have a baby in your belly. Fortunately, you just have a belly with no baby.

You love to exercise on Grandma and Grandpa’s machines. You have named one machine “Daddy’s” and one machine “Mommy’s and Grandma’s.” Because obviously, those are the only machines we work out on.

Your hair was a mop. Well, more like a BIG MESS, and I know how you feel about messes. Your aunt Rachelle cut your hair the other day, giving it some shape. You had no idea what was going on, you just wanted to play with your tea set. You didn’t sit very still, but your hair turned out darling.

You attended nursery at church for the first time a few weeks ago. I knew you would like it, but I was totally wrong. BECAUSE YOU LOVED IT. What more could a kid want besides toys, other kids to play with, and snacks? When I went in to pick you up after your first time attending, you took one look at me and said, “GO AWAY!” That’s always a nice way to greet your mom. WHO ENDURED 30 HOURS OF LABOR, 40 PREGNANCY POUNDS, AND MAJOR MASTITIS FROM THE GET GO. Maybe you turned out to be such a good sleeper and traveler to even the score. I guess I don’t owe you big time anymore.

A few weeks ago, your dad and I had a Family Home Evening (commonly referred to as F.H.E. where we talk and learn about gospel principles) and I showed you a picture of Jesus being baptized by John the Baptist in the River Jordan. You took one look at the picture and said with exuberance, “JESUS! SWINGING!” which really means “swimming.” You are so innocent and darling, your dad and I couldn’t help but laugh. And yes, Jesus was indeed sort of swimming in the picture.

You are bursting with words every day, and copy everything we do. We love you so much, and we hope you will happily share us with your little brother when he arrives in a few weeks.

Here are some of your new words:

• I need it!
• See it?
• Get it?
• See ‘em?
• I did it!
• Watch it!
• Prayers
• Truck!
• Flag!
• Close it
• Church
• Focus
• Make it!
• Come on!
• Come ‘ere!
• All done?

We love you so much!

Love,

Mommy

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Early Monday morning, David and I learned of the passing of President Gordon B. Hinckley. The news was bittersweet to us. He is now reunited with his sweet wife who passed away almost four years ago. At the age of 97, he was the oldest prophet since the restoration of the Church, as well as the most traveled. We will miss him, but look forward as President Thomas S. Monson will likely become the next President of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.

At the age of 18, I had the opportunity to meet President Hinckley. That marks the only time in my life that I had the chance to see him in person and shake his hand. I was in the “Days of 47′ Royalty” and I was at “This is the Place State Park” in Utah at an appearance for the 24th of July (Pioneer Day) celebration. What a surprise it was to all of us and all park goers to have the President and his counselors show up! We had a wonderful dinner with them later that day at the Joseph Smith Memorial Building in Salt Lake City.

He was such a faithful servant of Christ and led millions to Him. Our prayers are with his family.

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