still the same

me and Ethan at cub scout camp June 2011

I was talking to friend in Utah the other day when she mentioned that stories of Ethan in sacrament meeting and in the neighborhood have become something sort of a legend.  She told me a friend of hers, who moved in after I was gone, was bemoaning her sacrament meeting woes to a group of my old friends and they told her, "Oh, don't worry. Your kids are nothing compared to when the Moncurs lived here!"

We laughed because oh we were quite a sight. Especially once JaDee was in the bishopric while I was pregnant with Olivia.  We have always sat on the second row not to be a spectacle, but it proved to be the spot with the least amount of distractions as no one else with kids sat up there. So starting with Carter, who only wanted to play with his friends and eat their snacks (I guess someone else's goldfish taste better to a 2 year old), we have sat up front.

(I will have to tell you of the fits Carter threw before we made the switch to the front rows some other time...)

So I write this tale of Ethan for my Utah friends who can't believe that the relatively well behaved child that I praise on my blog (he is my favorite remember :) is the same one I chased in the choir seats, and literally tackled as he vaulted the stairs back down to the congregation, during the sacrament all those years ago.

Fortunatly this story does not take place at church, but if it did, it would have been a doozy!

Ethan comes to me with my kitchen tongs last week. "Can I use these?"

"Yes. Wait, for what," I asked, coming to my senses in the nick of time.

"I need it to hold a mouse," he casually explains.

"A mouse? What are you talking about?" I am afraid I actually do have an inkling at this point.  See my two cats are alive and well. And ever so affectionate with sharing the bounties of their nightly hunts.  Most of the mice (they are actually shrews, no mice here in Alaska!) are left intact and in high profile places of the garage floor.  One was actually placed at eye level for us on the roof of an almost 5 foot doll house that is currently waiting for some repairs.  However, another was recently disemboweled for me in front of the van door and I had to scrap the guts up to get in the car.

"I also need to get my knife." Ethan continues. With the earning of his whittling chip every year at cub scout camp, Ethan has been empowered as a master knife-wielder (I know, everyone in Perry is cringing with disbelief that the boy who once almost drowned in my front yard pond after falling through the ice after plummeting off the above retaining wall, has access to knives).

"For what?" I am asking a little more shrilly at this point.

"I want to chop the mouse's head off and dry out its skull to keep."

I promptly take away the tongs and firmly change my answer to, "No. Absolutely not."

"WhyYYYYYyyyy," whines my incredulous son. (I love that word: incredulous...I have been using it lately at my children when they are in trouble).

Really? How come boys even have to ask this question. As if of course I am going to say yes to you using my kitchen tongs (OK I only use them for corn on the cob and canning, both of which we don't really do here anymore [no farms in Alaska=very little produce to can] ) to hold a dead mouse while you saw off its head with your pocket knife.

And then let it hang somewhere in the house to dry out so you can save it alongside of your Lego's and clay pots from art class.

Ethan has also recently charged a toll on the road behind our house for driving over his dandelion chain.

That story goes like this:

When we first moved here, Ethan and his friend C, would make dandelion chains to see if they could get them across the road.  They did this over and over again.  So when another friend came over to play earlier this summer, and it was such a nice day I sent them out to do the same. However, my road is bigger and we have a standing rule of no playing in the street. I didn't specifically mention this rule when I sent them out to play and that would later be my downfall.

The windows were open and I could hear the boys happily making boy noises as they cooperated in this building project.  They were at it a while and I started hearing Ethan say, "That will be 50 cents please, for road repairs."  He says this a few times so thinking that they had added an imaginary element to their completed project I take a peak only to see Ethan at the driver side window of some strange car!

Ethan reaches his hand in the car and takes something and puts it in his pocket.

Did I just witness my 10 year old do a drug deal?  And maybe we better lay off the Bear Aware and have a refresher course of Stranger Danger.

"Ethan! What are you doing?" I shriek as only I can.

"We are collecting money to fix our road when they drive over the dandelions." They do indeed have a chain stretched across the road.

"Are people really paying you guys?" I ask, incredulous myself, this time.

"Yeah," except pronounced "duh."

"You can't do that!" I shriek again after he explains that he has been standing in the middle of the road with his hand out, stopping cars, and refusing to let them pass without a toll payment.

I could have crawled under a rock.  What kind of mother lets her child stop traffic and demand money!?!  Oh wait, I know. Most, as in 99.9% of all mothers, DON'T! But now it is his turn to look incredulous as I try to explain the dangers of being hit, or stolen, or just plain rude by doing this.

"How much did you get?" I ask, wondering.

"I don't know. Couple of bucks," he pulls out a big handful of change from his pocket.

He and his friend split the money since his friend was the work crew and really had no part in the coercing a ransom out of innocent drivers. They each walked away with just over a buck.

Not too shabby for a days work :)

Did you know...(a post playing catch-up)

...that we no longer own Volkswagen Beetle? JaDee sold the one we got when we moved up here.  He needs something more reliable to get to work in and without heat, it wasn't a great choice for the winter.  This is the first time in at least 12 years we haven't had a semi-working Beetle on or off blocks in our driveway.

I can't say I am sad.

... Carter got to go to Fairbanks for the State competition of Project Citizen.  Teams of four present and debate the merits of various social policy/issues.  Carter's team debated the need for bus passes for the underprivileged and homeless. They won the titles Most United and Best Performance. The funny thing about this is that Carter went with this team as the alternate during Regionals when one of the original members got sick.  The whole team was made up of all girls until Carter went with them.  Needless to say the girls were a little miffed that he, a boy, got to join their team.  Their teammate didn't come back after Regionals so they were really upset that Carter got to go on the big fun trip to Fairbanks for State. After his scores of 9s and 10s and the award for best performance, he turned to one of the girls and said, "Aren't you glad I am on your team now?" I think the judges would have thought twice about the Most United award if they had known the back story behind how the team got formed.  Although, maybe it means they really pulled it together when it counted.

I have to say I am proud.

... Ethan turned 10 today.  And after a few comments on Facebook referring to this being Ethan's Golden Birthday I googled it and found out that turning the same age as your birth DATE can actually be a big deal.  So never one to miss an opportunity to give myself guilt for missing a milestone I had never heard of- I found some cool things to make it truly a Golden Birthday for Ethan.

Ethan with his Gold Lemon cake, a bottle of Gold flakes, a GOLD (bronze) commemorative Alaska 2011 coin, Gold Nugget caramel candy, and $10 of Gold President coins.  (Franklin Pierce...heard of him? Me either. Another thing I didn't know until today)

I would have to say I have driven out any signs of guilt :)

...This Sunday we will become parents again...to the 4 legged kind again that is... My good friend Jayci is moving and for the next 6 months she can't have her sweet dog Buckwheat, with her. So we are baby-sitting Buckwheat until her husband comes back for some more training in Alaska in November.  We had Buckwheat over for a trial run to see if he would get a long with the other members of our menagerie.  Buckwheat has a reputation for being A) terrified of cats. And B) dumber than a mud fence.  Turns out he growled at my cats and they will get along fine since they are bigger than he is and he isn't dumb at all. In fact he just plays dumb to get what he wants. The best was when he came up to me when I was laying on the couch watching TV. My arm was draped down the front of the couch and little Buckwheat placed both his front paws on my arm, looked me straight in the eye, raised his little doggie eyebrows and started shivering.  "Awww," I said. "He must be cold." JaDee sat straight up and said, "No he's not. He is trying to get you to pick him up on the couch." JaDee was right.  I saw Buckwheat pull out the old "I'm cold and pitiful," routine a couple of times on the kids to get them to play with him too.

Buckwheat under the kitchen table. He only weighs 9 pounds and is a Mini Schnauzer/Yorki mix.

I'd say there are going to be some Buckwheat stories this summer!

...JaDee has discovered Spanish music from his 1990 - 1992 mission to Argentina on his new iPhone.  I tell you, watching that boy try to figure out this nifty gadget is like watching your grandmother program her VCR.  He is always asking me how to do something on it.  He had no idea how to check facebook unless it came to him from an email and he followed the link.  Silly boy.

I think I'll show him where the earphone jack is next.

... And finally, did you notice that Picker and Puker haven't been featured on the blog lately? That is because they haven't been riding with us for almost 2 months now.  The carpool situation changed on their end and they are helping someone else they know with rides to school so we haven't seen them in a while.

I have to tell ya, it has been pretty quiet on the way to school!

Car pool

I did not have to drive today, but I got a funny story for you from the Carpool Files.  At 3:30 ish I get a phone call from one of the other mom's.  She tells me Ethan isn't in the car yet because he

STUCK HIS TONGUE TO A POLE!!!!!

Don't we all remember what happened last year?  Trust me if you don't remember it is worth a read.  I was so mad.

When Ethan got home I found out he was trying to show his friend how if you just breathe on your tongue you can get it off.  OK it is 1 degree out today. Uno degree-os (for those of you Spanish readers).  Puker had to run inside and get a cup of hot water from the nurse to pour on Ethan tongue to get it off.

The breath trick does not work

And Ethan will never be doing this again.

Hopefully.

This little guy of mine

Ethan: self portrait 10/2010

I tell Ethan every day that he is my reward for the other 2.

And I mean it.

And now I have put it in writing.

He is easy going. Low maintenance and fun to be around.  His teacher told me that whenever someone is having a bad day, she puts Ethan next to them and in no time he has them laughing and feeling great again.  Ethan is a great friend to everyone and is a great bridge between the demanding siblings.  He keeps us all laughing.  Tonight he said, "Mom, you're like the Chuck Norris of knitting."

Ethan with cousins at Old Faithful

He is also turning into quite the ladies man.  And who can blame them. The girls ,I mean, don't stand a chance with those freckles and big blue eyes in their class everyday.

I am quite partial to him myself.

He recently told me there are four types of girls. First,  OOH LA LA! Second, OK Cute.   Third,  Meh, If There is No One Else Better.  Fourth, Not Even If We Were the ONLY Two People Left on the Planet.

Ethan at Lake Yellowstone this summer

Thankfully, he says he has never met anyone in the last category.

And the one's in the OOH LA LA! category are a secret between me and him!

Totally unrelated picture:

Here is our snowman from today's snow!  I want an army in our yard before the season is out!

Ethan's Christmas story

"Told by Ethan"

Once when I was in kindergarten I licked the pole at the playground in Willard Elementary School in UT. It didn't stick. My mom told me it would because hers did. When she was in kindergarten and to a fire hydrant. I know I did it right because it was really cold in Utah but it still didn't stick.

I had kind of forgotten about it until last week. It was Olivia's birthday. It was really cold. I went out on the playground with my friend and we were talking about all the unbelievable stuff we knew. Like did you know my mom was alive in WWII. That is why she knows so much stuff about it. And did you know that our wool rug makes electricity and one day I am going to shock the heck out of my brother.

I started to remember what Olivia said to me the other day. She says I am her best friend. And my sister told me that mom said not to touch the handrail at the post Office without gloves because it would stick to it. So she kept her hands in her pocket. That got me to thinking about the time she said my tongue would stick to a metal pole.

So I asked my friend, "Did you know that your tongue can stick to metal."

"Yeah."

"Do you really think it works?"

"I don't know. Why don't you try it."

"No way. You do it too."

"OK."

So we went to the edge of the basketball courts where the fence was really high. I stuck out my tongue and so did my friend.

And they stuck. Like it only took a second!

Mine was stuck on a lot more than my friends. He just barely stuck the tip to the pole but I full on licked it.

I figured I would be stuck there forever but my friend got loose and told me to just pull hard. So I did. Then he told me it was bleeding so we went to find a Recess Duty.

We told her what happened and she sent us to the nurse.

The nurse gave me some salt water. First I drank it because I thought that it was like medicine that I had to take. Then she told me that swish and spit meant to rinse my mouth out and spit. My friend wasn't bleeding so he just sat their. He didn't get any salt water.

The nurse called my house and left a message that I had an accident on the playground. Nothing serious, she assured her, but wanted to let my mom know what treatment had been given. Then she called my mom's cell phone and left the same message. Finally she called my dad and left a message for him. She was very thorough. They were at Olivia's birthday party. But I had to go back to class because i wasn't hurt that bad. I asked. My friends parents didn't get a phone call either.

She told me I couldn't eat orange juice or anything that will sting or if it was too hot. And I needed to rinse with 1/8 a tsp of salt for 3 ounces of water. I didn't do it when I got home. It's fine anyway.

I learned my lesson.

A place for everything

Caution: this is long and a little something I have been mulling over in my mind for about 2 years and has just now been regurgitated into words

Families have places. And for a long time I did not know what my place was in my husbands family. It is a family of 6 kids. All very talented, confidant, determined people. At first I was especially intimidated and even jealous of JaDee's younger sister, CaMee. We were both getting married the same year. We had (have) very similar tastes in clothes, houses, style etc and I perceived a sense of competition between us. Plus I was taking the brother who helped her do everything from run the 400 in track to build her projects as an interior decorator in college. I wrote her a letter those first months we were both newlyweds, and explained my need to love her and for her to forgive me. We have always had a connection since then. Sharing children, friends, ideas and spiritual growth.


That hurdle crossed, I then had to adjust from being the oldest, and a daughter at that, of my own family to becoming the first daughter in law of a new one. A family that is tight with each other and has 3 girls to boot. This time I was jealous of the dynamics between the girls. They almost spoke in code with each other and their mother. A code I didn't know. About the people of their small town, the very close extended family that includes relatives most people only see on genealogy charts, and events that happened long before I ever came on the scene. I felt left out. It was a lonely feeling. But it was one I inflicted on myself for no one ever meant for me to feel that way.

I got over it. It was not easy and I hate to say that I hurt more than just myself along the way. I said things I shouldn't have in my selfish anguish.

Two things helped me get over feeling and understand the bond that these women share with each other. The first was the marriage of my own sister. Courtney is 8 years younger than me. I got married when she was 12 and had Carter when she was 13. For her entire teenage years I was an old married lady. To further the gap in our growing up experiences my parents got divorced when I was 23 and she was 15. Thus my youngest siblings were raised by a single mother, whereas I had a 2 parent household. While I am privy to a lot of what my mother went through (often more than I ever asked to know) I really never knew what Courtney's experience as a child of divorced parents was like during that time.

So when she married at 19 to her wonderful Blake, we started sharing life again. I got to be an older sister planning her wedding reception, talking about her college experience as she too went into secondary education, dealing with in-laws, and in turn, dealing with our mother as an adult child, and bossing our brothers around as only sisters can. We started forging a bond that is unique only to sisters. A closeness of the heart that ties us together. It is more than just shopping together, (although we had a great time at the Gateway this week and will not be telling our husbands exactly how much was spent. We will just casually start wearing amazing new clothes that will dazzle them into forgetting about everything but the beautiful women they married and they will be so blinded by said beauty that they will not even think to ask the price of such beauty).

The last few years we were in Utah, Courtney was 25 minutes from me. She joined me on journey's with my kids (which I fear contributed to her 5 year wait to have Brooke). We analyzed everything from our parents divorce to the pros and cons of ballet flats as the new trend in shoes. I was her diplomat when both our parents came to her graduation from USU and she watched all 3 of my children while JaDee and I escaped for a weekend. We can ask each other anything and know there is always someone in the corner for us.

The second thing that helped me understand the bond of my sisters in law and more importantly the bond my mother in law has with her 3 daughters was the birth of my own daughter. It was different having a girl after 2 sons. I can't justly express my ponderings over this event but I knew that what I had gone through to bring her into the world was something that she too had been divinely called of God to do. I was passing on a lineage that is as old as the story of Eve to her. Being female is a divine calling. Women have gifts bestowed on them to be compassionate, loving, understanding, perceptive, caring, loving, creative and nurturing. It is a blessing to me to have Olivia to share these gifts with and to guide her as she too gains a testimony of what it means to be a Daughter of God.

My mother in law must have felt this way about the birth of each of her girls. I now understand how and why they can communicate in code, ask each other first for everything, do everything for everyone when we are all together, and have their rituals and traditions amongst themselves and pass this all on to their own daughters.

I understand.

I honor it.

I do not feel left out because I have my own.

And I know that I do have a place here. It is different from my place in my original family and different from my family that I have with my husband and children. I feel a camaraderie with my mother in law and sisters in law; enough so that I can call them all my sisters. Because sister-in law is too impersonal to refer to the things we have come to love about each other. To general a term to imply the situations all of us have prayed about, fasted about, cried about and worked to accomplish together.

But at the same time "sister" is also a term I use for my own blood relation, as the red heads use for theirs, that means something different.