The Full Moon And My Finger

It started out as a typical Tuesday afternoon. I was the loving, wonderful mother, dropping everything to please my typical teenage daughter. I sat in the passenger seat as Hailey drove around Kaysville, testing her driving skills. Then I cooked her favorite dinner. Then I sat on the couch and watched her favorite TV show with her. Peace reigned, we were contentedly spending time together, all was well.

Then something happened. The moon reached it's zenith of fullness and Hailey and I turned into a couple of crazy people. We began "fighting" over the remote control. I wanted to watch "my" show, she wanted to watch "her" show. Then I began chasing her through the house. She headed toward her room and I was right behind her as she slammed her bedroom door. Except part of me was in the way of the door, yet the solid wood door closed nonetheless. Then I felt a strange numbness in my finger and I yelped like a dog.

I didn't want to look at it.  I knew it was bad due to the lack of pain. So I looked at it. The top of my middle finger looked fine until I touched it and saw the flesh move unnaturally. It was bad, I could see bone. I forced Hailey to "LOOK AT IT"!!! That was her first punishment.

I drove myself to the ER, all the while my finger throbbed like a big, bloody blob of alien flesh. The physician looked at it and congratulated me on a job well done. Then he pried my precious fingernail out of it's nail bed and put it in a cup. Next as he tried to find salvageable flesh to sew he used the phrase "this is pretty pulverized", which made me feel great (not really). After watching the curved suture needle go in and out of my finger I was surprised when the doctor started re-seating my dead fingernail. Apparently my old nail will protect my wound for the next two weeks and then I can pull it off again. And for the next year a brand new, delicate nail will grow.

So now I am disabled. I can't grip, I can't dig, I can't write. And best/worst of all I can't take care of Tanner. Now for Hailey's true punishment for slamming my finger in her door.....SHE has to change and bathe and help her brother. Ha! Finally! I think I will continue to fake my intense pain for at least a month so that she can become proficient at her new job. Guilt is the best manipulator.

St. George Has The Hosenfelds

 Southern Utah is going to be seeing the Hosenfelds a lot more often. With a speed of 90mph (if there is no highway patrol and it's late) we can drive there in 3.5 quick hours, have a comfy house to stay in and wake up to the most stunning red rock cliffs imaginable. St George is the preeminent playground for all of us because it offers EVERYTHING! Last week we brought 10 bikes, climbing gear, hiking boots, swimsuits and sand toys. Used them all!!

sunbathing teens with their headphones on high

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 almost made it to the road

weakling at Chuckawalla

Spaghetti #2

Five years ago I recorded the kooky way Tanner ate spaghetti. He was 11 years old then and was so specific with his method of eating pasta. For some unknown reason Tanner felt compelled to put a handful of the noodles onto the counter first before he stuffed it in his mouth. I always wondered why he did this with just spaghetti and nothing else. Recently I watched as he ate his noodles and realized that he does the exact same quirky thing he did all those years ago. So every five years I think Iwill make a spaghetti video of Tanner and I bet he will continue to eat the same way.

Spaghetti 2007
 

It Was Fun When I Was Twelve

I understand that my birthday comes around once a year, every year. I would probably forget that special day if it were not for the persistent and relentless persecution I endure by the hands of family and friends. I'm not too keen on getting older and I realize I'm getting older when I can't remember how old I am. Still people insist on celebrating. But I know that if nobody did anything on my special day I would be disappointed and even a bit indignant. So thank you everybody for reminding me that I am not an island.

I'm glad I get to share the Birthday Joy with Hailey, we're
birthday buddies born in April

A very practical gift for an old gal like me. Now I won't have to strain my delicate shoulder trying to get the machines to start.



I bet when I was twelve I got toys instead of landscaping equipment

No Big Deal Birthday

Well, my little daughter turned 15 today. I can't say it was a joyful occasion because, you see, teenagers aren't allowed to celebrate and be merry. They are very serious people. Enjoyment is seen as a weakness. When I asked Hailey what she wanted to do on her special day she said....nothing.  So for my own benefit I took balloons and donuts to her soccer game and made everyone sing "happy birthday" to her. How embarrassing!

And since Hailey turns 15 only once in a lifetime we felt obligated to get her a gift (although when asked what she wanted she said....nothing).

Now that the birthday cheer has petered out I can only look back nostalgically at  Hailey's past birthdays to find the true joy and wonder of childhood.

-----first bike 5yrs old

-----second bike 8yrs old

-----third bike 11yrs old

-----LAST bike 15yrs old

-----NEXT year??? Good luck sweetheart, you're going to need it!!

Blog-Hog

I want to introduce you to my 3 month old Autism Blog. It seems that Tanner has been a blog-hog for a while now so I decided to dedicate a blog specifically to him. In this newer venue I write more about how I have learned to live and thrive with a boy who sometimes wants to kill me.

There is a link to my autism blog on the right hand column "How Autism Changed Me". Start at the beginning and enjoy.

www.alphamomautism.blogspot.com

Solo Rarotonga

     Every time this year I get sick of the weather. March is one big "tease-fest", one day it's 60 degrees, the next day it's 20 degrees. It rains then it snows. I just can't take it! Therefore, I try to plan an escape to a tropical paradise. After four months of winter shivering I traveled to the Cook Island's in the south pacific. There is a place so exotic and far away that everyone I know asks "where!?!" So I just tell them that it's an island way south of Hawaii and virtually in the middle of nowhere. And then I tell them that I am going alone. "What!?!
    Yes, Rarotonga is my first solo trip. And Yes I loved it. A week of alone time was suprisingly exhilarating and exciting and relaxing and peaceful. I took long, slow, calm walks. I floated effortlessly in the shallow lagoon. I ate fruits right off the trees. I explored the jungle. I dived with some sharks. And I darn near died of heat poisoning.
    Regarding the ferocity of the blazing Rarotongan sun, there were times when I would have paid a hundred bucks for a fountain Diet Coke on ice, or a Popcicle, or a Snow Cone or even a tall glass of icy water. At these times I missed the cold of Utah. But as soon as I saw the inviting, clear blue of the lagoon I felt I could stay there forever. The island of Rarotonga is breathtakingly beautiful but if the ocean isn't within dunking distance the heat presses down like a steamy towel.
    When I returned home to Utah I felt the chill of a cool breeze, I breathed in the bone dry air and knew right away that this is where I want to be ten out of twelve months. Then I ate a whole jar of crisp, cold pickles with great satisfaction.

I stayed in a bungalow

darn near died inland

scuba dived to recover

kayaked to my own private islet