Love times three

The three main loves in my life are my immediate family members: my husband, Dan, and our two children, Nathan and Sophia. I want to devote a little space to each of them tonight, starting with our recent birthday girl.

Pretty in pink

Sophia celebrated her first birthday on Friday. I invited five babies (and their Moms) along with family members who live nearby to a birthday bash. I realized she is super young to have a party, but many friends in the ward had baby girls within a few months of Sophia's birth, so I decided it would be fun to get them all together (see the "Happiness" blog entry below to see what I mean). It was easy to decide Nathan's birthday themes since he takes such strong interest in things -- first it was Teletubbies, then Blue's Clues, then Thomas the Train -- Sophia was a bit trickier since she's my mellow, easy-going chiquita. So the theme was pink. We had pink balloons, pink streamers, pink plates, strawberry cupcakes and a raspberry fizz drink. Dan and I gave her a newborn Cabbage Patch doll (dressed in pink), my parents got her adorable outfits and darling musical toys (using various bugs, made by the Parents magazine company), and Dan's parents got her a fun tea set featuring Belle from Beauty and the Beast (how perfect for Sophia Belle!). Sophia handled her first party very well; she just chilled with the other little ones and dove into her cupcake with both hands to eat it (after I blew out the candle, of course). Sophia looked like a doll in her navy blue dress with polk-a-dots (Dan's favorite).

Sophia Belle is such a sweetheart. She lays her head on my shoulder and gives giant slobbery kisses. She dances side to side in the highchair or back and forth on the floor when she hears a beat or just for fun. She holds up her arms to be held and waves and claps for joy. She likes to explore in the cupboards and crawls like a speedster. Her first words were "hi (aye)," followed by "uh-oh," "buh-buh," "dada," "papa," and "mama." Her latest word is "yesh," which sounds like yes, and she seems to understand a lot for a one-year-old. I'll ask, "Do you want to eat," and she'll look up at me with bright blue eyes and say, "Yesh." Then I'll say, "Do you want a bottle?" "Yesh." Dan will ask, "Do you want a tickle?" "Yesh." I wonder how much she really understands. I'm so grateful this special baby girl is part of our family.

I'm a winner!

Nathan's latest craze is battles. He wants me to battle with him, whether it's with balloons (left over from the party), light sabers, trains, toy swords or guns -- you name it, he'll want to fight with it. Nathan does not like to lose either. The match goes on until a light saber, sword or balloon falls to the floor, so I usually allow him to win rather quickly so I can finish feeding Sophia or whatever it is I'm doing. He'll scream bloody murder if I win, but every now and then he'll announce that Nathan wins then Mommy wins. And when Nathan is defeated voluntarily, he dramatically dives to the floor with a muffled moan. What an actor! He wins all the time, and he likes to shout out, "I'm a winner!" I like his proclamation. I see it as a sign of his healthy self-esteem. He has found out, however, that he can't beat others as easily as his parents. He started soccer this fall, and he likes to kick the ball, but he gets incensed when the other kids kick it during "his turn." He wants easy access to the goal, but the game doesn't work that way. It's a hard lesson for a four-year-old to learn.

Nathan is a fantastic big brother. His energy and enthusiasm produce antics that amuse Sophia. She doesn't need television; she's got a show around her all the time. Nathan loves to copycat what others do, so he'll jump down on all fours and dance like Sophia or crawl like Sophia. He has taken to playing with her dolls. However, he'll also take toys away and try to direct Sophia as to which way she should crawl and which toy she can have (a boring stacking cup -- one only). For this reason, Sophia does seem to enjoy the "freedom" when Nathan's away at preschool.

Speaking of preschool ... Nathan is doing so well that he no longer goes to the county preschool. He attends Dixie College's preschool (the "red school") on Monday and Wednesday mornings and the preschool at Tonaquint Intermediate (the "brown school") on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons. Did you catch that? He's doing great!! He no longer needs the extra help at the downtown school, and he may not qualify for help at all by December!!! Hallelujah! The teachers all say he's speaking well, playing well, behaving well -- and what's more, he's even above kids in some areas. He can count to 100, for example. The difference in his language abilities from three years of age to four is tremendous. Recently, I heard Nathan ask, "Do you want to go to the red preschool Sophia?" I thought, What a great sentence! No one can understand the gratification you feel at hearing your child speak like that unless you've gone through the fear of wondering whether it would ever happen. Nathan has said, "Mommy, I love you" a couple of times in the last month, and again, it warms my heart that much more because I've waited so long to hear it. I no longer think he belongs in the autism spectrum (any more than Dan or I do), but maybe he did when he was three. Even then, though, he did have some language and social delays, but I never felt they nailed the reason for the delays. It's more like they lumped him in with other kids. I'm not saying that because I fear the label of autism or anything but because I really see it clearly now without fear and anxiety clouding my vision (Dan said it all along): Nathan didn't have all skills up to par, but he did not really meet the diagnostic criteria for autism. But the ABA method (primarily used for children with autism) did help him learn how to focus, pay attention and basically learn how to learn. I'm just so happy he's doing so well. Not all kids are the same, and every child will reach milestones at different times. I always knew there was intelligence behind those big brown eyes; he just didn't express it verbally as a toddler. I still have some concerns about his development, but I've decided not to stress about it. One thing I do know for sure: There is so much we still don't know about the mind and the way we learn. There is still more to find out, and I pray the researchers will figure out the puzzle behind disorders such as autism for the sake of our children's futures.

One degree makes a difference.

I'm pleased to announce the thermostat registered at 74 degrees for a few nights. Dan enjoyed my poem (see "Writing Roundup" entry below), and it motivated him to raise the temperature a bit -- for a little while (apparently he can't sleep well at the 74 mark). I'm still happy he tried it out. See? Poetry CAN change the world -- a little bit at least. I worried that people might read "stockholm in st. george" and wonder if the coldness in my condo extended to an icy heart, so I'm devoting this portion to a tribute to Dan.

Top 10 Life Lessons I've Learned from Dan

1. It's OK to enjoy yourself (something about a taut bow).
2. Compare yourself to yourself.
3. Don't base your decisions on what other people do.
4. Don't take yourself too seriously.
5. Home is where it's at.
   
6. Time spent sleeping is time well spent.
   
7. Take time to laugh every day.
8. Cut yourself some slack.
   
9. Good food can alter your mood.
10. Don't knock it till you've tried it.
    
    
    Some of these items are bits of advice he's given me and others are his personal philosophy on life (what I've surmised of his philosophy anyway). At times I get frustrated because I think we approach things so differently. Dan is so logical and uses reasoning, and while I do that at times, I'm more influenced by feelings. As I read over this list, I realize his strengths help my weaknesses, and hopefully vice versa. It's like I'm having an "aha!" moment because it confirms to me how good he is for me. I need him to help out my pie-in-the-sky ideas and my spontaneous side, and he needs me to get out and do things and to help develop his sensitive side. We complement each other. It's nice to know.
    

Writing Roundup

I attended a writing conference this past weekend. I joined the League of Utah Writers by becoming a member of the local chapter, Heritage Writers. (It seems like everything associated with St. George has to do with heritage; it's even the name of the latest elementary school. I'm surrounded by people obsessed with the past! I'm proud of my pioneer ancestry too, but some of the homegrown crowd here get carried away with it.) I joined this writing group to get a discount on the writing conference, which I decided I had to attend when I found out Orson Scott Card would be the keynote speaker Saturday night. This is the website for the League of Utah Writers: http://www.luwrite.com. Let me tell you about the event ...

The conference started Friday evening with a nice dinner followed by the keynote speaker, Claudia Keelan, who teaches English and creative writing at UNLV. She talked about how inspiration is everywhere, in everyday life, and how we all breathe -- inspire -- and therefore we can all be inspired in our writing. She shared some poems with us and said she writes many eulogies, which ranged from touching -- to the victims of 9/11 -- to humorous -- to the Righteous Brother who left the other one to perform solo. She really inspired me (in the artistic sense) to write poetry again. I hadn't even attempted it for some time. A light bulb went off in my head: This is it! This is the way to deal with the doldrums and frustrations in my not so exciting life! I'll write about it! It's a way to channel that energy, and it's a lot cheaper than therapy. So idea #1 popped into my head, one of my latest grievances: I have to wear a jacket in the summertime because it's so cold in my condo. My husband likes to keep it at 73 when it's over 100 outside. Here's my poem:

stockholm in st. george

my brown, hooded jacket shields
the onslaught of life-sucking,
chill-to-the-bone air pumping
from venomous vents in my home.
ceiling fan blades churn above my
head like a helicopter in flight.
i read with a blanket tucked
under my chin as my husband
tampers with the computer --
click, click, tap of the mouse --
nearly naked and not shivering.
he lived in sweden once.
i throw off layers of protection
and abandon this ice prison;
i fling the door wide, step
out to welcome the slap of heat
as warm as a lover's tight embrace
and curse the day i let myself
lose the thermostat war.

I had fun writing that poem. I'm glad I went to the poetry banquet. I ducked out early from the awards ceremony, and it worried me that poetry awards took that long. What would the prose awards ceremony be like with even more categories? It was fun to hear some of the winning entrants' poems. I'll have to enter a few next year.

Saturday morning consisted of four workshops. I attended the first three because Nathan had a soccer game during the fourth block. I went to Katie Day's presentation on "Crafting the Perfect Proposal," and she was very helpful. She is an editor from Penguin Books and acquires fiction and non-fiction works, but not in my genre (she takes mysteries and thrillers). She told us exactly what editors want to receive and also what will get your query letter thrown in the garbage. I'll put this useful information to the test someday -- when I manage to finish my novel. She told me Putnam and Dutton publish literary fiction. It was interesting to learn she didn't think having an agent was necessary for success. If you write well and send a great proposal, your hat is in the ring too. I didn't know editors like knowing that the writer is aware of the competition and even want a list of Competitive and Comparison titles. I thought she has such a cool job -- living in Manhattan and choosing which books sink or swim -- but Dan told me I'd prefer being a writer. He's probably right. It still sounds cool though.

The next session, taught by a local AP English teacher, centered around motifs and scene markers in fiction. It felt good to be a student again! We read a short story by Ursula Hegi, Acts of Violence. It's fun to dissect stories. We also talked about how contrasting elements set up conflict. I enjoyed the story and the session.

Candace Fleming presented "The 10 Myths About Writing for Children." She gave an informative, entertaining workshop about children's writing. She recommended writing nonfiction to get into the market rather than a picture book because the competition is less intense for nonfiction. She also said an agent isn't necessary. She wrote a cute picture book called Muncha Muncha Muncha and a nonfiction book entitled Benjamin Franklin's Almanac.

Nathan's soccer game came next at noon. This was his second soccer game so far, and this time he kicked the ball! He got mad and yelled "NO!!!" when the other team kicked the ball, though. He thinks he should have a clear path to the goal. He always likes getting the treats at the end of the game. Dan was great at handling both kids that day.

I went back for lunch and sat by Carole Western, who had written Child Brides, about young girls who become plural wives in the fundamentalist (FLDS) church based on the Colorado City group. She said her latest book about Warren Jeffs will be out before the end of the year. He's on trial now for arranging the marriage of a 14-year-old to her 19-year-old cousin. I hope the jury finds him guilty.

Hyrum Smith gave a presentation on Reality Models that was excellent. Then Candace Fleming talked about her journey from reading children's books to writing them. She even shared her first embarrassing query letters and her rejections from when she tried it out as a young woman. She got her start at a writing conference; an editor wanted her story. I hope that's me someday. I want to start out with adult fiction, but I'd like to write children's books too.

Dan joined me for the prose banquet and awards ceremony that evening. Before we finished eating, Orson Scott Card started his address, wearing a black suit and Teva sandals. I liked his messages of how we can learn something from every genre and not to turn up our noses at other writing/reading communities. He gave great insights and entertained us as well. A big thumbs up! He told the joke about heaven and how the Mormons thought they were the only ones there. He also talked about how epic poems were highly respected in Elizabethan times, but now people read the plays from that period the most, so we should not assume modern literary fiction is what will last through the ages. He mentioned that it is the golden age of movies, how no one says of a good TV series, "Maybe they'll make it into an epic poem!" Cinema is the thing. Dan and I decided to stay for some of the awards ceremony, but after they even had an Anecdote category, we decided to skip out and watch the rest of the BYU football game. We stayed a little longer because Card made funny remarks during the ceremony. I wanted to meet him, but the awards ceremony prevented it. Card had to stay through the entire thing. Pobrecito!

The writing conference was worth the money I spent. I gained ideas, inspiration and knowledge about various topics. I like hanging out with other writers because I feel comfortable with them. I like people who care more about ideas than things. Watch out LUW, I'm submitting my writing for next year's contest. I'm gonna blow your socks off. (Yeah, whatever.)

Remembering 9/11

It's the sixth anniversary of 9/11. It doesn't seem that long ago. Dan and I had recently moved to Boston, and I had started my first day as a receptionist at an architectural firm on that day. Melanie was training me, and her boyfriend called to say an airplane hit the World Trade Center. He didn't mention the city, so we thought it happened in Boston. Then he called back to say a second plane hit the World Trade Center in New York City. I remember looking out the window at a clear blue sky. It was terrorists, I thought, before I knew anything for sure. People started calling the firm, asking if we were staying open or shutting down. I didn't know what to say. My boss mentioned who he thought was behind this attack: Osama bin Laden. Before long we heard they were shutting down the financial district. Vivian warned not to take the T in case they gassed the underground tunnels. I walked out into the street and noticed the somber attitude of everyone around me. No one was smiling or talking. Everyone just wanted to get home. I went on the T anyway, my brief training session a blur in my mind. At the apartment, Dan and I watched the news -- like everyone else across the country -- and felt a mixture of shock, sadness and outrage. Who could do such a thing? I think everyone in America felt shaken by the tragedy on 9/11. My heart goes out to all the people who lost a loved one that day.

The next day I bought a copy of The Boston Globe for 25 cents. I did not particularly like the bold headline above the fold on the front page; it was something like "Day of Calumny," which sounded archaic after what happened. (I worked at a paper at my previous job, so I'm a critic -- it should have had more meaning, a more powerful statement.) I wanted to get more details, though, and to read about our government's response. I came across an ad showing an image of the Statue of Liberty rising above the rubble with these words: "United We Stand." I liked the message, so I cut it out and taped it on my closet door. I knew that there would be severe consequences for whoever had orchestrated the travesty on 9/11.

I don't really want to discuss all the politics of what happened next. Our government decided to go to battle and to focus on homeland security and fighting terrorism. This is such a different ballgame, though; how do you win a war against an ideology? I watched a CNN report on Muslim Warriors recently, and the reporter interviewed various Muslims, including extremists. The extremists openly hate America and what she stands for (what they think she stands for, anyway, based on the narrow view that all Americans are immoral and materialistic heathens). They consider it an honor to die for their beliefs, and this radical movement has even appealed to youth on college campuses. I agree that there are some disturbing things about American culture, but there are troubling issues in the Arab world as well. They will stone any woman who has committed adultery, whether or not she was a victim. There are honor killings of girls who are suspected to be immoral. Women do not have many rights in these lands. What we have is a huge clash of cultures, and it's not as simple as people like to think. They don't hate us because of President George Bush. They hate us because they think we're immoral infidels. And those people who don't think we really have enemies -- they're fooling themselves. It's easier to just say they hate us because of our president, our foreign policy, or whatever, and go along with our lives, pretending that it does not exist. This hatred is real and it is evil. The radical Islamists would like to see America and Israel obliterated. It's not the fault of religion or Islam; the vast majority of religious people believe in loving each other -- even our enemies. I believe we are all brothers and sisters, children of God, and it is sad to see the distorted beliefs of radical Islam. Since martyrdom is considered the highest tribute a radical Islamist can pay, it's hard to see a short-term solution to all of this. I hope that eventually more people will be turned off to the violent messages in these terrorist cells and embrace peaceful methods and a spiritual path that emphasizes personal growth. Let love conquer hate. Let there be peace on Earth. This is my prayer.

p.s. I'm listening to John Denver for the first time in a while, and it is like coming home. His voice is so pure and gentle. The music reminds me of family vacations -- riding in the van on our way to a national park in Utah or, yes, to Colorado for a "rocky mountain high." God bless America.