Elise is a poet and we didn't know it

This year Elise's first grade class studied poetry. They learned how to identify and write all kinds of different styles of poetry. At the end of the unit, this past March, they had a poetry reading to show off their masterpieces.

Here is Elise reciting "Spring":

Apparently, she found Spring to be an inspiring subject. Another Spring poem:

Spring
by Elise Sumsion

Flowers sprouting
Through the earth.
Animals born.
Snow vanishing.
Cherry blossom trees
Coming to say, "hi."
Saying "bye" to
Winter gear.
Green ground all
around.
Blue skies before my
eyes.
Birds chirping in my
Ear.
Spring is here
For the year!

Kara Lohberg graduates!

Somehow I'm old enough to have a niece graduate from high school. (At least I'm not old enough to have my own kid graduate from high school. Kidding, Kim!)

This particular graduation was of special significance to me because this particular niece was present at my own high school graduation (in the womb, but still). This particular niece will also be heading off to BYU at the end of this month, which puts her exactly where I was at when she was born. It's a full circle of sorts that kind of trips me out.



Here's Kara and me post-commencement:

Isn't she cute?


Here she is with her equally adorable siblings, Jessie and Aaron:

And the proud parents, Kim and Jeff:

I was so grateful to be able to witness this milestone in Kara's life. Totally worth enduring the three hours of typical high school graduation tedium. Totally.

Kara's a niece anyone would be proud to claim as her own. She has done and will continue to do great things with her life. I can't wait to see what they are. Good luck at BYU, Kara! We're all going to miss you!

The blog that just won't die

Sometimes I wonder if maybe I'm hoping this blog will disappear from neglect like so many Mother's Day seedlings I've let shrivel up on my kitchen window sill over the years. But every time I check back, it's still here! Darn it.

I've made a list of 17 blog-worthy events from the past 12 months that I have yet to post about. Some might say I should just forget about the past and move forward, but the whole reason I started this blog was to journal my family's life and it just seems wrong to leave out entire sections. I've been so sporadic and random in my posting that I'm afraid there's no way to put things in order, but I'm determined to try to fill in the holes, chronology be darned!

(And, yes, I realize this is the fourth post I've written with these same sentiments in the past several months. Just shhhhhh.)

So here goes, in no particular order...

The family that mocks together stays together

In the car somewhere in Utah.

Me: When we were in Hawaii we noticed that the city we were staying in had a big letter L on the side of their mountain just like the G on the side of the mountain where your Uncle Grant lives.

Elise: Cool. What did the L stand for?

Tyler: Lollipop? Lemon? Linoleum?

McKenzie: Lumps in mine oatmeal!

Tyler: Lumps in mine oatmeal?

General snickering.

McKenzie: What?

Me, with accompanying hand gesture: Heil oatmeal!

Tyler, with a Britishy accent: Theh ah lllomps in mine oat-mail!

Elise: La-la-la mine linoleum!

Tyler, with another Britishy accent (that I’m now much too lazy to try to phonetically convey): I traversed through the woods back to my dwelling and found that there were lumps in mine oatmeal.

McKenzie: Whatever!

Can you feel the love?

Thank heaven for Tyler

Watching Tyler pick the flaking skin off his arms and legs.

Me: You need to exfoliate.

Tyler: What’s that?

Me: When you scrub off your dead layer of skin.

Tyler: Should I try to molt?

Me: You are molting.

Tyler: No, I mean like shed my whole layer of skin all at once.

Me: How are you going to go about trying?

Tyler: I don’t know. Maybe I can buy a manual “Molting for Dummies”.

I would buy that.

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Watching Tyler stick objects in his nostrils.

Me: You know, you better be careful or you’re going to do permanent damage to your nose.

Tyler: You mean like I’m going to do permanent damage to my reputation by doing this? Does some kind of weirdo dance around the room with his shirt over his head.

Yeah, just like that.

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Other Tyler-isms heard round the house.

“I love making strange noises for no reason.”

“Random acts of rudeness.”

Thank heaven for Tyler.

Anatomy lessons

In the kitchen.

Sydney: Mama, I hurt my nostril.

Me: You hurt your nostril?

Syd, grabbing crotch: Yeah, right here.

Me: That’s not your nostril. Why do you call it your nostril?

Syd: ‘Cause that’s what I call my extra body.

Me: Your extra body, huh?

Syd: Yep, that’s right. That’s what I call it. Everything is a nostril on your body.

Me: Everything is a nostril?

Syd, turning around and patting her booty: Yeah, except for this.

Me: What’s that?

Syd: That’s a bummy!

Nostrils? Extra body? I’m so confused. She’s so confused.


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Later that day. In the car.

Syd: Mommy, I hurt my crotch.

Me: How did you do that?

Syd: I just scratched it.

Me: Oh. … Where is your crotch?

Syd, pointing to nostril: Right here.

It’s all starting to make sense now. A natural mistake, really, seeing how the words “crotch” and “nostril” are practically interchangeable.


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Last month McKenzie had a field trip to go swimming at the local YMCA, and came home somewhat disturbed by her locker room adventure. She saw naked people. Apparently, they were just walking around and sitting on benches and carrying on normal conversations with boobs and bums and other bits hanging out for all the world to see. I had not even thought to prepare her for this inevitable YMCA experience. Although, I’m not sure how one goes about preparing for it.

McKenzie: And there were old ladies in their bathing suits, and when I saw them I was like (putting hands to the sides of her face), “Ahhhh!” in my head. And then when I saw them naked, I was like, “AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” in my head.

Elise, coming in late to the conversation: There were naked people?

McKenzie: It was like the girls locker room and so there were like only girls, so I guess some people are OK with it, but some people are like not OK with it, so they should be more considerate.

Can I hear an AMEN?

That Mom

I was at Freddy’s last weekend, picking up this and that when I noticed they had their summer clothes on sale for 50% off. All of my darn kids have grown since last summer (can’t this shooting up a size or two be like a bi-annual thing or something?), so I looked around for shorts for everyone.

I picked out a few things for the girls, and then moved on to the boys section. I looked around, and all I saw was plaid. Plaid shorts everywhere. Now I’m thinking these plaid shorts are pretty cool, but Tyler tends to be on the more conservative side, so I wasn’t sure how he’d feel about them. I called him up.

Me: So I’m at the store looking for shorts for you, and everything’s plaid.

Tyler: OK.

Me: Are you OK with plaid? Is that what the kids are wearing at school these days? (Is that what the kids are wearing at school these days?!)

Tyler: Yeah, plaid’s fine.

And then I proceeded to describe to him the different color/stripe thickness combinations to try to get a feel for whether there was a difference between cool plaid and dork plaid because, you know, I’d like to think I’m the kind of mother who wouldn’t buy the dork plaid. Actually, I’d like to think I’m the kind of mother who wouldn’t buy the dork plaid without any special instruction from anyone else, but frankly, I have no such confidence in myself. I have no idea what’s cool anymore. And did I mention I said, “Is that what the kids are wearing at school these days?”?! No wonder my children have taken to rolling their eyes at me.

I used to roll my eyes at my mother when she whistled along to Personal Jesus on the radio (you don’t whistle to DM!), when she said words like “annual” (it’s a yearbook, Mom!), when she came home from a shopping trip with the dork plaid. I swore to myself I would never be old. That Mom old. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

Yesterday, driving in the car, I looked over at Tyler and the slight scowl he had on his face and realized he’s doing his best to settle into that prepubescent angst I’ve been dreading since the day he was born. I worry sometimes that he’s going to start seeing me as That Mom—the woman who has no clue, the one who doesn’t understand him (or anything else, for that matter) at all. The next few years are going to be tough. I’m hoping, at least every once in awhile, he’ll be able to see past That Mom whistling along to Boom Boom Pow (or whatever it is kids are listening to these days) and just let me be his mom.


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At the dinner table.

Tyler: Can I get a handlebar moustache?

Me: Like at the store?

Tyler: No, grow one.

Me: If you can grow a handlebar moustache, you can have one.

McKenzie: Why would you ask that?

Tyler: What? Handlebar moustaches are awesome.

McKenzie: No, I mean wouldn’t you just be able to decide for yourself?

Tyler: But I might still be living at home when I grow hair. You never know.

Maybe there’s hope for us yet.