Sunday, February 26, 2012

Thumb Update

Warning!!! Do not scroll down if you are at all squeamish...






























This is what Clark's thumb looked like about 6 weeks ago (roughly 2 weeks after his accident)...
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Gross, right? Well, fast forward 6 weeks (and one SMELLY cast later) and his thumb now looks like this...

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The dark part is burnt skin. Apparently it was growing too fast so his doctor poured silver nitrate on it to slow the growth. As if his poor thumb hadn't suffered enough. An x-ray showed that the bone is healing well. Yippee!

We are all so HAPPY to have his cast off and the rods out. Now starts the physical therapy- thumbs up, thumbs down, thumbs up, thumbs down...

Portraits of Zoo Animals

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This one wasn't taken at the zoo, but it perfectly illustrates how Asher has been looking/feeling recently- a big germy haze.

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Ike has started to purposefully avert his eyes when I try to take his picture. Stinker.

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Tucson Rodeo 2012

Past rodeo entries here and here. As you can see, it ain't my first time at the rodeo. Although, I can't remember if we went last year. I think we did, but it was days after returning from Egypt/Turkey and that whole month was a blur. Oh well. As per always, the rodeo was a ton of fun, full of sunshine and kettle corn. Booker was at school, so I made a date of it with Ike and Asher.

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Blog Drought

Another month has flown by and we've been quiet on the blog front. I blame germs. Horrible mutating, relentless, nasty germs. It's been a bad winter. In the last few weeks we've had coughs, colds, sinus infections, RSV, 4 infected ears, 8 pink eyes and a very unpleasant 24 hour gastro-intestinal bug. As I type, Clark is passed out upstairs after a feverish night of sweating and chills and sore throat. I'm so sick of being sick. 

Amidst the sickness, we did manage to have a bit of fun in the month of February. At least, that's what my phone pics/videos tell me...

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What sickness looks like to Booker. 

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Playing lots of Wii. It's what "sick boys do" according to Ike. 

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Pink Ike. 

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Riding bikes. Booker finally learned. Or rather, we finally took his training wheels off and told him to figure it out. He did! 

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Looking like Baby Jack-Jack from The Incredibles. 

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Drinking chocolate milk and reading The Economist on a Sunday morning. 

Pink (but happy) Asher. 

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Protecting the neighborhood.

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Making Star Wars treats.

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Feeling grateful for health insurance, it's not everyday you save 40 grand. 

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Hanging out with zoo animals... and giant tortoises. 

If it's on my phone, it must have happened. I should get one of those cool, hipster photo apps so my phone photos look chic. I'm on it. 

Photography Workshop

Last weekend, I took a day (the WHOLE day and it was heavenly) and headed up to Phoenix to attend a photography workshop with this photographer. It was enormously helpful. Some of it was review, things I should be doing but had gotten sloppy on and the rest was pretty eye-opening. I'm excited to breathe some life back into this little hobby of mine. Here are some of my favorite images from the workshop. 

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Monday, February 6, 2012

A Diplomatic Life

I shared this on Facebook a few weeks ago, but just so there's a more permanent record of Booker acting like a turkey in an official publication, here's a link to an article about BYU grads in the foreign service.

This reminds me that my passport is itching.  

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Thoughts on Teenage-Hood

We sure have been quiet around here. Sometimes I get really sick of hearing my own voice and the thought of blogging makes me feel weary. But I must carry on... if only to appease my parents in Kuwait.

Nothing much to report except that my 14-almost-15 year old niece moved in with us a few weeks ago. She'll be here until the end of the school year. If it seems like I'm being vague, it's because I am. I don't mind over-sharing when it comes to my own kids but as a former 15 year old girl myself, I know not to mess with the privacy of a teenaged girl.

(Speaking of over-sharing and embarrassing my own kids, Ike spent a good portion of the middle of last night sitting on the toilet and crying (half-asleep and screaming), "It won't let me go pee-pees." Can three year olds have prostate issues? Anyone have experience with boy-children and urinary tract infections? I'm at a loss. For the last few days, he's been peeing small amounts around the clock, like 5-6 times an hour. He doesn't complain of pain, just that he can't go. My Google diagnosis points to either diabetes, a UTI or anxiety. Hmmm.)

Anyway, the arrival of my niece prompted me to go digging around in the garage for my old journals. For research purposes. You see, I was also a 15 year old niece who moved in with her aunt and uncle. I left "home" and moved to Boston to finish high school. The circumstances are a little different- my family lived much farther away, it was my first time living in the states and I spent two years with my aunt and uncle not just a semester, but there are enough similarities that I wanted to revisit my journal entries from that time period. You know, to get inside the head of a teenager.

Oh boy, did I open a can of worms with that one. You hear it ALL the time, but seriously, being a teenager is so tough. I was going to take a page from my friend Carly's book (blog) and publish a journal entry here so everyone can laugh at my silly 15 year old self and appreciate how far I've come. But I couldn't do it. It was too painful. And sometimes I don't think I've actually come that far at all.

My entries swing from one extreme to another, within days, hours even. Life is GREAT! EXCITING! HOPEFUL! MY FRIENDS ARE THE BEST! I MISS MY FAMILY SO MUCH! And then the next entry... life is terrible. i'm miserable. i hate my parents/aunt/uncle. i'm angry, hurt, confused, full of sadness. i am a huge failure. i have no idea what i'm looking for. i do not belong. NO NO NO, WAIT, THINGS ARE INCREDIBLE and AMAZING. I HEARD THAT CUTE BOY FROM ART HAS A CRUSH ON ME.

It's frightening. I had so many emotions bottled up inside me and no way of dealing with them. I felt everything so acutely. I was so dramatic. I was anxious, unhappy and deeply irrational. I resented my parents for "sending me away" but also craved the stability and peace my aunt and uncle were able to offer. I was desperate to please everyone but wanted to assert my individuality. I worshiped my older sister while simultaneously fearing/hating her. I hardly recognized my three younger brothers and their existences. They never made it onto my radar. Friends meant everything, family meant nothing. I wanted so badly to figure out who I was without the help of all those foolish adults in my life.

Like I said, being a teenager is so hard. But it's not all doom and gloom. Amongst my entries, there are small glimmers of real self-awareness. I recognized that I was unhappy and acknowledged specific things that brought me joy. I tried to pursue those things. I still made lots of mistakes. Really dumb mistakes. It seems like for every two steps forward, I took one backwards. Looking back, I'm surprised there wasn't more intervention from my aunt/uncle or parents. It takes a lot of courage to step back and let someone flail about as they try to "get it." I'll be forever grateful that they worked so hard (and thanklessly) to clear the path I was walking sprinting down, quietly cheering me on from the sidelines and allowing me to "get it" on my own.

Since I'm too embarrassed to share an actual journal entry from that time in my life, I'll share this instead. It's an excerpt from a letter my dad sent me. The letter is dated November 27th, 2000. I had been living in Boston for a few months. My dad was in Yemen working on the FBI investigation of the USS Cole bombing. My dad and I were in completely different parts of the globe, each experiencing our own unique "war zones." Yet, he manages to end his letter on a positive note, describing the beautiful surroundings of the Port of Aden. I may have had a lot of resentment towards my dad at the time, but his letters meant a lot to me. So much that I've held onto them for these last 11 years. I pull them out occasionally as a reminder that I really lucked out in the "foolish adult" department.

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