The Sandbox

I turned to this blog tonight as I struggle with a concept we learned on the playground when we were toddlers – sharing.

The past couple weeks I have had the opportunity to have some extra time with my children, especially my son, as I was able to have him two weekends in a row.  But it wasn’t only the extra time to play with them, but also the lack of distractions.

The divorce was final last month, which seemed to almost erase overnight the year-long angst and animosity.  Also during this time, work projects were a little lighter, so I actually was able to get home either on time or earlier for a refreshing change.  Taking those small diversions away seemed to just open up this world of enjoyment with my children.

We did not do anything major; just sincerely enjoyed one another’s company and quality time, whether playing the Wii or having fun talks about their lives. Friday night I took extra time with each one of my children as they fell asleep, crawled into bed with them and just held them.  To Dax this is normal – it is part of his bedtime routine – but my girls usually get a kiss as I tuck them into bed.  So as I climbed in with each of them they were both a little taken back but immediately loved the added attention.   

With no school Monday, my girls asked if they could go visit their grandma (my former mother-in-law and still great friend) for a sleepover. Even though I did not want them to go I said yes, knowing how much they love their grandparents and vice versa.  I also thought it would be a good opportunity to take Dax to Ryan’s Place Park in Logan, Utah.  A memorial park dedicated to Ryan Adams, who died in a drowning accident when he was two.  I was able to help participate in its development through an ATK donation to build a rocket.  What I did not know at the time when I helped build and paint this rocket, was that my little guy was there with me too – I found out a couple weeks later I was pregnant.

Even with icy cold temperatures and wind today in Logan, I bundled up Dax, replaced my heels with tennis shoes and hit the sidewalk running.  It was amazing hearing the excitement in his voice as we ran played, “look mom it’s your rocket…let’ drive the boat…come on mom you can fit, just duck down…can you push me higher!”  For almost two-hours and to the point my fingers were numb from the cold, we played together.  

I was pushing him on the tire swing and then “accidently” standing in its path so it would send me hurtling forward, resulting in an intense belly-laugh from my sweet son.  That sound was the very reason this park was built – so that sweet melody would be carried on by other children in memory of a little boy whose short life was full of laughter.

 It was in this moment as I heard his laughter, watched the pure joy in his face and his imagination in full force, I could not imagine a different life.  I thought of those who despise and have no desire to have children and I felt sorry for them; they have no concept of how much life they are missing.  If you truly want to discover the world, there is no better way than watching it unfold through your children’s eyes.

So tonight when Dax’s dad asked if he could see him – he had been missing him –  I knew I needed to take him. Dax put his arm around his dad and was excited to see him; he asked him if he could go to his house. His dad responded it is up to his mom.  I did not want to let him go, even after having such an amazing day with him. My girls were already gone and I was looking forward to holding him and watching him fall asleep. I did not want to share him tonight.   

I knew I was being selfish as I tried to come up with an excuse why he needed to stay with me; after all it was my time.  The more I tried, the more I knew I had to let him go. Even my sister noticed the defeated look on my face as I came home without my children.

I have always been one who played nice in the sandbox – I just never imagine that one day I would be in reference to my children.  So for those of you who have your children always; may you never tire of the sounds of their laughter.  And for those, who like me, have to face the many consequences of our choice to divorce; may you cherish every moment you have, and may your heart be comforted when you have to share.

Pepé Le Pew

I always cherish those moments when you know a memory has been formed with you and your children; one that will last a lifetime.  Last night we formed one of those memories thanks to the assistance of a member of the Mephitidae family and a police officer.

On the drive back from my best friend’s house (who lives in Eagle Mountain or BFE for those not familiar with this area).  My three bambinos were watching a movie as I drove along an unlit section of the highway.   The glow from the TV screen made it a little harder to see, but there was no mistaking when I saw the white stripe – I knew it was a skunk.  Unfortunately it was already directly in front of my tire and the eerie thump, ker-plunk sound instantly followed before I had time to react.

The mammal was big enough that the resulting jolt – similar to a speed bump—interrupted the hypotonic movies-induce trance on the kids, “What was that mom?” Followed by, “Oh my gosh, what is that smell?”  My answer, “I just ran over a skunk!!”

The smell engulfed the car.  I looked in the rear view mirror and saw all three kids, hands covered over their noses as they were bathed in the light from the screen, and I began to laugh hysterically. The questions started rolling out from the back seat, which caused me to laugh harder; Is it dead?,  how did you hit it?,  why didn’t  you swerve?,  when will it stop stinking?, and my all time favorite from my three-year-old, “Someone pooped their pants mommy!”

My stomach was hurting and my eyes watering, partly because I was laughing so hard, but also as a reaction to the odor. I began to drive faster as it seemed to make the smell less obnoxious, when my car was lit up by bright flashing red and blue lights.

I grabbed my license and supporting documents and rolled the window down as the officer walked up beside my car.  He asked me if I knew how fast I was going, and although I tried, I was unable to contain my laughter -- it was useless.  I said I had no idea, to which he responded more sternly that I had been travelling 75 in a 55.  It was then that I noticed his fac,e as he must have became aware of the smell.

I began to laugh harder and was barely able to squeak out the words, “Sorry about the smell, I just plowed over a skunk.”  Noticing he had not quite understand me, the back window was rolled down to reveal my three children still pinching their noses and my daughter translated (In a nose-stuffed voice) what I was trying to communicate, “my mom hit a skunk!”

The officer asked where I had hit it and I told him the passenger side, and then asked if he would mind checking to see if there were skunk bits on my car.  The kids asked if they could get out and look too, to which he responded they needed to stay buckled.

He walked to the passenger side and was scanning my car with his flash light, when I noticed that he started dry-heaving and holding his nose. He came back to my side and tried to remain as professional, although his skin coloring had become paler, he handed me my information and told me to slow it down. Apparently he must have thought we experienced enough stench for one night.

So I am issuing official apologies:

·         To those driving behind me (Jo Jo) after I took out Mr. Skunk, (as I am sure they also got to experience the reeking benefits) – sorry!

·         To the boys  at the car wash who had to scrub off my car – an extra tip!

·         To my neighbors who were wondering why there was a skunk in suburbia – it was just my car that is strategically parked outside!

·         Finally to Pepé Le Pew, sooo sorry, but thank you for helping me get out of what would be a rather large speeding ticket and resulting spike in my insurance cost – may you rest in peace!

Raising Dennis

“Can I call you back, I am standing in poop.”

This is how I answered my phone this afternoon as my toilet was spewing in contents of bio-waste that was recently deposited by my daughter. She was in total fear that she somehow had caused the mishap and kept saying, “It was not that much mom, I think someone had gone before me.”  She had unfortunately failed to notice the 4X4 truck that had been jammed in the toilet. 

I discovered the toy as I was screaming for my girls to grab more towels and was desperately plunging away to stop the contents from continuing to overflow. Upon seeing the truck I yelled that word that always seems to follow most disasters in our house, “DAAAAAAX!”

As he sat in the corner and I talked to him about putting things in the toilet, while he profusely apologized with his sweet three-year-old voice, “I ’m sorry mommy.” My thoughts turned to his ability to destroy in a matter of milliseconds, not in a malicious act, but out of pure curiosity to figure out how something works.  This is something that he has seemed to have inherited from birth, not a learned behavior. 

My girls were never like this as young children and maybe it is just my naivety to raising a son. It is about time I documented a few, but not all of his many moments as Dax the Destroyer for posterity – and to embarrass him when he gets older.

Durango Heist

Yes my three-year-old took my keys, went into the garage, started my car and was desperately trying to get it to go into gear. “I was going to drive your car mom.”

Baby Powder Tornadoes

Multiple times he has turned his bedroom into a baby power winter wonderland, they last time he came grabbed me and very excitedly said, "MOM, come look at the clouds!!!”

Cereal Killer

When in doubt, just dump the whole thing out.  Whether it was an accident as he was trying to poor more in his bowl, or a decision to hear how they crackle under his feet, this little guy has become a professional at cereal murders!  This started when he was able to pull himself up to a standing position



Now he uses a stool for higher access to a bigger victim pool



Downey Dump

When I combined his words, “I put it in the washer mommy,” with the fact I was washing my delicates at the time, the world started to spin slower and the TV suddenly sounded like Charlie Brown’s teacher, “MWA waa waa” as I made my way to the laundry room.  I saw the two bottles of Downey with the lids off and blue streaks running down the side of the washer and my heart sunk.  As I opened the lid to see the wash water the color of milk I heard the loving words, “I help you mommy!”

Tampon King

For some strange reason my little man is absolutely obsessed with tampons.  He loves to open them take them apart and chew on the cardboard.  He has been doing this since he was one, and you would think he would grow out it; however, just today he came out of my bathroom with one stuck in his mouth.  The worst was at a grocery store when he dug one out of my purse and had it pulled apart and playing with it.  I was focused on shopping and did not notice until people around me started hysterically laughing.

His behavior with tampons has also created the need to explain to my girls what they are for (a conversation none of us were ready to have).  Imagine his horror when he is old enough to learn the same or I sneak the photographic evidence into his wedding video montage!

Despite the many mishaps and near heart attacks, I absolutely love his passion for life. It is amazing to watch him discover the world and through the process see it differently for myself. 

I am so grateful God gave me such and amazing son to raise – which is the phrase I kept repeating in my mind as I rolled up my sleeves and un-lodge the 4X4 Tonka truck!



When he is posing like this at one, you know you are in for it!