Toughest Job Ever ...

I have had some crazy and pretty tough jobs in my time: ticket booth at the state park, dry cleaners, park and movie theater concessions, sprinkler repair, Office Depot, and 20 or so random temp jobs. In my years of teaching, I had some very challenging students, parents, and situations. But I don't think that any of that prepared me for the difficulty I encounter on a daily, hourly even moment by moment basis as a mom.

I don't really know what else to say other than the job is hard. I spent many years as a teacher but not a mother. I had almost daily conversations with parents in which I would tell them how to raise their kids or the best way to go about parenting. It seems that I had the right answers to all of the questions. My question now is, Where did all of that knowledge go? Why is it so much more difficult for me with my own kids? Is there ever an end to toddlerhood?

I feel really bad when I read other blogs and listen to other people talk about how much they love being a mom and how wonderful everything is. Sometimes I feel like the only one who struggles. I see the way other kids and other parents look at my boys. They don't see the good that I see in them. They see loud--or I guess hear loud. They see crazy. They see busy and always moving. They see out of control blonde tornadoes of destruction and pain if you are playing with their toy.

It is not that I am not trying my hardest every day to teach my boys nice manners and good behavior. We work daily on sharing and saying nice things and having soft hands. We work constantly on talking softly and not being quite as crazy as normal. At this point, I wonder how much of them is nature and how much is nurture. How much of their craziness has to do with their genes and the wonders of toddlerhood and how much has to do with the fact that they spend all day with me?

There are moments here and there when I feel terrible about some of the things I said to parents years ago as the teacher of their child. I figured I could imagine what it was like to be a parent but I don't think you ever really know until you hold your first baby in the hospital. At that moment I started to understand just a little bit that this mom thing was going to be a tough gig.

I just hope that someday when I go back to teaching I can remember that parents are sending me the best kids they have and most of them are trying their hardest to do well by their little ones. I also hope that I can survive toddlerhood with these two little head strong smarties without too many scars, either to my body or to my ego. I hope that I am doing well enough by them.

written April 16, 2010

Golden is his middle name.

So one of the first questions that people ask all of the time, after ascertaining that I really am going to have a baby and that he is a boy is, "Does he have a name yet." To which I always reply that I have not the slightest idea what to name my first born son. I remember having friends growing up who had already named all of their children--first, middle, and sometimes even last name. I was never like this, for the most part, and am still having a difficult time deciding on a suitable and appropriate and worthy name. As all of you with children know, this is a big responsibility--deciding how your child will be forever known. Deciding the name they will have throughout their entire life--meaning something that will sound cute when they are little and mature when they grow up (except if this kid is anything like his father, his body and his face will get older, but he will never really grow up). My Grandma Hill told me recently that no matter what I name my child, he will not like it at one point or another in his life, or better yet, he will hate it the entire length of his existence. Pressure. As a result, Adam and I have not yet picked a first name for our son. We talk about it sometimes and then we don't mention it for weeks on end. At 29 weeks, we have some time to spare, but that luxury is fleeting before our eyes, reciprocal to my belly increasing before our eyes. The fortunate thing in all of this is that baby boy already has a middle name--Golden. This means that our son will be named " ________ Golden Bradbury", and where there is an Adam, there is always a story. So, here it goes. Adam and I had been trying to start our family for some time, without much luck. In April, I went to the doctor for a check up and started talking to her about what we could do to have better luck. She informed me of the mathematical formula you can use to find out when your "days of opportunity" are. That night, I went home, found my calendar and did some math. The following Friday night, Adam and I went to a local Chinese Buffet in Corpus Christi for a quick and semi-warm dinner. "As we gazed across the table lovingly into each other's eyes, sparks flew, emotions ran high, and we just knew." STOP! And now back from my "Pride and Prejudice land" where Adam thinks I frequently dwell--if I remember correctly, it went a little more like this: Michelle: "Hey addie, I don't know if you want to do anything with this information, but this weekend would be a good time for us to try with the whole baby thing. Just thought you might want to know." To which Adam replied: "Cool. Let's eat; I'm hungry." Dinner went forward without much ado, and without much thought of the earlier conversation. When Adam was finishing his last few bites of General Tsao's chicken and I was savoring my last spoonfuls of chocolate pudding, our waitress brought our check/fortune cookies. I grabbed the closest cookie, opened it, read my fortune and said, "Oh my goodness. No way!" I sat and stared at the fortune for some time before sharing it with Adam, whose curiosity was obviously very peaked. When I finally read it out loud, the two of us just stared at each other. The thought of "holy cow" was running through both of our minds and streaming across both of our faces. The famed fortune read: "A golden egg of opportunity falls into your lap this month." Needless to say, that was the month--the weekend--that our baby first began. Too bad we did not play lotto with the numbers on the back too. We blew that egg, but are much more pleased with the golden egg that will soon join our family. "_______ Golden Bradbury" (our golden opportunity) So now you know the story of our Golden boy. We figure he will have fun explaining his name. We like the story and just wanted to share. So, If you have any suggestions of names that would sound good or cool or just really tough, feel free to let us know. We are open to ideas.

written 28 Jan 2007

Jr. High Lombardi

Today was a bit of a treat.  Michelle signed BG and CM up for 9th and 8th grade football, respectively.  She took them shopping and we spent a ton of money on cleats, socks, clothes and fees.  Then we went to the storage shed where they had shoulder pads, pants and helmets.  All grey and orange with Skyridge emblazoned in key locations.  

BG is one of nine kids who are on the team and, as of yet, have never played before.  He looked the part quite honestly.  I skulked behind the batting cages and watched as he asked his friends what was going on and how to do the next drill.  I even took a picture or too.  He surprises me, because he really wants to try this football thing out.  It doesn't come naturally to him, but I think if he works hard at it, he'll do well.  Most of the boys have been playing since 5th grade together.  They have even been lifting weights all summer and spent a week at Snow College in a mini camp.  BG was fairly lost.

CM on the other hand had day one of a three try out session.  It was like a mini NFL combine.  They measured and weighed the boys, had them run sprints and shuttle drills.  They went one on one and caught passes on short running routes.  Mackay is a big strong young man.  He will be a very big, strong man someday.  Today, he got gassed running shuttle drills.  I went over to check on him while he sat in the equipment pile by himself.  "What's up?" I asked.  "I couldn't breathe so the coach sent me over here." he said. "Stop being a puss and get back in there.  Don't take another break until your whole group does."  I replied.  He did just that the rest of the day.  Not what he was wanting to hear; but it was what he needed to hear.

Mackay did not want to be there.  He had great anxiety. Not near as much as his mother, though he was worried and self-conscious.  His mother was almost in tears while watching from a folding chair on the sideline.  She also almost caused a turnip to bleed blood, she was squeezing it so hard.  I'm afraid that one day, some kid will actually nail CM on the gridiron and she is going to run out on the field and rip the kids still beating heart out of his chest and hold it triumphantly in her fist held skyward with great vengeance while the kid bleeds to death under her mighty foot of retribution.  Hopefully Mackay will be alright.  

DT was there too.  I know because as he watched all of the kids run their drills, he would critique them.  "He's going to be fast, you can tell because of how he lines up." "That kid is quick, but not high end speed quick.  Just off the blocks." "He moves well laterally but is slow in a straight line."  And the final conclusion, "I'll bet you I'm faster than every single 8th grader out here Dad."  Said matter-of-factly, with a straight and quite sincere face.  We even went to the end of the field and I timed him as he ran wind sprints for fun until he couldn't breathe any more.  

Today was a good day.  Those are some amazing boys and I'm proud of them for trying something that is well outside of their comfort zone.  It went well, and it was a great first day.  

Storming Stan McChrystal

 I just logged in to a virtual leadership training meeting by Gen (ret) Stan McChrystal.  He's begun a startup that teaches leadership in business.  As you may recall, he was the general in charge of JSOC that transformed the fight in Iraq by developing a system of going after HVT's, exploiting the information we got there, and then building a web of all of the known associates and partners of those HVT's.  He was so successful that they promoted and put him over all the entire war in Afghanistan.  His staff said some off-hand remarks about a president with a fragile ego and those comments were published in Rolling Stone.  He was fired and sent away in disgrace.  Netflix even made a farce about his life with Brad Pitt playing him as a rigid, clueless doofus.  Truth be told he was probably one of the most phenomenally talented officers our military has had in 100 years.  

During the closing remarks the comment was made that his message was intended for the future leaders of America.  That was me once.  I was the one that they packed into the audience to learn these techniques.  I was the one that was groomed to build, lead, conquer and fix.  But I'm not anymore.  I have peaked out professionally.  Irrevocably decreed that I will only attain major.  That I will fill a slot that is of marginal value to society.  My education was all but a waste because at the most my interpretation of events and society are limited to a single person who is literally locked in a vault with me and has no recourse but to listen.  I have so much to share but nobody cares because I am not a leader.

My son doesn't want me in his life.  He avoids eye contact. He doesn't joke with me any more.  When I take him to the gym he sits in the back, because it's the farthest away from me he can fit and then texts his mother begging her to 'save' him.  We fight in every word we say.  The anger and mistrust is thick.  

Last week for mothers day I took some old footage of the boys that we had filmed back in 2018 and made a music video for her.  I had intended to make this video for some time but just never got around to it.  As I combed through the clips I came upon one that caught my heart.  I was in a close up of Brigham's face, trying to get him to sing the words to the song.  He couldn't do it and I was pushing a bit harder that I probably should have.  At some point he stopped trying, I kept the camera rolling and on him but I know that behind the camera I raised my head and gave a look of significant disappointment, if not outright disgust.  He read that emotion clearly and looked away though I could see his face these several years later.  He looked down and with an empty emotional tank muttered to himself, "I failed."

You didn't fail man, I did.  I was supposed to be the great leader.  The notable officer.  The change maker that the world looked to like we did to Gen McChrystal.  I couldn't do it in my professional life and I have not been able to do it in my personal either.  I am average.  Which to me is a failure.  As a father I am below average.  Which for my sons is a failure.  I am trying and will continue to do my best.  I suppose that these realizations in life, that you have attained much less that your potential, are part of life.  And disheartening.  

Learning Through Labor

 It's kind of a normal everyday Wednesday today.  Nothing particularly special about it.  Yesterday the two older boys went on their first Mutual Scavenger hunt.  They had a great time and really worked hard to win.  Mackay's team did, in fact, win.  Oh, and last week, we bought our home on Cranberry Loop and Grandma Susie bought her condo in Daybreak.

On Wednesdays, because of Covid, the Lehi Jr High admin has decided to cancel classes and clean the school.  Three different times I called home and three different times I got to hear from Michelle about how boys were fighting each other or misbehaving or just not doing anything at all.  I finally got home and Michelle decided she was done.  She took CM and DT to a meeting for DT's impeding track season and I stayed home to 'adjust' BG's attitude.  We talked for a bit and then he got dressed and did the dishes. And then we went to the garage and he worked in there for a long while.  

The other two boys came home and worked really hard out there too.  Especially DT.  "What's next Dad?" The kid knows how to please.  We fertilized the yard and loaded the truck with garbage to be thrown in a dumpster.  Like I said, BG really took a talking to and work load well.  So I decided to reward him.  We jumped in the truck and just at dusk I let him drive me around the neighborhood a bit.  We learned about the different light settings, how to use lights, what kind of threats there are in the dark and how to handle all of it and not crash.  It was his very first time driving at night.  It really is a treat to teach them these things.

We stopped by the church to ask the bishop permission to park Grandma Susie's trailer there for a few days but while we were waiting for him we had a chance to chat with Julio.  He gave BG some great advice on how to do well in school and succeed over the next few years.  It really was a cool experience for him to get personal counseling and words of wisdom.  Hopefully some of it stuck.  Also, BG can stand flat footed and touch the ceiling one handed.  He's getting huge.

He really is a good boy and I love him very much.  He is learning how to take criticism for what it is intended and not for offense.  He is learning and trying really hard.  I notice.  And sometimes I just write it down here.  

The Grandest Tetons

Last weekend we took a short trip up to Rexburg to see Jan and Brett and to go skiing.  On Friday, right after school we jumped in the truck with about five black and yellow bins full of ski gear and headed north.  It’s always a pretty big production to get everything together to go skiing.  Each person needs their base layers, baggy layers, outer layers, gloves, goggles, helmet, balaclava, bag etc. and it needs to be kept separate and at the ready, since we never go to the nice ski resorts that are literally 30 minutes from our home but rather the ones 4 hours away in Idaho with their cousins.  

 

We went to Grand Targhee on Saturday morning.  It was really quite beautiful.  At the very top if you went around the curve you could see Grand Teton and the other peaks.  Brigham has started to become much more independent at skiing.  He will just take off and figure things out on his own.  He stayed with us for most of the day on the Shoshone lift bunny hill but after lunch Brett, Mason and I decided to go up on the big mountain. Brig came along.  Though I tried not to show it, I was a bit apprehensive because I wasn’t sure that he could keep up.  But keep up he did.  He really impressed me that day.  His technique needs work and occasionally we had to give him a bit more of a chance, but he made it up and down that huge mountain and all the obstacles that came with it, several times.  It’s a thing to see your child mature physically before your eyes.

 

I spent most of the day with Mackay.  He is like his mother in regards to trying things that are uncomfortable: he won’t.  He’ll go down the mountain, so long as you stay with him and force him to.  He will not go down faster than he feels incredibly comfortable doing, which is slower than most 4-year old’s with their tips tied together.  Don’t even suggest going from pizza to French fries, It’s not happening bro.  And criticism is internalized and remembered forever.  Coaching him and pushing him was incredibly frustrating as his dad--probably as much my short-coming as his.  And yet I saw a glimmer.  He’d try small things.  He never tired.  His muscles are strong.  Occasionally he would look up and realized how beautiful it was to be there on the lift.  I wish I knew better how to reach and love that boy, there is so much great to love in him.

 

Some kids at school in his advanced history class were treating him inappropriately.  They were making homosexual references and one made inappropriate advances.  The kid even hugged Mack and wouldn’t let go until a teacher came in.  He felt comfortable enough with his mother to discuss it with her.  Michelle went through the teacher, the counselor and the principal and they all handled it very professionally and remarkably well.  Which is good because I was ready to handle it by putting a fist through a throat.  It’s not right to make any child uncomfortable, especially not my Mackay. He struggles with adolescence. He will make it through just fine and the struggle is what will make him a better man on the other side but I wish he didn’t have to deal with so much all the time.  I really love that child.

 

As we pulled into the parking lot at the resort, I saw David crying in the back seat.  I pulled him aside to see what was the matter and he told me that these were really steep lifts and he was scared.  Tears were streaming.  I hugged him and reassured him that everything would be ok.  I would take care of him all the way.  He mustered his strength and soldiered on.

 

David is a snowboarder; he has mastered the heal edge but feels very awkward on his toe edge.  In comes his cousin Mason.  Mason is in college, married and recently returned from a mission.  Certainly, he would have found great enjoyment in blasting down the mountain at break neck speeds, with music in a wireless speaker blaring from a pocket, like the countless others his age doing so.  And yet, he didn’t.  He patiently rode along with David, run after run after run, teaching him the finer points of sailing down a mountain with a stick attached to your feet.  It was really sweet to see their interaction.  He was able to reach that child in a way that I as the dad never could.  

 

As we packed our gear into the car, and again once we arrived back home in Utah and I tucked him into bed, David grabbed me, hugged me, and in the most sincere and loving way expressed his gratitude for me making the effort to take them skiing this weekend.  That meant more to me than the little man will ever know.

 

Teenagers are really difficult.  I don’t do well with them.  I thought I would be great, I thought I would be cool and understanding, I thought I would be one step ahead--but I’m not.  Michelle is. When I get angry she understands.  When I punish, she offers incentive.  When I am flabbergasted she makes them feel silly funny.  I wish I had her talent and way of communicating with them.  

 

I tried on Sunday night.  I was giving Brigham a bit of a reprimand in the basement storage room for treating his brother harshly.  It was another Dad lecture, in one ear and out the other.  On my way out, I shut off the light in the windowless room and closed the door.  For 6 minutes we played a silly game of Useless Machine, where he would turn the light on, and I would crack the door just wide enough to turn it back off and then close the door again.  Sometimes changing up the timing and noises to throw him off.  I’ve told him a hundred times in the last month that I love him.  This was probably the first time he felt it for real.  

 

I wish they knew how much I do love them.  I am terribly imperfect.  I demand a lot and I am more harsh than I wish I had to be.  I hate video games and hormones. But I really do love them and wish I could understand them better.  One day they will grow into their own version of Mason Bagley.  I know they will and they are well on their way.  I hope they don’t leave too soon though because the joy I get from a weekend like this is immeasurable and priceless to me.  

How do you Make Holy Water?

This has been an interesting week.  Grandma Susie came down with Covid, and therefore, so did KK and her whole family.  We had gone out to dinner with Grandma after going to the Escape Room with them last Saturday for David's birthday party and so we were locked up for the rest of the week on contact tracing isolation until today.  We have showed zero signs of infection, so no particular worries there, but we decided to try and do something nice for KK.  This afternoon we put together some posters with 'go get'em' slogans like, "We got you Cuz!", "We Love you", "Covid sucks, Get Well Soon" and "Max Hall Hates Covid Almost As Much As He Hate U" (I've rarely been so proud of Michelle, She comes up with some zingers sometimes.)  She's like a dangerous mix of Robin Williams and Professor Umbridge.

After standing on their driveway holding our signs up like John Cusak holding a boom box, we jumped back in the car and went for a drive around the valley to see a couple of Temples.  Our first was a stop at the Draper Temple, because it was right there.  We brought Choco and walked around the grounds chatting with the perpetually motioned teenagers (David thinks he is one so I guess he is).  Then we drove down town, parked by the Conference Center and got out for another walk.  It was a bit chilly but it was really cool to see all the work they were doing on that sacred building.  The engineering is really amazing.  

The traffic on the grounds is understandably deeply depressed from normal holiday visitors.  Once the work is done it will recover but for now, between COVID and the giant city block sized construction it is a mess out there and very few want to be a part of it.  So we had several sets of Sister Missionaries to chat with during our jaunt.  The first set were really nice.  We talked with them for a while and then I asked them to teach our boys a quick lesson, kind of to their surprise.  I don't assume they get to teach very often as mostly they chat, testify and invite visitors.  

At the end of their lesson I pointed out to the boys what an exceptional experience this was to be taught about faith by designated representatives of Jesus Christ--in the shadow of one of the most holy structures on earth.  It was just a cool experience.  Choco even behaved himself pretty well on leash.

Later that evening we sat around the table eating dinner and talking.  Really, at this stage of the game, the boys just go off on these elaborate and incredibly in-depth conversations about video games and Pokémon while Michelle and I just stare at each other wondering what we did so wrong?  During this whole hullabaloo we call dinner, and between reprimands for fighting or retaliating a perceived wrong committed by another Blondie, Brigham made a joke.  "Hey Dad, how do you get Holy Water? Boil the hell out of it!"  I let the profanity go on this one because he was pretty proud of himself.  Then he came back with an observation.  

He said, "You know, when we were walking around tonight Choco stopped to pee once on the temple grounds.  It must have become like "Holy Pee" or something."  I know, but this is what our dinner conversations are like now.  

They were thinking  pretty intently on this metaphysical change that pee could take upon itself when I chipped in, "Ya, it's a good thing he didn't stop to go #2 because that would have been called..."  And then I faded off.  You could actually see the glowing light bulb appear above their heads like a cascade of illumination as they individually got the joke.  I'm not proud of myself but right now that's what I have to do to get their attention, because they are 13, 12 and 9.  I also had to sit on a stool outside their bedroom for nearly an hour to get them to stop talking and go to sleep.  I really suck at parenting teenagers; which is I guess, because they really suck at being teenagers.

Luke 2:19

Tonight I came home from work and while walking toward the stairs David pulled on my arm and said, "Dad, I have something I need to talk to you about...in private." This must be serious.  So I put my arm around him and listened as we walked toward my room.  We laid down on the bed and stared at the ceiling fan as he recounted his life and all the great happenings in the  Belmont Elementary Third Grade.  

It was a winding story, sometimes I had a problem following it.  But there were four main characters, David, Aaron, Lincoln, and Dave's autistic friend Henry whom David has kept at his side to help him socially grow in their class.  These four boys decided to start a club.  As everyone knows, you must begin with a name for a club so they adopted 'The Froggies'.  The Froggies were a pretty exclusive club.  Just the four of them.  It only had two rules: 1) No playing football - because Aaron decided that he didn't want to play football as he had a penchant for just stealing the football during recess and running away from all the kids who do want to play.  And also because David was fed up with favoritism of the regulars not throwing to him when he was open. Then 2) only certain types of walks were allowed.  Think Ministry of Silly Walks if you will.  Really silly walks.

This exclusive club became something of a sensation.  Within a day or three nearly the entire third grade recess had aligned themselves with The Froggies and their activities.  It was a massive grass roots organization that ruled the entire student population.  Thank heavens they didn't know about underground crimes or there'd be a dead body and bags of cash they would have to explain away to Mrs. Sattler when the bell rang.  Though perhaps they already had her on the take?  While not the head of this group, DT was close enough to be in the room where it happens, if you know what I mean.

Well here's the problem, good things only last so long.  And in the third grade, that's about three days. Today one of the boys decided to break the second rule.  Not able to accept such blatant disregard for the sacred, Aaron just decided that he was done and stormed out.  Indeed, he had no justifiable reason.  He just up and walked away from the Froggies in a huff, and because "he's the popular one" Aaron ended up taking a sizable portion of the congress with him.  Then Lincoln, not to be outdone, did likewise with his faction of followers.  David, reticent to act rashly, yet seeing the writing on the wall, and upset that the greed and pride of his friends had led to this boy band breakup, finished The Froggies off formally.  Only Henry was left standing on the playground by himself.  (DT went back later to hang with him.)  Those factionary groups now call themselves The Pickles and they are pretty well established over by the four square courts.

As David sat there telling me this whole sordid tale, I could feel a tinge of regret and frustration in his voice.  Indeed, according to his mother, when this whole thing went down today he almost cried in public because it really did rack his little spirit.  He went into great detail with me; I may never feel the pure trust of another human being as I did today when he opened up to me.  He told me everything, even the parts where he confessed his own short comings.  As a father, that filled me with great happiness... and sadness.  

So here's the kicker in this whole story.  By himself and with absolutely no prompting, he pulled out a moral and practical lesson at the end: "Dad, I guess this just goes to show you that in any leadership structure there can always be great corruption that will ruin great accomplishments."  

Socrates himself couldn't have formulated that idea and said it any better and yet it was an eight year old that taught me that.  I didn't even really realize how astute that observation was until later I was discussing it with his mother and she pointed it out.  It really was something.  I mean, I could drizzle a spit drop 11 inches down and suck it back up into my mouth before it broke at that age.  David is a really great kid.

Afterwards we went to Cornbelly's and wandered in a Toy Story corn maze for a couple of hours enjoying the fall festivities.  It was a great and beautiful night.  David is my Tinky.  I love him very much and every day more I can understand the words of the New Testament where it references Mother Mary and how 'she kept all these things and pondered them in her heart.'  Or perhaps on her blog.

Parent Teacher Conferences and Prayer

Today we went to Parent/Teacher conferences for David.  He's in third grade and his teacher is Ms. Sattler at Belmont Elementary School.  He really seems to love his teacher and his class, he's getting along nicely, scoring high in all regards and by all reports very well accepted by his peers.  

As we sat there talking with her about his achievement and progress I realized that during the last several months, my little David had pulled me aside and in confidence, as his dad, he had been telling me the most important events and occurrences in his little world.  I hadn't even recognized it at the time; I thought we were just having playful conversations.  But as I entered his world and spoke with his teacher I recognized that she identified the same critical events just as he had.  

For instance, she had paired him with an autistic boy who rarely ever speaks.  "Dad, she told me that she chose me to help Henry because she trusts me." Her version was, "I put them together on purpose.  David has opened this child up in ways that I could not have.  He is now beginning to engage his classmates and talk to them like he never has before."  

As I walked around the classroom and saw his desk, the weather calendar, the salamander and crickets I flashed back to the 20 minute long discussion we had about raising animals in class, watching chicken eggs hatch after being incubated or discovering the magic of a chrysalis becoming a butterfly before our very eyes - 34 years apart.  

She continued, "David does really well in math.  Sometimes, too well.  He becomes a bit braggadocio's about his accomplishment, 'Wow, I got a hundred... I didn't think I'd get a hundred but I did and it's pretty amazing! Did you? No? Oh, but I did!'" There was no mal-intent in his words.  He was so worried about his success or failure that when it paid off he was truly ecstatic.  David pulled me into my room last week and showed page after page of perfect score math assignments.  Pleased as punch at his great success.  

The thing about Dave is that he is simply brilliant.  Every bit as smart as his brothers he has the ability to accomplish as much as they have and will academically, perhaps anyhow, as they have set the bar very high.  But he lacks a certain confidence.  He desires to be the best but if he is not the best, he feels that he must not even try.  And if he does try and fails or even just comes up short then the risk was too great and should not have been attempted.  Tears will follow.  As in his last two tennis matches where he lost to the other school's 2nd best 6th grader.  Even though he is just a 3rd grader right now.

Today during that conference when I reflected on the experience of having my 8 year old confide in me his greatest accomplishments and concerns, I began to understand the importance and purpose of sacred prayer.  Prayer is that personal connection and communication from an immature and growing child to his father; where things of seemingly magnificent importance right now, which in an eternal scope are in fact miniscule, are shared.  

My Father attends to me as these concerns are discussed at great length and with even greater care, than I rendered to my son.   I can comprehend better how David sees me, because that is how I see my Father; as well as how my Father sees me because that is how I see David.

I suppose that I also understand what great a feeling it is when your son is willing to share these moments with you.  The love I have felt for each of my boys in these times is impossible to convey.  Maybe I will be able to when my vocabulary gets bigger, more like my Father's. 

As a side note: Tonight after our scripture time I was trying to share an 'attaboy' with my kids so I said, "Did you guys know that at one time or other I have had every one of my boy's teachers tell me that my son was the best student in their whole class."  Brigham chirped in, "Ya, Mackay's teacher said that about me."  

Point, Brigham.

Go Air Force

While sitting in our living room, watching BYU play at the Naval Academy for the first game of the season Mackay decided that he was going to root for - and only for - the Midshipmen.  The thing is, by the end of the third quarter the score was 48-3 and everyone had pulled their starters.  BYU was crushing the Navy with great prejudice.  And Mackay was starting to show a bunch of his Gene’s, if you know what I mean.

 

So MommieMichelle decided to step in and build Mackay up.  

 

MM: Mack, you CAN go to the Naval Academy.  You CAN go to the Air Force Academy.  If you really want to, you CAN go to West Point.  But if you want to go to one of these schools, you should know that not only do you have to be really strong, athletic and tough but you have to be really smart.

 

Mack: Yeah, you’ve got to be big brained!

 

MM: That’s true. You’ve got to be big brained. And you can do it Mackay.

 

Mack:  Yeah, big brained… Like Brigham, he couldn’t go to the Naval Academy.  Or the Air Force Academy,

 

… then just at that moment little turd monkey McGee, otherwise known as David, pipes in from the dining room.  “Although, he’d for sure be able to get into West Point.”  

 

That’s my boy.  Go Air Force, Beat Army, Sink Navy.

 

 

Also heard from TMM during a Legal Zoom commercial.  "I didn’t know that regular Zoom was illegal and then there’s this new Legal version of Zoom.  Craycray."

Happy Brigmore

Today was a pretty cool day.  Summer is wrapping up, so somewhere around mid week last week we put the boys on an airplane and flew them up to West Yellowstone WY airport where their grandparents picked them up and they spent a few days in Island Park doing the things you do in IP. 

I had taken a job with Northwestern Mutual as a financial advisor but by Thursday realized that it just didn't feel right for our family so I left in the middle of training.  On Friday morning Michelle and I drove north to Idaho and had a wonderful time with our family.

On Saturday we went to Wade lake with Meema, Buhpa and the Bagleys.  It was busier than any of us had ever seen it.  What an amazing place and a shame that it is getting to be more well known.  With Covid and such the boys and I blessed and passed the sacrament in the Ransom's cabin on Sunday.  The rest of the time was spent reading, talking and doing puzzles.  

Before heading back to Utah on Monday morning, I decided to take the boys golfing there at IP Village.  Brigham and I borrowed Brett's golf cart and we checked in at the club house.  This was the first time the boy had ever swung a club and it was rather difficult at first.  I really wish that I had video'd his first swing on the tee of hole #1.  He wound up and uncorked the spring.  Wiff! The club flew fantastically close to the tee'd up ball and left it there--completely unharmed.  Then the club went up and around his body and the inertia pulled him completely around in an awkward pirouette.  The look on his face was beautiful.  

The thing is, he got really good by the time we finished 9 holes.  He even beat me on the last par 3.  The intricate rules, the unfamiliar terms, the steep learning curve, the beautiful vistas.  It all captured his imagination is a way that I really hadn't expected.  He thoroughly enjoyed it and talked quite a bit about how much he enjoyed it the rest of the day.  He really is a fascinating creature, and I love him very much.

Not so much Here or Here, but right about Here

We have a dog.  He is a Cock-a-poo.  He wears a bow-tie collar.  His name is Chocolate Thunder.  And he is not a male stripper.  

He goes by Choco for short.  My brother Aaron, gave him to us several years ago as a puppy from a litter that Aaron's dog Belka had.  He is the pick of the litter and such a great dog.  Fairly well trained, he still does his frustrating things like grab food off the counter or run away any time he is even close to being out of a 20' gravitational pull from his master.  

The real reason that we have him is because of Brigham.  Brig came up to me about three years ago and after many months of begging for a dog, he finally made an argument that I could not counter. "Dad, a dog is like a rite of passage for a kid." So it is.  And ever since then, this dog has been a tremendous benefit to our whole family.  

Even Mackay.  Now I bring Mackay up specifically because it is important to understand the relationship that Mack and Choc have together.  Choc is immensely patient and Mack is immensely painful.  Ever since the first day we brought Choco home, Mack has grabbed that dog and physically over powered him, or blown in his face, or drug him around by the leg or just squeezed until there was no room for air.  Imagine the scene from the movie Tommy Boy where Tommy is trying to get the waitress of the Cluck Bucket Restaurant to open up the kitchen and make him some more chicken wings.  He begins to tell the lady about why he "sucks as a salesman", describing how when he almost has a sale he turns into Jojo the Idiot Circus Clown with his naughty little pet. He then proceeds to shower so much love on the pet roll that he pokes, tears and ultimately physically destroys the bread.  Mackay is Jojo and Choco is the white dinner roll.  

Choco eventually started growling and snipping when he is in distress.  We have learned to most often trust the dogs judgement in these matters.  Mackay loves him to no end.  Though eventually it might be the end of one or the other.

So the other day, mother and Brigham are in one of their silly baby talk moods in the kitchen when Choco walks in by chance.  They immediately begin vying for his attention. "Come to me Choco, I have a treat!"  "No, come to me Choco I love you more."  He sat there looking between the two for some time, weighing his options.  The entreaties went on.  "Here Choco, choose me." "Choco choose me, Mommie doesn't really love you."

Then, seated over by the table Mackay turned around and made a small motion to the dog, who in turn immediately bypassed both Brigham and his mother and walked straight to Mackay for a gentle rub behind the ears.  

Brigham and Mommie stood up, looked at each other with a bit of incredulity and dismay and Brigham, cocking his head slightly, blurted out, "Plot twist!?" Man I love these kids.  

Music Fills David's heart

The boys have been learning how to play piano lately.  Not of their own volition but we try to help them expand in ways that don't involve a Nintendo Switch on occasion.

Today I was playing the super Simplified Hymn book song "Testimony" p.XXX while the kids were down stairs.  David came up in the middle of the song to use the bathroom and kind of stopped.  When I was done, he came around the corner and said, "Dad, I just wanted you to know that when you were playing that song I felt the spirit really strong and my heart was burning.  Thank you for playing it."

He curled up in my lap and we talked for a minute or two about recognizing the spirit in our everyday lives.  I told him about the D&C scripture describing how a song can be the same as a prayer and he thought that was pretty cool.

David's a great kid and we sure love him a ton; he really is a unique and special human being.  I'm sure Heaven Father misses him tremendously but I want to be a bit selfish and hold him on my lap for a while longer myself.

A note from Mackay on his Birthday:

       How it feels to be 12

     Hi. My name is Mackay. I just turned 12 on March 21, 2020. If you do not know the corona virus is ruining lives. It has ruined my schedule. It has obliterated some people’s lives.

      This morning was a tremendous waste of my patience. It took so long for other people to wake up. I should have just gone back to sleep. Then when Brigham woke up it was like being carried off a battle field. We went into mom and dad’s room and got chocolate thunder.

     When all of my brothers and parents assembled it was amazing. I finally got to open my presents. It was worth the wait. I got exactly what I wanted. I am so proud that my parents are kind enough to do this for me.

     Breakfast was the best! We had pancocasses. We got to put powdered sugar on them. We chatted like a family. It was good to see my brothers and parents talking. All of us talking was great. The pancocasses were amazing.

     I hoped you learned that this morning was great. Being 12 is the best because now I have more responsibility. My parents are the best. I am so excited for today.

       -Mackay Bradbury

         21 March, 2020

Welcome to Corona-cation 2020!

The Corona Virus has shut down the entire world.  Governments everywhere, including the United States, have locked every citizen down and though this feels like an apocalyptic time it is where we are in life right now.

The schools dismissed everyone last Friday and brought the teachers in Monday and Tuesday and beginning Wednesday the Blondies started homeschooling.  As a professional educator, this scenario is Michelle's greatest fear come to life.  She is now running herd on all three of her boys... at home...all day...every day.  Not just running herd but being their teacher.  She's already gone to the principle with her two weeks' notice.  And tried to expel two of them.  This was on a short week.

Luckily I've been sent home from work and Michelle has been given the option to not go into work.  The airlines have tanked and so I've been given the option of requesting three months voluntary time off.  I'm taking another permanent position with the Guard so this is nice as it extends my travel benefits for a while before I have to quit.  We are far more blessed than most in this terrible situation.  We are loving being together as a family.  It really is fun to watch them work and to engage one another on this level. 

And yet kids need time away from their parents.  Time with fellow kids.  Time with friends and time with not friends.  The scrutiny that I seem to put them under is too much.  I want them to do amazing things and to be amazing people and I forget that it takes time and experience to get to that point.  I don't know how Heavenly Father can stand watching all of us be so terrible all these years without stepping in. 

Guess where I am right now? Sitting in the hallway of Lehi Jr Homeschool next to my son while he does his assignments because he's been kicked out of class.

Let's go back so I can fill you in.

I got home last Monday from the desert. It was a fun trip and I learned alot. I'm glad it's over. There was the normal phases of reintegration: elation, happiness, frustration, fighting, communication and being told to back off parenting because the kids and Michelle have a system down without me.

Earlier this week Michelle gets an email from Brigham's science teacher. He's been out of control. It's not the first email we've gotten in regards to this type of behavior with this teacher.

We made a promise last time and today I get to follow through. So here we sit while his class does some cool experiment about the membrane of a chicken egg.

He is a teenager now.  We are trying to figure out how to make this all work. I can't express, competently, the love I have for this child or my desire for him to be successful. And he will be. I just hope I'm doing it the right way, giving him enough room to grow and yet not so much that he loses focus or control.

He is great and I love him.

...

And lest we forget the misery this day caused him, I took a picture.

A Partridge in an Afghan Tree

Welcome to the last day of 2019.  I wanted to leave a quick note here to mention a few things that have happened during then end of this year.

First and most important, David was baptized as a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  It was a sweet privilege to be able to go into the water with him and welcome him to the fold.  D is a genuinely good human being.  Humble and shy and yet the most aggressive and boisterous when it suits him.  He has a way of sharing both a timidity and a boastfulness that is fascinating to watch in such a little skinny blonde kid.  We went to Thanksgiving Point and took pictures of the baptism boy just like with did for the other two.  They captured him incredibly.  Brighams was in our back yard, Mackay on the shore of the Sound and David with the fall colors.  Those pictures will forever be some of the greatest pleasures we have.

Then I left.  I took off on another deployment.  I think this is my third Christmas away from my family.  It's stupid.  I enjoy what I do over here and I feel very comfortable but it sucks to miss things like this.  I believe this is David's last Christmas where he sort of believes.  I know his brothers have let him in on the secret but he still wants to believe.  And I missed it.

Brigham is now officially a teenager.  Remarkable.  Mom threw him a friend birthday party at the Trampoline park and he had a great time.  Threw a bit of a teenager fit, worked it out in the bathroom and then came out to try again.  Sometimes he is impossible, other times he is the only sane one to help his mother.  He got his first phone.  It's a special phone that only makes and receives calls and texts, though it still looks like a smart phone.  It's enough to gradually work his way into tech without a dependence on the stupid stuff.  He was happy but slightly disappointed.  Aren't we all?

For Christmas Michelle and the boys went south.  They have stayed in St. George for the last week or so and enjoyed the company of Meema and Buhpa in their new little winter time house.  I was fortunate enough to not be flying Christmas morning so I called in and enjoyed the present opening via Facebook Messenger video.  Pretty cool ... not the same.  I miss my little family but at the same time am grateful for all those who try so hard to protect and build them up.  I suppose I have very little or next to nothing to complain about.  Indeed we are very blessed people.

Happy New Year.

Awesome, Not Awesome, Different & Thankful

Awesome, Not Awesome, Different & Thankful

A couple of years ago we were seated at the table and as a relatively young father I was having a hard time engaging my young boys.  Fart jokes always caught their attention - for a second.  Adult conversation was a waste of time.  The purpose seemed to be to eat whatever was in front of you (or complain about it) and get out as quickly as possible.  When I would press about their day to day comings and goings I would invariably get the occasional "It's fine." "Good." "All right." or "Whatever." answers - the dreaded one word, don't bother me answers.

And yet I could literally see their brains working through their problems as they chewed on their food.

So in a spat of almost frustration I had an idea.  I wish I could say I thought this out and reasoned it to being but it turns out that this idea was a split second moment of celestial inspiration.  One that changed how we communicated as a family for years.

"I'd like to go around the table and give each of you a chance to tell our family four things about your day.  The first is something 'awesome' that happened today.  The second is something 'not awesome'.  The third is something 'different' and the fourth is something you are 'Thankful' for.  Ready, go!"

The thing about it is I had tried other ways of getting them to open up before and never been successful.  I really wanted to know what they were doing and why.  I really wanted to know the good and bad of what they were experiencing.  I also wanted to teach them that it was ok if your day wasn't perfect and even on those days there were still things to be thankful for.

And it worked!!  They would clamor to have the chance to share.  They would talk so long about what had happened to them that day that I had to start putting limits on it so everyone would have a chance to talk.  Their friends would gladly join in if at our table.  We learned about them and they knew we loved them by listening to them.  Even on their really bad days they shared and on their good days we all cheered.  It was almost magical.

I'm sharing this here because it's important to know what our day to day was like.  This was a small thing.  But sitting around the table and getting to know these young men, to hear their victories and defeats and to share my own - that was a special thing and one of the most special things every day we were together.  So if you find yourself in a situation where the conversation is parched or you want to get to know someone across the table from you better, just ask them: "Tell me one thing about your day that was Awesome, Not Awesome, Different and Thankful."  You'll be surprised what you'll learn about that person and how you'll grow together in such a simple way.

Climbing Y Mount

Today we hiked the Y. As soon as the boys got home from school we jumped in the car and drove down to Provo.  It was a beautiful fall day and the leaves on the mountain are just beginning to turn.  A few rather funny things happened:

On the way up a particular peak looks very much like the Mighty Eagle character from Angry Birds.  As you may recall, the boys attached my name to that bird because he is strong and mighty and full of himself and with a giant pot belly is well past his prime.  I told them that was now known as Mighty Eagle Peak and it was mine.  

In an exchange with David:

D- Now my Hufflypoof has touched the top of the Y and is a cougar.

Me- Your badger is a cougar? Which one do you think would win in a fight? (that debate went on for a while.)

D- Yep.  I like them both. … but I like the badger a little more.

Me- What!?! You have to like the cougars more!

D- I like them both. Just one more than the other, I can have that opinion.

Me- That is true, you can have that opinion.  You are just wrong.

D- You can be wrong.

Me -I can. … I just haven’t been yet.

D- Just two days ago you wore a Utah hat and went to the Utah game with Uncle Paul and Ava.

Me- You are right; I was wrong.

CMB saw the mountain and was ready to give up before we even began. His mother very kindly encouraged him to keep walking.  I nearly put a boot in his rear end.  Not sure which technique worked best.  Neither were really effective, if I were to measure it.  He was the slow and steady turtle and ironically, BG, DT and I stopped at the last turn to enjoy the view and guess who was waiting for us at the top?

DT and I were trucking up together. Then he started to lag behind a bit.  I didn’t think anything of it because he can really move up and down that rather steep trail fast. So, I get up to the next switch back and am waiting with everyone else for a while (and chewing on Mackay a bit) and then Michelle says, “Where’s David?”  He had never come up and really should have been there by then.  Worrying that he had slipped while running or something she began back down the trail.  She made it about half way down and no sight of the little big man.  So finally, in desperation, she calls me.  While on the phone with her I hear his voice up the trail a bit.  He had lagged behind and then just climbed straight up the mountain, off trail.  And it was steep.  That kid trucked, scrambled and blasted his way up the hill. The best part was when we got back together and he and I had another conversation.  

D- So Dad, when you become a rock climber you feel a sense of real accomplishment,

Me-Really? Tell me more.

D- Ya, it’s a pretty big deal to climb a mountain. You have to really hang in there.  It teaches you perseverance.  It teaches you to stick through it even when it’s hard and when you want to stop.  You have to push on and do really good.  That’s just life.

Wiser words are rarely spoken. 

Answered Prayers to besteira.

Oh man, so do you remember that one time where Adam was not just tdy but tdy to Hawaii and while he was gone the two oldest boys decided that it would be a great idea to dispose of the melted wax in the candle (because it did not occur to them that it might just cool down and re-harden) by pouring it down the kitchen sink? Ya, good times.

Then Adam gets a frantic text message, “We need to FaceTime right now!”  The sink had over flowed and Michelle had to take the Ptrap apart by herself.  She did so, discovered the offending wax in the tube and then had to melt it by boiling that section in a pot.  And then put it all back together.

While ‘discussing’ the effects of pouring molten wax down the kitchen sink drain with the boys Mother was very much in control and nice. But that didn’t keep the worrier of the three from admitting in a veil of sincere tears it was completely his fault, despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary.  David still feels bad about everything every time.

But then Adam got that text message picture of the woman factory worker from WWII, “We can do it!” And a picture of every thing back to normal under the sink.  Good times.  Michelle is a strong woman.

The best part was when it was all over.  Mommy Michelle was extolling the virtues of self reliance and lessons learned by everyone and sweet David replies, “Well Mom, I guess my prayer worked.”

Yes it did son, and thank you for your beautiful reminder to us all. We love you.