A few pictures....

Sunglasses, swords, and pajamas--three summer morning essentials at our house.


This is the chocolate chicken I won in the "chicken dance" contest at the Church party last week.
It's all about bobbing your head and picking up your feet.



Grandpa Franklin was a big hit with the boys. The only problem is that they may have exhausted his supply of Navy stories. He'll have to make up some new ones next time we see him.


The Monkey at a hotel pool in Illinois.



I think I was as tired as I look in this picture. Thanks for your help Grandpa.


Grandma single-handedly unpacked and organized our entire kitchen (and that was after she'd single-handedly packed up and cleaned out our kitchen in Ohio--and I'm sure she left feeling like she hadn't done enough. Silly. Thanks Grandma.
.

The monkey and his house.




This is why we call him the Monkey.

Mr. Baseball and the swimming Pool

So we've got a pool. Not a big one. But its a pool. Clear water. Chlorine. stamped concrete patio. With 90+ degree weather outside almost everyday, we're getting our rent's worth.

We go about once every other day and Mr. Baseball is slowly learning to swim. He took lessons last summer, but as he is with most new things (and as I am), he resists taking the time to learn if it doesn't come naturally. And swimming hasn't come naturally. We had been trying to teach him to hang on to the wall and kick, show him how to use a kick board or inner tube to hold himself up, hold him up ourselves by the waist so he could practice, but he has always been more interested in doing cannon balls into the shallow end and "walling" around the edge of the pool.

But since we've moved here and had such easy access to a pool he has put in a real effort to learn. Not that he's been excited about "practicing" per say, but he does spend much of his time in the pool gliding with one hand on his nose while he paws at the water and his feet flail behind him. He's actually given himself a bruise on the edge of his nose from squeezing it so tightly. It was cute, but his stubborn unwillingness to "practice" bugged me.

That brings us to today. I was catching him as he jumped into the "deep" end (5 ft.) and I asked him if he would try to swim to the wall. I expected him to put up a stink about my desire for him to "practice," but he said okay and he started thrashing towards the wall. He actually made it a few feet before he began to sink.

I expected him to be grumpy, but when I asked him if he was okay, he laughed and said, "Yeah."

He climbed back out of the pool and jumped in again for me to catch him. And again he willingly tried to swim back to the wall. He repeated this process a half-dozen times and each time he made it almost all the way to the wall without my help.

He was thrilled.

I was thrilled.

Then he got tired.

But not grumpy.

He actually laid down on the pool deck and let one hand hang in the water. "I'm tired," he said. But then he got back in and did it again.

So I was absolutely thrilled. Proud. Pleased. A little surprised. And now I'm feeling a little silly about the whole thing. Why so thrilled/proud/pleased at this and not at his earlier attempts at "learning" to swim? Sure his nose-bruising thrashing around in the shallow end lacked the structure and repetition of "REAL" practice, but it was practice nonetheless. Today, was it merely that he was willing to follow my suggestion? I hope not. It drives me crazy that as a parent, no matter how patient and open-minded I try to be, when it comes down to it, a part of me just wants him to Do. What. I. Say.

Maybe I'm being too hard on myself.

It was fun--really fun--to be out there today with him and the monkey (whose getting his own set of webbed feet with the help of a floaty suit) and the QB (who is feeling better everyday and stepping nicely into the cute-prego-mama role) and while it was nice for him to respond so willingly to my suggestion, and while I was mega-pleased that he kept at it even though his head went under water a couple of times and several times he glanced over at me, wondering if I was going to put a hand out to help him, it was mostly nice just to be out there as a family and to laugh and splash and get a little sunburned together.

Hmmm. It's the last day of summer vacation, if you don't count tomorrow (and we don't, really, because Sundays are pretty much the same year round for Mormons), and now that I'm thinking about it, today was a fine way to say good-bye to the season. Mr. Baseball starts school on Monday. I start on Thursday. We'll still hit the pool as long as the weather is warm, but after today life gets busier, and we have to stop pretending we're on an extended vacation.

The real world awaits. But for now, I'm content with my sunburn, and the image of my son, afloat an arms length away, riding that wave between failure and flying.

Corporal Punishment? No thank you!

Yesterday I registered Mr. Baseball for school. The usual address and info was requested along with two questions next to yes or no boxes. The first was basically a "Do you give permission for corporal punishment to be used with your child at school" and the second was "Do you give permission for your child to attend field trips". Whoa. Hold on. Corporal punishment!? I haven't heard those words for a while but I'm pretty sure that means slapping, hitting or spanking. Sure enough, the * for info on the back of the form said

* "Corporal punishment shall be limited to spanking or paddling the student".

Wait. What?! You mean you want me to give you permission to paddle my son? I was totally shocked. I put a big X through the no box, finished filling in the rest of the information and turned it in. It's taken me about 24 hours to really figure this out and think through it, but yes, corporal punishment is legal here, and yes, my son will be attending a school where it's still legal.

Maybe I'm just ignorant as can be, but I thought C.P. was illegal in the United States. Not only is it still legal in 21 states, but it was used on 49,000 student in Texas in 2008. The Center for Effective Discipline provides a wealth of information on this subject, from statistics on the number of countries banning CP, even at home (24), to sample letters for parents in writing to their district. I'm especially grateful for their guide to looking up statistics where I happily found Mr. Baseball's school with zero incidents of corporal punishment last year. Whew! I'm glad I saw that before I wrote a nasty letter to the district!

Corporal punishment in schools was banned in Ohio last year and I hope to see the same in our new state! Maybe that letter I was going to write should be directed to my new congressman, I'll let you know.


Just after I originally posted this blog, I found this timely (no pun intended) article:
Corporal Punishment in U.S. Schools, Time Magazine

7 year itch? Says who?!

Today marks seven years of marriage. That's a lot of time together. Here's a quick sum of our lives since August 15th, 2002:

7 moves
6 anniversaries
5 bikes
4 pregnancies
4 apartments
4 states
4 universities
3 degrees
3 car accidents
2.5 children
2 houses
2 cars
2 emergency room visits
1 major contest win
1 stolen car
1 year in Japan
1 HUGE moving sale

...a few tears...

Lots of bike rides, holidays, romantic dinners, family home evenings, hikes, sleepless nights, trips to church on Sunday, diaper changes, visits to the temple, grocery trips, home haircuts, papers and essays, church callings, part-time jobs, and plane trips.

And tons of hugs and kisses.

Here's to Marriage!

Any advice for the next seven?




*And thanks to the person I got this idea from. I read it on a blog a while ago, I don't remember which one, but it was cute!

In Lub with Lubbock

1490 miles and $400+ dollars in gas later, we have arrived at our new home in Lubbock, Texas.

Thank you to everyone who fasted and prayed for, or otherwise thought good things about the QB on this trip. She was feeling as good as we could have asked (and we DID ask!) for the entire trip. She even felt good enough to dance along with the radio. (She's not feeling so great today, but that is another story. We are glad the traveling went as smoothly as it did)

Thanks to Grandma and Grandpa Franklin for flying to Ohio, helping us load up and clean up, For driving the Penske truck 1490 miles, for unpacking, and organizing and playing with grand kids and telling them so many Navy stories that all they talk about is Navy ships and Mr. Baseball tried to jump into the pool "Like a sailor" with his feet crossed and his arms around his neck, for running errands and making meals and just being there when we needed you.

Thanks to everyone who helped load the truck on Saturday. It only took about an hour and we had the apartment cleaned so early that we contemplated catching a movie to celebrate how smooth everything went. We didn't end up going to the movies, but the fact that we had the option was great.

Thanks to everyone who watched kids, brought meals, or otherwise helped us out while I was trying to finish up teaching, pack the house, and get our new life in order.

Lubbock is hot, frequented by colossal thunder storms, and very friendly. Everyone wants to talk to you, and they seem genuinely interested.

I took the monkey's Sunday shirt off today before feeding him some watermelon in his booster seat and while I was getting his bib and the watermelon in the kitchen he kept repeating over and over: "Bib on my nip--ples," "bib on my nip--ples." In fact, just about every time he takes his shirt off he informs us that he has "Nip-ples."

Mr. Baseball lost a tooth tonight. Or, rather, he yanked it out with a piece of dental floss. He discovered the tooth was loose last night and all day today he walked around with his finger in his mouth, wiggling the tooth. By bedtime he was so distracted by the wiggly tooth that he couldn't go to sleep. I told him his options were 1) pull it out, 2) have me pull it out, or 3) ignore it and go to bed. He chose to pull it out himself. So I tied a piece of dental floss around his tooth and he gave it a tug. The tooth came easier than I was expecting and when I cheered as it came out, he gave me a big smile and jumped into the air. He was asleep within ten minutes, disembodied tooth tucked safely under his pillow.

In the car, somewhere on I-70 on the way to Oklahoma, we were playing the "I'm thinking of something..." guessing game and I said, "I"m thinking of something squishy," and Mr. Baseball said, "Is it your meat?"

The Monkey has taken to hitting and kicking a lot lately. When I ask him why he does it, he usually answers something like, "Because brother/Daddy/Mommy is Stup-pid." Its really hard to be upset when he says "stup-pid" that way, but we're trying to ween him off the word without giving him too much attention for saying it. Yeah, right, that's going to work.

Lubbock has more Christian radio stations than the Vatican has stone pillars. Christian Rock, Christian talk, Christian preaching, Christian fundraising, Christian cooking, Christian financial advice, Christian parenting advice.

Lubbock does not have a dedicated NPR station. Morning Edition is over before I wake up. All Things Considered in the afternoon, sure, but the rest is classical music, Opera, and Irish folk singers. No Science Friday. No Talk of the Nation, period. No Wait Wait Don't Tell Me. No This American Life. I. AM. GOING. TO. BE. SICK. At least we have the Internet (or, at least we will have the Internet, on or about the 5th of August. Why does it take five days to process something like that? I don't understand. Oh well. I am grateful for the "Business Center" here at the complex).

I don't start any real school for a few weeks so we've got some time to adjust. Which is good, because the QB is still not out of the morning sickness cycle yet and the boys need a lot of attention.

I am a writer, by the way, or at least I am supposed to be. It's funny, this "write about real life," stuff that I do. Life has to be interesting if I want any new material, but sometimes when life is at its most interesting, that's when it is the most difficult to write. When I've spent all day unpacking boxes, making phone calls, running errands, wiping rear-ends, paying bills, making meals, dumping out pails of throw-up, mopping up spills of oatmeal, pulling out loose teeth, hanging pictures, and folding clothes, the energy to sit down and think critically about the world completely escapes me. All I want to do is throw in a movie and eat a half-carton of ice cream.

Is that healthy?

Writing is SUPPOSED to be cathartic. It's supposed to channel all my pent up energy into streams of earth-rattling prose--"language charged with meaning," and "spontaneous overflows of powerful emotion recollected in tranquility." Meaning for me, meaning for you, meaning for ALL MANKIND!

I'm supposed to NEED to write.

Right?

Well, right now, what I NEED is some sleep. The writing will come later. And so will some pictures of the boys and a video of all of us dancing in the car somewhere in Missouri.

Something you can all do for Melissa...

"This kind goeth not out but by prayer and fasting"
--Matthew 17:21

Some of you already know (and all of you are about to find out) that QB is pregnant. We are very excited, and she has been very sick--in bed 23 hours a day for the past five weeks--which while it probably means the baby is growing well, it also means that she has been pretty miserable for quite awhile.

You may also know that we are moving to Lubbock in nine days. The QB will be in her eleventh week the day we hit the road, which is a good thing because her morning sickness has not lasted beyond the first trimester in the past, but we are concerned about making the trip as easy (and vomit-free) for her as possible.

We are going to do everything that we can to make the trip easy for her, but there's something all of you can do as well. We're asking anyone and everyone who is interested to send Melissa some positive energy so that the trip will go smoothly for her. You could pray, fast, meditate, repeat affirmations, or merely think about her this week. Anything that you feel would be appropriate would be great.

We believe there is serious power in the collective focus of friends and loved ones and if there has ever been a time in our life that we could use your thoughts and prayers, this next two weeks is it.

Thanks for reading.

God bless.

Next stop, the Lone Star State.

-Joey

The past few weeks...in gerund* phrases

*at the risk of patronizing somebody, a gerund is a verb turned into a noun, usually by adding -ing. Not nearly as exciting as turning a noun into a verb--as in I Googled "gerund" because I couldn't remember the fancy name for a verb that's been nounified.

Teaching English to eleven pre-freshmen. They've got to do well in their classes this summer or all bets are off for fall quarter--like probation, except they're trying to get in, not trying to stay out.

Assistant-coaching Mr. Baseball's t-ball team. I get to stand in the dugout and keep the helmets coming on and off and the bat swinging in safe directions and the players batting in the right order. Sometimes I stand out in the field too. I Almost teared up today on the way home (really, I almost did) when I caught a whiff of the distinct chemical smell of my jersey--shocked at the memories and emotions connected with that smell, how much I loved playing baseball as a kid, and how special (for lack of a less sentimental word) the uniform used to make me feel.
(No, that is not my thoughtful coach pose. I've got a mouthful of sunflower seeds and I'm trying to figure out how to spit out the husks without spitting out the actual seed as well.)

Packing boxes like mad. Currently I am sitting on our living room couch and to my left are fifteen boxes stacked in the corner. Across the room are three more. There are one or two in the dining room. Another two on the book shelves. A half-dozen in the boys room, four or five in the hallway, three in our bedroom, and another couple in the closet. It's to the point that I can't pack anything else without seriously hindering our ability to function (Just today the Monkey asked about his green bike, which I'd packed days ago. I had to open up a box and extract the bike so he could ride it. If he asks about his Little People Noah's ark, I'm going to play dumb).

Caring for the QB. She is sick. Really sick. Living off a diet of bland tea and fudge sickles sick. I'm ready for a one-story apartment.

Finding a place to live in Lubbock. I should say "found" a place, and not a moment too soon. We're moving in two and a half weeks. We just sent a deposit check to The Enclave Apartments in Lubbock, where we'll be living for at least three months while we explore more permanent housing options.

Examining teeth. I recently poked my head in the Monkey's mouth and discovered that his two-year molars are really, really weird looking. Like two-teeth-smashed-together weird. Like the occasional conjoined strawberry weird (click on the image for a blown-up image).


Watching a lot of television. Since the QB has been sick, we've spent a lot more time than usual watching television. We watched an episode of Matlock today (classic stay-home sick entertainment, and still on at 1pm). We watched America's Got Talent (our new favorite. Mostly because of the judges: Piers Morgan is much kinder than Simon. Sharon Ozborne reminds me of my mother--If my mother had spent 30 years managing rock bands. David Hasselhoff's favorite line is "This is what this show is all about," and he gets way too excited about anyone in a bikini on stage, but that may be a holdover from a previous life, so can we really blame him?) Watched a bit of local news (local news, I've decided, is the medium by which people in hell learn about what is going on in Heaven).

One side effect of so much TV is that the boys have been getting to bed a little later than usual. This is the monkey, at 9:15 pm, after Mr. Baseball had fallen asleep and we'd spent twenty minutes trying to get the Monkey to stay in his room. He'd slept until after 4pm that day, so we caved in and popped popcorn.

Reading the scriptures. Thanks to readthescriptures.com, which sends me a daily email reading, I've read from the Book of Mormon nearly every day for the past month. This proves two things: first, the internet can be a really cool way of connecting with information. And second, I live entirely too much at the mercy of my inbox. I think eventually there will be a name for the disorder that compels people to check their email fifty times a day. I think they'll call it "I-want-people-to-like-me-itus." If you're into that kind of thing (reading the scriptures, not obsessing about whether or not people like you), I strongly recommend checking out their customizable reading calendars and team reading options (and no, the website is not paying me for this endorsement, though if they're looking to pay someone, I'm not against selling out like that).

Eating too much. We're busy around here. Worn out. Tired. Stressed. And when I get stressed and tired and spread thin, all I want to do is eat. Chocolate, of course, but we've also had ice cream and cookies and chicken nuggets and Ruffles potato chips, among other things. For a household that usually eats whole wheat everything and gets funny looks at the grocery store because of our cart full of produce (its not uncommon for the checker to have difficulty recognizing some of the "weird" produce we buy--you know, weird, like jicama, winter squash, and bean sprouts), all this junk is a new low.

We're such grocery store snobs. We live in one of the fattest states in the nation, and consider it a point of pride to buy as little pre-packaged food as possible. When we see a cart overflowing with TV dinners, fish sticks, Gogurt and 24 packs of Pepsi we get all self-righteous.

Let's see, pride cometh before the...the...how does that expresssion go? I can't remember... cometh before the...

Sleeping less than I should. Which is why I am going to end this post now. The Athens edition of the Franklin Chronicle is winding down. Soon we'll say good-bye to rolling hills of Athens July and say hello to the wind-swept flatness of Lubbock August.