Good luck kids!
As our last summer hurrah we spent some time at the reservoir near my old home town. In honor of the occasion, and in keeping with tradition, we didn’t let the kids bring their swimming suits since my parents were usually too poor to afford suits. Yes, long ago I used to be the naked baby at this very same lake…. ah memories!
Last night we were all cleaning up for bed. I was in the boys room helping (persuading) Kipper and Isaac to clean up the cars when Liz walked in and announced “Isaac gets 1 point, Kipper gets 1000 points and Mom gets 12 points.”
Joe said, “Gee honey, that’s not even good enough for runner-up.”
Maybe next time mom.
Many of you know that we are going to introduce yet another Ostenson boy into the world this September. So far so good except we seem to have hit a brick wall when it comes to naming this little one. Joe and I, being overly thoughtful, overly idealistic and overly symbolical, have run out of meaningful, faith promoting, character building, and otherwise cool names that also don’t sound awfully outlandish….at least we think. It doesn’t help that there are nine uncles and twelve male cousins in the immediate family plus the scores of Hulets and Strebels that populate the Salt Lake Valley. So we really feel like we are scraping the bottom of the barrel. Just to give you a glimpse: we considered Melchizedek for a whole day and then it dawned on us that it might be a little embarrassing to not be able to spell your own name as a sixteen year old. Eros was a slightly better alternative but again we have to think about those teen years (“so guess who I’m named after baby …”) We tried on Gideon, Nimrod and Teancum thinking that it is possibly cool to name your son after a warrior, but then we decided not to ask for trouble, since we are likely to get it anyway. Nicholas is too jolly, Wolfgang is too brooding. Amadeus seems a little cumbersome and possibly guilt rendering. We had a whole list of names given to us by Joe’s brother that have ‘inappropriate connotations’ some that I never ever would have guessed…so we just avoided those entirely. Even though we do really like the “Avatar” cartoons I told Joe that we can’t name our son Aang, or Sokka. We were inspired by the Lost season finale and tried out Desmond for a while only to find out that it means “one from South Munster”. How lame is that?
So one day we were in the car, we had just finished a lively conversation with some members of Joe’s family who decided that I was being way to picky about this little boy’s name…possibly I am…anyway; we decided to ask the kids. ‘What do you think we should name the baby?’ I think Kipper said Melissa or something like…he still thinks we should have a girl. Liz was quiet. “How about Shadrack,” I said, I was on this kick that Shad sounds like a cooler Chad…don’t worry that one passed. “How about Gideon?” Joe said . Liz said, “I can’t even remember those names! Just call him Bob!”
So welcome to the family, Bob.
I have to say that (most of the time) I have loved having my sweet four year old at home this year. Since Liz is gone in the mornings Kipper and I get to go on adventures together…usually to the grocery store. The other day we were out running all the errands that piled up during our sick week and I got to hear a little more of just how this guy thinks about things. Here’s how it went:
Kip, from the back seat: “Mom, I believe in EVERYTHING”
Me, thinking: “I guess I do too, bud.”
Kip: “But I DON’T believe in coffee and alcohol and cigarettes.”
Me: “You’re right, those things are bad for our bodies.”
Pause.
Kip, sighing: “Mom, I believe in Black Tacos…!”
Kip’s Belief:
1 four year old
1 black taco from Taco Bell last October (now discontinued… “sigh”)
1 Article of Faith that I’m not sure we grownups understand
I sure do miss my four year olds when they grow up….
So, I have recently been generating controversy over some of my strong opinions concerning gender roles and marriage. As an example, I thought (for a while) that women were supposed to maintain the blog. I was sure the proclamation meant something like that when it said that women should nurture. Anyway, I've since repented and decided that I could share in my responsibility to blog-readers.
I suppose I should start at Miami, since that is the first exciting thing to happen since Liz woke up with nightmares three months ago. I flew there three weekends ago to attend a conference with a bunch of smart Doctor types (of philosophy) like me. We talked a lot of steam for a few hours and spent the rest of the time enjoying the Miami weather in the middle of February.
I presented on what to some might seem the most unlikely of topics: the connection between psychology and ecology, or the parallels between our relationships to people and our relationships to creation. It was the most effective conference presentation I've given in the four or five years I've been doing academia, and likely the most fruitful. I was fortunate enough to tag along with some of the best minds of this coming generation and we had a great discussion during the conference.
But you don't want to hear about that, as must I as I could go on an on about it. What you really want to know about are my Epicurean adventures. So I'll start with the rental car: I split my trip (hotel, food, car, etc) with a group of students and, since I was arriving first, I was the designated driver. When I got to the rental car company, a cherry-red convertible Mustang was sitting smiling at me by the front door. I turned to Sam, the guy with whom I'd flown in, and said, "we should rent a convertible." To make a long story short, the guy at the counter gave us a screaming deal and we drove away from Avis with this:
In all honesty, the primary reason I got it is because I thought that as I went back and forth from the airport to the hotel, everyone would be happy to ride in a Mustang convertible. I wasn’t really sure how much I’d enjoy it. But I enjoyed it. Oh yes, I enjoyed it. It was worth far more than the extra $100 I paid.
By the way, lest you think I thought I was cool driving around Miami in this car, you should know that on the way to the hotel, a Rolls Royce passed me and, not ten seconds later, a Ferrari followed. Our Mustang was white-trash compared to the number of Bentley’s, Mercedes’, Maserati’s, Aston Martins, and other cars that characterize the amount of money floating around down there. Probably the best part was when we drove to Key Biscayne. Sam wanted me to put the top down (in spite of the threatening rain clouds), so I pulled off to do so. As we were sitting there, a bright red Lamborghini ($250,000 car) with its top down pulled out in front of us. Sam said it best: “I don’t really feel that cool right now.”
Here are just a couple other scenes from my Epicurean ad venture:
We went to the beach Sunday afternoon to commune with nature (in the spirit of my conference presentation). The cruise ships were going out from port, the water was warm enough to swim in, and I was so relaxed, I actually wanted to go on a cruise. What a weird feeling.
Here are the trees as we left the beach while the sun was setting. Leaving Miami Beach at Sunday around 6:30 was quite an adventure. We had the top down and five people piled into a car 
And finally, I know this is backwards, but those of us from the Western half of the US are used to the sun setting over the ocean. In Miami, is rises over the ocean, so it seems fitting to end my trip with a sun rise. This view is of the bay across the street from our hotel. All in all, it wasn’t a bad trip.
Of course, it had to come to end. I drove our minivan home from the airport and lamented the entire way that it wasn’t a Mustang. Beth had to be pretty patient with me. It wasn’t long after I got home that it snowed. A cold reminder that all good things must come to an end. But I was a good sport and took the kids out to make a snowman:
And then reality hit the next weekend. After bath time, Kip was complaining about a stomach ache. As we got the other kids ready for bed, Kip decided to expel his stomach ache all over his bed and his bedroom floor.
And that was only the beginning.
About every 1/2 hour until ten that night, Kipper got rid of a new stomachache. Then, at ten, it didn’t end. Isaac woke up and started doing the same thing. Both Beth and I spent the first part of that night on the floor with our boys – I with Kip and Beth with Ike – putting bowls to their faces every half hour. About 2am, it ended and Beth and I finally laid down together for a few hours of sleep. It certainly wasn’t Miami.
Finally, this weekend has been very busy as well. But not with Epicurean gallivanting, nor with late night carpet-scrubbing. Yesterday, while Beth was off judging some music festival and the kids were playing with friends, I ran my first official 5K since high school: the Rex Lee Run.
Those familiar with Rex Lee know he was not only an avid runner, but also died of cancer just after being released as BYU’s president. This is the run’s 15th year – and my first – raising money for cancer research. Running was both painful – primarily because I didn’t run for a week after coming back from Miami – and something of a pleasure; I ran in honor of my father.
Opposition in all things
1 Weekend of bachelor fun
1 Weekend of pure, having-children reality
1 Weekend where pleasure and pain seem to be the same thing
It’s 5:30 a.m. on a Saturday morning. It used to be so easy to sleep until 8 or 9 on Saturdays – even 7. But not this week. This week, I finally finished my dissertation, which should come as a relief. Instead, the last push threw off my whole Circadian thing and since I turned the actual dissertation into my committee, I’ve woken up at 5 a.m., 6:15 a.m., and now 5:20 a.m. for the past three mornings. But at least I get to blog again, right?
It hasn’t all been bad, though. The reason I’m awake it because Liz came to bed after having a nightmare. I usually let her hang out a little bit before taking her back to bed. This morning, I thought she was asleep when I picked her up. (By the way, she was lucky to be picked up – Kipper came to bed two hours earlier and when I went to pick him up, I actually pushed him out of bed.)
As I took her down the hall, back to sleep under the Christmas tree, she asked for her unicorn. See, her parents are the default comforters when she has a nightmare. But when her parents bring her back to bed – which we invariably do sooner than she’d like – she asks for her stuffed unicorn, who (she claims) will come and protect her in her dreams and nightmares when she needs.
I sure am glad she has that unicorn. Not so much to protect her from her nightmares – her mom and I can do that just fine. But I think that unicorn has become something of a symbol to me of how simple it is to find comfort and protection from the nightmares of life, if we will only believe.
Peace and Comfort
1 Unicorn
43:50 Alma
