Kindergarten Here She Comes!

 

Kate with a few of her classmates before the graduation program.

All set for Kindergarten.

 

Kate with her teacher, Miss Connie.

 

Kate and her two Grandmas. We're so glad they were both able to come. I could see Kate's face light up as they each walked in and sat down.

Us.

We love you Kate. Congratulations on graduating from Preschool. That's something I never did!

Kate, Golfing Phenom

 We went to Boondocks for some family fun over the weekend. Kate's tummy hurt from eating an entire chocolate malt concrete from Nielsen's Frozen Custard (thanks to her Daddy), so she wasn't up for the go-karts just yet. We paid for Kate to play in the Kids Cove for a while and then we played 16 out of 18 holes of mini-golf (Kate lost interest - well, I guess we all did).

 Kate was grace in motion (wink).

When Kate felt up to it, we rode the go-karts. Such fun! Then we played arcade games and had our pictures taken in the photo booth. Kate played one more time in the Kids Cove until she was dripping with sweat and when she came out to put her shoes on she asked when we were going to come back to "Boomdocks" again.

Here's a video of Kate. I tried to give her the mechanics of the sport on the first few holes but what can I say, I'm terrible at it myself so there wasn't much I could teach her that was of any use. After a few holes of helping her stand and showing her where to put her hands I just let her do her own thing and this is how she looked. We'll be signing some golf contracts here in a couple years, I'm sure of it. She has a certain style and flare that she adds to the sport, don't you think? She's at least persistent.

The Three of Us

Grandma Mayfield

Nathan Greenleaf (my cousin), Cameron Halversen (Jeni's husband), Nate Bell (Jill's husband), 

Rob Mayfield (my half-cousin), Chris Mayfield (my brother), Scott Bangerter (my extremely handsome husband)

It's been a year since Scott's Grandma and my Grandma died within the same week. I found this picture on my cousin's Facebook. I can think of nothing more solemn than a group of great men, standing tall, as pallbearers.

Dear Grandma Mayfield,

I'm surprised at how often I have thought of you since you've been gone. I didn't realize you would be in my thoughts this much. I think having so many of your things around me as reminders of you help me remember you. I think of you every time I turn the lights on or off the hutch, every time I shine the silver platter that's now a focal point in my kitchen, every time I set the timer for ten more minutes of sleep. I think of you when we sing songs at family night from your Children's Songbook, and every time Kate and I discover other countries and planets in your large world atlas.

I hope you are proud of my Dad, your son. I hope you see clearer now more than ever what a terrific son he was and is. With all the work before and after you died and all the pieces to put back together it was my dad, mom, and siblings who did it all. I hope even with all your favoritism to your youngest son and his family that you realize who truly loved and cared for you through it all. 

And about the Grandfather of mine that you erased from our lives, the one who died when your little ones were just 2-years-old and 6 months-old, the one who died from the effects of his years in a concentration camp during World War II, the one you quickly replaced, then erased, about him, I'm still sad. I'm sad that you never shared him with us, that you hid him from his children and grandchildren. I realize that you were all alone with the work of raising two children on your plate. I realize that you weren't married to my Grandpa very long. I realize you were very young when you married him and very young when you began having children, and that you never really had a mother of your own to guide you through the ups and downs of life, and so I forgive you. I know that you were doing the best that you knew how to do.

I do love you, even with the little appreciation you showed my parents for all the sacrifices they made for you and even though you erased my Grandfather, I do love you. You are my Grandmother. God be with you till we meet again.

Sincerely, Julie

As Long As I Can Still Eat Peanut Butter...

 Basically, I'm addicted to peanut butter. When I was in grade school I ate a PB&J EVERYDAY! Then after school I would walk to the corner store and buy a Butterfinger with money that I stole from my oldest sister's treasure box full of coins or with money my mom would give us as we walked in from school as a bribe so that we would pick something up for her too.

Now, as I'm planning breakfast everyday, I always try to throw some Peanut Butter in there to salve my cravings for that salty-sweet goodness.


Maybe this is just the way some people are but I go through phases with breakfast. I like to have the same thing everyday for a while because it's simpler. I know just what to grab, I know it will taste good, and I know that it will keep me feeling full.

This last week my breakfast has been one or two clementines and then a pink lady apple sliced and dipped in 2 Tbsp Peanut Butter (like Adam's or Kirkland's Organic Creamy - not because I'm all crazy over organic but I like that they don't have PHSO).

My last everyday breakfast was that yummy Dave's Killer Bread with the same peanut butter and one or two oranges but last week I started testing out a gluten-free diet so the bread had to go.

So far, gluten-free has been amazing. I'm not ravenously hungry anymore, which is shocking for me. I don't need to snack. I feel more in control.. Only one thing remains that I haven't figured out yet: eating at other people's houses. I don't want to be all weirdo on people. I'm pretty sure I'm not celiac so asking people to accommodate my diet feels a little self-absorbed-moviestar-esque. Plus there are a lot of obscure sources of gluten that most people who haven't been researching wouldn't know about so I could still be exposed to gluten which would disrupt my process of discovering if 100% gluten-free is right for me. Some of the positive results don't come for three weeks or so of being 100% gluten-free.

Over the weekend I broke my diet for a dinner at a friend's house and then I made Cinnamon rolls on Sunday because I figured I'd already messed up Saturday, I might as well enjoy it Sunday and then get back on the saddle for Monday.

My mom is trying the diet now and I think she really is celiac. My Aunt, three cousins, and their children are celiac or gluten intolerant (there is a difference). My cousin is the one who keeps pushing me to try it and see if I like it. I waited through two years of her encouragement before I finally tried it. I still can't resign myself to the idea of forever giving up all that good gluteny stuff. I hate the idea of being weird about my food and not being able to just eat what people offer me.

Time will tell, I guess.

To Kate...

"You are the trip I did not take, you are the pearls I could not buy,
you are my blue Italian lake, you are my piece of foreign sky.

You are my Honolulu moon, you are the book I did not write,
you are my heart's unuttered tune, you are a candle in my night.

You are the flower beneath the snow, in my dark sky a bit of blue,
answering disappointment's blow with "I am happy! I have you!"
— Anne Campbell.

Happy Mother's Day to all.

Uggh. Pain.

I've always thought of myself as easy going. Others might disagree. I believe in priorities. Ever since I became a stay-at-home-mom I've tried to protect my schedule so that I don't have a lot going on. I like the day to play itself out. I never liked the busy, on-the-go, type of lifestyle. I like to be home. However, almost two years ago I was called to act as an assistant to the Relief Society Presidency and that really put my life in a busier place. I became much more involved in what was going on in the neighborhood and the ward. Then this last December I was called as a Second Counselor in a new Relief Society Presidency and it has put me over the edge. I need to get checked by a doctor but my self-diagnosis is a stomach ulcer. Holy cow! My mom had an ulcer for many years and she would tell me about it and I would always tell her that she needed to slow down and take it easy. Now here I am. Wahoo! Good Golly it hurts!