Good Stuff

Emily Joy. She's 12.  This daughter of mine, that came in to this world chubby, red and screaming is now tall, soft-spoken and beautiful.  She used to be afraid of Grover, and now she is afraid of nothing (except library closure).  Her little baby foot was so tiny and slender that I couldn't find shoes small enough to stay on her feet.  Now when we go shoe shopping she tries on the tallest stilettos she can find "for fun" and I try not to be disturbed by the fact that she looks like a tiny woman.  This is all very bizarre and I can never feel just one thing about Emily's growing up.  Happy and sad; worried and proud; excited and nostalgic.  She went to Young Woman's for the first time today and loved it and I love that she loved it.  I love the women in that program for giving of themselves and their time to help my daughter navigate through the crazies time of her life.  To help Joel and I keep the candle that is the gospel, lit, to guide her on her way. You're on your way Joy, and we love you.

On a less blubbering mother note, we just got back from the world famous Lake Powell and it did not disappoint.  Well, actually it kind of did the first night because IT WAS FREEZING.  Sunday night was cold and the wind was literally howling outside of the houseboat.  We usually all want to sleep on top of the houseboat, under the stars.  This time we all wanted to go the the Holiday Inn Express.  We toughed it out (well, I didn't - I slept inside because Linc couldn't sleep in the wind with his allergies and because I am such a caring mother I slept right by his side - haha- mostly I wussed out.  Sorry Joel).   Fortunately, after that first night, the weather was amazing.  Sunny and warm, but not hot enough to turn you hostile.
As an added side note I might add that after some choice experiences with Lake Powell heat induced anger, I have developed a theory that the mean people in the middle east would be far less contentious if a nice brisk autumn came their way.  I just sayin.  Back on track we really had a great time.  The older kids all water-skiied and looked awesome.  It is so hard to learn to ski and really not fun and it is always at this time that I quote Tiger Mom to my kids: "Nothing is fun until you're good at it".  They invariably cry and scream while trying to get up, but when we ask them their favorite part of Lake Powell they always answer "When I skiied/surfed/slalomed".  Why have these kids always gotta to be proving me right?  Speaking of crying, we dragged Linc on the boom for the first time.  We consider that good water skiing prep as it gets you used to the sensation of water shooting up your nose and also what it's like if you forget to let go of the rope when you wipe out.  Good times.
When I was a teenager if someone asked me where I would go if I could go anywhere in the world, I would say "Lake Powell".  And they would say "Really?  Not Paris or Rome" and I would say "Nope, Lake Powell".  Now when people ask me that I say "Spain" because now that I've actually been to Europe I know that it is awesome.  But Lake Powell remains a favorite spot, a personal and family happy place.