Andersen's first Basketball Camp

Andersen hasn't ever done organized sports yet in his life.  He's never yet been on a basketball or soccer team and has been begging and begging this past year for that experience.  So this summer, I thought it would be fun to sign him up for a boys basketball camp; four times a week for two weeks, two hours each time. 

For the past two months, we've been talking about "basketball camp" for Buster.  And he's been super excited, bringing it up every day.  How many more days. . . ?

It finally started yesterday.  He got up early with a smile from ear to ear, got all his jobs done faster than I thought possible, then headed off with a few buddies on the street to his first ever basketball "camp".

When he came home, I met him at the door and asked him how it was, did he have fun, was it hard, who was his coach, how many boys, did he feel safe, did he make any baskets, did he do dribble drills, . . .blah blah blah. . .

The conversation went like this:

Me-Buster, how was basketball camp?  Did you have fun?

Buster-Yea, it was fun. . . but they totally tricked us.(just imagine arms up in the air doing major hand motions, very dramatic, emphasis on "Tricked.  Us." )

Me-what do you mean, they tricked you?

Buster-Mom. . . it wasn't a camp. . . they didn't even have any tents.  It was only just plain basketball.  No camping at all. . . wierd huh!

End of conversation.  I laughed so hard, gave him a huge hug, and continued asking more about all the details of "basketball  camp".  And every time I mentioned the word "camp", he reminded me that it was just basketball.  No. Camp.

I love the mind of my little 5 year old  boy!!!

Missing Teeth-EmmaClaire

Nine months of 2012, EmmaClaire had a big fat hole in her mouth.  Her two front teeth took forever to come in.  I loved her lisp when she would say certain words, and I loved her million dollar smile.

Then, finally after 9 months of waiting, her two front teeth came in nice and big and crooked. At the same time, she lost two more on the bottom and one more on the side. Rich girl, poor tooth fairy!

Her smile has morphed a ton this past few months, and I LOVE it!

Abby is 10!

Abby had her tenth birthday a few weeks ago. She is pretty low key, not very demanding. In times past, when asked what she wanted for her birthday, she would say something like, "I don't know. . . I don't need anything. . . Whatever is easiest."

This time was a little different. All she wanted was roller blades and a shopping spree for clothes with her cousin Leah. And she reminded me daily about those two things for weeks prior to her birthday. So, trying to save money, I found a pair of rollerblades on Craigslist. To my dismay, they didn't even fit and didn't have any breaks. So much for trying to save money.  And we planned a shopping trip with her cousin.

The evening of her birthday, her dad and older brothers had scouts, EmmaClaire had a music class, and I could tell Abby was a little bummed that we weren't doing anything to celebrate. Last minute, I called a bunch of her friends and planned a surprise mini party for Abby. Nine girls showed up, and I took them all to one of Abby's favorite places, Snowguart, a frozen yogurt place.

It surprised Abby, and I'm pretty sure she ended up having a great birthday. A few things I love about Abby; she's super helpful, she is very self driven and smart, she likes to be organized and likes to plan things, she is kind to her younger sisters, and she is sensitive to others and always wants to choose the right.

That weekend, I took Abby and her cousin shopping for some clothes. All she wanted were two uniform shirts and two pair of uniform shorts for school. Not too exciting, but very needed.  She has grown a ton this past year and was down to just a few outfits for school each week. My little girl is growing up!

Happy times at Snowguart!

Backyard Disaster--Almost Finished!

Months ago, John and I finally decided, after dreaming about it for three years, to change up our bakyard and make it "ours".    We planned out what we wanted changed and thought that by starting in February, we'd have plenty of time to change things before the weather got too warm.

Then reality hits, Saturdays are filled with other things, projects take way longer than expected. More time, more money, and more money. . .  And here we are in mid May, not quite done.  But we're close enough to see lots and lots of progress, done enough to see the light at the end of the tunnel, or the backyard coming to fruition.

We started by tearing down a "stage" in the corner of the yard that took up quite a bit of space.  I'm not sure what the intention of this cement eye sore was, but John and I have never liked it since we moved it.  So down it went. . . this process took about 3-4 weeks of full Saturdays and a lot of evening time.  It was a TON of cement!

Having Papa's tractor was a huge help as we got rid of all that cement.  John sure didn't mind working (i.e. "playing) with the tractor, and all the neighbor kids enjoyed riding on the back. I'm just glad no one got hurt.

Along two walls of the yard, we had a neighbor build us some nice planter boxes for gardens.  He also filled in the side of our house with concrete (someday, we'll put a shed there to help clear out our garage), then extended our patio/porch with pavers.  The kids enjoyed marking the fresh concrete with their handprints.

 Here you can see the new sidewalk that goes to the cement slab on the side of the house, the patio extension of pavers and one of the garden boxes along the east wall. 

 In the corner where the big cement stage was, we planted a grapefruit tree.  Eventually we'll put curbing there to divide the tree area with gravel from the lawn of grass.  With all the tractor driving all over the lawn and no water these past few months, our lawn has taken a beating and has gotten buried under lots of dirt. 

My father-in-law is probably the hardest working grandpa I know.  He helped us figure out a new sprinkler system, get the right kind of dirt in our planters, level the ground for grass, etc. . Without his help, this project would have dragged on for at least another month or two.  So thanks to Papa for all your help!

Now we need to seed and water that back lawn.  And start planting lots of vegetables in our awesome gardens. And get curbing to divide the grass from the gravel, then do some more cement on the west side of the house, then find/build a shed, then create something to keep our bikes from the AZ sun, etc. . .

Always a project around here!

Reading with Grandma

My mom is an amazing Grandma.  She loves her grandchildren more than everything else in the world except for my Dad.  Because of that and her strong testimony of the Savior, she lives in Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic with my dad.  Both are wonderful missionaries and are influencing many lives through their examples and interactions.

Frequently, my mom asks how she can continue to stay close to her grandchildren and be of service to our family even though she's thousands of miles away.  Always looking to uplift, to help, to serve.  That's my mom.

This past semester I visited with my mom on the phone about a few struggles of managing the after-school hours, i.e. the bomb that hits our house around 3:08 every day and doesn't end till after 9 PM.  It is a super busy time around here; carpooling home from school, helping with piano practicing, homework, jobs, making after school snacks for famished, starving children, then making dinner, cleaning up. . . all while trying to keep a very determined yet tired 2-year-old happy and a 5-year-old out of trouble.

Another of my worries was that with all the chaos and business, I was struggling to find quiet, uninterrupted time to help EmmaClaire with her homework.  And she's one that needs quiet, uninterrupted time.  Very easily distracted, then very easily frustrated.  Which most always leads to absolute disaster.

So how in the world was I supposed to give her the quiet, uninterrupted time she needed and deserved and craved, and still keep the house in order and keep everyone else happy?

Over that phone call with my mom, she brainstormed about how she could help.  In my mind, I thought. . ."if you lived here, you could come over and take the younger two out from under my feet, you could help practice piano with the older three, you could carpool to and from different activities that interrupt my afternoon, you could make dinner so I wouldn't have to worry about it," . . . and the list goes on.  (Wish I had two of me-I could be sooo productive!)

She suggested that she could read with EmmaClaire at 5pm twice a week.  With awesome technology like Facetime and Skype, we could connect with each other through our ipads.

So that's what has happened this past semester (not every week, but enough to make a lasting impression on my little 7 year old).  Grandma has her issue of the Friend in the Dominican Republic, and EmmaClaire picks out what story she wants to read here in Arizona. And they read together, then visit, then talk about the story, then read some more.

What a HUGE help!  EmmaClaire loved her time with Grandma, and through the process she developed her reading skills.  It allowed me to not stress over her as much, knowing that she was getting all she needed from Grandma. On those special days, EmmaClaire comes in from playing sometimes seven or eight times throughout the afternoon, asking "Mom, is it 5pm yet?"  She doesn't want to miss a minute with Grandma. 

 Thanks Mom!  Miles and miles away, yet still so helpful.  Love you!

Annie Jr.

This past few months have been busy for Taylor, Abby and EmmaClaire.  They all tried out for the school musical, and all made it.  The girls were townspeople and didn't have any solos or lines.  Taylor, with the encouragement of his parents, tried out for Daddy Warbucks.  And, to his chagrin, made the part.  After realizing that it would take lots of hard work and lots of time, and realizing that he was the only boy from the whole jr. high that was involved, and realizing that it meant he couldn't be on the jr high soccer team, he decided that he wanted to back out and not be involved with the play.  He wanted to quit.

But we aren't quitters.  We're go-getters.  We are loyal.  We are finishers.

We had lots of talks about being committed, being loyal even and especially when it's not the favorite thing to do or not the favorite way to spend his time.  Even when all of his friends aren't doing it and sometimes tease him about being in "a musical".  Even when he could be on the soccer field with the jr. high team, but instead he's singing and acting with a bunch of girls.

We kept encouraging him to give it his all and be a finisher.  I kept promising him that he'd love it in the end. It was a rough road that first month of play rehearsal--lots of complaining, lots of discussion. Lots of arguing.  Lots of frustration.   But he stuck at it and gave it his all.

 

He learned all his lines, all the solos and duets, practiced, dramatized at home in front of us, and put tons of hours into it at school.  The more he gave of himself, the more confident he became with his role and the more he started enjoying it. 

He did a super fabulous job.  The school held 3 different performances, and I have to say that Taylor, i.e. Daddy Warbucks was the hit of each show. 

The evening after a super busy weekend of play performances, Taylor came into the kitchen, put his arm around me, and said, "Mom, . . . .I loved it!"

That did it for me! That's all I needed to hear.  Those 4 words made my mother heart melt and made ti all worth it. 

EmmaClaire and Abby loved it.  They were involved in one song with a large group.  And during two scenes, they walked "through the town as townspeople", (walked accross the stage).  Regardless of their minimal part in the play, they loved every minute of practice.  And they encouraged and frequently complimented Taylor, which was a huge blessing to his teenage mentality.

I'm pretty sure EmmaClaire's favorite part of the whole thing was getting make-up on prior to each performance. 

  Taylor wouldn't do stage make-up. In this picture, he's "all miked up".

I took charge of the cast party after the last performance that included 4 directors and over 90 cast menbers.  It was a crazy busy weekend.  We're proud of our kids for being involved.  Especially proud of Taylor for doing something out of his comfort zone, something that he really, really, really didn't want to do.  Proud for being loyal and committed to the end and giving his all.

Phoenix Marathon 2013



I ran the Phoenix marathon last Saturday, and it already seems like dream.  During the past 4-5 months, I have been training with a good friend and gradually increasing our mileage each week.  My goal for this race was to come in sometime between my two other times; my first marathon was 4:49:57, and my second race in St. George was 4:24:39.  Based on our distance runs this past few months,  I figured I'd come in closer to the higher time, but not beyond it.

The race started at 6:30 AM, just as the sun was coming up over the mountains.  I felt strong, the weather was beautiful and cool, and the course was stimulating.  Gentle down hills for most of the first half other than a two-mile incline between miles 4 and 6. 

Mile 7: I run into a childhood friend and next door neighbor, who is running this race with her husband.  We enjoy catching up.  It's been almost 10  years since I last visited with her.  We run together for over a mile and visit.

My running buddy, Nicole, and I got to half way and things were good, although it was starting to get pretty warm.  We walked through each water station and I drank a little.  There's a fine balance between staying hydrated and getting water logged.  To avoid feeling water logged and bloated, I didn't drink too much.  Looking back, I wish I had drank a LOT more (especially Gatorade).  Those "small" sips ended up hurting me later in the race.

Somewhere shortly after 14 miles, I lost Nicole.  I kept taking walk breaks and stretching, hoping she'd catch up.  But she never did.  Getting tired, but still pushing along and keeping good pace.  I come up to a small group of red-shirted people.  It's my husband and family, wearing the LeSueur Team t-shirts.  My pace picks up, I think on how absolutely wonderful John is.  I smile and run up to Kate to give her a kiss.  Not realizing it, I run her down. . . my legs won't stop.  Weird feeling.  Sorry Kate, didn't mean to run you over. 

Mile 18: starting to get very tired and warn down.  Chafing in my left armpit.  Bloody blisters on two toes.  But I have 8 more miles to go.  Usually, a 8 mile run isn't too hard.  At this point in the race, it seemed like an eternity.  The course takes me into downtown Mesa. We're running along blacktop, next to lots of desert landscapes.  It's hot, much hotter than I EVER trained in.  In fact, I hardly ever trained with the sun up because most of my runs started in the wee hours of the morning before light to avoid being gone when my kids were up.  Still hoping Nicole will come around and help me through the last 8 miles.  We trained together, we should finish together.  She gives me strength to keep going. I need that strength now.

Mile 22:  4 more miles to go, are you kidding me?  One foot in front of the other, just keep moving.  Much more walking than I had planned on doing, much more than I did on my other two races.  It's REALLY hot, and running along black dumpsters on Center Street in ghetto Mesa doesn't help my mood. 

Mile 24.5:  I come around the old hospital, then down 8th street.  Far ahead of me I see a group if people, all wearing red shirts.  It's my family, along with James and Shawnne, cheering me on.  Keep going, smile, act like it's not that hard, don't let your kids know how hard this is, one foot in front of the other.  As I come up to them, their cheers and encouragement boost my whole being.  More energy, but barely. Keep going, almost there.

John lets the oldest 5 kids run the rest of the race with him.  We had talked about this prior to the race, and I told him to only let the two oldest boys run, because I knew I wouldn't have to worry about their safety or speed.  I'm too tired to do anything about it at this point and figured my speed now is at a turtles pace, a lot of walking.  So Andersen and EmmaClaire will probably beat me to the finish line anyway.

All 5 of my kids ran/walk along side of me on the sidewalk, encouraging me to the end.  It was a good thing, because I started having moments of  blacking out and feeling so weak that I didn't think I could move any further.  I'd lean on Taylor or Mason for support, and they'd all say "mom, come on Mom, you can finish this.  Keep going mom. . . ".  Blurred vision.  One leg in front of the other, don't stop. 
As the finish line came into sight, I started running to get there.  My kids backed out of the shoot, and I crossed on my own, then started drinking like water was going out of style.  I looked at the big time clock.  4:52:39 (chip time was 4:51:05).  Two thought went through my head at the same time. 

Thought #1-"why did I EVER do this?  This is the most painful hard thing I've ever done, I have never felt so disgusting and sick as I do now, this is worse than childbirth, I'll never do this again. . . I should have John force me to sign a contract to myself saying that I'll never sign up for a marathon again. . .this is absolute craziness. . . why would I choose to put myself in this situation?" 

Thought #2- I can't believe my time.  This is embarrassing, I know I could have done better, this is my worst time yet, I can't end on this note, I need to redeem myself. . . as soon as I get home I'm going to sign up for another race and train harder, do better, come in stronger, I've got to do it again and get a better time. . . "

I had to sit down, my vision got really blurry and I was seeing black spots, feeling so sick to my stomach. Then the vomiting started.  When it stopped, I drank some more, then threw it all up again.  This continued for a while. . . my body was dehydrated.

By late Saturday afternoon, I was feeling much better and was able to keep fluid down and start eating.  By Sunday, I was super sore and very thirsty all day long.  By Monday, my legs felt like I had just done a hard workout. My blisters on two toes popped and caused some pain.  Now it's Friday and I'm feeling great and ready for another long run.  Looking back, the race seems like a dream. Did I really run that far?  Was it really that hard? 

I have found myself thinking  back on each mile, wishing I had done things differently and getting down on myself for not finishing stronger, taking too many walk breaks, wasting time waiting for Nicole, not drinking enough, not pushing myself harder. Always second-guessing myself and my effort.

But it is what it is.  I ran a marathon.  It was my hardest marathon yet (or maybe we just forget, kind of like childbirth). 

My sister in law mentioned that she couldn't understand how running a marathon could be "fun".  My response to her was this:

I'm not sure I'd ever use the word, "fun" either to describe training for and running a marathon. But thrilling, exhilarating, doing something harder than anything I've ever done before (besides maybe childbirth), self fulfilling and self accomplishment, setting a far fetched goal then reaching it out of sheer diligence and hard work, reaching beyond my own capacity, feeling "mentally" strong. . . those words describe my experience. It becomes a mental game.  Mind over body.  Mental strength over physical desires.  Self control.  Kind of like how you'd describe childbirth. Definitely not "fun". But totally and incredibly awesome and exciting, harder than anything else, and very rewarding. You get the picture, . . . or maybe you don't.

And after all that, there's no pictures to show for it.  John couldn't figure out how to open the lens.  But hey, I got a great t-shirt! And my kids think I'm a winner because of my medal.  They really know that I can do hard things.