Attention All: We went on a field trip.

It was around 2:00 on a Tuesday afternoon. I was reading over Brynlee's monthly preschool calendar while eating a late lunch. The calendar reminded me that I'd forgotten to tell Miss Jenni, Brynlee's preschool teacher that I was available to attend the upcoming field trip. So I grabbed my phone, scrolled down to Jenni and between bites pushed send.

{phone ringing}
Jenni: Hello.
Me: {In my best phone voice. What! I bet you have one too.} Hey Jenni. This is Kim [insert last name here]. I just wanted to let you know I'm available to attend the field trip to McKee's next week if you need me.
{silence on the other line}
Me: {After a brief pause, explaining again. Slower this time.} This is Kim, Brynlee's mom. Do you need any more volunteers for the upcoming filed trip? If so, I'm available.
{more silence}
{debate hanging up}
Jenni: {also confused, and rightfully so} Um, Kim. I think you've got the wrong Jenni. This is Jenni [insert maiden name] [insert last name]. 

This Jenni. Jenni that lives in New York, thousand of miles away. Jenni that just had a baby, and doesn't need bothered with my awkwardness. Jenni that doesn't know what McKee's is. Jenni that has absolutely no clue why I would be calling her to inform her of my availability for the preschool field trip. That Jenni. Bless her.

We laughed. I apologized and then spent the remainder of the conversation trying to regain composure. It never happened. I congratulated her on her beautiful Amelia, who shares my birthday by the way. We talked about recent happenings and then we hung up.

I tell you what; I'm a work of art. And abstract, mismatched and completely confused work of art.

****

Dear Jenni,

Sorry about the phone call mess-up last week. I'm a dork. So sorry.

In case you're wondering {and why wouldn't you be} I did end up going with Brynlee's preschool class on their field trip. We went to McKee's pet shop and petting zoo. Jace got to come along too. The kids were great. Well, ya know, for a group of 4 year olds. Sometimes I think I would enjoy doing a preschool. Then I remember that some preschool kids are in fact boys and I quickly change my mind.

Brynlee and Jace loved all the animals. One of the preschooler's mom gave each of the kids a quarter to buy feeding food at the petting zoo. Brynlee wasn't interested in letting a goat eat out of her hand. She instead asked if she could use her quarter to buy a cat. I told her no. She decided that she would settle on a dog. I told her no. However, both Brynlee and Jace pretended that they were cats for the rest of the day. So it was kind of like we got to bring a cat home after all. Or not. But kind of.

It was raining pretty hard on the day of the field trip so we didn't spend much time outside. I've never been to McKee's before, but it's kind of a little hidden gem. There's a playground, playhouse, theater area, petting zoo and all sorts of animal-ish things to look at. And there a monkey. A real live monkey.

The kids were a bit jipped because of the rain, but I promised Brynlee and Jace that we would go back again another day. When it's not raining. If it ever stops raining.

I'll be sure to call and let you know when we decide to go {wink}.

Hope you and your adorable little family is well. Sorry again.

Kim

*****

Jace at Brynlee's field trip to McKee

And since I didn't actually take a picture of Brynlee while on her field trip. 

{Work of art, people! Work. Of. Art.}

Here's a picture from last weekend.

Oh Brother.

This little guy.

He's a crack up.

Funny I tell you.

He makes me smile.

He makes me laugh.

I love him. A lot!  So glad he's mine.

With the weekend came. . .

car rides    the logan temple    alan & jaelynn    artic circle    laughter    c o u s i n s    mom&dad    a sleepover at the wahlens'    staying up to late    family pictures by this talented lady    a saturday get-together with the Francis'    conversation    enjoyment    friendship    c o o k i e s     family time    mothers day    belgium waffles    a picnic        white orchids    crayola made mothers day cards    phone calls    the park    sun    happiness    mid-day naps

I love the weekend, don't you?

::mothers day flowers in the window seal::

A favor, returned.

mom with her girls

June 2006

I never went to a girls camp without my mom. Never.

When I went to my very first girls camp, at age 12, mom was a leader. When I went at 13, mom was a leader. She was the leader the year that we decorated with sunflowers made of green grenade balloons and yellow construction paper. She was there the year we did the skit about Mathew 25: 34-40. And when Bishop Sutherland taught us how to sing "McGregor is Dead," and "Three Sharptooth Buzzards". Every year I went, she went.

Mom would spend endless amounts of time prepping for the camp. She'd worry about are camp theme and song. How we were going to decorate the cabin. How to divide up secret sisters. What to eat. And what to do for the camp crafts.

This particular year was no different. Jami and I were Young Women doing the girls camp thing; my mom, just like the year before, was our mom doing the camp leader thing. It was a ward camp this year and Stanley, Idaho was our destination.

After arrival we set up camp, ate Brother Johnston's Dutch oven dinner and tried to get some sleep for tomorrow we would venture out on that years girls camp hike.

At the beginning of the hike mom realized her shoes weren't made for hiking. They rubbed and irritated her feet. It was a bit of a joke at first, "Way to go, Mom", "That's what you get for not being prepared" we'd joke. But then the hike got longer. And harder. We were hiking in the mountains, weaving between trees and sagebrush. And trying to navigate our way on a path made of jagged rocks and untamed sticks and tree roots. Mom's joints are bad. Her knees were aching, and her ankles weak. The shoes had already rubbed visible blisters. She was in pain.

Around the hike's halfway mark we were all exhausted and ready to be done. It was then that we came to a small creek. To cross the creek a log had to be used as a bridge. Holding our arms out for balance and taking small steps, one-by-one we wobbled to the other side. When it was mom's turn, she lost her footing. Slipped. And landed into the creeks cold water. Her already uncomfortable feet were now soaking wet.

We had come too far for mom to turn around. Plus, she wouldn't be able to find her way back to camp without our hike leader. So she kept walking. Forward. Her body ached. Her feet were blistered. And with every step her wet Levis, rubbed. And her wet shoes, squeaked. I could feel her pain.

We came to a point in the hike that was at a steep incline. Most of the hikers were having a hard time making it up the mountain side. Mom especially. She was wet. Blistered. Throbbing. She was defeated. And she told me and Jami so.  There was no way she could finish the hike, she argued.

So I took mom's left hand and Jami took her right.  And we kept walking. Pulling mom, and her pained, wet body behind us.  That hike was hard.  All of our faces were red with exhaustion. We were sore, tired and uncomfortable. But, we were not defeated. We were going to finish that hike. The three of us. Together!

Later that night, when we were safe back at camp, my Young Women's leader put her arm around me telling me how proud she was of Jami and me. I smiled and accepted the complement. But, it was a complement that didn't need given. Praise that was undeserved.

Because so many times before, and so many times since, I've been the pained hiker with wet shoes and burning knees. And my mom the rescuer, grabbing my hand and pulling me up the mountain side.

This small act was my teenage way of giving back; a way to say thank you.
Thank you for loving me.
Thank you for never missing a volleyball game or a dance performance or a speech competition.
Thank you for lecturing when I needed lectured.
Thank you for laughing when I needed to laugh.
Thank you for dancing with me.
Thank you for praying for me.
Thank you for asking a million questions.
Thank you for being patient.
Thank you for having a sense of humor.
Thank you for always being there to pull me up the mountain.

But most of all,
Thank you, mom, for being my mother.

I loved you then. And I love you now.
Happy Mother's Day, Mom.