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Burn Baby Burn!

5/18/2014

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I am not crying wolf.
Give my recent slightly-evil, largely-successful, possibly-cruel attempt to lead you all to think that I had been attacked in a parking lot (“Cutthroat”, 4 May 2014), doubts about the following story would be entirely reasonable and totally justifiable.   I assure you, however, that what I am about to tell you is completely true………..no embellishments added (which, for a Noel married to a Hislop, is miraculous!)

 

Fire.     What a paradox.   Forest fires ignite without effort or intention (or crumpled paper) while all but the most patient can use an entire box of matches (and a ream of crumpled paper) trying to get a campfire started.  

 

Chick is not patient.  

 

The large pile of dry and semi-dry limbs and branch in the upper corner of our garden needed to be burned.   Tired of watching his piles of crumpled paper turn to ash without lighting the burn pile, Chick turned to gasoline.    He doused the wood.  Really tired of watching his piles of crumpled paper turn to ash without lighting the burn pile, he doused the wood again…..and again.      Satisfied that the wood was saturated, he lit his pocket lighter and leaned in and……….

 

BOOM!

 

The wood caught fire.  So did the vapors rising from the wood.  So did Chick’s arm.

 

He immediately dropped and rolled in the dirt, effectively extinguishing the fire.  He also very effectively ground soil into the wound; it was a mess of charred, muddy flesh.   

 

“MOM!” I heard Grace yell, “Come quick!   Chick burned himself BAD!”

 

Blessedly, the burn was not nearly as bad as we all feared.    Second degree burns covered a healthy (or unhealthy, as the case may be) portion of the dorsal side of his forearm, starting at the base of his t-shirt sleeve and extending to his knuckles.   Gray gobs of seared skin peeled from the arm but the burns did not extend past the dermis layer.    Even more blessedly, only his arm was burned.    His hair, eyelashes, and eyebrows were scorched but his face and eyes were unharmed.

 

We went to Urgent Care where they scrubbed the area and wrapped it in a sterile dressing.   Today he will go to his final pre-mission interview with the stake president and to his Seminary graduation with his right arm wrapped mummy-like in white gauze.     I imagine he will get loads of attention.   (A mummified arm may be as effective a chick magnet as a baby lamb….)   Is the accompanying pain worth the resulting attention?   You will have to ask him.

 

While you are asking, ask Miles about his Krypto competition.  He was on fire this week as well, though his fire was only figurative and much more fun.    He completed in the Weber County School District Math/Science Olympiad, as a member of Midland Elementary’s fourth grade Krypto team.   They won 2nd place, an improvement over last year’s 3rd place finish.   He wore both medals 24/7 for days.

 

Tanah also experienced a burn lately………..a long, slow burn.    Following the (stupid) tradition of making a dance date an all-day affair, the young man who asked her to a dance told her they were doing a “choir thing” and asked her to be ready at 9:30 a.m.   “Choir thing” indeed.   He took her to his state choir competition……on the school bus!   She spent most of the day sitting ALONE on the U of U campus while her date and his choir friends sang competitively.   At that point, it would not have taken gasoline to ignite her temper.  She was already fuming. 

 

I may go up in flames…..or melt down.  Time will tell.   Actually, I am quite optimistic that all is well.  I am in God’s hands.

 

We’ve been praying for financial help; multiple surgeries, wisdom teeth extractions, several dental crowns, a trashed rental requiring thousands of $$ of repairs, and upcoming mission expenses have my monetary worry-meter in the red (not to mention our bank account!).     Working full time at OPA was not the answer to our prayers (“Who Will Bring the Lambs?”, 19 January 2014) but, it seems, that working for the Electronic High School (EHS)again is.    Starting in July I will be working ½ time for EHS, 2/3 time for OPA, and full time for Lance and the children.   I am also doing time for the Lord.   My guess is that the “doing time for the Lord” part is the piece that will make it all possible….something about the refiner’s fire……gold comes out in the end, right?

 

 

Sure love you,
Teresa



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Little Brown Handbook of Motherhood

5/11/2014

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Nearly nineteen years ago, hugely pregnant with my first child, I wondered (and worried a bit) about childbirth.   How was it all going to work out?   Having grown up on a farm, I was very familiar with the birthing process in general; females got pregnant, carried the unborn, and then gave birth.   I had seen the process countless times.    Suddenly, however, it was very personal and I wonder/worried about it.  How would it be for me?  How will I make it through?   I reassured myself with the truth that millions of women had gone through the process—the removing of one’s child from one’s womb—before and, if they could do it, so could I.    I did not know how they did it—it seemed a bit unfathomable that the time—but I found strength in the conviction that the way had been successfully navigated by those who had gone before me.

 

Now, almost nineteen years later, I find myself in a similar situation.    In a few months my first child will leave home, abandoning me for parts as yet unknown.   I wonder (and worry a bit….okay, a lot) about it.   How is it going to work out?   Having grown up as member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (Mormon), I am very familiar with the process in general; women have children, the children grow up, and then serve missions.    I have seen the process countless times.     Suddenly, however, it is very personal and I wonder/worry about it.    A lot.

 

Two weeks ago, Chick and I were sitting in a doctor’s office together when I noticed that his pants were dirty, as in very NOT clean.   “Chick,” said I, “your jeans are dirty.”

“So?”

“So you don’t wear dirty clothes to school.”  (He was headed to class after the appointment.)

“Why not?”

 

Why not?    His question was sincere.   Why not wear dirty jeans to school?   One should change one’s shirt frequently but jeans……What is the problem with wearing dirty jeans?

 

I have not taught him the importance of wearing clean clothes.  There are so many things I have not taught him, like to brush his teeth twice a day (or even once a day) or to make his bed.   Clean room…….What’s that?  Organization………..It is a nice concept but still very abstract for him; awesome idea but lacking application.    Picking up after himself, returning borrowed items, putting clean clothes in drawers ….all of these are foreign to him.

 

What will his mission companions think of his mother, I ask myself in despair.   What will his mother think of his mother?

 

I must admit the answer to that last question is not kind.    How could my fail be so epic to teach my son things that are so basic?    There should be a Little Brown Handbook of Motherhood  or something that tells moms to teach things like:

  1. Brushing teeth is a good thing….every day….TWICE!

  2. Dirty dishes belong in the sink….or in the dishwasher….NOT in the living room.

  3. Made beds make moms happy and happy moms make kids happy.

  4. If it is not yours, don’t eat it.   Yes, this does apply to the bag of candy that was left on the counter (and the chocolate chips hidden in the cupboard).

  5. Carpeting your bedroom with clothes, dirty or clean, is not acceptable.

  6. If you do it now, I will not nag you about it later.

  7. Doing homework and turning it in eliminates a lot of future problems. 

 

Actually there probably is a Little Brown Handbook of Motherhood  (or something like it) out  there somewhere.   In fact I am confident there are many books (and blogs and podcasts and YouTube videos) out there that give moms great advice.   The problem was that I was too busy changing diapers, fixing dinners, and doing laundry to find them, much less read them.

 

Attending the weekly Toddler Hiking Club and library Story Times also kept me busy as did playing Monopoly and doing PTA Reflections contest entries and science fair projects.   Chick and I may not have been busy making his bed but we were busy making others things…..things less tangible but just as real….things like memories, relationships, respect….

 

Recalling the memories and reviewing our relationship, I realize that my assessment of both myself and my son is short-sighted and unfair.   He may not put his clothes away but he does put my clothes away when I ask him to.   In fact, he does everything I ask him to and, even more gratifying, he does it willingly and with a good attitude.     Chick is my go-to man; whenever I need something done, I go to him because he will do whatever it is I ask…….. without rolling his eyes, telling me that he did it last time, or suggesting that I ask Tanah instead.


“Chick, will you run downstairs and get a can of tomatoes?”

“Sure Mom.”

 

“Chick, will you take the out the recycling?”

“Sure Mom.”

 

“Chick, Book Club is coming today.   Will you vacuum the living room?”

“Sure Mom.”

 

This boy/man of mine tells me he loves me at least daily, hugs me almost as frequently, and chats passionately with me about books, Magic cards, and super heroes.   He tenderly hugs our elderly ex-neighbor and willingly rough houses with our rowdy nephews.    When he blesses the Sacrament, his deep voice resonates with reverence and respect.   His intelligence brings insight to our scripture study and his wit brings laughter to our Family Home Evenings.    He volunteers to do Grace’s dishes when she is overwhelmed and plays cards with Miles when he is bored.   Friday evening, during an intense movie moment in the theater (someone shot Nick Fury!!),  he offered me his hand to hold and squeeze.


What will I do without him?   Who will mow the lawn?  Prune the fruit trees?   Bounce out of his chair and run around the room when the movie gets exciting?   Drive to the store to buy strawberries for the dinner salad?  Hike Ben Lomond with me?    Cackle loudly at Lance’s jokes?     

 

My son has learned many things; most of them more important than wearing clean jeans.    His mission companions will be lucky men and I think his mother is a very lucky woman…..which brings me back to the questions with which I started.    How will it be for me when he leaves?  How will I make it through?    I reassure myself with the truth that millions of mothers have gone through this process—the removing of one’s child from one’s home—before   and, if  they can do it, so can I.   I don’t know how they do it—it seems a bit unfathomable at the moment—but I find strength in the conviction that the way had been successfully navigated by those who had gone before me.   And, as it was when I was largely pregnant, I do not have much choice at this point.   EEK!

 

May God bless us all!

 

Love,
Teresa


[Photos by Devin Garner, PhD]





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Cut Throat

5/4/2014

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On the last day of school before our Spring Break, I stayed late at OPA, wanting to get everything done before leaving the building so that I would not have to do any school work during my vacation   By the time I finally had all the papers corrected, scores entered, and lesson plans done, it was getting dark.  

 

Though dusk was deepening, I easily found my van in the parking lot; it was the only vehicle there.   As I fumbled in my purse for the keys, a meaty fist grabbed my chin from behind.   My head was jerked up and to the side as a masculine voice said, “Give me your wallet or I will slit your throat.”   The man was good to his word.   Though I could not see it, I certainly felt it; a cool blade was pressed against my neck just above the collar bones.

 

Hum.   Not good.

 

As I was deciding how to best deal with the situation, a car pulled into the school parking lot.   My attacker and I stood starkly illuminated in its headlights.    Panicking, the assailant ran off.  In his rush to get away, his blade slid across my neck, leaving a thin gash.  My throat had, indeed, been slit.

 

That was the first story I told my students when they asked about the wound on my neck.   The second story was that I am a zombie.    The third (and the only true) story was that I had a parathyroid gland removed. 

 

Typically, a person has four lentil-sized parathyroid glands that regulate calcium levels in the blood.   I happened to have an overachieving, fifty-cent piece sized gland that was causing elevated blood calcium levels, which wasn’t a huge problem except that the calcium was being pulled from my bones, making them brittle, which could be a huge problem.   So, out it came.   It was not a big deal; the surgery lasted only 90 minutes; I was out of the hospital by 6:00 p.m.  that evening and at work by 7:00 a.m. the next day.   The story I invented, however, was a big deal.    I wish you could have seen the students’ faces when I told them the first tale…..

 

Students at OPA are also telling tales about pig tails, thanks to Grace.   As a Junior Livestock Ambassador, Grace is required to do a project that promotes 4-H.   The Utah CTE (Career and Technical Education) core curriculum for 7th graders includes a section on agriculture.  Combining the state’s ag ed requirements with 4-H’s project requirements, Grace brought the farm to OPA and taught our city kids about her country animals.   Her pearls of knowledge (which, by the way, were NOT cast before swine) included:  pig’s tails are curly when they are healthy, healthy pigs are not pink, sheep do not have teeth in the front on their upper jaw, sheep do have long tails on their butts, and chickens are not smart—there is a reason that the term “bird brain” is an insult.

 

The students ate it up.  They held the week-old chicks, petted the months-old pigs, and watched Grace shear the three-year-old ewe.   They were astonished to learn that she was only a year older than they and were impressed by her knowledge.   Their letters of thanks said things like “You were great presenting; you are so brave”; “When you told us about 4-H it inspired me and my friends to join”; “You were very pretty and fun and funny”; “U R SWAG”;  and “One of the chicks fell asleep in my hand; I almost took it but that would be illegal”.  The hit of the day was when Grace demonstrated what it means to “squeal like a stuck pig”.  She did not stick the pig but she picked it up and it squealed like it had been stuck.

 

Someone in Dove® production must have been really stuck for ideas;  (s)he named the scent of a deodorant “pomegranate and lemon verbena”.  Really?    Pomegranates do not really have a scent, lemons are not something one typically puts in one’s armpit, and verbena is a genus in the Verbenaceae family that contains about 250 species of annual and perennial flowering plants.    The three together?   My bet is that the odds of a person smelling the deodorant and saying “Ah…..yes…..pomegranate and lemon verbena!” are less  than the odds of winning a billion dollars by correctly predicting the outcome of every game in the NCAA basketball tournament.

 

What are the odds of getting a distinctly Mormon essay published in the mildly-critical-of-the-LDS-culture local paper?   They must be pretty good because last Saturday my photo, name, and thoughts were published in the Standard Examiner as a “Faith Commentary”.     With more faith (and a lot more work and a few miracles) someday I may even be paid for something I write.   Dare to dream!

 

Dreams came true on the SAA stage this week.    “Little Mermaid” opened and Grace made her debut as “Flotsam”, a wicked eel.   A kindergartener who saw the play Wednesday night came to school Thursday with her hair done in the same style as Grace’s character.   Banish the beautiful Ariel and her dreamy voice; the little girl told her teacher that her dream was to be cast as “Flotsam” when she grows up.    Grace’s performance was very captivating; her serpentine movements and very authentic-appearing evilness may have been more nightmarish than dream-like if it weren’t for the fact that the show was completely charming.

 

Charming and nightmarish are both words that describe Tanah’s upcoming weekend.  She met a boy at a church activity and he asked her to accompany him to dance next Saturday.   Tanah has the charm; Lance has the nightmares.

 

And I have a slit throat.

 

Life is the stories you can tell.

Love,
Teresa







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Baa baa black lamb, feel your fuzzy wool!
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Squealing like a stuck pig
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City boy, country sheep
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Teen age boys picking up chicks.....
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Four chicks in this photo
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The evil cracks......"Flotsam" with a post performance smile.
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Beauty and the Beast?
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Great hussle
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Still hustling.....
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Great defense = bored goalie
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    Teresa Hislop
    thislop@msn.com

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