Human Bean Soup

Today we attended a celebration in honor of Rex’s Grandparent’s 60th Wedding Anniversary.

I mean…WOW!

Let’s just think about that for a second-

60 years is almost twice as long as I’ve been alive and more than four times longer than I’ve been married!

60 years of dirty socks and crude noises and picky eating and wrestling in the house and hopeless projects and bellowing at football games…or…is that just me?

And, as if that wasn’t already mind blowing enough, they raised 12 children together (which, by my latest head count, is double the bio matter invasion at my house)- all of whom are rather fine people themselves. Astonishing, yes? And, these people are seriously cool. They are both seasoned (by which I mean incredibly talented) musicians who have used their talents to serve their family and community for all 60+ of those years. They are both immeasurably kind and thoughtful, hardworking, patient and just…wonderful. I hope that someday I will have the honor of sitting next to my sweetheart (dirty socks and all), surrounded by our posterity on our 60th wedding anniversary. It was a profoundly inspirational event.

Of course, what would a profoundly inspirational event be without some quiet reflection in a hot, sweaty Astro-Van packed to the bumper with hot, sweaty, whiney kids on the ride home? Nothing, that’s what.

So, naturally, as I mused about my own posterity and the legacy I might have on them as wife, mother, grandmother (someday) I turned to their crimson, perspiring angel faces and asked “Little darlings, when your father and I have been married 60 years what will you say about us?”

-collective groan-

-then one of them offered, “I would say that I remember the time Dad was packing us all in the car (five minutes ago) and he yelled ‘I HATE this family! Why couldn’t I have just one son who would watch football with me?’ …that was nice.”

-stifled laughter-

-and then another, “I would tell about the time you left me with your sisters for two weeks right after I was born because Dad was in the hospital and how I’ll be scarred forever because of it even though I couldn’t possibly remember it- I still know.”

-more stifled laughter-

-and another still, “I will tell about how awesome you were to let me have a ball python as a pet! -hint, hint-”

-gasp, shudder-ummm….yeah, that’s NEVER going to happen.-

-then, “I would say I remember how amazing it was that you took us to Disney Land…so…when are you taking us to Disney Land?”

-collective murmurs ….yeah, Disney….when?-

This is what you would call a “face palm” or “buzz kill” moment. Maybe that will be my legacy- the six most sarcastically gifted humans the world has ever known!

…and…I’m face palming this very moment just thinking about it.

But, I digress. Just as I was about to create another priceless memory for all of them via forbidding any further conversation betwixt them for as long as they live, there came one more little offering from the back of the Astro-Sauna. It went like this:

“I would say I LOVE YOU!”

I looked over my shoulder (to make sure it wasn’t just the Ghost of Wishes Past teasing me) and saw a pair of magnified blue owl eyes blinking atop apple red cheeks parted by a glorious, goofy grin. “Well, I do!”

And that, my friends, is enough for me.

Legacy, schmegacy….er somethin’.

*Footnote: For the record, Rex does not, in fact, hate this family. He was being sarcastic. The children all laughed.

So, I just blinked.

When I opened my eyes Margot the Magnificent was nearly 5 months old.

Since before the blink she has learned to:

smile

laugh, giggle, squawk  like a raptor

roll over (both directions)

coo, blow raspberries, express her discontent (usually not all at once)

train and perform circus tricks with Dad

sleep for 6 hours or more

steal hearts

point her toes like a Prima ballerina- she’s very convincing

pretend to crawl (she can’t yet)

pretend to swim (she can’t yet)

splashes in the tub while she’s pretending to swim

pretend she’s a big girl (she’s not. NO she’s NOT!)

eat real food

grow teefs

push the bounds of baby hairstyles

and wrestle bunnies (she ALWAYS wins)

Oh, lovely Margot,

I would ask you to stay tiny forever,

but watching you grow is just too precious.

So, I fell off the blogging wagon for awhile. Shame on me.

I guess that’s one of the unfortunate side effects of starting the summer off with a bang. Literally, a bang, via 9 lb. human child springing forth from my womb. Yeah, that’ll take it out of a girl.

I may have been rendered more useless than ever this time.

Does that mean I’m getting old? Gasp! Dear Lord, I am, in spite of myself, actually turning into my mother.

-sigh-

Alas, with bated breath and virtually Herculean effort we did manage to accomplish a few things this summer. One boy ran off to where the wild things are (I’ve also heard it called Boy Scout Camp.) Another boy sought his fortune and adventure in the Great Red Beyond of Southern, Utah (much to my hesitation and a certain very patient Auntie’s courage.)

There was swimming and fireworks and food and baby blessings and zoos and adventure and kitty bikes and great, great company and baptisms…

yes, let’s linger there for a moment.

Simon and Benjamin

Cousins.Friends. Sons of proud parents both Heavenly and Earthly.

The two shared a special day.

Simon Rex, Rex, and Benjamin Matthew- before the big dunk.

Sometimes we fail to see much of anything beyond mischief in these eyes but, look closely now…just there…can you see it? …there’s a twinkle of enlightenment…beautiful.

Margot somehow managed to exceed even her own beauty and…

…fell in love.

And, I remembered how much I adore my family (but, forgot to tell them.)

All of them.

Those pictured and so many others who are there in my heart.

Through them I am made whole.

Now, let the schooling commence!

-wince-

-shudder-

-groan-

Also, a special thanks to Logann for the beautiful pictures.

Let’s review:

1.Climb a mountain

2.Swim in a lake

3.Shoot bow and arrows

4.Go to a cemetery

Ah yes, swim in a lake.

Would we say…swim? I’ll let you be the judge of that.

Brave, brave, very brave…

Not so brave.

As brave as they come.

And…that’s a wrap!

In conclusion I leave you with a few observations Mr. S. has made about his stay in Henrieville:

1.”You know, kids around here do a lot of strange and dangerous things, like, riding motorcycles and drinking coke.”

2.”Dinner should NEVER be before it get’s dark outside and bedtime should NEVER be before 11:00 p.m!”

3.”Aunt L., Why do you think I’m the best behaved kid here?”

4.”Going to the park here was hardly what I would call fun. All the stuff was either old or broken.”

And, that’s why we love him!

Simon was invited to spend a WHOLE week in Henrieville, Utah with his cousins.

Being well aware of the wide spectrum of possibility which awaited him there, Simon came up with his own customized list of activities to be completed during his stay.

They are as follows:

1.Climb a mountain

2.Swim in a lake

3. Shoot bow and arrows

4. Go to a cemetery

We don’t try to understand his requests, we just try to meet them…at least the harmless ones. So far, two of his four requests have been met including one unexpected BONUS adventure! In fact, let’s start there.

Once the determination to “climb a mountain” had been expressed Aunt L. came up with the idea that they could climb a mountain and explore a cave- that’s right- a CAVE!!!- all at the same place!

(At this time we take a moment to commend Aunt L. for most cleverly wrapping two adventures into one! Mothers everywhere applaud you!)

It should also be noted here that my heart swells with pride when I see the Singular Mr. S. looking out for the little ones- as long as there are no sinister ulterior motives.

Just look at those happy cave faces!

Next on the agenda (technically last on the list but Aunt L. was kind enough to get down to business right away) -Cemetery.

As I mentioned before- we don’t ask too many questions. They tend to lead to more confusion. Nevertheless, a cemetery was chosen and not just for it’s stunning aesthetics, no, local tour guide (Uncle M.) informed the group that all of them actually have a common ancestor buried here. He told the children to look for Oliver George Anderson- Great Great Great Grandfather of one Simon Rex Eagar. It is also significant for Mr. S. to know that Mr. Anderson was the father of Seth Rex whom Simon’s father and also Simon himself were named for. Now, that’s a pretty savory bite of history for Mr. S. to chew on all in one day!

He was determined to find it himself…

And, there it is!

I am also told that per his request Aunt L. picked up some smoke bombs for the entertainment portion of the evening. Uncle M. lit them and everyone was captivated. So, all in all- a dream come true!

In closing I would like to submit that while many, many qualities of the Singular Mr. Simon please me to no end this next photo embodies what I love most about him.

Aunt L. informed him that his hat was on backwards. His response:

So, until tomorrow’s adventures-

keep your hats on! (backwards)

When we think of you

we think of-

patience

wisdom

strength

humor

loyalty

comfort

and

love.

Every day you remind us.

Every night we close our eyes with you nearby,

singing our fears away.

“Music washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life.”

Happy Fathers Day.

If I could choose one moment to live in forever…

okay, maybe there are six.

Announcing (finally) the Universal Premier of:

Margot Nettalien Eagar

(For the good, if not sadly uncultured, citizens of Utah- Margot is pronounced MAR-GOH, sounds like CAR-GO or FAR-GO. The T is silent-shhhh…or as we say in our house “sneaky” like the K in Knox- get it? Okay, I feel better.)

Here she is:

Born on the 6th day of April, 2010 at 12:45 p.m

-weighing in at a hefty 8 lbs. 13 ounces

-measuring 19.5 inches long

-sporting a full head of long, dark hair

-taking the breath away from all who witnessed her arrival.

She is exquisite,

resplendent,

angelic,

divine,

stunning,

splendid…

perfect.

If only the words to describe her had yet been invented.

There is only one word- Margot.

We are madly in love with

her eyes,

her lips,

her fingers,

her toes,

her cheeks,

her chin…

with her.

The world is more sublime,

more beautiful,

more peaceful,

more pure,

more vast and precious…

because she is in it.

And so, we welcome Margot Nettalien

into the poetry of our quintessence,

the finely woven tapestry of our tranquility,

the radiant constellations of our Heaven,

the quiet chambers of our hearts…

…forever.

You know it’s time to pay the piper when you get a threatening call from the Elementary School secretary concerning your delinquent lunch money account.

Such was the case for us today.

Actually it was a voicemail which went a little something like this:

“Mr. and Mrs. Eagar, your darling children are now IN THE RED on their lunch accounts which means that the good people of Fussypants Elementary have now been feeding these filthy beggars out of the goodness and charity of their long suffering hearts for ONE ENTIRE DAY! It is my duty to inform you that the next time (tomorrow) your starving urchins approach our food service professionals with their dirty little paws open they will absolutely and without further ado be DENIED sustenance. For further uninterrupted food service please send your little darlings to the front office BEFORE school and ALONE to execute the exchange of funds (brown paper bag, small unmarked bills only.) Tell no one.

This message will self destruct in 30 seconds.

Yours truly,

Mrs. Trunchbull, Child Discipline Specialist.”

There’s a small chance the message has been slightly editorialized by myself….very small. Nevertheless, come on! I was, in fact, told that they would not be allowed to eat lunch tomorrow without payment and that’s just policy. It’s not as though I would only pay the lunch bill once I had been sufficiently threatened with the well being of my children. I am a reasonable woman.

I don’t know, call me crazy- I think we may be taking ourselves a little too seriously…starving children to teach the parents…hmph.

Moving on- Simon gets the message in the form of a stamp on his hand (think star-clad arm bands during the holocaust.) Yes, he has been MARKED!

Sign of the devil!!! AHHHH!!!

We have all been humiliated now.

But, we must carry on. Now is not the time to stick it to the man- not when my child’s lunch is at stake. We obediently sign the check to Mrs. Trunchbull and her Food Service Professionals and hand it over to Simon.

“DO NOT forget to take this to the office in the morning!” says we.

“What is it for?” asks he.

“It’s lunch money”

…

…..

“What…is lunch money?” he inquires.

“What do you mean ‘WHAT is lunch money?’

It’s money so you can eat lunch!”

…

…..

“Oh…you mean…we have to PAY to be fed?”

…awkward silence followed by boisterous expressions of amusement…

He wanders off, shaking his head, bemused by this new doozy of a concept.

So, there you have it.

The little beggar had no clue.