christmas on memory lane...part one

I grew up on a small farm in the middle of nowhere. It truly was the end of the line. The railroad tracks ended at the little town down the road. There was a "Y" in the tracks so the train could turn around and head back. And the County actually closed the dump at the end of the gravel road by our farm because it was too far out for people to haul their trash.

And now that I'm grown with a family of my own, I realize that my family was poor. My dad worked hard to make a living on the farm and we had the advantage of growing up with good, fresh food but rarely any real cash. It's probably just as well because we kids seldom left the farm. A trip to the city was an event! "Going to town" was somethig I loved and looked forward to. But winter was often tough as we regularly found ourselves snowed in.

My mother is one of the smartest, strongest, most sensible women on earth. She could make anything out of nothing and she often had to do just that living out on the farm. She also didn't drive. I was in school before she even got a driver's license. And she never really cried much. When she was sad or disappointed, she would shrug and say, "Well, if I can't do anything about it, there's no sense in bawling."

But the Christmas I remember vividly involves my mother crying. Because she didn't drive, she depended on my dad to take her shopping "in town" and when he was busy on the farm, there were no trips to Lethbridge. It was getting close to Christmas and I am sure there were at least four little children in the house anticipating the arrival of Santa Claus. Complicating everything was the fact that the road was snowed in and it was bitter cold outside. My dad hated going anywhere when it was cold.

I remember my mom sitting in the kitchen late one afternoon (I hardly ever saw her sitting) and she just sort of melted down for a moment; sobbing and crying quietly as she said to herself that it would be Christmas Eve tomorrow and we still hadn't been to Lethbridge. I couldn't understand what going to Lethbridge had to do with Christmas Eve but my mom was clearly distraught. I told her not to worry because Santa Claus was coming and we should all be happy! But that seemed to make her more sad.

My dad worked really hard on the day of Christmas Eve and somehow my whole family was miraculously loaded in the station wagon and on our way to Lethbridge! It was so exciting!! Mom had even perked up although she kept muttering about how stupid it was to try to go to town on Christmas Eve. This truly was back in the day when stores closed early so people could be home with their families.

I remember driving into Lethbridge and just gazing in awe at all the Christmas lights! It was like a wonderland! My parents had a job to do and we children were admonished to sit in the car and behave. We were so excited what with all the lights and Santa coming, I'm not sure how Mom and Dad managed.

Mom was right and most of the stores we tried were already closed. It was dark and my mom's mood grew darker as she met disappointment after disappointment on that trip. Finally we pulled into the Woolco parking lot just before 7pm ( the store was minutes from closing) and Dad told us to just stay in the car; he'd only be a minute. He sprinted into the store leaving Mom and us kids in the car. A few minutes later he came out with a brown paper bag, handed it to Mom and told her to hold it until we got home. He winked as he told us we were going to have a GREAT Christmas tomorrow. Home was an hour away at least and I'm sure we kids all fell asleep in the car but when we got home we were fed and hurried off to bed; a plate of fruit cake left out for Santa and strict orders that if we didn't sleep, Santa wouldn't come. That was soooo hard. Who could possibly sleep thinking about Christmas morning?

I had been trying to sleep for a long time when I heard my mom giggling. If I scrunched up just right in my bunk bed I could see into the living room through a crack in my door. And there was my mom and dad in the living room dropping goldfish into a big glass tank. My mom was giggling and following the fish with her finger and then giggling some more. Dad told her to quiet down or she'd wake up the kids. I watched my mom for a while and then drifted off to sleep. Seeing her happy made it easier to sleep.

The next morning there was a note from Santa saying "thanks for the cake" and he'd "left a fish for each person in our family; MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!"

I don't remember asking for a goldfish but by the end of the morning, we kids couldn't remember asking for anything but! Santa had come and that's all that counted. We had a huge meal and played and relaxed and enjoyed our new wonderous fish!

As I've grown older and reflect on how hard it must have been for my mom and dad to raise a brood of children with next to nothing I am so thankful for their creativity and their commitment to making my childhood one worth remembering. To this very day, I LOVE goldfish and I think part of the reason that I've always had a fish is because Santa brought those golden fish that really cold, yukky christmas that was actually one of the best Christmases ever!!

reflections on "funeral potatoes"

This has been an exciting week for my niece, Jessica! She had her 8th birthday last Sunday. I got home on Wednesday and we made our plans for the "birthday date" which we did on Saturday. I took her to get her ears pierced and then we went for lunch. Today was her baptism day (a milestone for little girls in our church) and to celebrate, we planned a family dinner for Sunday afternoon.

We talked about what she wanted for her dinner. I said I could make a roast beef and she said all she really wanted was "funeral potatoes." Over the last few years, little Jessi has had many opportunities to become familiar with funeral potatoes. She has learned that death is a part of life and that visiting with family and friends is a big part of funerals. Here in our little town, funeral potatoes seem to be a staple for those after the funeral gatherings.

I've never actually made funeral potatoes. I often volunteer for other parts of the meal but my sister had the recipe and printed it off for me lickety split when I said I'd be making dinner for Sunday!

So I collected the ingredients yesterday after the "birthday date" and set out to make the potatoes this morning before church. The beauty of funeral potatoes is that you can make them ahead of time and then just reheat right before serving. I simply don't believe I realized what I had agreed to do until I was in the thick of it.

I like to eat healthy and I have made it my life's work to feed my family well prepared, healthy meals from scratch. I use real ingredients and my children never knew processed food before they left home.

As I began to prepare the funeral potatoes, I realized that this was something unlike anything I've made before. I'm always marginally aware of calories, fat content, sodium, etc when I'm cooking and I try to be smart about what I put in the pot.

I decided that funeral potatoes are nothing more than a heart attack in a pan!! You start out with frozen has browns and then you add butter, canned mushroom soup, sour cream, whipping cream, grated cheese, more butter and crushed corn flakes. As I was mixing up this conconction I couldn't help but think that this was probably the most unhealthy main dish I've ever made.

I was almost overcome with guilt as I began melting the second cup of butter and then it occured to me, "What the heck, Lorri! It's a party! You've really got to lighten up...live a little, why don't you?" So I closed my eyes tight, poured the whole cup of butter over the cornflakes and scooped the entire mess over the cheesey pile of sodium and cholesterol in the baking dish. AND for good measure I grabbed a handful of real bacon bits and threw that on as well! I prepared the second pan without even flinching (even though I'm sure my arteries started clogging just from being in the vicinity). I cooked those tender babies til they bubbled and smelled like something only served in Heaven!

of course, this photo does not really do the

potatoes justice! they were sinfully delicious!

The potatoes were a hit! Needless to say, Jessi was pleased. "Funeral potatoes are my favorite!" She licked her plate clean and asked for more. Some of the men had three helpings, while others were a little surprised with my step away from the conventional. Everyone, however, was thrilled with the addition of bacon to the original recipe. (I am twitching a little bit as I recount this operation; butter and bacon in the same pan!)

And I am left wondering if Christmas dinner can even come close to satisfying this crowd without the funeral potatoes?

no sneezing in the nicu

The NICU is a sterile place. We are not allowed in without "scrubbing". After a couple of weeks of washing 7-10 times a day, my hands were RAW! I commented to one of the nurses that I had washed my hands more in the last three weeks than I have in the last three years...

But it was all for a good cause.

The teeny, tiny babies in the NICU are sick and fragile. The last thing any of them need is a common cold.

The NICU is also a loud, busy place. There are alarms sounding, machines whirring and people talking all through the day and night. After a while I sort of got used to the noise. I even got used to the alarms that would sound any time Little Logan had a change on his scoreboard.

However, for the first few days in the NICU, my heart would stop every time there was a bong or a ding. I even found myselfself startled to panic when I heard a familiar (alarming type) chime overhead in Target one morning as I was zipping in to grab some milk and bread.

But like I said, after a while I became familiar with the noises and the alarms in the NICU and began to breathe more easily as I maintained my vigil beside Little Logan's lifeship. The nurses even began to comment on how calm our little troup was becoming when it came to understanding and accepting the routine in the nursery.

On Monday of this week Diana started to show the wear and tear of the previous 2 1/2 weeks. She was kind of feeling "snuffly" and was seriously exhausted, not only emotionally but physically, as well. Grayson suggested she stay home in the morning and get some rest. But she just misses her baby when she's home so she came to the NICU to assume her position "shipside".

It was all good and fine for a few hours until the unthinkable happened! Diana sneezed....nothing horrendous or contageous but it was definitely a sneeze and for a moment time stood still right there in the NICU.

Nurses glanced up nervously from their posts, people stopped talking; it seemed like the machinery in that place even paused in response to "the sneeze."

We regrouped and tried to put the sneeze behind us. But it kind of hung in the air like last week's fish dinner....

Monday was turning into a long day and we were all exhausted. So after a time Diana announced, " I think we should just go home early tonight and rest."

Little Logan's nurse looked relieved. We packed up our stuff, gave Logan some good bye loves, and were headed to the door when the nurse wished us a good night, reassured Diana that Logan would be fine and said with a wry smile, "Ya, you better get outa here before we have to kick you out. There's no sneezing in the NICU."

"Sleep tight Little Logan." and thanks Legacy Emanuel Hospital for the squeaky clean, safe environment provided for our little guy.

all about me...

grayson and diana spending time "shipside" learning all they can

about teeny, tiny babies...

It pretty much broke my heart in two when I left the NICU on Tuesday afternoon to make my way back to the place that is my home. I had become completely absorbed in "everything Logan" during my time in Portland. There's nothing like a perfect little stranger to steal your heart away and make you forget that there's even anything else going on in the world. And after three weeks of "shipside" vigil, Little Logan is a very important part of my life. I like his mom and dad just fine but he's the one tugging at my heartstrings as he struggles to figure out how to make a go of it here in this world.

little logan trying to "sleep off" all that ails him

But while I was busy getting to know Little Logan, my family "back home" was missing me.

The fridge broke the day I left. The fridge is my department; it's something I would take care of without issue. BUT, the day after I left, my sister came over to put something in the freezer part of my fridge and discovered warm, decomposing food. The rest is pretty much "gong show history!" My sister was late for work as she tried to salvage what she could from the fridge/ freezer and redeposit the stuff in the garage fridge. She was excited to find the freezer in the garage fridge quite empty so she was able to save a few items! What she didn't know was that the freezer in that fridge hasn't worked for 4 years. That was why it was empty. But you get the picture. Husband home alone, sister-in-law desperate to help out and all round mechanical meltdown (pun intended).....

So Wally ate over at Wendi and Greg's for a few nights. He bought A LOT Grandma Lee's to sustain him at work and the kids pitched in; inviting him over for dinner or joining him at Subway after work.

My sister offered to call a repairman to fix the fridge and even stayed home from work one day waiting for him to arrive...with the WRONG part! Another day off and a few more visits from the repairman to fix other problems he discovered while fixing the first problem and...Long story short, the fridge was cleaned and running the day I got home. All I had to do was re-stock and resume my kitchen duties. (Thanks, Wendi)

Wednesday night my sister walked in as I was busily getting the kitchen back to up to my standards. She exclaimed with glee, "Lorri must be home! This place smells like dinner's cooking again!" And then we planned a family dinner for Sunday afternoon....

The Saturday before I left so unexpectedly (Little Logan's arrival was a tad unexpected!) I made a mental note to pick up laundry detergent on Monday after work.

Laundry is also my department. I'm kinda picky about how it's done and I have been doing Wally's laundry for 30 years now. He has terrible allergies and is VERY SENSITIVE when it comes to how his clothes are laundered. It's taken a while but I have finally got it right and have been washing his shirts and underwear and socks in such a way that he never gets itchy or sneezes.

So by Tuesday/Wednesday, Wally needed to head down to the laundry room to tackle his loads of dirty clothes. He was able to squeeze enough out of the bottle for one load but later that evening he asked me if we had any more detergent anywhere in the house. We usually do! But for some reason, I had let it run out- hence my determination to restock on Monday...

Here is where I suppose that it's worth noting that Wally HATES stopping at Walmart. It's too big, too crowded, too loud, and "not worth the few pennies saved for all the agravation." The only thing he hates more than the store might be the parking lot. (that's where my car was rammed by something big and unidentified)

That's when I had to break the news to him that about the only place I've ever been able to buy the detergent that keeps him comfortable and allergy free is Walmart. He sort of whined into the phone, "Don't you think I could get some uptown at Roosters?, in Cardston at Extra Foods? maybe the Pharmacy? I replied that I always buy it at Walmart but he could decide for himself; it was his laundry.

So Wally picked up a bottle of "something that looked almost like what you buy at Walmart" at the little store uptown, only to discover that it made him sneeze and itch. After re-washing his underwear THREE times without soap to remove the offensive odor, he relented and stopped at Walmart on his way home one night. A painful but necessary evil that he lived to tell about! haha

And there's still some detergent in the laundry room for me to use this weekend! Who wants to go to Walmart on a Saturday before Christmas? haha

my last little peak before heading home

sleep tight, little logan

My time in Portland was filled with precious moments of time spent wth my daughter, getting to know my son-in-law a little better (he's "awesomer" than I thought) and watching over and praying for that perfect little miracle named Logan. I was tired and stressed but never really thought much about those I'd left behind. They were also tired and stressed, sad to be so far away from something as precious as Little Logan and.... kinda missing me.... I am the mom, after all.

one last good bye cuddle

see you later, little man...

And I was completely validated upon my return by all the friends and family who had MISSED me! It's a real blessing to be loved and appreciated BUT it is a bigger blessing to be part of a family!

In the end, it's not really all about me, after all. It's all about family and even though Little Logan is far away, he's a part of our family and he's made a huge difference in how we all understand this life and the people we love. Logan is a lucky boy! He's got a HUGE extended family; grandparents (TWO grandpa's named Wally!), great grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, etc.etc... AND entire wards, stakes, towns and small cities thinking about him, praying for him and loving him.

Breathe on, Little Logan! It really is all about family and you belong in this one.

logan and his mom...

everything Logan...

mom and dad giving their little bug a "good morning" snuggle

We've been quite absorbed in the new little life that is LOGAN. For Diana and Grayson it means arriving at the NICU somewhere between 9 and 10 am, hanging out and waiting for the times when they are allowed to participate in "cares" (code for temperature, diaper change, oral care, bedding changes, etc.) AND then heading home between 9 and 10 pm. It's a long day but totally worth it when we get to spend those few precious moments with one really precious little guy.

He is so perfect on the outside, it is hard to remember that all his insides aren't quite working well yet. His little lungs need some serious healing, growth and development. His little body is working hard and I sense his little spirit is fiesty. He hates being touched or moved around. Whenever it is time for cares his "numbers" fluctuate. His heart rate drops and his oxygen saturation levels spiral downward causing all kinds of alarms to sound. I've decided it's his equivalent of getting mad and holding his breath! What a great way to get our attention (and the attention of the neonatal SWAT team!)

logan thrashing and complaining about a diaper change

but he's easily over powered at this point

He's been doing ok the last couple of days. It would appear that the prayers, morphine, diuretics, steroids, IV's, new blood, fresh breastmilk and the monster ventilator ("the percussionator") are helping little Logan feel better. I'm thankful for the medical innovations but I am forever grateful for the prayers.

little logan's "nutrition" and

a little something i whipped up the other day

Someone mentioned that Christmas is right around the corner. Who knew that the world would actually keep turning even though we were totally distracted? So the other day we decided that this family would need a little tree. It only makes sense that it would be a Logan tree.

the logan tree...we stitched the hearts at the hospital

while we watched logan breathe.

aunt sara made the touque-a perfect "topper"

So Logan breathes on and the world keeps turning; just the way it should.

it's really all about logan...breathe on little buddy

little logan all snuggled and "tucked in"

the blankies keep out the light making his little life ship

a cozy, dark cave in which to rest, breathe a grow...

the life ship!

hard to believe logan lives in there

with all those wires and hoses

Logan's isolette looks a little bit like a space ship, especially since he had the super duper ventilator attached. Every once in a while it is necessary to "pop the top" so that the respiratory technician can take care of him and his machinery. When the top goes up, I can't help but think of star trek or something like that. I call the isolette his "Lifeship" and he lives quite comfortably in there.

going up!

Today the RT decided that Logan needed to be cleaned up. So she popped the top and started to change up his mask and tubes AND she really wanted to wash his face. We started at 3pm and he was finally all tidied up and tucked in just after 4pm. Who knew it could take an hour to wash and change the little peanut?

this is how logan gets his face washed

two RT's, and an audience

Of course he peed all over the place (requiring a second diaper change) and squirmed a bit but by and large he turned out ok after his little clean up. He really didn't have much choice as he was wrapped up tightly and held down for the whole operation.

looking good after

"operation clean up"!

Once he was completely cleaned and changed it was time to replace his lid.

Of course, as soon as he was settled and comfortable he didn't want to cooperate any more; camera shy again!

classic logan with his hands over his face

the camera shy little logan

Logan's had a rough week. His little lungs simply can't do what they need to do these days. The monster ventilator is a big help but the aprehension over his lungs is a little overwhelming.

I had been puttingoff posting so I could report he was fan-tab-u-lous but I thinkt hat report will have to wait. Right now, he's a trooper; trying his best to get the whole breathing thing mastered.

On the bright side; he is growing. (over 2 pounds now) And so many of his other systems appear to be working just fine. He pees through his teeny diapers so that means the kidneys are working. He also poops like a goose which means he's digesting the milk and those bowells are in good condition. (He'll be so embarassed to learn that we were so excited about his bodily functions!) His little eyes pop open a few times a day but he squeezes them tight shut again. He must not like what he sees. He squirms and wiggles and makes faces. But the funniest thing about Logan these days is that he's totally camera shy.

any time i try to photograph him, Logan puts his hand

over his face...like he's trying to escape the paparazzi

That's all ok, though. As Logan continues to try to breathe, I'll simply continue to try and get a photo of his perfect little face or various body parts.

diana determined that logan's foot is just a little smaller

than her thumb...

mom tucking him in nice and tight for the night