The Trouble with Owning Boys

Is there such a thing as glass insurance? If so, it's probably time for the Sutherlands to buy a policy.

Six days after the back window of our minivan was broken by a rock that (conveniently) neither of boys remembering throwing, this happened:

I was talking to Traci on the phone on my way home from work. I had just asked her what was going on at home. 

"I'm cleaning the bathroom and Tate is 'helping' me," she said. 

The best part of our new house is the big tub. (When we were looking at houses, my only requirement was that it have a big tub.) The next best thing is the big shower with the fancy sprayers that I haven't figured out how to work yet. 

"Cool," I replied. "Well, I'll be home in a couple of — "

"Tate, stop doing that. Tate! I said STOP! DOING! THAT!"

CRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSHHHHHHHH!!!!

"I've got to go. Tate just slammed the shower door shut and the entire thing has completely shattered."

She wasn't exaggerating.

When I got home, the entire bathroom was covered with tiny pieces of glass.

Fantastic.

It took two days to get the guy out to measure for new glass. It took another threes week for them to come back to replace it. And, of course, it took $300 to get them to leave again.

So, in the span of less than a week, we shelled out $600 in glass repair.

But it's not all bad news.

The mystery of the broken van window has been solved! The other day I asked Tate about it again, just to see if would spill the beans.

"It was a rock," he admitted, "that fell from space."

Aliens. I knew it!

Case closed. 

We're. The. Best. M-H-S!

Last night, I went to my first high school football game since 1997. 

I've been telling myself for the last few years that I wanted to go to a game, it just never happened. It was homecoming, which seemed like as good an excuse an to break my 18-year Spartan football fast. 

We took the whole family and, despite the fact the boys said they WERE NOT cheering for Murray, everyone had a good time. (Curt and Tate have also told me they hate Real Salt Lake, the Utes, the Jazz, the Bees, and the Broncos. Fun.) 

A few random thoughts from the game: 

1. Despite going to just about every home game from the ages of 14-17, I don't think I ever actually watched a game. I remember playing in the pep band my sophomore year. I remember getting in a fight behind the bleachers in junior high (luckily my buddy Ben actually knew how to fight). And I remember spending every other minute trying to look cool for girls. 
2. Watching the game takes way less work than looking cool for girls. 
3. You couldn't ask for a more beautiful backdrop for a football game than the Wasatch mountains. 
4. I doesn't seem like high school was that long ago. But it was literally half a lifetime ago. I'm not a kid anymore. 
5. I sat behind a high school buddy, two years my senior, who has a kid in high school. That makes me feel very old. 
6. Kids in high school are kids. I don't remember being a kid in high school. Maybe I was just very mature. 
7. I like Murray. Traci loves Murray. Though there have been times I wanted to be as far away from my hometown as humanly possible, it's a great place to live. It was nice to see so many familiar faces--former classmates, teachers, neighbors. Kinda felt like we belonged there. We certainly had the chance to move back to Murray. We chose not to. I think Traci regrets it.  
8. Donuts are only $1 at the concession stand. But if you wait 'til the third quarter to buy one, they're long gone. 

At this pace, my next MHS football game will be in 2033. I'll be 53. 

Sports

A perfect night for kickball, soccer, football, baseball, and Sloppy Joes with the Koot crew. 

Church for Curtis

Curtis had it easy. As opposed to Paige, he didn't have to worry about finding friends in our new ward because one of his school buddies lives in the neighborhood.

Church - Week 1

When it was time for primary, his buddy came over and whisked him off to class. When we saw Curtis afterword, he was all smiles--a rare occurrence for our grumpy little guy.

For Traci and me, this came as a huge sigh of relief. Curtis does not like change. When we were looking at new houses, he wouldn't even get out of the car because he was NOT GOING TO MOVE! 

Church - Week 4

It was Tate's turn to say the opening prayer and Traci and I were in the primary room to watch. From the back of the room, I could hear one member of the primary presidency say to another, "Whisper, whisper, Curtis Sutherland, whisper, whisper."

Uh-oh.

Tate said the prayer and Traci and I stood up to leave, when Curtis was escorted into the room, followed by the woman from the presidency. She brought him up to the front of the primary and said, "This is Curtis. We actually put him in the wrong class. He was in CTR 8, when he should have been in CTR 7. Whoops. That means he'll be here in the Junior primary, instead of the Senior primary."

Uh-oh.

Church classes are assigned by age, based on a calendar year--not a school year. His friend has a September birthday, but Curtis' birthday isn't until April. To make things worse, the junior primary goes through age seven, so not only would Curtis be leaving his friend's class, he'd be dropping out of the senior primary entirely.

Traci and I walked over to him after he took a seat by his new class.

"Hey, buddy. Are you okay?"

He looked up at me with big tears welling up in his eyes.

"No," he said quietly.

Which kind of broke our hearts.

--

After church, I was expecting to see a similarly downtrodden Curtis. I was shocked by what I saw.

A happy boy.

"I'm the tallest kid in the whole junior primary!" he said.

And that was that.

Football with Dad

The best part about the Utes game? Hanging out with this guy. 

Church for Paige

One of our biggest reasons for moving to a new house to was to be in an area with more kids. Traci really wanted Paige to have the same experience that she had growing up, where there were tons of girls in neighborhood to play with.

It might not be exactly like that here.

Church - Week One

We sent Paige off to her primary class, with our fingers crossed that she would meet her next best-friend-for-life.

"Paige," we asked her after church, "How many girls were in your class?"

There was good news and bad.

Bad: There was just one girl. (Plus a couple more who were out of town.)

Good: It was a girl she recognized from her Up with Kids group and they instantly got along with each other.

Sure, we'd love to have more kids around. But if you find one best friend, that's all that matters, right?

Everyone was happy.

Church - Week Three

I'm sitting in Elders Quorum, waiting for class to start. I'm listening to the chatter in the room when I hear, "So, I hear you're moving, huh?"

"Yeah, the house sold in one day. We're heading out in about three weeks."

Wait a second, I know that guy, I thought. That's...that's....that's the dad of the girl in Paige's class. Noooooooo!!!!!

Everyone was sad.

Slowly Going the Way of the Buffalo

Traci and I have lived our entire lives in Utah and have never visited Antelope Island. Today felt like as good a day as any to change that.

The only thing we really knew about the state park is that it's where the buffalo roam (and of course where the deer and antelope play). Our first stop was the visitors center where we also learned that you shouldn't bother the bison. If you do, especially while they're eating, they're likely to charge at you at up to 40 miles per hour.

We hadn't been out of the visitor center for more than a minute when we saw our first bison. He was in the grass eating. A guy with a camera decided he needed a closer look and kept walking ever closer until he was only about 20 feet away. The bison didn't take too kindly to the intrusion and started to charge.

That was enough to put the photographer into a full sprint back to his car. The bison returned to his lunch.

We ate our lunch at picnic bench overlooking the Great Salt Lake. We then braved the brine shrimp (and the accompanying smell, which luckily was much less pungent than on the Saltair side of the lake) and ventured out to the water. We weren't dressed to get into the lake (and I'm not sure if I would have wanted to anyway; swimming in the Great Salt Lake is another Utah thing I've never done, but that can wait for another day) but the boys had fun chucking rocks into it.

After the lake, we headed to the other side of the island, where we were excited to see dozens of bisons. 

And then hundreds.

Pretty cool that you can be just miles away from the city and feel like you're in a completely different world.

Along the way, we passed the park restaurant that featured bison burgers. It seemed odd to eat the animal you'd come to the park to admire, but what do I know about nature?

Vanity Plates

On our afternoon walk, Tate says to me, "When I'm old enough to get a car, I'm gonna get a license plate that says 'Toots are awesome!'"

The Comforter

Tate's artistic rendering of the Holy Ghost.

Upstart

First day of online preschool.

Not our Best Day at the Ranch

"Dad!" Paige exclaimed, "There's a hole in the back of our van!"

With all of our moving, we hadn't been to the ranch since the beginning of the summer. The kids were ecstatic that we were finally spending the weekend there. 

Traci and I walked onto the gravel driveway where Curtis and Tate were playing. With rocks. 

There sure was a hole in the back window, a hole the size of a softball. Cracks had spider webbed across the entire windo. Just looking at it brought a sheet of glass pebbles raining down. 

Though they were standing just feet from the van, neither Curtis nor Tate had any idea how it had happened. 

Curtis was street-smart enough to quietly flee the scene of the crime. Tate, however, chose to linger. 

"Tate," I asked, "What happened to the window?" 

"I dunno." 

"Did you guys hit it with a rock?" 

"No. Maybe something fell on it."

"Like a rock?" I asked. 

"Maybe."

But that's as close as we got to a confession. Even as we drove home, with our makeshift garbage-window flapping in the wind, no one was quite sure how the window had been broken.

(Tonight Traci's dad asked Tate about it. "Tate, did a rock break the window?" "Yes," he replied, before quickly adding,"but Curtis and I didn't throw it.") 

...

Though I spent the afternoon stewing in vehicular frustrations, the kids had a pretty good day. 

Helping Grandma paint the gate

  

Helping Grandpa saw up the tree that was blocking the road

And riding in the back of the truck

Tomorrow morning I've got a date with Techna Glass, where I'll find out just how much a weekend at the ranch is going to cost me. 

A Perfect Night for the Drive-In

Heavy Metal Bakesale

I should have taken more pictures. I had to steal this one from the Trib.

This morning, Bert invited us to the Salt Lake County Fair. We happily obliged. The best part was our run-in with the Armored Combat League.

It was a band of misfits, at best. A group of Dungeons and Dragons nerds wearing 100 pounds of homemade armor. Before the match began, the head nerd took a few minutes to explain how it all works. 

"You see movies and a knight slashes another guy with a sword and he goes right down," he says. "Totally fake." 

He starts whacking his partner in the head with a sword and then an ax. "This is hardcore armor. It keeps you totally protected," he says as he smacks the guy one more time in his helmeted face. 

He then outlines the rules: 

• You can strike, hit, kick, or punch anywhere you want (except for the knees)
• You can use your sword to smack your opponent in the back (where there is no armor), as long as you don't, you know, slash down his spine
• No stabbing someone through their armor in order to kill them

He then reiterated how the armor keeps everybody completely safe. 

And then the first battle began. 

"At 280 pounds, please welcome Buddy."

"He'll be facing his girlfriend Bonnie. Today's her first time in armor!" 

They started sparring. Buddy gave some love taps. Bonnie showed some fire and whacked him a few times with her shield. 

That's when Buddy balled up his fist, wound up, and punched his sweetheart right in the side of the head. 

Bonnie dropped like a ton of armored bricks. 

It took three dudes to help her get back up. (None of which were boyfriend.) 

The match was over. 

I wondered what their evening will be like. Would Bonnie give Buddy the silent treatment? Would Buddy tell Bonnie her form was all wrong? Would Buddy have to sleep on the couch? Or would Bonnie be into it? 

Hurts my head just to think about it.

If only a had a metal helmet.

Paige has one.

The Not-So-Great Outdoors

In the Sutherland family, hiking equals a half hour of complaining, followed by three minutes of happiness (if there is water and rocks that can be thrown into it). The window for smiling faces closely quickly, but I got 'em! 

Manifestogram

We may not know where the soap is, or our bathroom towels, or half of our clothes. But the band room is all unpacked.

Manifestogram

Curtis and me.

Manifestogram

Said goodbye to the house on Melissa Hill tonight. Thanks for the last eight years.

Manifestogram

Unpacking.

Manifestogram

The summer before my junior year, I got a job at Cyprus Credit Union. For training, I had to drive all the way out to the old headquarters in Magna. (I didn't know streets went that far west.) I was taught everything I needed to know about being a teller by an older girl with very big hair. Though she was only 18 or 19, she was already married. She'd go home for lunch and eat with her husband. So I'd walk across the street and eat my sack lunch by myself, on the lawn outside of the Arctic Circle. Though I ate lunch alone, I spent my break times with my trainer. She made sure we always had the latest shift so we could spend the 15 minutes watching Days of Our Lives on the tiny TV in the break room in the basement. And for that, I will be ever grateful.

Manifestogram

It took us four days, but we finally finished all 500 pieces. #stgeorge

Minions

Tate's review of the Minions movie: "There were bums, and bum cheeks, and underwear, and more underwear." Basically, the best movie ever.

Manifestogram

A good day for the pool.

Manifestogram

A good day for the pool.

Manifestogram

En route to St. Geezy, we took a detour to SUU and checked out the Shakespeare theater.

Keep Marching On

As far as Saturday morning's go, this was a pretty good one. 

Along with our stake, we marched in the Days of '47 Youth Parade. This was our kids' first time in a parade (and my first time since getting mini basketballs chucked at me while I rode my GREENbike). 

Though there was one member of the family who was refusing to participate (hint: the grumpy one), everyone cheered up when they saw that they got to make as much noise as they wanted with the little plastic hand clappers. (The theme of the float was Small Hands Serving the New Frontier.)

The parade route took us from Trolley Square to Washington Square, straight down 500 South. Our three monkeys successfully clapped their clappers the entire way. They even got a little taste of celebrity, thanks to this coverage in the Deseret News. (Check out photos 18 and 19 on the slideshow.) 

The parade ended at a bounce-house-filled kids festival where there was face painting for the girls and a mini Home Depot for the boys. It was a good day for the Sutherlands. 

But no day would be complete without a little drama. The problem with a one-way parade is that when you get to the end, you have to walk all the way back to the beginning. Rather than make everyone hike back to our car, I left Traci and the kids playing in the fountain at Library Square. 

By the time I got back to pick them up,  fairest-of-the-fair-skinned Tate was wearing no shirt and both he and Curtis were completely soaked. Apparently, Curtis fell in the water and Tate took that as invitation to go ahead and jump in, too. Both were then surprised that the result of getting in the water is getting wet, a reality they were quite displeased with. 

Can't win 'em all.

Manifestogram

The boys.

Window Shopping

The kids' school district has a summer program called Play Unplugged (or something like that). They can earn badges for doing activity stuff like hiking or swimming or washing the car. There are even badges for stuff that just gets them away from the video games and out of the house. 

Curtis, to Tate: You can get a badge for window shopping. But you don't have to actually buy the windows, you just have to look at 'em. 

Phew. I thought we'd have to spend our whole summer buying windows. 

Manifestogram

Some boys are happier than others about getting their picture taken at swimming lessons.

Taylorsville Dayzz

Carnivals. There's a way you experience them as a kid and a way you experience them as an adult. And they are they are two very different things.

For our kids, our annual trip to Taylorsville Dayzz means sno-cones, a bunch of spinning rides, and pretty much the best day of the summer.

For Traci and I, it means spending more money than you want to, an oppressively hot June night, and way too many spinning rides. (During the never-ending spinning of the Sizzler, I couldn't help but wonder if I was getting a glimpse into purgatory.)

But there was one thing that the kids and grownups could agree on. At the end of the night, after enduring all the heat and the dizziness, we all enjoyed pretty much the best basket of fresh-cut french fries you could ask for.

Wish I was eating some more right now. Can't wait for next year's carnival!

[video link]

Testimony

Ready for church (or a job as the assistant-to-the-branch-manager)

Paige bore a beautiful testimony today during sacrament meeting. She gave thanks to her primary teachers and to her parents. She testified of the gospel, the Savior, and the resurrection. 

Tate sat quietly in the back of the chapel and quietly listened...with a blue pencil shoved up his nose. 

Church. 

Baby, You're a Firework

I had a little PTSD tonight. My nephews were playing with fireworks and it made me think my first time throwing a firecracker.

I was at my grandpa's sheep ranch--I was probably nine or ten. My uncle handed me a box of matches and a single firecracker. Then he gave me just two simple instructions: 1. Light the firecracker. 2. Throw it.

I got it almost right.

I lit the firecracker just fine. But then, instead of throwing the firecracker, I threw the match.

Boom! The firecracker exploded in my hand.

I still remember my burnt fingers and my ringing ears. And, of course, my bruised little ego.

Happy birthday, America.

A Day at the Ranch

We're able to shove quite a bit of fun into eight hours at our ranch. There was slip-'n-slidin' and fourwheeler drivin' (Paige did much better this time--not like last year, when she almost ran me over) and giant kite flyin'.

What more could a bunch of kids ask for?

Trick Question

Out of the blue, Tate says to me, "Dad, what do you like better, Legoland or my soccer games?"

I wasn't surprised by the randomness of the question--Tate never stops talking, ever, and he always asks about whatever's on his mind at that second--but I couldn't help feeling like he was trying to trick me. 

"Your soccer games, of course."

"Huh," he replied. "I thought you'd say both."

Then he continued, "I like both."

I like them both, too. 

Tate and the "Secret Asians"

Clearly, Traci and I need to learn to better enunciate around our children. Everything that comes out of our mouths must sound the same to Tate's ear. Not only does he think secret agents are called secret asians, he also calls:

• A dugout a digout
• An umpire a vampire
• A balcony an valcony
• The Vancouver Whitecaps the Vancouver Hubcaps (he also calls the Cleveland Cavaliers the Cleveland Hubcaps. I think it's because he thinks the Cavs are really the Caps, which is clearly short for hubcaps. Why he even knows anything about hubcaps, I don't know.)
• The Baltimore Ravens the Baltimore Raisins

Words are hard when you're a four-year-old.

Rollercoasters: No Fun at All

Even on a roller coaster, Curtis finds a way to have no fun at all.