Just call me Madam President...

It's no secret that I am involved in the kids' school. I have been room mom for years, have coordinated the FAME program and taught it for the last 6 years, and have strived to be an active, positive presence on campus. While teachers and administration can't and don't play favorites, I've discovered that it is easier to address concerns and issues if my face is not a stranger and if I'm putting forth efforts to better the environment.

The last few years have been challenging for our small school. In addition to the turmoil caused by the state budget cuts to education, we have had a group of parents that has actively worked to sabotage many of the great aspects of our school and the administration that took over 3 years ago. It upsets me to see parents badmouthing staff, complaining about lack of resources, and doing nothing to improve the situation.

Last fall, I volunteered to co-chair a Spring Pledge Drive for the school, with the goal of building bathrooms in the back playground and portables area of the campus. We had hoped to raise $20,000. In January when the state budget cuts to education were announced, our priorities were reevaluated. Art and music were on the chopping block, and suddenly bathrooms took a backseat to programs, and our fundraising goal jumped from $20,000 to $100,000! For a school with only 250 students, this was a huge undertaking.

Over the last 6 weeks, funds have been pouring in. To date, we've raised $60,000, which is nothing short of a miracle.

I decided early on in the year that I wanted to be a part of our Community Club board next year and institute some changes - not just in procedures, but in attitudes as well. When word got out that I was interested, rumors began circulating that I was not a good candidate for president. The reason? I am "too positive, and too supportive of the school". Really? Isn't that the whole purpose of a parent/teacher organization?

When nominations came in in late April, my name was thrown in the hat and up for approval. Surprisingly enough, there were no big objections, and on Tuesday night, I was officially elected as Community Club President for the 2010/2011 school year.

I haven't been able to sleep since, with thoughts circling in my head for what lies ahead. I have an amazing board to share the load, and I am confident that a positive attitude and support for our school will go a long way toward changing the attitudes of the naysayers and making our school a happier, more fun place for all of us!

I've promised Steve that this role will not consume my life or our family. I will delegate. I will uplift those around me. I will not take negative comments personally. And I will keep my positive attitude, even if it kills me!

Going Cold Turkey

About a year and a half ago, a friend of mine told me about facebook. She said it was so great, an easy way to connect with friends and family—both distant and near. I joined, and began to get friend requests from around the globe. Old boyfriends, third cousins twice removed, and close friends all wanted to be my online friend. In no time at all, I had hundreds of friends. I felt so popular!

Then one day, when I opened up facebook, the first image I saw was a sexually explicit one, posted on the page of a so-called "friend" of mine from high school. I was shocked, and immediately "de-friended" him. I didn't like the idea of me unintentionally leaving the page open and my kids being exposed to something that was not appropriate for their eyes (or mine, for that matter!).

As time went on, I found myself checking facebook more and more. Sometimes multiple times an hour, just to see if anyone had posted anything new. Thoughts ran through my head in the form of a "status update"—Alyson Whitaker is . . . making fish tacos for dinner. Alyson Whitaker is . . . driving carpool for the umpteenth time today. Alyson Whitaker is . . . trying to be productive, but can't get this darn website out of her head.

I want to write. Actually, I really want to write. I want to write something good. I don't know what that is yet, but I feel it inside me. To be a good writer, I actually have to write. I can't just think about it. And I was spending more time reading the status updates of people that I may never actually see in person again in my life (nor care to, for that matter), than I was focusing on what's important to me in my life right now.

Sunday night, I thought, "I wonder if I can go a week without checking facebook once?" I decided to give it a try. Yesterday morning, I logged on one last time, and updated my status "Alyson Whitaker is . . . taking the week off facebook. If you really want to know what's on my mind, check out my blog."

I made it through the day yesterday without severe withdrawals. I actually felt liberated. I took the app off my home screen on my iPhone so I wouldn't be tempted when I was sitting at swim practice, or in the carpool lane, or in line at the grocery store.

The time I spent lurking on facebook was wasted and unproductive. I want to spend what little free time I do have doing something that makes me a better person and pushes me towards my ultimate goals in life.

Will I check it again after this week is over? Perhaps, on occasion. But I have a feeling that after going a week without, I'll bid farewell and move on to better things.

Seeing is Believing

This was the view from my car windshield last Tuesday morning. I don't know that I've ever in my life seen a whole rainbow. I had to capture it. I know, not safe, I was driving...but I couldn't pass up the opportunity.

I've always believed in God. It's never really even been a question for me. When people ask me how I know, I never have a concrete answer. I just know. There have been times however, where I've questioned His presence or knowledge of what's happening in my life.

The last few months have been filled with decisions, and I've tried to be prayerful and mindful of the Big Fella as we've made those decisions. Making the move we did truly has felt like the right thing to do for our family, even though we had several stumbles along the way.

Last Tuesday, Steve texted me and asked if I could locate the keys to our trailer. He was heading out of town on Wednesday morning for his annual trek to the desert, and the trailer was part of the plan. Find the keys? Sure, no problem...

Most of our possessions are currently in storage. What's left with us is mostly in boxes in the garage. I spent a few minutes thinking, then looked in the first few boxes that I thought they might be in. No luck. Then, it was time to get the kids, help with homework, go to swim practice, fix dinner, and put the kids to bed.

At about 9:30, I realized I hadn't yet found the keys. Steve would be arriving home shortly from a business trip, and I knew that I was running out of time. I headed back out to the garage, and methodically started peering in boxes. One by one, I opened up boxes, peeked inside, and moved on. As the boxes I had looked through climbed, and the ones remaining dwindled, I began to feel panic. I couldn't even remember putting the keys in a box. Let alone, remember which box they were in.

My panic grew, and I was on the verge of breakdown. Not just because I couldn't find the keys, but just feeling the stress of the past few months cresting inside me. I was done living out of boxes. I was done with the uncertainties that have circled around us the past few weeks. I was just DONE.

With tears welling up in my eyes, I asked for help. Not an "on my knees with full intent" sort of prayer . . . rather one of desperation saying "I need YOUR HELP!"

Not more than a minute later, while still fighting panic and wiping the tears that continued to form, I went to a box. It was a box I had already looked in more than once. It was the bottom box in a stack on top of the refrigerator. I pulled it down and opened it up. I pulled out a bag of light bulbs, some cleaning supplies, and other odds and ends of miscellaneous stuff. I kept going, until I reached the bottom of the box. And there, at the very bottom, in a ziploc bag, were the keys.

I have absolutely no memory of putting the keys in that bag, or putting them in that box. There were other boxes that made far more sense—like the one with our key holder in it, for example.

At any rate, I had found the keys. Steve walked in the door moments later, having absolutely no idea the panic that I had felt just minutes before. I calmly handed him the keys, and said "God answers prayers. That's all I have to say."

This experience has stuck with me all week. I can't stop telling people about it. It's a little piece of proof to me that God is real, and that he cares about each one of us. Whether we're struggling with life-altering decisions, or just trying to find some d*** keys, all we have to do is ask.

7 Things I learned this week

The last two weeks have been spent largely in the car. It's my second home, and I think I spend more time driving than I do sleeping. It takes 20 minutes to get to school in morning traffic, and then the kids' activities are all over Fremont. We are in the process of transitioning to our new town, slowly but surely.

Tuesday was rainy. Like "need an ark" downpour rain. All three kids were set to be in school, and I had a lot to accomplish in the hours by myself. We left the house at 7:55 in order to get Jack & Olivia to school, and then Grant to preschool, on time. The freeway wasn't moving, so I took the back roads. It took forever to go the 6+ miles to Sunol. We made it just as the 8:30 bell was ringing, and the kids dashed out of the car.

Since the freeway wasn't moving, I then took the back roads to get Grant to preschool. Another 25 minutes in the car. As I pulled into the parking lot, I heard a sound from the backseat that could only mean one thing. . . Grant was throwing up. I quick grabbed an empty grocery bag and managed to get it in his hands, but not before the damage was done. We proceeded to turn around and head another 35 minutes back home, in traffic, in the rain, with a car that smelled of barf. We arrived safely home, I got him cleaned up, and cozy in my bed watching a movie (surrounded by towels, just in case...). I got to work on laundry, cleaning out the car, and tackling my mountain of "to-dos". By mid-morning, I reached the conclusion that he had been carsick - he didn't throw up again, and was back to himself. From now on, there will always be a plastic bag within reach.

On Wednesday after school, the kids had piano lessons and gymnastics, in Fremont. When we loaded up in the morning, I reminded Olivia to get her piano bag and put it in the car, so we wouldn't have to go home first. She forgot. So after school, we drove back home. She decided to sharpen some pencils while she was in the house, so she could work on her homework. I went to get the mail. We got back in the car, drove the 25 minutes to Fremont, and as we got off the freeway, Olivia said "Oh shoot. I forgot my piano bag." WHAT????? That's what we drove home for in the first place!!!!! I tried to keep my cool, because I could hear in her voice that she knew she'd messed up. I called her piano teacher, who said that they could work on other stuff, and not to worry about the bag.

The events of the week have made me stop and reflect on many things.

1. Making a plan only works some of the time. I have to be more flexible.
2. I need to double check on what I ask the kids to do. At least for now, they need extra reminders.
3. I need to better stock my car for emergencies. Whether it's an extra bottle of water (or an empty one to serve as a potty in a pinch), snacks, towels for cleaning up, or a dry set of clothes, I am sorely under-equipped for the day to day needs that pop up.
4. I should keep reading material (preferably my scriptures...I need all the spiritual help I can get these days!) in my car. There are days when I have 15 or 30 minute to sit and wait somewhere, and I should do something more productive then lurk on Facebook or play Scrabble on my iPhone. Although that does provide some much needed stress relief on some days!
5. I will be so appreciative when we finally land in our new house in a few more weeks. Much closer to school and other activities, I won't be driving nearly as much. And if we forget the piano bag, it won't be an hour round trip to get it. Or forget it again.
6. I need to update the music in my car. I've listened to School House Rock so many times I can sing every song by heart. "Conjunction, Junction...what's your function?" I have a couple of custom playlist cds, but again, I've listened to them so many times I could sing them in my sleep. I hate the commercials on the radio. For Mother's Day, I'm asking for an iPod connection for my car stereo. Then we can rock out for days without hearing the same song twice.
7. This craziness won't last forever. I know people who can't understand why I do all that I do with my kids. They think I'm crazy. But I see the skills, talents, and confidence that is being built and nourished in them, and I know that it is time worth spent.

Stay tuned for what I learn next week!

Saying Goodbye

Last weekend, we bid farewell to our home of the last 6+ years. Selling our house was a lengthy process, filled with ups, downs, and in betweens.

There were times when we (or at least I) questioned our decision and had second thoughts.

We weren't able to find a home to buy in time, so we were forced into an interim place. Fortunately, the Bishop of the ward we were hoping to move into got wind of our situation (thanks Wanda!), and just happened to have a rental property that was vacating right when we needed to move in. He was willing to go month to month on the lease, and we were thrilled to have a roof over our head!

Going from a 3,000 sf house into an 1,800 sf condo meant that not all our stuff could come with us. We put the majority in storage, keeping just the necessities with us.

This is what pretty much every room of our house looked like for the last month!

Then moving day came.


As I watched the boxes leave, the trucks fill up, and the house empty, I was a bit surprised at the lack of devastation I felt.

Once the house was empty, and cleaned from top to bottom, we went back in to say goodbye.

I will miss the boys' Superhero room...

think I'm gonna have to recreate that one in our new house...

I was ready to be done with our UPS Brown bedroom...

time for something lighter and brighter!

Olivia has been begging for a more "grown up" room for over a year now.

Guess she'll be getting her wish...

I'll miss my "project room" most of all.

Six weekend's worth of Steve's blood, sweat, and tears

(not to mention a whole lot of love...)

went into building that room for me.

I think I spent the most time in the kitchen, and enjoyed almost every minute of it!

We spent hundreds of hours in the family room, watching movies, playing games, doing "Dance Pad", and wrestling around in a space that wasn't quite big enough!

As we walked from room to room that last time in the empty house, I reflected on the happy times we had there, but didn't feel sadness in leaving. Perhaps it's because at 37 1/2, I'm finally gaining control over my emotions. Perhaps it's because this move is the right thing for our family right now. Perhaps it was the realization that without our stuff and the liveliness of our family, the house was just an empty box...it's what lives inside that makes it home. Whatever the reason, as we drove away the final time, I didn't even look back. Only forward.

A goose egg for Easter...and the day I learned to watch my mouth!

Grant has been a little wild man since birth. He has no fear, and tackles life full speed ahead.

Easter morning, we took the kids to the park to run off a little steam and excess energy before the family all came to Steve's mom's house for the holiday celebration. While we were at the park, Grant jumped off the highest platforms, biggest slides, and twisty ladders. I looked at Steve and said "How long until we're in the ER with that kid?"

I got my answer less than 2 hours later. He and Jack were wrestling on the floor, Grant flipped over and whacked his head on a 35 lb. metal dumbbell. I rushed over and grabbed him and saw there was blood everywhere. Not a pretty sight.



Steve and I drove him to St. Joseph's Hospital in Orange. They called us back pretty quickly, took a look, and put some numbing gel on his forehead.



Grant was pretty comfy on the bed, and was entertained watching Phinneus & Ferb on Disney Channel.

He doesn't look too miserable, does he?

The doc opted to use Dermabond over stitches.


While his scar may be a little bigger than with stitches, we didn't have to restrain him in a papoose in order to close up the wound. A fair trade-off I think.

We arrived home in time for a yummy Easter dinner, and delightful afternoon together with family. The Easter Bunny even made an appearance.


The kids had a ball hanging out with their big "cousies", and a boyfriend even joined the group this year. A sign that the big girls are growing up indeed...

By the time evening rolled around, both Jack and Grant were beat, and crashed out on the couch.


The wound didn't slow Grant down a bit. And I think I learned my lesson about speaking my thoughts out loud.

Moving On...

Well, it's official. As of today, we are no longer homeowners! It's been a long and stressful 2+ months coming, but the end is drawing near!

The new owners of our home have given us 30 days rent-back. We have yet to find a home to purchase, but have found a little townhouse to rent in the meantime. Most of our stuff will go into storage, and we'll be living lean for a few months.

The packing is underway, the purging of unused, unwanted, or unnecessary stuff has begun. I have a hard time believing that we really need everything in this house. It's amazing how much cr** one family of 5 can accumulate!

I'll try and keep the blog updated as the process continues and evolves, and am hopeful that by the end of the year, all this stress, confusion, and chaos will be a distant memory...