Graduation Day

Cue the Chris Isaak music. No wait, on second thought, don't. That dude is Deee-Pressing.

This past Wednesday, Jack graduated from Preschool. I've always pretty much made fun of this particular "rite of passage". But now that Jack's reached it, I love it! He was so proud of himself, and how great is it to have your first foray into the world of education end so incredibly? Mum attended the big day, Mike took the day off work, Miss Mandy came with Cregan and Millie in tow.

Jack, by virtue of our last name, got to lead the "procession" -- at least at first.


Their teacher led them through the Y, where all the staff and people working out applauded the little scholars.

Then came the "ceremony", complete with singing and diploma hand outs! And a yearbook!! And then....ribs and cake!!!

And then....ice cream!! That last part courtesy of Nanny, or took us Uptown for the yummiest ice cream of all.

Is it any wonder, that after all that studying and the stress of final exams, this is where my two boys ended up that afternoon??

Our House...is a very very very fine house

Ode to those of you who remember the Eighties like I do. Giles and I used to sing that song from the back of our Suburban, over and over again. How it must have driven everyone else absolutely bonkers!!

Mike and I are feeling pretty happy with our house, as we do each spring. It's just so dang pretty, with the trees leafing out again, the grass turning green, our flowers blooming. These pictures were intended to show the addition of our gorgeous hanging baskets (thanks Mum!), though you can't really see them. Still, home sweet home it is.

Mostly because of THIS little addition.

He was SO proud to be in the pictures and wanted to make sure (by asking me over and over again) that he was going to get posted on the blog. Love you Jackrack!

Mmmmm. Big drink.

Ok, so we all know there's something fairly wrong with me, and let me just prove it by telling you about one of my great joys in life. It is, wait for it....great big cups of soda. The kind you get from the gas station. Self serve, just the right amount of ice, big long straw. Mmmmm. Who knows why! Maybe it's because my mum would never let us have Big Gulps when we were kids. Maybe there's some deep psychological thing about waiting to drink deeply from the well of life (yeah, I wish it were something impressive and deep like that!) All I know it that it started the summer Jack was born, in Texas. Right around teh corner from us there was a Sonic, and the other great joy in my life (the first and foremost being Jack, of course) was to drive through and get a diet Cherry Limeade. Ahhhh. Icy, tangy, delicious. No calories!! 89 cents or something. The perfect indulgence! And the love has been with me ever since. I get the same gleam in my eye, I think, as I approach the self-serve station at Speedway as a heroin addict does approaching his stash. It's really not normal.

This weekend begins a new chapter in the love story. Why? Because now I have a PERMANENT plastic cup from Speedway. Complete with even cheaper refills! Ah, the joys of life. This thing is huge, insulated, holds the promise of sodas to come, even when simply filled with tap water from my kitchen. As I sit here, about to type up the latest installment of the blog, sweating through the first humid night of the year, I hear it beckoning to me from beside the sink in the kitchen.

Reality Check

About a week ago, I found out that a dear friend of mine, also infertile, just adopted a baby girl a few months ago, is pregnant. Out of the blue, astoundingly, pregnant. It's a miracle. And somewhere in my brain, I realize it's a miracle, and it's amazing, and I'm happy for my friend, and awestruck to see a miracle happening in front of me. But that's way way back in my brain. At the forefront of my brain is a screaming crazy person. This person is not a stranger, I'm afriad to say. I've spent a lot of time with her in the past. I thought I had put her to rest. Or maybe I thought she was better now, healed. But nope, here she comes again, on another pass. She's quite annoying, really, all absorbed in her own issues and she's BORING, always complaining about the same things. But I seem to be unable to shut her up, or shut her out, or shut her down. And this is a sampling of what she says to me: What's wrong with you, that you're the only one in the world that can't manage to have a baby? What's up with your stupid body, then, eh?? See, I told you you were worthless! See, if you only (insert pretty much any verb here: prayed more, read your scriptures more, had more faith, were a better person, dieted more, didn't diet as much, blah blah blah) you might have a baby, too. You'll NEVER have another baby, ha ha ha ha haaa. She's a pleasant person, this crazy screamer. You can see why I was pretty happy to think I'd put her away for good.

So here she was, tearing around my head again last Sunday evening. I took myself off to bed and had a good cry. I thought about praying, but in these moments, often it seems so futile. I'm pretty sure from 10 years experience that God is not simply going to *poof* me pregnant because I ask him to. Not that he can't, mind you, because I believe he can....I just don't think he generally works that way. And since at moments like this, the only solution seems to either *poof* be pregnant or *poof* get to adopt again, praying seems pointless. So I had myself a good cry, which was heading downhill pretty fast, as these types of cries tend to do, when I at least had the thought to say, please help me, Heavenly Father. And into my head popped a vivid image of the heartbreak of people all over China right now, who have lost parents, siblings, children, whole families. It wasn't a snarky response, mind you. I didn't get the feeling Heavenly Father was unsympathetic to my hurt. I did, however, get the very strong impression he was giving me a reality check. Does my situation stink? Yes, it does. But it's also extremely blessed and privileged. So have a cry and get on with it, I think he was telling me.

Father Son Campout

Our area wards had a father-son campout to commemorate the restoration of the Priesthood. Jack and Mike headed off into the woods for the evening. Now, I love camping, but I have to say I was not too sad to be left home on this one, in my nice comfy bed. (although said nice comfy bed ended up being taken over by Mandy and Colin after we spent too much time watching LOST, but that's another story). I was particularly happy to have been left home when I saw they overnight guest they had lodging in the tent with them.....

Jack had a wonderful time with friends Kaleb (he of the no hair) and Corey (whom he inaugurated into the joys of peeing behind a tree.)


Jack reported that his favorite part of the trip was getting to poke sticks into the fire. He's one of us, folks!!!

Happy Mother's Day

To Jack, every celebration requires a cake. So he was a bit perturbed, apparently, when Mother's Day came around and there was no cake for me. So as I showered, he came up with this idea -- an orange, complete with candle, and Happy Mother's Day to You song. Luckily, he and Daddy had also shopped for a Mother's Day outfit for me, so I did eventually get dressed!!


I spent many many years avoiding church on Mother's Day. Our church makes a big big deal out of Mother's Day, as is only right and proper. But when it served as a reminder a) that I STILL was not a mother for another year and b) that I was seemingly the only one in the universe being denied this blessing that was "every woman's crowning glory", well, it lost some of its shine. A bigger person would have used the time to honor her own mother, or the women around her who served as mothers to her, but I am not a bigger person. I avoided the whole situation and nursed my wounded heart at home.

Now, of course, that's (mostly) overwith. It still hurts to be waiting to increase our family. It still hurts a little to feel on the outside of the "miracle of life" -- though with the help of dear friends who share honest details about the realities of pregnancy and childbirth, I'm feeling better about that all the time. There are little twinges of sadness, but those twinges are more than offset by the presence of my marvelous little boy. I am a mother now. It is the greatest, most incredible, all-encompassing, surpassing joy of my life. How do you put into words what it means to be a mother. Here is this perfect little being that you get to love and adore and watch over, mold, help grow and explore, shape, be with, play with, teach, share with. Here is a brand new human being who shows you the world anew, reminds you of things you have forgotten, tunes you in to things you've overlooked. Here's someone to whom, for at least a little while, you are indispensable. Who will always be indispensible to you. For whom you would do anything. Someone who looks to you for comfort, for answers, for strength, for confidence.

I adore being a mother. It is my greatest blessing and most enduring joy.

Mother's stand in the background. We let our children go out into the world, to school, to playdates, to sports teams and careers. We stand back and watch and bask in their successes. There is someone else in the background of our lives. Someone to whom we owe all the happiness we experience as a family. That person is Jack's birthmom. The beautiful, strong, courageous and faithful woman with whom God entrusted Jack for his first nine months. Hers was the incredibly difficult task of bringing him into this world and bringing him to us; ours has been the joyful, wonderful opportunity to love and to raise him. Anything and everything I could think or write about her falls short of the mark, turns trite and cliche. So I'll just say, Happy Mother's Day, Candice. Thank you for making all my dreams come true.

Continuing to try out the bunk bed

Jack's still enamored of his bunk bed. For teh first month or so, he always slept up top. Then he decided to try the bottom bunk. Then he made Nanny sleep in the bottom bunk while he slept up top. Then, for some reason the other night, he told Daddy he was going to try UNDER the bottom bunk. And so he did....

Ordered Art

Jack's shell creation...



Even when Jack was a toddler, he really liked to align things. Never in a straight line, at least, not ONLY a straight line. He'd make elaborate mosaics of his hotwheels. Now, before bed, he'll often arrange his bedtime toys and stuffed animals just so. These shells are just the latest outlet. They are from our trip to the beach last summer, and among Jack's most prized possessions. Perhaps I may be biased, but I think there's something really beautiful about the was he's arranged them. Perhaps we weren't so far off naming him after Jackson Pollack. (Though I have to put in my two cents, it was also after Stonewall Jackson....who was a bit off the wall, which fits our little man just fine, also.)

Sunday Tradition

One of the greatest things about Mike (you know, right up there with he loves me even though I'm, well, me, and he takes Jack on trips round Cleveland while I visit my Mum in hospital) is that he loves to bake. And he's really good at it! So for a while now he's had a tradition to bake something yummy on Sunday. (One of many reasons to look forward to the Sabbath!) Now, he's starting to pass on his baking talents to Jack...


So far, Jack's favorite thing to do is play with the flour. And eat the chocolate chips!

Our new obsession...

Jack has entered the world of webkinz. A friend's aunt gave him this bear (name: Shelby-bear) and Jack LOVES her. He insisted I push her in the swing as well as him. Loves to sleep with her, take her everywhere, feed her online.

****UPDATE**** Jack still appreciates Shelby-bear, and likes doing some things with her online. Mostly, going on Gem Hunts and doing the Polar Plunge game. The person who's really obsessed....me. It's true! I love to check in with Shelby-bear, see her sleeping soundly in her little bed, feed her nutritious food, play the games to make lots of money for her every need. It's a little worrying, really. I can only assume it all has to do with waiting for Jack's baby brother or sister?? Hopefully, it's just an excess of maternal gooeyness seeking an outlet and I'm not actually in the process of turning into one of those old ladies with 67 cats. Well, at least if I AM turning into crazy-cat-lady, they are online cats and my house won't actually SMELL like 67 cats???

Bring April Flowers...

Jack helped me arrange our new flowers. Yeah -- I love spring!! How can you help but be in a good mood! Jack is doing a good job of helping me tend our new blooms -- we'll see if he turns out to be a great gardener like his Grandpa or loses interest after a few days like his Momma.

April Showers.....

Jack loves his umbrella. We are doing our best to instill in him the good Visick tradition of not being afraid of a little rain. Rain! Heck! We love rain!!

Down on the Farm

On the way back from Uncle Jeff's, we dropped in on Nanny and Docdoc on the "farm". Jack and Docdoc (my stepdad) have always had an incredible connection. Jack and I first visited when Jack was about 3 months old (Mum started chemo and radiation the day Jack was born, so she'd been unable to visit, and we'd been a little busy ourselves!) From the moment Docdoc first picked him up, and ever since, Jack would be (is) quiet and calm in his arms. They sort of melded together and now they sort of pal around in this lovely quiet way. I snapped this picture of them off swinging together. Docdoc will often take Jack out to the barn to show him the mower (always a hit) or they'll wander the field a bit. Like old friends.

A bit later we all headed out on an adventure to the "caravan". My grandparents in England had some land where we'd have bonfire parties, and there was always a caravan on it, that smelled like old caravans do. So a trip to Nanny's caravan is in order. It's out by the pond, and Jack informed us of the danger of the sharks in the pond, who apparently can sometimes come out in search of lunch. We took shelter in the caravan but were soon set upon by what we thought was a large, hungry shark. Luckily it turned out to be a large, hungry docdoc. We "had tea" (the English kind, as in, a meal, and an imaginary one at that!), Jack took some memento photographs, and we headed in.

The problem with being an only child with a very chatty mother and grandmother is that things get boring. Mum and I were holding forth on another of our lengthy topics about something or other, when I happened to glance out the window and see this....

It's Jack, dragging python out of the basement and up to the kitchen, where we are. Python was knitted by Mum one winter, about 8 or so years ago. Why, one might ask? I think, perhaps, because she was bored. And really only knows how to knit a cylinder. She divised a contest prior to Christmas where we all had to guess how long the python would be by Christmas holidays. (I won, I might add,a t something like 39 and 1/2 feet!!) She also had an image in her head of her grandchildren playing with it one day, and finding it in different places when they came to visit. So the fact that we saw this vision played out was very sweet. The fact that Jack just went off and found python and then invented some reason to drag him out of hiding was even sweeter. And what really brought a tear to my eye is this : I remember that winter of the python vividly. We had been trying to have kids for years already. We'd had a miscarriage earlier that year and were about to find out that our third procedure since then had failed, too. I remember that winter feeling like I would never be a mother, it would never be MY children that would play with python. And here he is, my beautiful, miraculous little boy, here and so much more marvelous than I ever could have imagined, the physical realization of all that hope and faith, the repudiation of the fear and pain that told me to stop, to give up, that hope was futile. Here he is in all his marvelousness, and he's dragging that python that seemed to taunt me with the futility of all I was striving and dreaming for. There's a lesson in there somewhere, but it's for someone more profound and more eloquent than me to describe it. All I know it that it was breathtaking.

Sam's First Communion, Taylor's Sixth Birthday

Mid April took us down to Uncle Jeff's house for a joint celebration of Taylor's birthday and Sam's first communion. The former was a big hit, as it involved tons of playtime for the cousins, a bonfire with s'mores AND a pinata. Notice the crazed gleam in the kids eye in the cousin shot. Believe it or not, they all really did sleep later that night.

Next day it was time for us all to gussy up and head to the First Communion. Jack was really happy to be sitting in a pew next to his cousin Zoe. Unlike last time we were in a Catholic church, he did not spend 20 minutes staring straight at the crucifix. (It was just after Easter, and we'd talked a lot about the crucifixion, but I think maybe there's something about a life-sized, fairly realistic version that brought it home in a different way.) He DID however, head up to the altar for communion. In our church, everybody does take the sacrament, and he's fairly well trained to follow in a line, so when the rest of our family headed up to the altar, so did Jack. The priest looked at him, made the sign of the cross, and sent him on his way. He got back to me in the pew and looked a little disappointed. I asked him if he thought he was going to get the bread and water, and he said Yeah, with more than a little miff in his voice. I think he thought the priest was just being selfish or something!

A Boy and His Dog

Shelby is the most amazing pup ever in the history of the world. She was rescued, as a pup, from a cemetary on the coldest day in February, with her litter mates. Taken to a beautiful farm/puppy sanctuary in Southern Ohio. We came along a few weeks later and it was love at first sight. For her, anyway. Or should I say, love at first nibble. Jack had a gummi bear stuck to his bum and ALL the doggies fell in love with him. But only Shelby stayed after the gummi bear was gone. She followed that little boy all over everywhere and he thought she was the best thing since , well, gummi bears. She was a scruffy gangly thing, and I had gone there with a chocolate lab puppy in mind. But Shelby is no dummy -- once she had Jack enthralled, she zeroed in on the true softie. She climbed into Mike's lap and fell asleep. Try as I might to get Mike interested in the rolly polly little chocolate lab, he'd just shrug his shoulders and say, I can't move, she's asleep. And so home she came with us. We couldn't decide on a name, so we enlisted our nieces. They came up with Shelby, and it stuck. Sounded a bit southern, which we liked. And I've always liked the writer/historian Shelby Foote, and Shelby had the biggest feet around. Felt like we would NEVER get her potty trained. I cursed the day we met many a time, as she just couldn't get it out of her head that the appropriate place to poo was the basement. Time passed and we got over that hurdle. We took her to visit my mom on the "farm" and she loved it -- but came in limping. We man-handled the poor thing trying to find a break, or a cut, or a bite. She never made a sound, would only sometimes wince and pull slightly away. This is where her true nature came through. Turns out she had dislocated her hip! And all that time we were moving her leg around trying to find the issue -- must have hurt like anything. We found a great vet and a great charity that helped us put her back together and she embarked on life again. She's had a lucky life, and we feel really lucky to have her. She's one in a million. She and Jack are growing up together (she's part lab, so her growing up may take longer than his!) and they are the best playmates ever. She's his forver sidekick -- Army dog, Batdog, Spiderdog. He insists on her being in his room when he goes to sleep. He pets her, washes her, sprays her with water, enlists her in any and every scheme and she always goes along willingly -- though sometimes I'll catch her looking at me and rolling her eyes.


Forgive my ode to my dog -- but those of you who are dog people will know what I mean -- there's just something about a dog. And there's something even better about a boy and his dog.

Operation Nanny Uplift

My Mum's spent an inordinate amount of time in the Cleveland Clinic this spring. She went in on Feb 28th to have a bowel resection (yum!), which initially went really well. Then she managed to get some sort of infection which boiled up (literally, again, YUM!) every week or so and caused her to hurry herself BACK to the Cleveland Clinic. We all got pretty used to the lovely drive to Cleveland, and enjoyed marking the increasing signs of spring everytime we went. The first trip, in February, was during a driving snow storm. The latest (and hopefully last) gave us a chance to enjoy the blooms and blossoms of Spring as we drove through Amish country. Quite nice of the old girl to give us a chance to get out and about, but we're quite hoping she'll STOP giving us excuses to gallavant around the countryside now, too.

Much of the time I got to do the drive myself while Mike and Jack stayed home. Even the Cleveland Clinic with its miles of tunnels and skywalks and the thrill of a Nanny attached to various bits of tubing isn't enough to make a 5 year old think much of a hospital -- not for long, anyway. But Jack loves his Nanny, and there's no medicine in the world like a visit from a grandson, so a few times our whole family made the trek. Nanny and Jack both lit up when they saw each other. Jack had a quite heart-racing search for the "monster" making the noise behind the curtain (turned out to be Nanny's room-mate snoring.) Jack became quite advanced at operating the elevators (it's a hobby.) And we managed to get infected by zombies in the basement (well, not really, but if you'd been there you'd have understood. If there's a place more likely to house zombies than the basement of the Cleveland CLinic, I don't know what it could be. Nanny and I were trying not to let on how creepy it was, but neither one of us fancied getting out of the lift. If ever called on to prove a moment of good-momhood, I will recount the fact that I did get out of the lift to retrieve Jack from the hallway, and WOULD have sacrificed myself to the zombies had they shown up. Luckily for me, they did not!)

After a bit of playing around which included accidentally taking Mum to the palliative care ward (whoops!!), and gave me to opportunity to explain in detail to Jack exactly why we do not run or yell in the palliative care wing, Mike (who, as usual, deserves Dad of the Millenium status) took Jack off to enjoy a day around Cleveland while Mum and I nattered away about whatever it is that came to mind. Highlights of their day include finding a big ship down on the docks, chasing around outside the Rock n' Roll Hall of Fame and (possibly the biggest highlight in Jack's mind) sliding down a slide that had a large muddy puddle at the end and having the bums to show for it.

Ahhh, yes, almost forgot. Jack really loves to take pictures. He particularly likes it if you pretend to be dead or make a funny face or what have you. So, as Daddy took out the camera to show Nanny what the two of them had been doing all day, Jack asked to take pictures. Here are the lovely one he took of Nanny, and then mine. No, wait, I mean, the zombie.

Jack, being both a polite and an honest young man, when he saw me looking at this photo today, just laughed a tiny bit under his breath. Do you know who that is, I asked. Yes, it's you, he said, completely deadpan, as if there were nothing in the least bit wrong with the photo. Do you like it, I said. Oh, yes, he said. Then he paused a moment, Kinda creepy, actually, he said. Gotta love that kid!!

Ahhhh....spring

Spring Madness


I remember when I was riding horses, the spring weather would invariably spur them to kick up their heels and get a little crazy. Good naturedly crazy. They'd be extra playful, have more energy, pal around in the pasture together. There just seemed to be an energy that the warming temperatures and lengthening sun would bring. Turns out it has the same effect on little boys. Jack's friend Cregan and Clay popped round for a bit today, and begged for the sprinkler. We (more sane) adults thought it was a bit cold, but really, how can you turn down that kind of enthusiasm. Jack, who absolutely ADORES being the in water when it's his idea, and who will spend hours in the bath splashing around, for some reason gets insensed when he gets sprayed with water when it's NOT his idea. Thus, the first turn of the sprinkler brought shrieks, and not happy ones, tears and a bit of a tantrum. His two friends looked at him like he was crazy, shrugged their shoulders, and got on with the fun. Luckily, peer pressure works on the side of good as well as evil, and Jack soon gave up the whining for the fun of running through the sprinkler. When all three were shivering and blue-lipped, though they swore they were NOT cold, we sent them inside. It took them about 3.4 seconds to realize the bedroom window was open and poke their heads out to see what the parents were doing. And about a nanosecond more to start hamming it up for the camera. Notice who is leaning out and taking up most of the shot!