Our sweet Buck is a child who has always loved his birthday. Not the gifts, so much, or what we do, but rather just the fact that this one day of the year belongs to him. Knowing how much "his" day means to him, we've always tried to make it special. 

Along with loving his day, he loves to be surprised on his day. This year, for his birthday, he really wanted to go see the Harlem Globetrotters, who were going to be in town March 5th and 6th. He made this request back before Christmas, when he first saw that they would be here around his birthday.  

We purchased the tickets about a month before his birthday, but we kept it a secret.  As his day approached, we pretended that we had completely forgotten. "We're so sorry, but we've been running crazy lately and forgot to get the tickets. We're so sorry," we told him.

He hung his head, only briefly, before forgiving us as only he can. "It's okay. They'll come to town another time. Maybe we can go next year."

We felt a little bad letting him down, but knew that it would make the surprise even better in the end.  Our tickets were for Friday night, the only night this past week that we had no other obligations - very rare for us lately. We picked Audra up from her basketball practice and told the kids we were taking them out to dinner. After dinner, as we parked and walked towards the arena, the kids wondered where we were headed. We stopped and handed Buck an envelope containing the Globetrotter tickets.  He opened it and here's what it looked like:

Pure joy! Buck read the ticket information and literally jumped into his dad's arms. We did it - a complete surprise and a very happy 10 year old boy.  Little Colton was completely caught off guard (notice his face in the first photo) and kept asking, "What does this mean? What are the Harlem Globetrotters and what state are they from?"  

Once inside the arena, sitting in our very excellent seats, the kids were thrilled.  Buck, Colton, Sierra and Audra were thoroughly entertained.  It was a fun night, a great memory for the kids and a wonderful surprise for a very special boy!

Happy double-digit birthday, Buck!

Having lived in AZ for most of my life, she was surprised that I had not heard of the Blazin' M.  After we found the website, I guess I was a little surprised myself. We hit the road on Saturday for a 90 mile trip north to Cottonwood, home of the Blazin' M Ranch.  As excited and focused as Grandma Danna was on going, our four kids were in the most opposite camp. "Why do we have to go the Blazin' M? Why doesn't Grandma just take Grandpa and tell us how it is?" They protested.  

"Grandma and Grandpa came a long way to visit and this is important to them, so we need to support them and enjoy spending time with them, building some new memories. I'm sure it will be fun." I encouraged. Still, their faces were glum.

The ride north was uneventful, except for the driving rain that pelted us as we traveled. After sitting outside all morning in forty degree, rainy weather while watching Colton's soccer game, I was praying that our evening would be dry. Sure enough, God graced us with lovely weather as we entered the Blazin' M.

Immediately, we saw the Olde Tyme Photoworks studio and all of a sudden I couldn't wait to go in and check it out. Entering the quaint corner room, we were greeted with the musty aroma of old clothes and soggy patrons. There was a large group just getting settled in to be photographed, each looking like they stepped off the plains of the old, rugged west. My heart pounded with excitement. We need a new family portrait. Won't this be fun!

Looking over at my husband, I saw the same look on his face and we both agreed, family photo time! The kids took a little time sizing up the situation and they each attempted to protest. "I'm not wearing clothes that other people have worn, without washing them first," our sweet, germaphobe, Audra, exclaimed.

Colton tugged relentlessly on my sleeve, begging me to leave. "Let's just go, mom. They haven't seen us yet, just turn and go." He protested.

"Honey, this will be so much fun. Your dad and I have already decided we are going to have the family picture taken," I explained to Colton.

"If you make us do it, then you will be the worstest mom ever," he cried, while I tried not to giggle at his eight year-old desperation. Bending down and holding him close, I reminded him that we would never do anything that wasn't good and this was going to be fun. He settled in and quietly watched the family before us.

"Can I hold a gun?" Buck asked. 

"Sure, you can, " his dad promised, hoping to hold a gun himself.

Finally, it was our turn. The lady picked a costume for each of us and we took turns in the small dressing room, emerging as if we were filming Bonanza.  It was great! Each time the dressing room curtain opened, everyone outside would cheer for the old-fashioned version of the family member who emerged. In the end, even the people waiting after us were cheering.

Grandma Danna and Grandpa Marvin were great sports and jumped in with us for some old-fashioned fun.  The kids quickly forgot their reservations and each had a giant smile pasted to their face. The photographer had us look serious and then she had us smile. We looked at each other and we all looked away. Us girls held parasols and fans while the boys held guns and rifles. Magically, we were transported to a different time and it felt simple, it felt good.

We left the Olde Tyme Photoworks with attitudes that were completely changed and excitedly headed over to the barn for our chuck wagon dinner show. It was a lovely evening filled with experiences and memories that none of us will forget. The kids loved the Ghost Riders In The Sky song, with the "ghost rider" racing in fast circles around the barn, under lightning.  The boys also loved Otis, the funny man of the show. 

Walking in, Grandma Danna definitely had the biggest smile. Walking out, we all had one just as big.  It was a great teachable moment for the kids, about going into new adventures with a good attitude.  Each one of them agreed. We also learned that with the right attitude, happiness is contagious!

The day began, as most Saturday's do, with our son's basketball game followed by our other son's soccer game. With the impending three day weekend, my husband could not wait to hit the road and head north, for some R and R at the cabin. He left this afternoon, a huge smile across his face, with our three oldest kids. I stayed behind to help our youngest son prepare for his first ever sleep-over party. We packed all of his little necessities into his backpack and off he went, a huge smile across his face. 

Now, I'm home alone, a fish out of water, a clock with no hands, a mom with no kids. I can't remember the last time I've had no one to feed, no one to bathe and no one to remind about picking up their room. It was Wade's idea. He thought it would be a nice break for me and I do appreciate his willingness to take all the kids, so I could have a night off. Still, the silence is new.

The departure of responsibility for others left me with a blank canvas of possibilities. I spent the first two hours of alone time, sitting on my computer taking an on-line coaching course. I was a little disappointed that when I logged out for a much-needed break, it stated that I had completed only 24% of the course. With that, I decided it was a great time to wash some of the bedding in the house.  The kids are gone and the beds are empty, so I got stripping and started washing.

Then, I decided to enter one of our pets in a local news station's "Cutest Pet Contest". I submitted the photo and there's simply no doubt that Sierra's hairless cat, Elmo, is the cutest pet! I'm counting on a victory.

Next, it was shower time.  This was a turning point in my evening really, as I originally thought I might just sleep in my clothes. Colton left for his sleep-over about four hours ago and he's called as many times. Although my gut tells me that he's not going to be the least bit homesick, the mom in me feels the need to be ready for the midnight pick-up. Colton is actually our most independent child and quite often I remind my husband that he really doesn't need us. He has unusual confidence and self-esteem, a child who is not afraid to step out and take on the world. The only thing holding him back from pure independence is his inability to operate a motor vehicle. It's good to be needed.

After my most recent phone conversation with Colton, I decided he was not going to need me and I wouldn't need to sleep in my clothes after all. Lots of friends and family (you know who you are) like to tease me about my affinity for getting jammied-up as early as possible each evening. With no one here to harass me, I'm happy as a clam typing away completely cozy and comfortable, in my warm winter jammies.  

With the clock ticking on my evening alone, I gave some thought to finishing a project I started several weeks ago - cleaning out our master closet - but decided I deserved a night off. So what if we need to long-jump over my piles in the closet entry?  It's good exercise.  

I had what I thought was a really good book to read, but as I sat down with it the other day I ran into some unnecessary and horribly inappropriate language.  That did it for me, I was done.  I really think that books need to come with their own content labels. Everyone in the bookstore raved about this guy and his witty style.  Yes, I loved his style. I just couldn't stand his lack of character.  

I do have a stack of notes to write and I never made it to the gym today, but the sound of silence is making me sleepy. It's time to tuck the phone under my pillow, just in case Colton decides he needs a ride home. After all, he can't drive.

Today was a big day for our family and one that comes but once a year - piano recital day. I wish I could say that our kids love playing the piano, but alas, I can not tell a lie. Piano is one of those things, like making their beds, that we require them to do. It definitely falls into the "chore" category, but I'm confidant and hopeful that someday they will thank us for the "chore" of making them play. 

We've been blessed with a wonderful piano teacher, a strong Christian lady with extremely high standards and expectations, who is both kind and bluntly honest in her feedback.  She comes to our home every week and gives each of our kids a private, 30 minute lesson, expecting that they will practice every day until she comes again. To entice them to practice every day, she gives them stickers for the times they play each piece perfectly and for every piece they memorize.  Then, on recital day, she passes out elaborate trophies to those individual kids who excel in their practice by memorizing and playing with perfection. The ones with the most stickers win. Each year, the Pettit kids leave empty handed. Well, that's not totally true. Their teacher has consolation medals, which she passes out to all the kids who won't be getting a trophy. The slackers.

This year, as we were racing to the recital after church, Colton kept saying, "I really want to get a trophy this time." Realizing that this was a teachable moment, I patiently reminded him that the kids who get the trophies actually practice every day.

"Remember honey, when you and your brother were playing sock hockey in the house this morning before church and I suggested that you practice for the recital, instead? And remember when I remind you to practice during the week and you give it two minutes, but call it twenty? The kids who get the trophies are the ones who put in the real time and effort."

"But hockey is funner than piano," he argues, with perfect second grade logic. 

I see his point and am just grateful that his teacher has not yet banned our kids from the recital. To make up for their lack of practice, I make sure they look like a million bucks. This takes much effort and I could write a different blog about shopping for recital clothes, another "chore" the kids enjoy.

We screeched to a stop in front of the church. Late, the kids jumped out of the car and ran in with their music while we parked. At each recital, all the recital kids sit in one section of the church in the order they are playing while the parents sit on the other side. The youngest kids sit in the second row and so it goes back to the final performer - the creme de la creme of piano students. Directly in front of the tiniest recital participants, Colton included, our teacher lays out her elaborate trophy display on the front pew of the church.

I notice, as Colton sits down, he is on the very front edge of his seat leaning over to see the shiny trophies right in front of him. I mention to my mom how very badly he wants a trophy while explaining that I'm sure it won't be happening. We both realize disappointment looms.

Each one of our kids played beautifully and each made it look effortless, like they actually practiced every day and enjoyed it. As the final student finished his lengthy and complicated piece, their teacher stood up front and talked about the enormous effort that the children put into their piano. I realize, she is not talking about our kids, but I pretend that she is. As she is speaking, Colton is fixated on the shiny trophies laid out before him, ready to jump up at the mention of his name.  Slowly, she introduces each student by telling the audience how many pieces each winner has memorized. "And this student has memorized 354 pieces this year." Followed quickly by, "This student has only been playing for six months and has managed perfection on 210 songs."  And so it went.

I'm pretty sure that Colton's biggest disappointment was not that he left without a trophy, but rather watching the little boy who sat next to him leave with two.  As we walked out and I hugged each of them, I asked Colton if he was sad that he did not get a trophy.

"Yes! I wanted one!" He shouted as we walked over to thank their teacher.

As each of the kids hugged their teacher following the recital, she complimented the two who practiced the most and did the best. "You did it, perfection!" To the other two, she said, "You looked nice." She's must be on to me.

As we made our way out to the car, I decided to try the teachable moment thing again with Colton. "You do understand, honey, that the little boy next to you probably practices for 30 minutes every day and that's how he is able to memorize so many songs.  If you practice more starting tomorrow, you could leave with a trophy next year," I tell him, hoping to use this moment of raw disappointment as a catalyst for change.

"No, I've already thought about it. I'd rather play hockey," he tells me and runs off, looking spiffy while happily wearing his shiny new slacker's medal.

Driving toward the girls' school, ominous storm clouds followed and the wind picked up its pace. Storms were expected off and on all week, so the dark thunderheads were not a surprise. Still, everyone was hoping to get the game in before the rain came. Pulling into the school parking lot, I was surprised that Sierra was not in her usual spot to greet me, waiting impatiently for me to bring her water and a game-day snack. Such was our routine. Walking over to the field, setting up the chairs, I was struck that there was still no sign of Sierra.  Hmmm, I thought. It's not like her to be completely out of sight. After walking around the softball field area and checking with the folks there, I took off to look for her on the front side of the school. Not there. I checked the office while one of her classmates helped me by checking the lunch room and the library. Still, no Sierra.  

About now, the grayish black clouds began to leak large drops of cold water onto the world below. I put my hood up and walked a little faster. As I walked around the small, quiet campus looking desperately for my Sierra, I found myself dialoging with God. Please help me find her so I can relax, even though I know she's here. And, when I do find her, help me to not be angry with her.

It was such a strange, uncomfortable place for me to be.  I knew in my head, as all logic told me, that she was fine and safe on campus, just preoccupied someplace out of sight. But in my heart, raced all the images that I've seen on faces of parents who've lost children. Children who were there one minute and gone the next. It's easy, I think, when it's not your child who is missing. "Oh, she's here somewhere.  She'll show up."  Yes, that's what my mind was telling me, too, but it was my heart that couldn't rest until I saw her bright blue eyes and that familiar blond pony tail.

Finally, after some 30 minutes of searching, some of the girls on the team told me where they had last seen her, as school dismissed. One of the dads was over in that area kindly helping me look for her, so I called him on his cell. Minutes later, he called me back and it was her sweet voice on the other end. "Hi mom. Are you looking for me? I'm sorry, I was in one of the 7th grade classrooms doing homework with my friend."

Complete relief washed over me as the storm clouds let loose, drenching everyone beneath. Within minutes and with rain dripping from my face, I hugged my sweet Sierra with unspeakable joy in my heart. The game was rained out, so we gathered our soggy belongings and headed home. By the time we pulled into the driveway, both soccer and basketball had been rained out as well.  

As we ate dinner together, we talked about the important lessons we learned today while I gave tremendous thanks that my lost daughter was found.

Today, as is our tradition, I went in to his school to have a special birthday lunch with him. His Nana met us there, as a special surprise, and we had a lovely visit while sitting in the school cafeteria. Normally, most of the second graders power through their lunches with extraordinary speed to ensure themselves the most recess time at the end of their meal. On this day, Colton was in no hurry to run and join his classmates outside. Instead, he happily sat next to his Nana, eating his Chick-fil-a, soaking in the specialness of the day. Finally finishing, he asked if we wanted to accompany him outside to the playground. Happily, we followed him out into the breezy sunshine.  

Immediately, a large group of second grade boys, in the middle of a big four square game, called out to him. "Colton, come play four square with us. We've been waiting for you."  Without hesitation, he ran off with a large ear-to-ear grin consuming his handsome little face. My mom and I stood nearby and watched the sweet kids as they played.  The first thing we noticed was that they immediately handed the ball over to Colton and made him king, which is the coveted fourth square position, the one everyone is trying to beat everyone else for. The next thing we noticed was how in charge he was of the game, the group and the playtime.  Immediately, I thought about something his preschool teacher told me when he was 4.......He's like the pied piper and all the other kids just follow behind as he tells them what to do. It's amazing what a leader he is and how much everyone loves him. That's exactly what was going on here on the second grade playground. The other thing that I noticed was that all the other boys took turns getting out and rotated to the end of the line. Not Colton. He stayed in the "king" position and kept the game moving.

On one play, he obviously missed the boy's square next to his and hit the ball out of bounds (he should have been out). Instead, the other boys called a do-over. I spoke up this time and with a long, pointed index finger, told Mr. Colton that he needed to go to the end of the line and play fair. He shot me a toothy grin with eyes that said, you got me...I'm going. Just as Colton handed the ball to another boy so he could take his place at the end of the line, the other boys said, "No, Colton, you're still King. We'll call that interference."  

I picked up my lower jaw, which was resting on top of my shoes, while my mom said, "Look at that, the other boys won't make him move even if he is supposed to be out."  Sure enough, there he was, the baby of our family out in the world all by himself and taking it by storm.  

I shook my head and smiled. How interesting it is that our "baby" is actually quite a big boy and such a leader, at eight. 

My husband, a big kid at heart, was excited to tell us about the "fun" outing he scheduled for the family after our first day back to our school and work routine. "I got tickets for all of us to go to the Fiesta Bowl," he exclaimed.

"That's a school night." I reminded him, not feeling particularly well after battling a persistent cold.

"The kids will love it." He retorted, as if fun should always trump practicality.

Monday quickly came and we did manage to get out the door at 7 AM for work and school. I fixed a quick, early dinner and we left again at 4:30 to pick Audra up from softball practice so we could race to the Fiesta Bowl. I took a couple cold pills, stuffed a wad of tissues into my purse and tried to have a good attitude, despite the fact I'd rather be curled up watching the game on TV from the comfort of my own home. 

We found our place on the freeway and fell in line with the other 70,000 fans who were headed to the big game. Fun, I mumbled sarcastically to myself. This looks like it's going to be a lot of fun. Exiting the freeway and finally finding a lot to park in, we paid the ransom they demanded and left our car to begin our brisk walk to the stadium. Colton kept referring to it as the "chip bowl" as it was the Tostidos Fiesta Bowl. We laughed and explained that most people just called it the Fiesta Bowl. After being frisked, wanded and thoroughly patted down, we were herded into the large crowd to find our seats. More fun, I reminded myself.

Slung over the back of each stadium seat, was a plastic Tostidos bag. The kids were thrilled to open their bags and even more excited to find a small package of Tostidos dipping strip chips and salsa. "I told you it was the chip bowl," squealed Colton, as he dug into his little snack using the thighs of his nice, khaki corduroy pants as a napkin. 

After discussing which team everybody was going cheer for, we were decidedly a family divided. Colton and I were the only ones rooting for TCU while the rest of the family was cheering for Boise State. Colton started whistling and the other kids cheered for their team. There were almost 74,000 crazy people inside that stadium and the kids were thrilled to be there. Yes, the wild, party-like atmosphere was a bit much for me and it was going to be a very late night for school, but as I watched our kids enjoying their little goodie bags while visiting with each other, I had to admit they were having fun and I was glad we were able to make more family memories by going to the "chip bowl."