My Grandpa

I was cleaning carpets when my mom called Thursday afternoon. 

Christmas morning was magical. 🎄

Then, what can only be described as a "series of unfortunate events," unfolded.  Car problems, sleepless nights, children vomiting, super sick mom (never a good thing), unidentifiable rotten smell somewhere in the house threatening to take away my sanity… 

Which brings me back to Thursday afternoon.  

Extremely ill.  Cleaning carpets. 

I turned off the carpet cleaner and answered the phone. 

“Hey, mom.  What’s up?”

“I just got a phone call from my brother.  My dad passed away this afternoon.” {Silence} “I’m heading home to pack my bags.  I was planning to drive down tomorrow to visit my parents for Christmas, but I’m going a day early now.  I will leave as soon as I can get my things together.” 

She continued to talk as emotion filled her voice, relaying details from the past week or two of his life.  I listened and tried to take it all in.  How does one ever fully absorb that kind of information?  Perhaps everyone’s experience is a bit different. 

Shock

Hysteria

Anger

Pain

Sadness 

One of my sisters started sobbing uncontrollably.  My mom had to tell her to take a deep breath before she could continue talking.  

Numb

For me, there is always an emotional disconnect – a numbness – that occurs when I am given bad news.  Surreal.  As if I’m swirling above myself, witness to my mortal body standing, holding the phone and listening. 

That numbness serves as a protective mechanism while I wrap my head around the information I’m being given and attempt to process it.  And then comes the flood.  My emotions return like a desert summer storm – swift, powerful and overwhelming.  The waves of emotions continue to ebb and flow as memories and reality of his death hit me over and over again throughout the day.  

My grandpa is gone.  After 87 years, he has left this mortal life.  A legacy.  I knew he wouldn’t live forever.  I knew this day would come.  He’s lived a full life.  He’s been tired of this mortal existence for a long time and was not shy to tell you how ready he was to move on.  But I’m going to miss him.  A lot. 

This was the last time I saw my grandpa (on my way out the door to go hiking with my friend, Lisa)

I LOVE that we were laughing together...even if it was due to his lack of cooperation at taking a picture with me.  

Grandpa was one of a kind.  He loved garage sales and bargains.  He drove grandma crazy with his constant treasure-finding, but it was a trait that soon became endearing to the rest of us.  His great grandchildren were the proud recipients of many random ceramic creatures they excitedly picked out and brought home.  Grandpa was not the type to sit still for very long.  He always had a new project.  One year it was hauling a stuffed bear to state and county fairs. Later, it was raising pigeons and chickens in the backyard.  Now that I am a grown woman myself, I have to say my grandmother is an absolute saint!  She tolerated my grandpa’s crazy ideas and projects much better than I would have.  

Grandpa was a working man.  He dug ditches and could work a backhoe like no one ever. I’m not even sort of kidding.  A few years ago, a man who knew my grandpa told me, "Your grandpa could scratch someone's back with a backhoe and not leave a single mark behind.  That's how good he was."  The man was a legend working with big machines back in his glory days.   He loved working with his hands and using what he had on hand to fix something.  I cannot count the number of boats, trailers, RV’s and other vehicles he brought home over the years to fix up.  He also loved fishing, a fact that permanently bonded Dylan to his great grandfather forever.    

Last March, I took Dylan down to visit my grandparents for his birthday.  One day, we headed into town to get some clothes from JC Penney (where my grandma used to work).  Grandma pulled her white Cadillac out of the garage a little too close to the minivan and scraped all the way down the side as she backed out.  I assured her it was not a big deal since the van is old and worn out.  “It’s fine, Grandma.  We’re just hoping the engine lasts a little while longer.  Don't worry about it.”  She panicked a bit, turned her steering wheel the other way and pulled forward in an attempt to avoid doing any more damage.  In the process, the rim of the Cadillac grabbed hold of the protective shield on the bottom of the van and peeled it up until it was folded open at a 90 degree angle.  😳
Grandma was devastated.  In fact, I hesitated to tell this story for fear of embarrassing her.  But to fully appreciate my grandpa, you have to hear the whole story...  

By this point in time, grandpa used a motorized wheelchair when he was outside.  He kept a couple of them in the garage so he could get around more quickly. As Grandma put the Cadillac back into reverse to once again try to avoid doing more damage to the van, Grandpa comes racing up the driveway in his “Jazzy” to see what happened. Grandpa slowly shook his head back and forth (not really upset, but more in a “What in the world am I going to do with this woman” kind of way), steers the jazzy over to the side of the van, lifts his foot up and proceeds to kick the side of the van a couple of times.  The protective shield (or whatever it’s called) bounced right back out at a 90 degree angle, completely unfazed by grandpa’s kicking.  Dylan and I did our best to keep from busting out laughing as we watched grandpa take in the details of a new problem he would spend the afternoon trying to solve.  

We returned from our shopping spree to find a great big screw holding the panel of the van in place.  Grandpa drove the jazzy over to fill me in on the happenings, “I put a screw in the side panel for you.  That should hold it in place and keep it from flapping in the wind for your drive home.  You’ll have to take it in and have it replaced.  Just send grandma the bill.”  I never did take the van in to be fixed.  I still have a screw in the side of the van holding that panel in place.  I smile fondly and think of my grandpa every time I open my door.   

My grandpa.  Gramps.  I’m not sure what age you have to be to catch a glimpse of the true man.  Perhaps anyone could if they looked hard enough.  For me, it didn’t take much more than a smile or hug to see past the politically incorrect, cussing man with strong opinions and no filter.  He had a hard outer shell, but inside he was nothing but goo.  Grandkids and great grandkids were particularly good at finding the inner core where he would melt like butter in the palm of their hand.

A little piece of my heart belonged to my grandpa.  That part of my heart is broken, aching, and longing for a big bear hug embrace just one more time.  I love you, grandpa!  Till we meet again.  

Tender Mercy

My older boys spent several hours working hard today.  As in manual labor, really pushing themselves physically, good old-fashioned hard work.  While they were gone, I decided to take Marissa and Caleb to the park to play and have a picnic for lunch.  I left a note for the boys to join us at the park when they finished.  It was one of those amazing moments where the stars align or some other cosmic force is in play. We had THE ENTIRE PARK to ourselves. I was able to read/listen to a book and take notes in my journal while still spending time with my little ones. They were ADORABLE! They were playing so cute together and making up games and stories. No tattle-telling, no crying, no needy, clingy, whiney kids. Just two siblings who are currently best friends making memories.

I've been a parent long enough to realize these types of moments come and go.  Dylan and Preston used to be best buddies, but are currently in a friendship funk. Sibling rivalry is in full force. They need space. They compete with one another much more than they cooperate and help each other and the incessant teasing is making me crazy (although the teasing part is pretty one-sided).  I've learned to take it in stride and not assign more meaning to their ups and downs than is necessary. Stages of life don't last forever and they allow for growth and development. But...I love when the needs of certain children match up with one another and siblings get along more than usual. For now, I feel extremely grateful that Marissa and Caleb's age, gender and personality mesh really well. They have constant adventures, love spending time together and make more messes than I can even begin to describe (something I've come to refer to as creativity and imagination).
BLESSING!  It is a true blessing and I am trying to soak in the moments and enjoy these two little ones tremendously while it lasts. The time at the park was not a complete surprise to me, but I still found myself smiling as I caught a glimpse of them creating rules and regulations for their "tree house" and hauling cup after cup of water from the drinking fountain to create the perfect consistency for building a sandcastle.

DELIGHTFUL! That's the best word I can use to describe it.  It was delightful to watch them. And to still be able to find time to read, ponder and reflect while spending time with my kiddos was absolute PERFECTION.  I found myself expressing gratitude.  And feeling joy.  Real JOY.

Dylan and Preston pulled into the park on their bikes and I couldn't help but smile.  They were clearly tired, but obviously had a good day working hard, something I feel both boys really need at this stage in their development.  They were excited to tell me about their day and then informed me that Wendy's has $0.50 frosties this summer.  They  asked if they could ride over and get one with their own money.  I said yes.  My mind was carried back to memories of my own childhood, walking to Holiday Oil with my younger sister to buy a treat during summer break. It was a big deal to earn trust from your parents and become more independent. We were excited but cautious. We obeyed traffic laws and didn't talk to strangers. We took our privileges seriously and gained more and more independence over time. My boys are doing the same. I smiled at this flashback in time and felt more joy and gratitude.

After a multi-hour park adventure, I decided it was time to head home. Marissa and Caleb asked if they could have a frosty too and I decided it was a perfect day for a treat on the way home from the park. I was also secretly hoping to catch a glimpse of the boys and make sure they were doing okay without looking like a was checking up on them.

I pulled into the Wendy's parking lot and THIS 👇 is what I saw.

My mama heart 💓 skipped a beat and I had to pause to catch my breath. MY BOYS! Look at my sweet, little (Um...I mean, not-so-little) boys! All dirty and grimy and sweaty from a day of hard work. Just LOOK at them!

The old school MasterCard commercial started playing in my head.

Two small chocolate frosties from Wendy's: 

$1

Bike and scooter for summertime adventure: 

$200

Brothers making memories that last a lifetime: 

Priceless

Cheeseball I know. But seriously! This picture was EXACTLY what I needed. I soon realized that what I originally thought was a priceless moment that I was fortunate enough to capture on my phone, was actually a tender mercy in disguise.  

It's been a rough week.  Busy.  Stressful.  And extremely emotional.  This picture reminded me that things are still okay.  Life is good.  There are blessings that surround me when I am able to slow down and be present.  When I don't push away joy for fear that darkness may lie just around the corner.  

Dylan and Preston are learning the value of hard work. They are gaining independence. They are working together AND playing together. They may argue and fight, but they also love and support one another.  

Marissa and Caleb are the sprinkles and glitter. They make life exciting and magical! They continue to amaze me with their creativity, and can turn anything into a game...or an EPIC ADVENTURE. Their giggles are contagious and their hugs can turn a hard, frozen heart into a GREAT BIG PUDDLE!  

 Fashion show

The BEST BREAKFAST EVER (just ask Caleb)!!

Their very own super hero changing space (on the front lawn) 

Constant adventure and excitement

I needed to know I was loved today.  I needed a reminder that joy can be found even during difficult times.  I needed a message.  And I received one.  It came in the form of a candid picture of two boys lounging on a dirty sidewalk outside of Wendy's with frosties, a scooter and a bike.  

A message of love.  

Of support.  

Of family.

A reminder to slow down.  

To breathe.  

To be present.

To walk barefoot through the grass.  

And feel the wind on my face. 

A reminder of simplicity.  

And joy. 

A reminder that I am still alive.

The Olive Tree

Marcos and I were recently asked to teach the mission prep class in our stake.  For those who may not be familiar with The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, we have the opportunity to kind of train the young men and women considering serving a full-time 18-24 month mission for our church.

It was one of those callings that kind of caught us off guard (especially me), but within a very short period of time felt 100% right.    For whatever reason, we are meant to mentor this little group along at this specific moment in time.  And...I AM LOVING IT!!!

It sounds crazy because most of these kids are bigger than I am, but I feel like a mother duck with a flock of ducklings under my wing, ducklings eagerly following my awkward little waddle down to the pond.  They aren't newly hatched ducklings.  They are approaching adulthood.  And yet they still have a lot to learn, and we have been entrusted with their care.  We get to teach them the art of swimming - how to glide, how to paddle and when and where to make ripples that will continue forward and outward long after they have left the water.  It's an awesome yet humbling experience.

Yes I know they're geese, but you get the idea

We witnessed our first "mission call" moment yesterday.  One of our young women received her mission call last week.  She will be serving in Jamaica and leaves  in June.  I was so EXCITED when she told us about her call.  I may or may not have terrified her with my big mama bear embrace, but I COULD NOT help myself!  It was such a beautiful moment!!

We are learning all sorts of skills and covering all sorts of questions the kids have, but every week we leave a little bit of time for sharing thoughts, insights and experiences from the previous week.  It's probably my favorite part of class.  Yesterday, one of the boys from our class said he had been studying the allegory of the olive tree (Jacob 5), but that he read it differently this time as if the entire chapter was about him.  It was personal.  His words pierced my heart and I paused and reflected momentarily.  There were two scriptures I had been considering sharing and I still didn't know which direction I wanted to go with my comments.  Now I knew what I needed to say.  I silently thanked God for sending the Holy Ghost to direct me to the words best suited for our class that day.  I thought that was why his comment hit me differently.  I was wrong.

I knew I was close to that same chapter in my personal scripture studies, but I didn't realize that is the exact page I would turn to this morning.  I'd say it was a crazy coincidence, but the reality is that God is in the details of our lives.  It was a tender mercy, and I knew there was a reason I was reading the same chapter after a comment had been made in class yesterday.  The comment made by that young man echoed in my mind...
"It was about me.  It was personal."
As I started to read, an image of a beautiful olive tree took shape in my mind.

"...thus saith the Lord, I will liken thee...unto a tame olive-tree, which a man took and nourished in his vineyard..." (Jacob 5:3)

"And it came to pass that the master of the vineyard went forth and he saw that HIS OLIVE TREE BEGAN TO DECAY; and he said: I will prune it, and dig about it, and nourish it, that perhaps it may shoot forth young and tender branches, and it perish not."  (Jacob 5:4)

I started to cry.  This is MY story.  This is personal.  It is a story about me.  I am the olive tree that began to decay.  The reminder that Christ saw my decay, saw me wither and fail to produce fruit was a very powerful image for me.  The reminder that Christ came to prune and dig and nourish me when I started to decay brought tears to my eyes.    

"And it came to pass that after many days it began to put forth somewhat a little, young and tender branches; but behold, the MAIN TOP THEREOF BEGAN TO PERISH."  (v. 6)

Yes!  I remember that part too.  I began to perish.  For two years, I have struggled to thrive.  I barely survived.  I may have been alive, but I was definitely NOT living. 

"And it came to pass that the master of the vineyard saw it, and he said unto his servant:
IT GRIEVETH ME THAT I SHOULD LOSE THIS TREE...we will pluck off those main branches which are beginning to wither away and we will cast them into the fire that they may be burned." (v. 7)

More sobbing.  Christ DID NOT want to lose me.  And...there was definitely a need for a fire, to burn and destroy the dead and withering parts that were attempting to destroy my entire being.  Being pruned and burned is often a painful process.  But it was necessary.  

"And it came to pass that the servant of the Lord of the vineyard did according to the word of the Lord of the vineyard, and grafted in the branches of the wild olive-tree."  (v. 10)

"...It grieveth me that I should lose this tree; wherefore, THAT PERHAPS I MIGHT PRESERVE THE ROOTS THEREOF THAT THEY PERISH NOT, that I might preserve them unto myself, I have done this thing." (v. 11)

"Wherefore, go thy way; WATCH THE TREE, and NOURISH IT, according to my word."  (v. 12)

Oh my goodness.  Yes!  I was watched.  And I was nourished.  I was watched even when I didn't realize anyone was watching over me.  Even when I could not FEEL anyone looking out for me.  Even when the pain of the dead branches and the pruning made it impossible to see beyond myself.  I was watched and I was nourished.

"And it came to pass that the Lord of the vineyard looked and beheld the tree in the which the wild olive branches had been grafted; and IT HAD SPRUNG FORTH AND BEGUN TO BEAR FRUIT.  And HE BEHELD THAT IT WAS GOOD..." (v. 17)

Yep.  That's what's happening to me.  As the dead parts have been cast into the fire, the new tender branches that were grafted in are starting to take root.  I'm FINALLY starting to spring forth and bear fruit again.  I've been watched over.  I've been nourished.  And I am finally starting to bear fruit again like I used to before I began to decay.  I'm producing fruit again.  And the fruit I'm producing is good.  

"...Behold, the branches of the wild tree have taken hold of the moisture of the root thereof, that THE ROOT THEREOF HATH BROUGHT FORTH MUCH STRENGTH...Now, if we had not grafted in these branches, the TREE THEREOF WOULD HAVE PERISHED..." (v. 18)

The root hath brought forth much strength.  Yeah it has.  Another powerful reminder.  And a frightening thought.  Had this not happened, the tree thereof would have perished.  I was rescued from decay, from a state of withering and failing to produce fruit.  I was nourished and strengthened with digging, pruning and burning, with grafting and watering.  And if this hadn't happened...I would have PERISHED.  Quite literally.  I would have perished had I not been loved and nourished and taken care of by Christ and the angels on earth sent to help him save this dying tree.  And now...after a very long painful process, I am beginning to bring forth good fruit once again.  And who knows.  Maybe one day, I'll even be part of pruning and digging and helping to save another withering tree.  

Lucky Rose

Last Saturday was a big day, a first for our family. We adopted an adorable dog named Lucky. Well, Lucky Rose "TD" to be exact. The details in the name come from multiple children with lots of opinions. Marissa wanted to make sure the new female in the family wasn't mistaken for a boy so she chose Rose as an official part of the dog's name. "TD"  stands for "the dog"  and comes from the 13-year-old boy who  loves to throw in nicknames and slang to prove he's down with it, hip, fly and totally lit, yo!!  😉  As  entertaining as it has been to watch my children interact with Lucky, she has seriously been a blessing in our lives. Lucky  has healed hearts and brought joy to our family in a way that is difficult to describe.  She is the new best friend Dylan desperately needed.  She is the self-proclaimed "sister" Marissa has always wanted.  She is a calming presence Preston seeks, and the fun Caleb looks for in a playmate.  But the story of Lucky is so much bigger than a cute dog, pet rescue and adoption.  So much bigger.

Thanksgiving 2017 began like any other.  Marcos and Dylan headed out with the big boys for shotgun shooting in the morning.  I hung out with the younger kids while fixing mashed potatoes for dinner.  Dinner was great, my mashed potatoes were a hit, the kids got along great, gratitude filled the air...
It was a Thanksgiving to remember!

Marcos and I had taken different cars to allow for some early black Friday shopping since Dylan is now old enough to want a "big kid" gift and the shotgun he wanted was super discounted.  After the shotgun purchase had taken place, Marcos and Dylan headed back for pie and we finished the evening off great.  At some point, I realized it was super late and time to get kids in bed.  I took the younger two home in the van and Marcos headed out in the car with Dylan and Preston.

I got kids tucked in bed and started wondering what was taking Marcos so long when he drove up with the boys.  They were super excited, attempting to relay the story of the evening.  Apparently my mom's neighbors were coming out of their house as Marcos and the boys headed for the car, which was parked on the street.  It turns out their daughter fosters dogs who have been rescued from the shelter.  She was there with her own two dogs and a third who was a foster dog.  My kids fell in love with the little beagle they met and were eager to tell me all about her.  They had even taken her over to my mom's house and my mom loved the dog (truly shocking since my mother is super practical and not the type to encourage me to add extra responsibilities to my already overflowing plate).  The kids wanted me to meet Lucky and made sure it happened by telling Marissa and Caleb all about the cute dog they met that night.  To top it all off, Marcos took me aside when the kids weren't around and said, "Hon, I know it's weird, but I feel like she's meant to be our dog."  Sigh.  Outnumbered.  I was COMPLETELY outnumbered.

The next two weeks were a blur.  We met up with the foster family the following day at a park and got to know the dog.  She was really good with the kids and is great with other dogs as well.  What I couldn't believe was how she already seemed to be our dog.  She listened to Dylan and followed him around.  She snuggled up by Marissa on a blanket, lovingly arranged just for her. It was like Lucky had always been a part of our family...only we had just met her.  I wasn't sure I wanted another pet.  Actually, to be perfectly honest, I DID NOT want another pet.  Don't get me wrong.  I love animals!  But I get super attached to them and losing Dexter this summer was an emotional process.  Plus, I already have a house full of creatures for whom I am responsible and I wasn't sure my sanity could handle one more thing.  Marcos felt the same, although he can usually be persuaded a little easier than I can in situations like this.  But instead of feeling like he was giving in, he was pretty sentimental about the whole thing. It appeared this dog was going to join our family. It's like she was already ours.

At one point, we ran into a glitch and it looked like Lucky might not be available to be adopted.  The kids were already super attached and I knew it would break their heart if this dog did not become a member of our family.  And yet, I was NOT nervous or afraid.  Every single detail had fallen into place up to this point.  From the timing of Dylan noticing Lucky on Thanksgiving to the way she interacted with our children.  From the kindness and generosity we found in the couple who was fostering Lucky to the feeling Marcos and I had that she was meant to join our family.   It all happened effortlessly.  Somehow, even in the face of potential heartbreak, I knew it would all work out the way it needed to.

Lucky is sweet and gentle, poised and dignified.  She is extremely smart and has the nose of a hunting dog.  She brings a calm demeanor to our home, something we were definitely lacking.  It still shocks me that a dog can change the energy in our home so much, but she does. Lucky also has a bit of a stubborn streak and a little bit of mischief in her nature. At first those two facts scared me.  But if I'm  being honest with myself, it likely means she is ABSOLUTELY PERFECT for our family dynamic.  It took me a couple days to warm up to the idea of having a dog again.  I was mainly making my decisions based on my observations of my children with Lucky.  However, my heart continues to soften to this new creature more and more, and I simply can't imagine our home without her now.

The story of Lucky Rose is a story of FAITH, of HOPE, of LOVE.  It's a perfect story for Thanksgiving and Christmas, the very timing this true story took place.  It's a story of gratitude, kindness and miracles.  Lucky will always be a reminder of God's love and goodness, of His infinite wisdom and His ability to manage the details of our lives.

The Man I Love...

“To be loved but not known is comforting but superficial. To be known and not loved is our greatest fear. But to be fully known and truly loved is, well, a lot like being loved by God. It is what we need more than anything. It liberates us from pretense, humbles us out of our self-righteousness, and fortifies us for any difficulty life can throw at us.”          - Timothy J. Keller

I love quirks.  You know what I mean?  Those little nuances that make individuals unique.  I love them!  Some are annoying, but I feel like they are what bond us to others.  It's what makes us feel known and still loved by those closest to us.  

I remember the first time I watched Marcos get ready for a soccer game after we had been married.  I'd watched him play many times, but I'd never been privy to the pre-game process.  Oh my goodness!  I simply stared at him wide-eyed in disbelief.  After all, Marcos is a pretty chill dude.  What in the world was he doing?  He tucked his shirt into his soccer shorts, untucked it a little, tucked it back in a little more, untucked it on the side...  I'm not kidding.  This was a LONG process!!  I thought we were done with the "ritual" when he put on his shin guards, sleeves and soccer socks.  Holy crap!  The fold at the top of the socks had to be just so.  He pulled them up and folded them over a million times.  I kid you not!!  I get it.  With sports there are often superstitions and nervous habits that then become part of the routine.  I'm pretty sure that was the case with Marcos.  But it was like being in a different world.  Who in the world did I marry?  Was he going to be this nervous and precise about EVERYTHING?  I didn't comment.  I just observed.  As a sports-loving girl myself, I could NOT relate to this level of intensity.  Sure I got butterflies and would jump up and down a couple times to get my game face on, but I could be ready for a sporting event in two minutes flat, including double knots in the shoes and the retrieval of the water bottle.  

Our love was still young and flirtatious and I used my new ammunition to taunt and tease him just enough to keep things fun.  But his OCD sports ritual was eye-opening to say the least.  

Then there were the little annoying habits everyone talks about in marriage.  Marcos will use a different bathroom rather than change the toilet paper roll.  His habits in the empty toilet paper roll department have improved some, but he did not change a toilet paper roll for YEARS.  We have a little cup/dish that we keep stocked with q-tips.  He will choose not to use q-tips for weeks at a time rather than refill that little cup.  I used to tease him that we had a toilet paper and q-tip fairy that would go around refilling everything in our home.  For us, it was never the source of an argument, but certainly we had some laughs and moments of annoyance in this department.  Over time, those quirky behaviors have become endearing.  It's strange but true.  

Last weekend, we did some deep cleaning around the house.  Marcos cleaned bathrooms while I was working on the kitchen with Dylan.  When I went back upstairs, I found THIS in my bathroom.  I couldn't help but smile.

On a scale of 1-10, bathroom decor rates a whopping NEGATIVE 50 for Marcos.  As long as he has the basics, he couldn't care less about the rest.  I get it.  He doesn't notice what the decorations say.  He doesn't need fancy towels.  But this habit of rearranging the bathroom decorations every time he helped out would bother me a little.  Nothing major.  More like "Can you please pay attention to what I told you last time?" kind of way.  It definitely wasn't a huge deal, but I would mention it.  "Hey, you know the candles in the bathroom?  They are supposed to say 'Live. Laugh. LOVE.' not 'Live. Love. Laugh.'  I switched them back, but in case you didn't know the order I thought I would mention it.  Will you try to put them back in the right order next time?"

Yes!  The order of the candles has been a point of discussion many times.  So...I was shocked to find myself smiling as I looked at the candles once again rearranged "INCORRECTLY."  My internal dialog went something like this.  "There is NO way Marcos is arranging things differently on purpose.  Nope!  He is actually trying to be helpful.  Somehow in his mind they are supposed to read 'Live. Love. Laugh.'  It's as simple as that.  Perhaps in his own subtle way, he's sending me a message.  Maybe subconsciously he knows I need more of a reminder to laugh than to love most of the time, something that is surprisingly easy for him, but can be a challenge for me when life gets rough.  Yep!  Maybe I need a reminder to LAUGH more often."  So...I left them.  I decided there must be a good reason for the reorganization.  And now every time I step out of the shower, I think about the man I love and the quirks that make him unique.  The simple yet profound things that make me love him more every day.

This past month has been really rough for me.  Really really rough!  I hesitate to use extreme words, but breakdown would probably be a fairly accurate description.  As I worked to try to figure out why life seemed to be collapsing all around me, Marcos stood by my side as a loving and supportive companion.  He took the kids so I could rest.  He sent me on a mental health trip for a long weekend to hike and bike and wander around in nature (something that truly makes my heart sing).  And he loved me.  When I wasn't cute or fun or lovable, he loved me.  When I crossed the line of being sane, he loved me.  He may have been quaking with fear inside, but he stood strong.  Strong, steady and immovable during a storm of immense proportions.  Few people will likely understand the immensity of those statements.  But for me, they are a sign of the truest love.  A sign of deep and lasting love.

When it comes to fatherhood, Marcos is incredible!  As I walked from the bathroom into our bedroom, I glanced up at his nightstand.  The man is simplicity at its finest.  He does not keep random things around.  He hates things.  He detests clutter.  But he knows how much it means to our little ones to see gifts they give him being treasured.  So he keeps a few sentimental things lying around to show them he cares.  Below is a picture of the lamp on his nightstand.  A butterfly necklace from Marissa draped around his lampshade and a Halloween toy Caleb gifted to him that he tucked in snuggly next to the butterfly.  Weird?  Yes.  Distracting?  For sure.  But one of the cutest things I have ever seen.  Truly.

In the midst of my "rough" month, I did very little shopping or cooking.  So...we took the kids out to eat last weekend after we had the house back in working order.  It was a busy night and the restaurant was super crowded and chaotic.  In the middle of our dinner, a little girl at a table next to ours pushed on the handle of a door that is an emergency exit.  A loud, obnoxious alarm went off and added to the already chaotic ambiance.  I heard a man from a neighboring table whisper, "I'm glad it wasn't my kid!"  I have to admit, I was thinking the same thing.  If you know our rambunctious group, it totally could have been...at this snapshot in our lives most likely originating from the bouncy bubbly four-year-old, Caleb.  As a mother who has been chasing kids for over 13 years, the idea that we hadn't set off the alarm was a HUGE relief.  I felt so bad for the little girl who set off the alarm and also for her parents.  You could tell they were totally embarrassed.

After a couple minutes of loud, obnoxious alarm-sounding, an employee with a key came to the rescue.  As the young man approached, Marcos started talking.  For a minute, I was tempted to kick him under the table with a subtle message from the spouse of "Please do not make this worse with your comments and teasing!"  But I didn't.  I just sat there as a silent witness of a moment I will likely remember forever.  Marcos began with all the charm he could muster, "I'm sorry, Sir!  I didn't mean to set off the alarm.  I really didn't.  I promise I won't do it again."  The teen employee smiled, laughed it off and told him it was okay.  We all laughed a little, breathed a sigh of relief and returned to our dinner.

A few minutes later, the mother of the little girl collected her children and belongings to head out the door.  She stopped by our table and leaned over to Marcos and said,  "I cannot thank you enough for your kindness.  That was so thoughtful of you!  My daughter was so embarrassed that she set off the alarm.  It's her birthday today!  She was trying to help me take gifts out to the car and chose the closest door.  Your act of kindness mean so much to me!  Thank you for taking an extremely awkward situation and making it better for her."
OH MY HEART!!!  The emotion was intense.  I could relate to this woman on so many levels.  And my husband - MY SWEET THOUGHTFUL MARCOS - had used his friendly, outgoing personality to completely diffuse a situation that was already extremely embarrassing for this little girl and her parents.

I sat there just staring at him after they left.  He was clueless.  At some point he said, "Why are you looking at me with googly eyes?  You're making me nervous!"  I just laughed and teased him back a little.  "What?  I can look at you however I want!"  Later that night, we talked about the situation.  I told him how much it meant to me to watch him be so kind and thoughtful like that.  It's the part I most adore about the man of my dreams.  Truly!

As the day of Thanksgiving approaches, I find myself reflecting on the intense gratitude I feel for Marcos, a spouse who loves and adores me, my children and every person he meets.

A Really Rough Day...

Today was a rough day.  It started out as a busy but fairly average day.  I had dentist appointments scheduled for all the kids and for myself and then had a mentor retreat to attend to plan projects and coordinate with other mentors this year (I'm teaching Dylan's class this year in our Commonwealth School).  It was going to be tight, but I can manage a day here an there jumping from activity to activity.

Dexter (our dog) has been going downhill since spring, but has been worse the last week or so.   While I was making breakfast, Dylan came in to tell me the dog threw up.  I told him to take him out front in case he got sick again and to clean it up while I finished feeding the kids.  I went out to see how he was doing.  He did not look good.  I told Dylan to get a blanket and bring him inside so he was comfortable.  I knew it wasn't good.  So did Dylan.  He looked at me with tears in his eyes and said, "Mom, I think this is Dexter's last day on earth."  I can't explain it, but I felt the same.  {Sigh}.  Stupid dentist appointments!  I've already rescheduled once.  Do you know how hard it is to try to get 5 appointments back to back? {Deep breath}.  Maybe I can still make this work.  I hurried to do Marissa's hair and assigned Preston to help Caleb get dressed.  Dylan sat with Dexter.  While I was doing Marissa's hair, Dylan yelled, "Mom!  Help!  Something is wrong with Dexter."  Dexter had tried to get up to walk upstairs and could not walk straight.  It was so sad!  He was worse than I thought.  I helped him get settled back down on the blanket and rushed back upstairs.  I needed help!  I could not possibly deal with a dying dog and get everyone to their appointment on time.

I texted a couple neighbors trying to find someone who might be home and available to help me.  I knew I couldn't leave Dexter alone.  I just knew it.  My sweet neighbor, Joann, came and drove my older three kids to the dentist so I could stay with Dexter until Marcos could get home to help me.  Marcos walked in the door and I felt like I could breathe again.  I didn't want to be alone.  My heart settled for a moment.  Marcos took one look at Dexter and said, "This isn't good."  Marcos works in hospice.  He knows the signs of death well.  He may not be a dog expert, but he has seen death many times.  Dexter tried to get up another time or two and could not move.  We quickly tried to make a plan.  Marcos called the vet to tell them we thought Dexter was dying and would probably need to be put down.  He scheduled an appointment for later that afternoon.  Within minutes, we decided to take him to the vet sooner.  They had an appointment earlier, but we were hoping the kids could say goodbye before we took him in.  It looked like that was no longer an option.  I took a blanket and laid it on the seat and Marcos carried Dexter to the car.  It was hard to watch.  I left to take Caleb to the dentist.  Marcos called me within 5 minutes telling me Dexter had taken his last breath and died in his arms a few minutes after he checked in at the vet.  Marcos was crying.  I was sobbing.

I showed up at the dentist attempting to keep my composure and get through the next hour.  Joann had stayed.  I just thought she would drop them off, but she stayed with my kids.  My heart was so full of gratitude when I walked in and saw her sitting there.  It's so great to have people.  People you know you can count on when you need something.  People who care.  We are blessed to have a whole bunch of those people in our lives and my heart was full as I saw her sitting patiently with Preston while Marissa and Dylan were in getting their teeth cleaned.  I was hoping they would call Caleb next and then I could go last, but they called me back first.  Originally I was supposed to be first but that plan changed with the dog situation.  Joann told me it was fine and stayed with Caleb in the waiting room while I went back for my cleaning.  I felt a twinge of guilt and pain walking away.  Holy cow!  Guilt?  Really?  I know I cannot be the only one who experiences this.  Do you ever feel guilty or bad needing help?  I totally do.  Like somehow we think we are supposed to be strong and able and fully capable of doing everything by ourselves...ALL THE FREAKING TIME!  It's so messed up.  I'm all about hard work and independence and empowering people and all.  Trust me.  It's been my life mantra.  But there is something so tender and real about needing others.  At that moment, I couldn't pretend to be independent and headstrong.  I needed help.  I really did.  I was barely able to get myself to the dentist's office and sit through the cleaning without sobbing uncontrollably.  I needed help with my kiddos and she was there for me.  It was a beautiful thing to experience.  Once Caleb was called back for his appointment, I walked out (halfway done) to tell Joann she could leave if she needed to.  The kids wanted to leave too so offered to take them home.  I later learned that she stopped and got all three of them lunch and then took them back to her house to watch a movie.  Seriously?  How great is that?  That's exactly what they needed!  They needed a distraction and I needed help to coordinate a million things and process a boatload of emotions.

Marcos was my hero.  He's a tender-hearted dude.  For real.  It's not easy for him to see the dog suffer and die or to watch his kids and wife brokenhearted over the loss of a family pet.  He put on some old shoes and started digging a hole in the backyard.  The love and appreciation I felt for my husband at the moment was unreal.  He had to leave work to come help his family in our moment of crisis and he didn't skip a beat.  He just did it.  He came running, carried the dog, watched him take his last breaths, and then came back to bury him in the yard.  We had the kids say goodbye and buried him in the ground by the chicken coop.  The middle two kids went back to finish the movie at Joann's, and Dylan, Marcos and I hugged and cried and hugged some more.  Caleb watched a movie.  Desperate times.  

At some point, Marcos decided to try to work from home for the rest of the day.  He had a lot of office work today and figured he could at least pound that out from home while he stayed around to be part of the somber day we were all experiencing.  He sat down at his computer with his notebook and stack of papers when his phone rang.  It was his mom.  She was calling to tell him his abuela (grandma) in Argentina had passed away that afternoon.  Today was her 93rd birthday.  I saw the look in his eyes as he spoke to his mom on the phone and knew something was wrong.  I walked behind him and wrapped my arms around him and just stood there holding him as he spoke to his mom.  When he hung up the phone, he put his hands on his head and leaned his elbows on the table and cried some more.  I just held him.  I didn't know what else to do.  We were both emotionally spent.  It felt like a dream.  I knew he was determined to work and be the manly breadwinner, but I told him he should probably take it easy the rest of the day.  He called his boss and a co-worker and ended up calling it a day as far as work goes.

We told Dylan about bisabuela (great grandma).  He started sobbing and could barely control himself.  It was definitely a lot for a kid to take in all in one day.  I hugged him and held him tight.  I've learned not to let go first when I hug my children.  I let them lead out on that.  If they need to be held longer, I'm there.  So I held him.  When he relaxed his arms and started to pull away from me, I stepped back a bit.  He looked at me with swollen eyes and said, "Mom, I bet bisabuela is holding Dexter right now."  I couldn't disagree.  I loved abuela!  She had a heart of gold and would do anything for anyone.  She could make me laugh without blinking an eye.  She had a way of firmly yet gently giving advice that helped you move forward and change when times were tough.  I loved that about her!  She could knit anything and made gifts for each of the grandkids and great grandkids often.  Oh how I loved her!  We didn't get to see her often, but I treasure the moments I got to spend getting to know and love abuela.

Marcos and I sat on the couch hand in hand.  Silent.  He looked over at me.  "I can't even cry anymore.  I have no more tears."  I squeezed his hand and whispered, "I know."  As tears starting streaming down my face again, I teased, "It's okay.  I'll cry for you.  Apparently my supply of tears is endless."  He smiled.  We sat in silence for a thousand more moments together.  It was magical.  People.  Emotions.  Life.  Connection.

Marcos made calls to his aunts and uncles and some cousins to tell them he was sorry about abuela's passing.  I love that quality about him so much.  SO MUCH!  When something bad happens, he reaches out to those he loves.  He reaches out to comfort and connect.  I often fear that vulnerability.  My emotions are deep. I'm not sure how to explain it except that I FEEL things on a super deep level.  It's both a blessing and a curse.  Sometimes when I'm faced with a situation like this, the deepness of my emotions takes me low enough that I feel I might drown.  So I hide or pretend I'm fine or numb the pain with one of my favorite addictions (like diet Mountain Dew or Dove chocolate - minor perhaps, but addictions nonetheless).  Watching him reach out to his family at that moment warmed my heart.  There's a reason he's my person.  He helps me be brave when I think I will drown.

I sat next to Marcos on the couch listening to him talk to his family.  I texted my family to let them know we'd had a rough day and what was going on.  I also texted Joann to thank her for everything she had done that day.  Joann said it was nothing (of course) and told me the kids had been super cute.  She told me after we buried Dexter and they went back to the house that Preston and Marissa had said, "It's okay.  Dexter is happy.  We buried him with the chickens.  He's where he always wanted to be, but never could go."  I had to smile.  Their statement was as true as it gets.  Keeping Dexter away from ducks and chickens has been a huge pain.  So we laid him to rest in a place we knew he loved.

Time stood still.  Marcos finished talking to his relatives.  At some point, he looked at me and said, "I'm glad you're my wife.  You mean the world to me!  I cannot imagine going through life without you by my side."  Weird.  That's exactly what I had been thinking.  It's funny how devastating moments can bring people closer together.  I'm not glad our dog is gone or that Marcos lost his abuela today.  But I'm grateful for the reminder our family received of how precious life is and how blessed we are to have one another.

Dylan and Dexter at the pond this summer

A boy and his dog

Burying Dexter

As difficult as this moment was, there is nothing quite as sexy as watching a man do difficult things for his family without thought or complaint

When I looked back on pictures, I got choked up as I realized how many memories Dexter shared with us.  Here he is leading toddler Caleb across a bridge on a hike a couple  years ago.  

Dylan and bisabuela in 2012 when Marcos and Dylan visited Argentina

Marcos and abuela

5 - Speaking Spanish

This is post #5 of our story. If you haven't read the others, start with #1 and read the posts in order. 

Post #1

Post #2

Post #3

Post #4

5 - Speaking Spanish

A couple days after the first interview (a.k.a. date) I called Marcos to set up the next one. I had learned a lot about this kid during our first interview, but I had to meet with him three times for my paper. We set up a time and decided we would meet at his house and do the interview there. I cannot begin to describe how nervous I was. It was so much more than just a paper now...and I didn't want to mess it up. 

I drove to his house and worked up the courage to knock on the door.  He answered again, but instead of opening the door to let me in, he walked out onto the porch and closed the door behind him. 
"Hey! My friend just got here from Argentina. He's enrolling at Weber State in the fall, but he doesn't speak much English. I was thinking he might be able to answer some questions for your paper as well. I hope that's okay. It would be kind of rude to speak in English the whole time since his language skills are limited. Would you mind conducting the interview in Spanish?" 
*Gulp. 
My stomach dropped, my throat tightened, and I pinched myself to make sure it wasn't just a bad dream. I was TOTALLY FREAKING OUT inside, but I tried to remain calm. I understand almost everything in Spanish and speak it fairly well, but my experience actually speaking with non-English speakers was pretty much all gained in the one month I spent during a study abroad experience I had in Costa Rica. That's where the language finally clicked for me, but it still made me nervous. I would normally prepare a little before conducting AN INTERVIEW in Spanish. 
YIKES!! Now what?  I'll have to translate all my questions as I go along and pray I understand their responses. 
Let's just say that the focus of being nervous about having a crush on the kid totally shifted. I was now completely focused on the interview itself. Marcos had asked me to speak to him in Spanish before and I had refused. His English is perfect so I knew my "second language" would fall short and I didn't want to make a fool of myself. Now I HAD to speak Spanish with him AND some random stranger. To say I was uncomfortable, would've been the understatement of the century. 

I can't tell you what I said or how it went. I guess my survival instincts kicked in and somehow I managed to get through it. At the end of the interview, I thanked Israel for helping me and let Marcos walk me out to my car. 
*Heart pounding from the rush of adrenalin I received as my fight or flight kicked into high gear

Marcos was grinning from ear to ear. 

Hmm...why is he smiling like that?  Well, I totally rocked it!  I'm sure he's impressed with my Spanish skills.  I hate that I had to scramble and do everything in Spanish, but I have to say, I rocked that interview big time!  Go me!!  

Marcos complimented me on my Spanish and thanked me for being so polite and willing to adapt to the situation. Then he gave me a hug that eased my discomfort. It was a nice, long, I-really-care-about-you hug. My heart melted. He opened my door, helped me into the car, shut the door and stepped onto the curb. 

As I was flipping the car around, he motioned for me to roll down my window. I thought he was going to say something charming for me to smile about the whole way home. Instead, his friend poked his head out the door and said, "Thanks for the interview. I really enjoyed meeting you. By the way, your Spanish is great." 

Marcos laughed and waved as I drove away. 

You have got to be kidding me? This kid just tricked me into speaking Spanish with him. Grr....game on, bro.  Game on!!

I didn't know what to think. I was pretty mad at having been deceived by this dude, but I had to give him props for coming up with a plan to get me to bust out my Spanish.  Somehow I was able to see past my irritation at being duped.  I'm guessing it had something to do with being stuck in the romantic phase of love where all I could think about was how cute he was and how much I liked him.  Thank you, limerence!  

I don't remember a third interview. I'm guessing I decided that not only did I have enough information to write a paper, but I also wasn't sure I could handle much more embarrassment.  

Marcos says...

Yeah buuuuddddyyyy!!!!  Maria actually thought she'd never have to speak Spanish around me...really?!?!  Well, my plan was awesome, if I do say so myself.  Maria's Spanish was very good.  Actually Maria knows more about Spanish grammar rules, conjugation and vocabulary than I do.  If you say something, I can tell you if it's right or wrong, but I can't tell you why.  Maria can!!!  Anyway, that interview/date will go down in history as one of the most savvy moments of my life.  Game on?!?!  Oooookkkkk!!!  I'm still waiting......

4 - Intercultural Communications, Robintino's & Baseball

This is post #4 of our love story. If you haven't been following, start with post #1 and read in sequential order. 

Post #1

Post #2

Post #3

4 - Intercultural Communications, Robintino's & Baseball

Summer quarter came around and I registered for 18 credit hours. Full-time was considered 12-18 credit hours and I liked to get the biggest bang for my buck...even if I was on scholarship.  I was a strategic, frugal overachiever. 😜 Plus, it's a little known secret that professors are generally just as lazy as students during the summer and the classes tend to be a bit easier. I was taking a class called "Intercultural Communications" that would fulfill one of my general education requirements.  I'd taken another communications class that I liked so I figured this one would be fun.  I showed up the first day of class and found out I had a paper due in four weeks (it was an accelerated summer class) that was based on interviews I would conduct with someone from another country. Each interview had to be at least an hour long and we had to meet with the individual on three separate occasions.  The paper would be based on what we learned about the person and their culture during our interviews. The professor recommended we go into one of the ESL classes and find someone to interview there. 

I went home and was talking to my mom about how awkward it was going to be to randomly walk into an ESL class and coerce someone into letting me interview them. Since I tend to share most things with my mom, she knew all about Marcos. 
"Why don't you just interview Marcos? Isn't he from Argentina?" 
Holy cow! Why hadn't I thought of that? He'll be easy to interview. Yes, that's what I'll do. 

I got his phone number from Sherice (the girl he'd been sitting next to when he first hit on me) and called him up. He agreed to be interviewed so I arranged to meet him at the home where he was living in Centerville. Perfect! 

I showed up with my questions prepared and was ready for the interview. He had other plans. I knocked on the door and he greeted me with a smile. 

"Why don't we do the interview over dinner?"  

I paused for a minute and then responded,  

"Okay.  Sure."  

I needed to eat anyway - I'd been at school ALL day and gone straight to meet with Marcos after my classes finished.

I drove to dinner since Marcos didn't have a car (well, he had a piece of junk that didn't run).  

We ended up at Robintino's. 

Okay, I can do Italian. 

I ordered the half and half - half spaghetti and half lasagna - and then he ordered the same. I wasn't sure if that's what he really wanted or if he was just trying to be polite. I started asking him questions about where he was born, how he grew up, what his childhood was like, etc. and found myself completely drawn to his story. The more he told me about himself, the more the butterflies in my stomach fluttered. I was really starting to like this kid. 

Dang it!  I do not want a distraction right now.

I have no idea how long we were there, but we had finished our dinner and were still chatting away. Sometimes I wrote things down for my paper, sometimes I just listened. 

We weren't finished talking so we decided to continue our conversation elsewhere. I went to pay for dinner since it was my interview, but he wouldn't let me. After all, he was loaded. 😉  

Marcos worked 20 hours a week at the Union Building making $5/hr. The kid was just rollin' in money!! 😂

**Sigh** He's such a gentleman!!  I guess chivalry's not dead after all.  **Heart pounding** Oh my heck...he's SO CUTE!!  **Deep breath**  Relax, Maria.  You're just here for an interview so you can write a paper for class.  

Marcos definitely earned points with his smooth moves.  Not only did he pay for dinner, he also insisted on opening doors for me the whole night and treating the evening as if it was our first date.  To him it was. Marcos decided to take full advantage of any opportunity he had to court me since it had been an insurmountable task to get me to agree to a date.

Once again he was the navigator and I was the driver. We ended up stopping at a junior high school and watching a baseball game while we finished talking. After I'd asked him all the questions I had prepared, he paused for a minute and then said, 

"Well, now that I've answered all the questions you had for me, would you mind if I asked you just one question?"  

Gulp.  Now what?   

"Sure!  I guess that's only fair," I responded, attempting to play it cool. "Would you ever be willing to go out with me if it wasn't for a grade?" 

Ouch! That hurt a bit. I guess I have been pretty hard on the poor guy. 

My face was a combination of embarrassment and flattery. I responded with a simple 

"Yes." 

I dropped him off, thanked him for dinner and the interview, gave him a hug and was on my way home. 

**Squeal**  Oh my heck!!  He's amazing.  Like truly amazing!! 

I'm pretty sure I replayed every single word of our conversation during my 30 minute drive home. 

Whoa...I have a major crush on the kid I turned down almost a year ago.  I can't believe this is happening.  Seriously!!  How am I ever going to live this down?  

Marcos says...

I remember that first "interview"...at least that's what Maria calls it.  I call it a date. 

We had a great time!!! We really connected. I already liked Maria, but I started to like her on a much deeper level that day.  When Maria drove away, I knew she was the girl I was going to marry.

3 - Spring Formal Saga

Disclaimer: This is post #3 in our story.  If you're lost or confused, start with post #1 and read in sequence. 

Post #1

Post #2

3 - Spring Formal Saga

LaDianaeda held an annual Spring Formal that was basically a required event. For the most part, you could get out of activities if you had to, but this was one of a few events that everyone attended. Sometime around March, I started fretting about Spring Formal. Trying to find a date for a formal dance pretty much sucks when you don't have a boyfriend. Formal dances are for couples or people who really like each other. My best friend, Lisa, got to hear me whine and complain and worry about Spring Formal for at least a month. Lisa and I are very similar in many ways, but we are definitely not the same. Lisa was much braver than I was, particularly when it came to boys. She saw my whining as an opportunity to coordinate fun dates for both of us, and eagerly set to work looking for potential candidates.  Lisa and I talked multiple times a day, but in between gab sessions, we would email each other life updates. There literally was nothing about me this girl did not know. Most of our emails at the time revolved around the upcoming dance. Lisa was in the process of finalizing a double date with a guy she wanted to take and his friend, someone she thought would be a fun date for me. In one email, I mentioned that I didn't want it to be this big ordeal where I'd feel nervous and all this pressure to have THE. PERFECT. DATE. The last "dance" I'd been to was Snowball. It was super informal and fun.  Snowball was a dance where we choose names and set each other up with secret dates. That had been a great success for me - I got set up with a pretty nice guy who was fun and who I considered a friend. NO PRESSURE! Our dance picture is me giving the kid a piggyback ride. Totally my style!!  Even though this was a formal dance, I was hoping it would still be fun and somewhat chill. At some point in the email, I mentioned that it might be a good idea to take somebody I already knew so it wouldn't be this awkward blind date - "...maybe I should just take Marcos." 

The email ended just like that. 

As luck would have it, Marcos walked into the computer lab while Lisa was reading my email. Being the friendly man that he is, he walked over to say hello and sees the phrase "maybe I should just take Marcos" practically flashing at him. The next day, I received an email from muboldi@weber.edu Who in the world is muboldi?  Who's sending me an email? What kind of last name is Uboldi?  How do you even pronounce that? 

I opened the email and realized it was from Marcos. I remember thinking to myself that Uboldi was sure a strange "latino" name. Huh? I thought his last name was Garcia or Valdez or something like that? Ugh! I would HATE that last name!! 

For those of you single folks out there, here's a piece of advice.  NEVER say or even think to yourself that you're glad you don't have a particular last name.  It's VERY dangerous territory!! Here's what I remember about the email I opened from muboldi@weber.edu 

"Maria- Hey, it's me, Marcos. I don't know how to tell you this and I really apologize, but I was in the computer lab the other day when Lisa was reading your email and I saw the part about you possibly wanting to take me to LD's Spring Formal. If you want me to go with you, it would be an honor. -Marcos"

Holy crap! What am I going to do now? By the time I read the email, I already had a date to Spring Formal - a blind date. Now I really felt bad. So I did what any freaked out girl would do in my situation...NOTHING. I left the poor guy totally hanging (AGAIN) and went to Spring Formal with the guy Lisa had arranged for me to take. But luck or fate or whatever you want to call it was on his side once again.  Although for the most part I would consider the date a success, it was horrible timing. My date had started falling hard for some other chick AFTER Lisa had talked to him about the dance. He didn't want to bail and look like a jerk so he came anyway.  By the time the dance rolled around, he pretty much felt like he was cheating on the girl he had recently started dating.  Oh the complexities of the dating world! My recap with Lisa sounded something like this.  "Well, it wasn't a horrible date, but it would've been nice to know he was attached at that point.  Seriously?? I HATE STUPID DANCES!! I should've just taken Marcos."

Marcos Says...

Yep! I remember bumping into Lisa at the computer lab!!! I don't make a habit of looking over someone's shoulder while they're at a computer, but I'm glad I did that time....MARIA should've taken me. Period. Peace!!!!