GUSH

I have to tell you, I try not to say too much about Spencer on this blog, because I love you all and really don't want you to spend the rest of your life second guessing your marital happiness.

The truth is, I've been keeping a secret:  Spencer is the world's best man.  And that is fact.  Totally unbiased. That seems like a bold statement, but I've been married to him for six years now, don't you think I would know? 

If you are still reading this, having finished throwing up in your mouth, I'm going to expound on the topic.  Why?  Why, it's our sixth anniversary, after all.  I have no money and can't keep up with all the ways that he pampers and spoils me, so I'll blog about it instead.  And after all, the blog is MINE!!!! And how can you kick me out of what is MINE!?! (Oops, sorry to go off into the world of School of Rock there.  Did you catch that, Robyn?)

Anyway... Spencer. He's the best.  Here are six reasons why:

First anniversary: living in Dodgeville, WI--celebrated by taking a dinner cruise on the Miss'ippi

1.  Spencer is Eternal Sunshine.  The house can be a disaster, the kids screaming and throwing things, I'm cranky and chewing him out for something really little, like not washing his hands for long enough, and we're probably late to some function, too.  And this guy can smile at us all and shout out, "Who's ready for some FUN?!?"  And get the kids all excited.  I cannot do that.  Can you?

Second Anniversary:  Having just moved to CA, we had a picnic by a stream on Uncle Brian's Father's Ranch.  Can you tell by my fat face that I was pregnant?

2.  Spencer is Super Man.  He can get up with the kids so that I can sleep in, make breakfast, do the dishes, and get Cadence to clean her room and make her bed.  Then he gets started on his homework and planning some family excursion (yes, at the same time).  When my slow and sorry buns come rolling out of bed, he is happy to see me and then runs along to school.  He gets home in time to calm me down from my just-before-dinner freak-out, where-in I am running around feeling angry and hopeless because instead of fixing dinner I've been dealing with kids and so dinner is late and I'm hungry and blah blah blah... He turns on that Eternal Sunshine and fixes everything.  Then we have dinner, he helps get the kids to bed, does his homework, spends some quality time with me, and gets to bed too late, but still is happy to get up with the kids in the morning so that I can sleep in.

Third Anniversary:  We biked across the Golden Gate Bridge (if you haven't done this and you are in the area, DO IT!) and had a picnic in Marin.

3.  Spencer is Super Student.  He does all that was mentioned in #2, he has managed to get two scholarships, participate in LEAD (wherein second-year students teach a leadership course to first-years), serve on committees, attend all sorts of "networking" (read "drinking") events, and guess what?  He's graduating with honors!!!

Fourth Anniversary:  First "weekend getaway" since becoming parents--went to Venice Beach for two nights--so fun!  Pictured here with friends Chris and Kristen, who live nearby and came to hang out for a little while.

4.  Spencer is practically perfect in every way.  Seriously, the guy is almost always right.  And the crazy thing is, when he's wrong, he's okay with it.  He is competitive but doesn't care if he loses.  I can whine and complain to him about him, and he'll say, "Yeah, you're right.  I'll try to be better."  The fights in my head are always WAY more dramatic than in real life.  He always knows what I want or need or feel like before even I do. 

No pictoral evidence that we actually had a fifth anniversary!  This was a few months after.  Lame.

But we went to a really really romantic schmancy fondue restaurant, Geja's Cafe, in Chicago.  I ate so much I looked like I was having twins.  That was joyous indeed.

5.  Spencer is fun.  and funny.  I've always told him that he seems to always say either the absolute perfect thing in the moment or the absolute worst. One or the other.  He has an open door policy--everybody is welcome, always.  He has a "more the merrier" attitude (in fact, when we were dating, I thought we was scared to be alone with me, because we would make plans for Fri--on Monday, when plans were made, it would be a date; by Tuesday it was a double date; by Wednesday, a group date; and by Thursday it was a party.)  Spencer loves to be in the spotlight but he doesn't insist on it.  He has just as much fun in the background (where I like to reside).  He takes it upon himself to be sure that fun and new experiences are had by all around him.

6.  Spencer is honest.  Honest with his fellow man and honest with himself.  His testimony of Jesus Christ and the Gospel are strong, but he is not afraid to ask questions and honestly examine the testimony and where it came from.  He is honestly interested in the vantage point of others and strives to understand why people do the things they do.  He is honest and moral in his dealings with his employers and with everybody, for that matter.  Where many of us have grown so comfortable with the concept of "little white lies" that we hardly even label them as such anymore, he has not.  I love that.

And tonight he took me to a really fancy-pants restaurant in the middle of downtown Chicago.  You know, one of those restaurants where the menu descriptions are cryptic and the portions are miniature.  But it's art for your mouth.  It was so much fun--and quite good, really.  The creme brulee was a perfect 10.  We talked about moving and about teaching Cadence to read and about our past anniversaries...he laughed at my jokes and made me feel so special...he's a good man.

Anyway, can't help but love that man.  And now you know some of the reasons why.

The Not-So Buzzy Bee

Cadence loves to dance.  We know this, right?  It's been clear since before she could walk--it's in her blood.  As a baby who could sit up, but not even crawl yet, all you had to do to get her to dance was sing "Two to Tango", and those hips would start a-shakin' and she was jivin' to the beat.  You've enjoyed her dancing the famous "Put a Ring On It" dance.  She loooooves. to. dance. 

So, as I mentioned before, we put her in Ballet classes.  Just 30 minutes once a week, nothing too disciplined or intense.  But things didn't pan out like we expected them too.

Saturday was her recital.  Her class was to perform as the "Buzzy Bees", a dance in which they flutter out one after another, dip into the "flowers",  and then flutter around the stage for a few more minutes.  Pretty simple.  And here's the kicker:  Cadence spent the entire time walking stiffly around the stage with a very distinct "I hope nobody is noticing me" self-conscious sort of face.  It was very funny.  All the audience was laughing at the funny kids who were over-acheiving in their spins, leaps, and flutters, or the kids who stopped to wave or look for parents, or who held hands...Spencer and I were laughing so hard as we watched her try to blend in with the background and not dance at all.  Well, I say that, but at the end her arms did start to raise up a little and her steps became a little more graceful.  But it was hardly dancing.  It was totally worth the $$$ we spent on that dance class! 

Cadence is in the lavender in the center.  You know, the one standing there.

But seriously, wouldn't you expect Cadence, who sees herself as having the authority of an adult, who thinks she knows everything, and who was born to dance to get out there and take the stage?  Or at least dance?

How do you like that pose?  The apple doesn't fall from the tree, does it Spence?

It was cute.  She's glad to have a break from dance classes.  I hope we can get her to be interested in another dance class soon, though. 

One thing I she was excited about was getting to wear makeup.  And so she decided the morning of that she would just apply the lipstick herself.

And this is me saying: "quit taking dumb pictures of me and get Campbell before she gets finished climbing onto the stage!"  Do you like my new bangs?

Elementary, My Dear Watson

Day One:  A sunday afternoon phone call from an online clothing vendor in New York asks me if I have authorized a recent purchase of shoes--that is, 2 orders of approx. $350 of shoes.  I quickly look at Spencer wondering if his Mother's Day surprise has just been blown and then reality hits.  "Nope.  Did not authorize that".  The wonderful associate on the phone tells me that whoever has used my debit card also has my phone number because they included that on the order.  Way to go, thief.

He also tells me the name on the order--Pim Goods (for some reason I feel like I should protect the identities of my identity thief, so names have been changed)--information which I keep tucked away, figuring it is a false name, but not too far tucked, a phone number, and the shipping address.  The address is in south side Chicago, which, if you are just tuning in, is where I live.

So: the thief has my debit card number, but not my actual card, my phone number, and rather than living in Mozambique and being the legal representative of somebody who's fortune I am the sole living heir to, they are in my very neck of the woods.  Somebody either has my information on file because I have bought something from them, gone through my mail, or, it could have been an inside job, like a friend (was it you!?!)   Hmmm.... 

I called my bank and talked to some moron who kept telling me that all I need to do is wait until they get money out of my account and then call claims.  Hello, what is so difficult about cancelling my card?!?  I called later and talked to somebody else who actually did cancel my card, and also informed me that Sticky Fingers McShoesalot tried to spend $700 more dollars that day but that my card had already been marked for fraud and so they couldn't. 

Thanks to the responsible clothing vendor, no money was taken from my account.  But I felt very violated.  Vulnerable.  What else did they know about me.  How did they get my information?  Only one person came to mind.  The girl from the Dry Cleaners.  I had just been there three days earlier, and the girl working the counter was not one of the usuals that I had seen there before.  And unlike them, but much more like the rest of south Chicago, she was cold and a little attitude-y.  (Customer service is not really a thing around here).

Day Two:  As soon as working hours began, I called the Dry Cleaners and asked if anybody by the name of "Pim Goods" works there.  This is something I probably shouldn't have done, since my better judgment said was a pseudonym anyway.  The woman's voice on the other end was a  little snappy so I figured it must have been the woman I had dealt with the other day, "There's just me--Vivian, and Shawn who work here.  Is there a problem?" No, no problem.  I got off the phone quickly, as I didn't like talking to Vivian.  I waited a few days to mull it over.

Day Four:  I was on my way home from a friend's house and passed the Dry Cleaners.  I couldn't get Vivian out of my head and I noticed it was Shawn, the very kind man who worked there, who was working that day.  I stepped in and asked him about the name on the order and explained my concern.  I told him that I didn't have much to base my suspicions on, just that I don't know who else in Chicago would have that information.  Shawn was very sincerely interested and after talking through it with me he wrote a note and said that when the owner gets back into town that he was sure he would want to talk to me.  Then we talked through it again.  And again.  And again.  For some reason there was a need to say everything many many times.  I tried to make it very clear that I wasn't trying to raise suspicions, just that I was trying to get an idea of how it could have happened.

Day Nine:  I get a phone call.  It's Vivian from the Cleaners.  She is calling to tell me that the owner is out of town and so he won't be around to get back to me about this message, but that she doesn't know why I would even think that they would ever do that--that would cost them customers and ultimately their jobs.  She repeated herself several times and was effectively scolding me.  I tried to explain to her that I was just trying to figure things out and that I wasn't trying to blame anybody.  After all, I didn't have any real evidence that it was linked to the Dry Cleaners.  It was just the only idea I could come up with.

Day Eleven (today):  I get a call from James, the owner.  I was sort of not excited to talk to him and bring it up all over again after talking in circles with (the very kind and caring) Shawn and being scolded so harshly by Vivian.  But James was very interested and really wanted to know everything that I knew because he wanted to be able to rule out without doubt any of his employees.  So we started going over the story.  When I got to the part about Vivian calling me he was quite surprised and said she really ought not to have done that.  We kept scouring the facts and he really wanted the shipping address, which was lost by me and I could only remember the roundabouts, not the exact address.  So I called the online vendor again and they were able to give me that information one more time.  But this time, the associate said, "would you like the email that was included on that order as well?" Uh, what do you think?  "Okay, let me spell it for you:  V as in victory, I, V as in victory, I, A, N, Blahblah@blahblah.com" (actually email obviously withheld, although I'm tempted to start handing it out and using it to sign up for all sorts of online subscriptions).  As soon as he got to the second V, I started laughing out loud.  "She is sooo BUSTED!" I said.  The associate was a little confused and so I told him that I just figured out exactly who stole my information. 

I called James back a little overly excited to tell him what I found.  I gave him the email address and his response was a very long, dramatic explitive.  Vivian Blahblah was in fact her full name and the address was very near, if not exactly, where ol' Viv lives. She'll be fired first thing tomorrow morning, he said.  Please file the report with the police, he said.  And he'll call me after he talks to her tomorrow.

WhaaaahBAM!!! Case closed.  Just let me blow the smoke off of my finger-pistol.  I've been feeling pretty good.  I mean, I named the criminal within 10 minutes of the crime.  Sigh...when you're good, you're good.

And so Spencer and I watched the new Sherlock Holmes tonight to celebrate.  And made cracks at Vivian's expense... a lot.


disclaimer:  I realize I switched tense in the middle.  Possibly more than once.  It's the middle of the night.  No time for proofreading.  Sorry.

Do You Ever Just Decide To Buy A Home

before you even know where you are going to have a job and also that it must be in the next two weeks?  My husband does.

But first a little background (hold on, it's a bumpy ride):  Remember when I shared the happy news that Spencer had accepted the job with Walmart in Bentonville?  Well, our peace of mind that comes from knowing what lies ahead was short lived:  when Wmart ran his background check they found a misdeamenor from his crazy days as a freshman at BYU (marshmallows+giant slingshot+back of Adam B's truck="oh, hello, officer").  Spencer had reason to believe that this had been removed from his record and so on the app for employment checked the box saying he had no criminal background. 
And so we have a classic case of "falsifying criminal history", which is unquestionably grounds for rescinding an offer of employment.   Fortunately the people who were in contact with Spencer believed him that he honestly thought it was off his record and said that he could still have his job but he had to be off of their records for 60 days and then reapply.  This meant that for two months we had nothing in writing guaranteeing us a future.  And so Spencer did what any breadwinner, if not commitment-fearing opportunist, would do: kept applying/interviewing for other jobs.

A couple of weeks ago this all came to a head when he was waiting to hear back from Sprint after a final round interview at their HQ in KS.  While we were wondering what our future holds for us, Spencer realized that the first-time home-buyer's tax credit was not going to get extended and that we only had two weeks until April, and the tax credit, came to an end.

We started scrambling to find care for the two older girls while we went on a house-hunting trip, still not even sure what to tell people when they asked where we were going.  We finally settled on child-care options that worked and that we felt very comfortable with.  It was really hard to leave Cadence adn Campbell, but I had absolutely no fear that they wouldn't be cared for very well or kept safe or healthy.  I just missed them.  Cadence stayed with Eryn and her family, which was endless fun for her.  Apparently she taught little Lyvien some new ways to tick-off her mom--sorry Eryn :), and she came home with better manners.  Cam stayed with Matt and Mimi, and she and Josh also taught eachother some new tricks.  It's funny, she acts like Josh when she gets excited now.  Good thing I've always loved it when Joshy gets excited.  Anyway, may the world know right here and right now that Eryn and Scott and Matt and Mimi took on this huge task with only 5 days notice, with complete willingness and not even a hint of annoyance at how little was actually known as far as plans.

So Sunday we finalized plans for Cadence and Campbell.  Then Monday we were supposed to hear back from Sprint.  Then Wednesday we actually heard back from Sprint--it was a no-go.  I was so happy to have a plan that I didn't even care WHERE we were going!  And then on Friday Walmart told us that they couldn't buy us tickets to Bentonville yet since he wasn't employed yet on paper (although they had told him otherwise earlier).  So Friday afternoon Spencer decided we were going to drive, and we took the kids to LPF (dinner at the business school), left them with friends, and started the drive.

The story is even longer than that, but I'm going to cut to the chase--we got one!  We love it.  It just felt right.  Even now, I think about some of the things that aren't ideal (the kitchen being one) but I just still feel like it is the perfect space for our family.  Here are some pictures.  If you saw it before, we updated the winter pictures that were previously here:

entryway:

office:

the living room needs a total makeover--any suggestions?  That big oak thing next to the fireplace is an outdated TV hutch.  It would make a nice computer desk for the kids, though, I think.  But it does throw off the balance of the room.

Formal dining:

Master Bedroom

Master Bath:

Seriously awesome playroom:

The back (in winter).  There is a small garden that we've already got plans to extend.  I love my garden!!!!!  sorry.  I'm excited.

 Backyard with garden:

Side yard:

And there you have it.  And now you want to move to Arkansas, too, right?  Now that you see how far your money can go?  Oh yeah---that's right.  Come on down!  Always room for more here in Arkansas!

Oh yeah, wanna see our back-up option in case this one didn't work out?  We could have gotten this one for less than what we are paying for our place:

You think I'm joking, don't you?  Serious as a heart attack.  It's beautiful but not perfect for our fam like the other one is.

Peach Pecan Baked French Toast, etc.

A few weeks ago some friends and I went to Dream Dinners, one of those places that host frozen-dinner-frenzies.  If you've never done it, it's LOADS of fun!  We got a groupon and so it was much much cheaper than usual, which is why a bunch of graduate-school-fams were there.  No chopping, no dishwashing, no grocery-listing and shopping, no worrying about using up the other half of the bottle of whatsit before it goes bad...  Anyway, I came home with a dish that was fantastic, and today I replicated it.  It was purty good.  And everybody asked for the recipe.  Well, I'll do my best:  I am going to write it exactly how I did it and you will have to use your better judgment if it seems weird.   Some things were just because of what options I had at the grocery store.
And sorry, no cool pictures of the food on cool dishes with artistic napkins in the back or brightly colored garnishes.   The camera is in a coma.

Peach Pecan Baked French Toast
7 french bread rolls (they were about the size of hoagie buns)
Carmel dip for apples, thinned with heavy whipping cream until it pours a little more easily
1 package cream cheese, cut into "pats"
1 large (29 oz?) can of sliced peaches, reserving the syrup
handful of crushed pecans
1/4 cuppish of brown sugar
Heavy whipping cream (I used a pint and it was way more whipped cream than I could have ever used.)

for the egg mixture:

4 1/2 tbs cornstarch
6 tbs peach syrup
1 1/2 c sugar
5 eggs
1/2 c buttermilk (a little more, maybe)
3/4 c butter, melted (a little more?)
1 1/2 tsp vanilla (a little more)
a few dashes of cinnamon--maybe about a 1/4 tsp
an even fewer dashes of nutmeg and cloves (1/8 tsp?)

1.  Preheat oven to 425.  Spray a rectangular pyrex-typey thing with non-stick spray.  Cover the bottom of the dish with half of the carmel sauce (1 to 1.5 cups, I'd guess).  Cut the rolls hot-dog style (as in, not all the way through to the back side) and then into about six one inch segments, so that you have a bunch of pac-man-like pieces of bread.  place them in the carmel sauce with the slot side up--closed side in carmel.  You're going to need that slot.  Cut your cr. cheese into "pats" by cutting it in half lengthwise and then cutting about twice the thickness of a quarter for each pat.  Place a pat into each slot, putting extra pats wherever the heck you want them.

2.  Drizzle the rest of the carmel sauce over the bread/crm cheese.  Get it real good.  Cover those puppies.  Then place peach slices on top of each piece of bread and put any extras wherever you want--into the crevices and empty spaces... 

3.  Combine cornstarch with sugar well.  Then stir in peach syrup.  Next come the eggs and buttermilk.  Mix it all up.  Then add the butter, vanilla, and spices.  Pour over the bread.  top with brown sugar and pecans.  Bake for 10 or 20 minutes and then cover with foil once the top starts to look a little browned.  Continue baking for another 40 minutes or so.  It won't look completely set up because of the carmel sauce, so just take it out when you think it's had enough.  Let cool for at least 20 minutes, maybe more.  Whip the whipping cream and top.

I served this at a brunch at my house today and it was pretty well received, which is why the recipe actually came to be written and blogged.  I also served Baked Breadfast Taquitos with Lime Chipotle Dipping Sauce (As delicious as they sound but way simpler to make than they sound) and Coconut Banana Bread with Lime Glaze (an improvement over even the best regular old banana bread recipes, to be sure)--both recipes found on the blog Our Best Bites, which is an amazing recipe blog (thanks Matt and Mimi for sharing your love for this blog), and both raved about at the brunch.  Happy Fooding!

Oh, the innocence of youth...

Tonight we were driving downtown and were slowly, with a jerk or two here and there, navigating through a tight spot, wraught with cabs, a stretch Hummer (taking up three and a half lanes as it tried to turn and found there was not enough room--weird...), and pedestrians.  Cadence observed this and commented, "Dad, I want those people to die.  I want you to crash into them and kill them."  Bummed that they passed unharmed, she looked on to the next corner and suggested we head for the guy standing there.  Then she talked about how she wants to kill somebody.  Maybe not a certain friend [name withheld], but maybe. 

Cadence at "The Big Game", as she calls it--White Sox vs. Twins

Feeling ill, Spencer and I tried to explain to her that that was the worst thing you could ever do and the saddest thing possible.  She mulled over this for a moment.
We've been having talks about life and death lately, what with all the dandelions she brings home and the "pet ladybugs" we've gone through. 
She finishes mulling and comes up with this:  "But mom, if somebody is mean to me, I want to kill them."
I clumsily launch into a lecture about how we should respond if somebody is mean, trying to figure out how to teach her how wrong what she is saying is.
    "But Mom--Prince Feel-Up (oh yes, that absolutely is what she calls him) killed Maleficent because she was being mean." Okay, Sleeping Beauty is out the door.  Goodbye, Prince Feel-Up.
We ended the conversation with me telling her that we don't talk about killing and dying and stuff.  With a kid like Cadence, that kind of finish is never enough.  Hmmm...any suggestions?

And speaking of violence, might I share a moment with you? 

As I mentioned, tonight we went downtown to share a special joy with the kids:  chocolate cake shakes from Portillos.  Oh, Mama.  After ordering, Spencer and Cadence waited at the front for our order to come up and I had Cam and Layla in our sit and stand stroller and went to find a table.  I picked a spot and tried to entertain Cam until Spencer came back. She does this thing in that stroller that scare the guts outta me.  She arches her back as far as she can, her head pops out the other side and aims down toward the ground.  She's so arched that I'm afraid that one of these days she is going to somehow slip out and land on her head, or break something and get trapped, or somehow strangle herself or something.  It just seems so dangerous.  Plus, the strap that keeps the carseat in it's place is cracked, and so not very trustworthy, and when Cam does this move, her feet push up against the seat where the carseat is and I get so scared that she is going to snap that puppy backwards.  Anyway, it's scary.  And when she does it, she's in crazy mode, so there's no way of stopping her except A) removing her, which is rewarding that dangerous behavior, or B) physically pushing her back down until her head is back where it should be and then getting in her face and saying very firmly, "NO!  NO!".   And I want her to be afraid.  So I say it really firmly.  Anyway, story's getting too long.  While this is going on I notice that the lady at the table next to me is watching, disapprovingly. 

I don't normally get embarrassed about my kids in public.  Almost never.  If people are going to judge me because my three-year-old is picking her nose or my 1-year-old is throwing a tantrum, or whatever, they can go ahead and keep their little idle minds busy by guessing what they would do.  It's so much easier to parent in your mind anyway.  I just do the best job I can being a parent and if that means that some lame-O is annoyed with the fact that I'm letting my child throw a fit as we leave the store, whatever, I'm stickin to my guns.  So it never bugs me.  And it didn't bug me this time, either.
Then Spencer got back to the table and I went to get a highchair for Campbell.  I got back and heard the lady trying to quickly and quietly tell Spencer that I was "rough" with the child.  I was angry.  Very very very.  This is not the same as being told by a stranger that you aren't changing their diaper right or that you really should back yourself and stroller onto an elevator so that you can get off easier or to "put a hat on that child!"  This was a stranger claiming that I was abusing my child.  I said nothing but she knew I had heard her and I think she saw my face as I realized what she was saying. I thought about starting a fight but she was much bigger than me.  I had to talk myself down from throwing french fries in her hair. She quickly moved to another part of the restaurant. 

Here's the thing:  it didn't bother Spencer.  Augh!  I never get offended by strangers, but seriously--just the fact that somebody was watching that scene and decided that I was hurting my child... ooooh.  I don't know.  Spencer can't understand why it bothers me so.  But I'm bothered.  The rest of the time, whenever Spencer took an initiative with the kids, like picking up Campbell to walk to the car, or wiping Cadence's hands clean, in my mind it was because in a little way he suspected me of being too "rough".  That's ridiculous, but this is how much it got to me.  I mean, you can go ahead and say that she was just looking out for the welfare of the child.  I know that's true.  But seriously.  I was not hurting that kid, I was protecting her.   rrrrrrg.   Okay, you get a prize if you read this whole long aside.  Here's a cute picture of Layla to make up for it.

In her Easter Dress.  I have a picture of me holding each girl in this dress.  But not all on this computer so you don't get to see them today.  Too bad.

The Name By Which She Will Be Called...

(Special thanks to our wonderful friend Amber for taking these GUH-ORGEOUS photos for us)

Yes, at over 4 months of age, our little Layla finally had her baby blessing!  I was afraid she wouldn't fit into the blessing dress that her sisters had worn, but she did, and as you can see, looked lovely.  As soon as Spencer started the blessing she looked up at him and just stared (as she often does) right at him, and kept it up throughout.  Spencer was a little choked up from the start, and stayed that way throughout. With the help of several versions of notes (thanks to Sarah not-beer's new husband and to Amber), here is a little summary of your baby blessing, Layla:

Layla April Clive--
We bless you to always feel comfortable at home and loved by your family, and feel that your problems can be shared with those who love you.
We bless you to have a strong character.  To have empathy, to be happy, and that you will radiate warmth to those around you.
We bless you with health and a sharp mind.
We bless you with a strong spirit, and the ability to recognize you spiritual gifts, that they may be a source of strength to you and those around you.
We bless you that, like your mother, you will love virtuous things.  Fill your life with light and resist temptation.
We bless you to have an eternal perspective when facing life's trials and the inner strength needed to overcome those trials when needed.

It was a wonderful blessing.  Layla is such a sweet and loving little person.  Her face lights up so brightly when one of us greets her.  She loves loves loves her sisters and all their kisses and loves and all the other things that one would imagine a baby would not like so much (like Campbell's need to squeeze her hand--hard, or Cadence's inability to control her excitement when she touches Layla's head, etc).

Layla was named for two very strong, very important women in our lives.  The name Layla is derived from LAY, as in Clora Fontella LAY Orton, my father's mother. Layla was born on her birthday, Nov. 28th, the year that my Grandmother would have turned 102.

  My Grandma Orton was one of my role-models.  Is.  She had 10 children and a foster child that she treated as her own.  She was a tiny, tough, hard-working, purple-loving, farmer's wife.  She was one of the first women of the church to serve a mission (southern states, I believe she spent most of her time in North Carolina).  She loved the Lord.  She loved her family, and she loved her garden.

Grandma made the yummiest coconut syrup for topping pancakes.  She had an abundance of kittens...always kittens.  It was like they never grew up at Grandma's.   Grandma had a special talent: the bee whisperer!  It is said that bees would land on her finger, and then she would take them outside to let them free.  Grandma was clever and feisty.  Although Grandma never had much money and was practical in many ways, she had a little penchant for fashion. She always wished she looked more like her mother, who had red hair and was lovely.  She told me when I was about 12 that I should have been a red head, too.  And that is one really huge reason that I now am!  Grandma loved the temple and worked there for as long as she could.  She had a very strong and very real testimony of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.  I loved my sweet Grandma Orton.  She was such a source of strength to me.  And when I picture myself being welcomed to the "other side of the veil", I picture Grandma Orton first.

Layla's middle name is April, who is Spencer's mother.  Spencer's mother is also a very strong, hard-working, loving, dedicated woman.  She is driven and talented and let me tell you I don't think there is anything that woman can't do.  That woman flew, alone, from TX to UT when she had a two-day old and a 22-month-old so that she wouldn't miss her family reunion!!!  Can you imagine the dedication!  And fortitude?  When something needs doing, April is doing it.  You name it, planning girls' camp, arranging the music for Easter Sunday Meetings, writing somebody's personal history and editing somebody else's, helping the drama departments' fundraisers, promoting some child-of-hers' rock band and hosting a quincinera are probably on her docket at any given time.  April has a memory of a computer.   Ask her a phone number.  Just ask.  She knows it.  She remembers the smallest details.  It's delightful--I always love to hear what little things she remembers.  April is generous and very thoughtful and always looking for a way to help.  If she can't come, maybe she can at least pay for somebody else to come help, or find somebody who knows somebody who knows how to help you.  In summation, I'd probably say that she is not afraid.  She is not afraid to work, to help, to step out of her comfort zone to find solutions and successes and experiences and most of all to serve. 

And that is what is in your name, Layla.

We love you!