The last of 49

That's right, 49 grandchildren on my mom's side and I'm the tail end. Something that I've grown up with that most people think is silly is that we always wear name tags to our family get togethers. Thank goodness! I still don't know all my cousins by name, let alone their spouses and children. Even though I don't know all their names immediately, I know their faces and stories and whenever we get together there is a very special spirit. It's familiar, inviting and kind and I love getting together with the Hinckley cousins. This past weekend there was a cousin get together just for the aunts and uncles and cousins, sans kids. I was glad we were able to go. I'm also glad Richie is such a good sport. This is the second time he's met most of these people and so probably doesn't understand why I get teary eyed when we are all together and probably tires quickly of having to repeat the same intro over and over again.
Richie's folks were kind enough to watch the kids for us and let us stay with them. I swear I packed my camera, but couldn't find it once we got there, so all of these pictures are courtesy of my mom. We got to visit the grave site of my Grandma and Grandpa Hinckley and my great grandparents. We also visited the grave site of Ralph Johnson, the family farm hand who was more like a family member than an employee. We enjoyed a nice dinner at a park and caught up with as many cousins as possible. Such good times.

Opposition in all things...right??

It's times like this that I love being a mom.

Simple, pure joy, honest, complete love and on and on and on!

It's times like this when I think, "I shouldn't have laughed and thought it was cute and taken a picture the first time."

Because now when Gwen wakes up in the middle of the night and can't get back to sleep and I go in to see what the matter is, and I find Miles in the crib with her, I want to be SO mad. He's just trying to cuddle with her and share pillows and stuff, but it makes me a tad nervous. And angry.

Lately I've been having a lot of "those" days where I start out completely content and just in awe of my great life, and by 3 o clock, I'm ready to punch someone's lights out. So Richie walks in and sees me collapsed on the floor and Miles jumping on me and he asks, "What's for dinner?" I growl at him and he scoots into the kitchen and makes us french toast or something. :) I guess some days are just like that.

The Seminary Fairy Tale

Once upon a time, there was a man; a man who wanted to teach seminary. He got dressed in his best seminary teacher-looking outfit and drove 15 minutes south to the magical kingdom of Rigby Junior High. He settled into his very own office and prepared to teach his first lesson in the classroom his rockin' wife helped him decorate. (Shout out!) But things took a turn for the worst when the air conditioning went out and over 10 extra kids were added to every class, making it over 40 hormonal teenagers to corral in every class.

The young seminary teacher came home bruised and battered. But because of his noble character, he immediately started to plan for better lessons and better classroom management for the next day, so as to slay the bad behavior quickly and teach precious gospel truths. He armed himself with visual aides, well thought out questions and object lessons. He received help from his supervisor, king over all the seminary teaching land, and the class sizes were changed to be a normal, manageable number. The air conditioning even decided to cooperate!
And so our brave hero reigned victorious for the next two days, resulting in kids who were crying because they didn't want to be taken out of Brother Garner's class, some serious gospel learning and testimony growing.
So far it looks as though we may live happily ever after.





The End.