Doov

Thirteen years ago, on a very long car drive from Fremont to Monterey, my brother Jeff was (surprise!) tormenting my youngest brother, David. He'd been calling him Doov instead of Dave and David, being 6, was not happy. Seeing that telling Jeff to stop was useless, he angrily decided to butcher everyone else's names: "Okay, I guess I'll start calling you BEFF! So there! And BALLISON! Ha ha, I'm going to call you Ballison! BORA! And BECCA! Oh, wait..." Of course we laughed at him and tried to console him a little--see, we'll call Jeff 'Joof', and Becca 'Booca,' no need to get upset. He wasn't happy, though, so finally my mom yelled at us to knock it off.

The van fell quiet. And then Jeff quietly said, "Okay, Moom." Even David laughed.

David's response was a normal 6-year-old's response. But he got over it quickly, and soon enough, his nickname was Doov (and my mom is still Moom, and Laura is listed as "Bora" on my phone). He knew we were kind of laughing at him, but he didn't care--and probably even enjoyed it. With 5 older siblings, I think he had to grow up with a sense of humor and the ability to laugh at himself.

It always surprised me how easy going David is. When I was older (married with a kid, basically old enough to not pester my brother), I saw that my brother had a stash of candy and joked, "oooh, let me have some" and started to grab. I waited for the hand-swatting and "No, MIIIIIINE!" but David just said, "sure, what do you want?" I, uh....I don't know.

Yep, he drew on my kid.

My mom will quickly point out that this easy-going nature can also be his downfall. Getting him out of bed in high school was difficult. Getting him to work hard (or just work) was painful. Even when he did complete his homework, he'd sometimes just not turn it in. I didn't get it, and my mom was worried about college when he went off to BYU Idaho last fall.

The pre-mission year for most young men is often a party year; they're free from parents, but graduation and even declaring a major seem too distant. Once they're home from their two year missions, they spend the rest of their college careers making up for their freshman years. This happens to previously hard-working young men. For David? We feared the worst.

But he surprised shocked us. He did really well. He studied. He had fun, don't get me wrong, but he learned. And he was able to convey that knowledge in such a way that translated to really good grades. Maybe he was growing up after all.


A couple of weeks ago, I looked at the missionaries in our ward and thought, "They're not much older than David! David's going to be one of them in a few weeks!" And that was hard for me. Probably because I still see him as this:

Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?

I know he's not 9 anymore and he outgrew me years ago, but he'll always be the little boy who rode his big wheel in tights "Mickey Mouse Pants" and tried to beat my friend (California cross country champ) in footraces. He's grown up, though. I've always known his humor, sarcasm, and with would carry him far (I know my mom was a little mad when he got sent to the principal's office AGAIN in second grade, but we all gave him props when we found out that it was because a friend brought a rolling backpack to school and he quipped, "Dude, the airport's that way!"). But he's also shown that he's smart and hard working. All of these characteristics will be an asset to him as he starts his mission tomorrow.

When we were home last month, we got to hear his farewell talk. It is a humbling experience to hear your baby brother testify of Christ and know that he's not going to be a missionary, he IS a missionary. I know the weeks and months ahead will be difficult at times, but he is so excited. To learn Mandarin, to go to New York, to serve strangers, to teach. It will be a great two years. A friend of ours had a quote on her fridge while her son was on his mission: "A missionary leaves his family for two years so others can be with theirs for eternity."



Good luck, Doov. We're so proud of the missionary you are, and the work you will do. Thank you for the laughs, your love, and your example. We love you. And look out, New York.

Dancing Queen

I still need to post about our trip to California, but for now, I'm just going to post pictures from Mabes' first dance recital. Our California trip was cut short so we could make it back in time and while I was sad to be the first to leave, I'm glad we didn't miss this. As the year went along, she didn't love dance class as much as I thought she would. I think she thought dance lessons would be freestylin' for 45 minutes. Repeated shuffle ball changes really cramp her style. But she went each week, and even though we missed the last 2 classes, she did a great job.

Before the recital, in her tap costume

With Miss Lynn, her teacher

With flowers from Grandma Jackie and Aunt Amber-Rae

I was ridiculously proud of her. She did great, and while she missed a few steps, she totally made up for it in sass. She really enjoyed it and loved that I let her wear mascara, but she's not sure if she wants to take lessons again. We're looking at swim lessons for the summer, and we'll see what she does this fall!

11

I was telling Dave this morning that I really don't feel like we've been married for 11 years. Somehow I thought I'd feel more grown-up, more mature. But then in reading old blog posts, I've realized that's kind of been a theme each year. So I've accepted the fact that time will keep passing, but I won't feel older.

Things have changed, though. I may feel 21, but I have laugh lines around my eyes and a saggy tummy that countless crunches can't fix. I think about grown-up things like IRAs and 529s and a mortgage. I roll my eyes at MTV and get excited about folding laundry while watching House Hunters. I swore I'd always have time to keep up with current events and read the New York Times Op-Ed pieces so we'd always have something interesting to talk about, yet somehow reading up on Thomas Friedman's insight on the Arab Spring has gotten pushed out another day. I drive a minivan (!) and totally love it (!!!). But despite being much less cool that I was 11 years ago (sadly, it wasn't a high threshold then), Dave still loves me. We have changed. We've learned that even though you work really hard and do everything you're supposed to, things don't always turn out the way you want them to. Sometimes things suck. But having your best friend there to commiserate, eat ice cream, and motivate makes those things bearable. And when things do go your way? Things are awesome and you appreciate every stinkin' moment of it.

I was pretty stupid and naive 11 years ago. I had unrealistic expectations about a lot of things. And yet somehow I made a really, really good decision in marrying Dave. He may not have made his first million by 26 (see? unrealistic expectations! Sometimes I wish I could go back and knock some sense into myself.), but he has surpassed all other expectations. He is an amazing husband, father, and friend, and it has been a wonderful 11 years. I'm looking forward to not feeling like we've been married for 20, 30, 50 years.

Oh, and another way we've changed? We both can run farther and faster than we did 11 years ago. Which means that if I *did* go back in time and punch younger Allison, I could totally outrun her.

Catching up

So...we've been busy. And now I'm trying to catch up, though I think I'll have to settle for just not falling behind more. About a month ago (!), Dave's sister, Amber-Rae graduated from Western Carolina University. We were able to go out and celebrate with her and Dave's mom. We've been there before, but each time we go I'm just amazed at how beautiful the mountains are.

We went to Commencement, which was really nice and not too long (a huge plus with a squirmy 16-month-old!). We cheered on Amber-Rae as she got her diploma and then headed to a nearby park for lunch.




It was a beautiful day and the girls loved running around the park; we just had to make sure than Annabelle didn't go for a swim.


That evening, we went to dinner and explored the nearby Cherokee Indian Reservation:

I didn't realize tribes had elections.

It had a little downtown area that was adorable (is it insulting to call a downtown "adorable"?), and we could have spent a lot more time there. Mabes informed us that "Native Americans aren't real anymore. Well, only in India." We went to dinner at a place that had some Native American fare; Annabelle was a big fan of the fried corn nuggets (I think that's what they were called) and frybread. And who am I kidding, I'm a big fan of anything fried, too.