Ice Cream & Boogers

Anyone who knows me knows I LOVE a good bowl (or two or three) of ice cream. If you didn't know, maybe this story from my childhood will prove my undying love for it:

I was young--about five or so. Mom worked from home with her Whiz Kids Home Daycare. At any given time there were a good dozen or so (sometimes more) little rugrats running around the house (plus another five of us that called her "mom").

Mom was busy. And probably very overwhelmed (heck I can barely handle four of my own youngsters). In addition to the home daycare, she had a busy church calling serving as the President of over 100 children ages 3-11. She also took care of our family, chauffered us to games/practices, and maintained a 4,000 square foot home. Yep, she was pretty awesome (And still is).

It was during this time that Mom found someone had been wiping their boogers on the wall. As if she didn't already have enough on her plate, she now had to scrub the walls to make them booger-free. In her despair, I remember her gathering us kids up and lining us up along the entry-way wall.

"Who did this? Who is wiping boogers all over the walls?"

Everyone stared at their feet. Including me.

I knew who the guilty person was--it was my little brother, Spencer. He constantly had his chubby fingers up his nose. And if he didn't decide to eat them, he smeared them on the wall nearest him.

The room was still silent.

"Whoever confesses that they did this, I'll buy him ice cream" said Mom.

Mom didn't realize her mistake of how she worded it. Instead of basically persuading people to lie just to get some answer, she should have said, "Whoever tells me the truth gets ice cream."

But I didn't care. I'd take the blame for ALL the boogers all over my neighborhood if it meant I could get my hands on some succulent ice cream.

And so I confessed. Or rather...I took the blame for it.

Instead of ice cream, I was reprimanded and handed a sponge.

I'm still waiting for my scoop of ice cream.

Touch of the Master's Hand

To say we were never disciplined would be a complete lie. We got the spank. Sometimes it involved Dad's belt, a metal ruler, or just a good ol' touch of the Master's Hand. 


I got in a lot of trouble one time when I snuck on the roof. Apparently everyone had been looking for me for quite some time and couldn't find me. Mom was in tears. I remember seeing her go out in the backyard and check the playhouse. When they couldn't find me they were about ready to call the police. Yeah...I got in a lot of trouble for that.


Mom always seemed harder on us with spanking than my dad was. Maybe it was because Dad was always the one disciplining the older kids? Anyway, we loved it when Dad was in charge of spanking us. He'd lead us to the bathroom and secretly instruct us to cry on cue when he slapped the counter. And just like that we did. I was known as the "faucet"--since I was an expert at turning on and off my tears. 


One time we stuffed our bottoms with toilet paper so it wouldn't hurt so bad. But when Mom and Dad saw what we had done, they just laughed. 

Lake Powell

Like I said earlier, we love boating. One year we teamed up with another family from our ward (the Dean's) and rented a houseboat in Lake Powell. I'm not sure why exactly we went with them--it's not like we were particularly close with them. All of us kids seemed to align up with their kids' ages, though. We both had our own boats, so we hauled those down, too.

A LOT of exciting events took place on this particular trip:

• Dad almost died by getting sucked under the houseboat because Sis. Dean didn't turn the engine off when Dad was swimming to us from the boats we were towing behind.
• A mattress from the houseboat floated away while in our little cul-de-sac. Tenille rescued it later.
• CC (their youngest daughter) kept running into the sliding glass door.
• We rode our water weanie for the first time, and then it popped.
• We danced the night away to oldies music while jumping off the houseboat into the water and sliding down the waterslide. Anyone else would guess we were drunk we were having so much fun.
• A stranded lady and her two kids ended up camping with us, too. I remember Sis. Dean crying because she thought her husband liked the stranded lady.
• Cliff Jumping was always a highlight
• Dad getting irate over the propeller getting eaten by some rocks near the shore.
• Dad getting upset at Lance for running the boat into the dock.
• Dad getting upset at us trying to circle him in the water and we weren't getting close enough. 
• Dutch oven peach cobbler with sand in it.
• Bats flying overhead at night
• Finding Indian Ruins while hiking
• Getting lost in the mirror-like canyons
• Grilling catfish, and spitting at the carp near the dock
• Spencer hiding under the bow of the boat crying because he was so afraid of boating. 
• Mom pulling the trailer out with the van and taking the door off of the truck next to her. (Okay, so maybe that was another trip)

We loved Lake Powell. We went every year up until Lance's mission. Mom didn't let us go while he was away because she felt like it wasn't fair to go without him. haha

Halloween Party

Mom and Dad used to host parties with our friends and neighbors from the ward. One time they had a Halloween party in our basement and were exchanging white elephant gifts. I remembered the ones that belonged to us because I had seen Mom wrapping them before the party.

When a neighbor opened up the hemorrhoid cream I exclaimed, "Hey! That's my mom's!"

Everyone there thought it was funny.

Except Mom. ;)

My Dad the Jokester

Dad has always been a comedian. He reminds me of Jay Leno, actually. He always has a twinkle in his eye when he's joking. He can't ever lie. I think this is one of the traits I inherited from him.

One particular occasion my family came back home from somewhere. We always closed the garage door when we left, but found that it was still open. We all got concerned, thinking perhaps a robber was in there. Dad pulled into the garage and told us all to wait there while he investigated the premises.

We patiently waited while Mom worried. We were relieved to see Dad open the door to come tell us everything was fine when all the sudden he threw up his hands, went stiff, and fell to the floor. Mom screamed. We thought he had been shot. When he stood up laughing with that funny twinkle in his eye Mom was ticked. We all thought it was funny, though.

Mailbox Bomb

Down the street from us were some crazy bad teenagers. Melissa was babysitting us one day when I asked where Mom and Dad were. She said they were at the jail. I thought she meant they were IN jail. When I probed her more, I learned that those bad kids down the street had been putting small bombs in people's mailboxes.

The phone rang, and Melissa went to get it. It was my parents. I thought it would be funny to say that I just saw those bad kids look in our mailbox. Melissa took it seriously, and so did my parents. Unfortunately, so did the cops.

The cops came to my house to question me. I was terrified. I broke down and started crying, admitting my guilt that I had made up the whole story. The cop told me to never lie. I felt so ashamed and humiliated. I knew I had disappointed my parents, and I never wanted to do that again. I tried from then on to be honest.

Inventions

In elementary each year we had to come up with our own inventions--which usually meant the parents had to come up with something. (I guess that's what I get to look forward to, huh?) Anyway, I remember thinking my mom was so creative and innovative. She'd stay up late making something for us. She made a dustpan with a ruler at the edge to keep the dirt in. My favorite was the mug holder when you're skiing: She stuffed an old pink turtle-neck shirt and hung it on a hanger. Velcroed to the chest was a mug, so you could drink your hot cocoa while skiing. lol. It sounds silly, but I remember thinking it was the best idea out there.

Mom did a lot of stuff like that for us. In second grade I was the VIP (Very Important Person) and she came up with a poster board of me. She even made candy for the kids in the class to have called "Sweet Tatianas" (made from SweetTarts).

Don't I have an awesome mom?!

Modeling

My mom signed Tenille and me up for modeling when she was a senior and I was a freshman. Our instructor was an old, skinny former-model named Colette. She looked like she was anorexic. She was so old and pale, too, and she loved eye-liner! Each week we drove out to her home where she worked with us in how to walk, how to pose for the camera, how to choose outfits, what different styles were, etc. Then we'd end with a photo-shoot. She was the one who made us start wearing eye-liner. I thought I looked like a hooker wearing it in the beginning. haha.

Doing modeling was a real confidence booster. (As if my ego really needed it, right? haha). But I learned a lot, and I know it wasn't cheap for my mom to pay for it. Mom sacrificed things for herself in order to provide more for us. I even remember her signing up for a second job cleaning old office buildings at night. I went with her, too. She made me promise not to tell Dad. But it only lasted one night before she realized she didn't want to do that. But man, we sure made the floor ion that building off Fort Union Blvd look good!

As I got older I was able to use my modeling skills. A neighbor submitted my name to run for Ms. Teen Salt Lake City. I went through the whole interview process and was accepted as a candidate. There was another interview up Cottonwood Canyon at a ski resort where I met with some judges and had to answer some questions on my talents, personality, what I'd be wearing for the show, etc. Then came time for me to work the runway. I modeled a prom dress, my basketball uniform, and something casual. I didn't get very far, though. I think I made top 10, but not top 3. Oh well. It was a fun experience (although I didn't let my basketball teammates know--they would have made fun).

My Testimony

Mom and Dad were always serving in the church--whether it was in the Bishopric, Primary, Young Womens, or Relief Society. They were busy. I could always tell they had a testimony of the gospel. One Family home Evening we went around the dinner table and everyone just bore their testimonies. We were all bawling (we're a pretty sensitive family).

Another FHE we learned about Nephi and the gold plates. My mom got pieces of cardboard, wrapped them in foil, and had us write our own testimonies on them. To this day that was my favorite FHE lesson. You can bet I'll be doing that same one for my kids when they're older.

When I turned 12 I entered Young Womens. I was so excited. I went to Girls Camp that year and was pretty shy. At testimony meeting I really wanted to bear mine, but couldn't get up the nerve to do it. When a long pause came, I noticed my lips were moving and people were looking at me. Words were leaving my mouth, but it wasn't me doing it. After the initial shock I picked up halfway through, and finished my testimony. I knew that was the Holy Ghost speaking through me. Talk about the gift of tongues, huh? From that point on, I've never doubted the Church. And I never will.

My First Child

Taylor Alyssa Southam joined our family on December 3, 2008 at 1:06 pm. I was nervous as heck for her to come (mostly because I’m a wimp and can’t endure pain well).  I was induced, and she came quickly. Five hours after they started the petocin, she made her debut. It wasn’t bad at all—especially because of the epidural they gave me. When I could feel pressure, I said to the nurse, “I think I have to go to the bathroom.” She checked me and said, “Ummmm…nope…you don’t. That’s a head. I’ll get the doctor.” It was then I began freaking out and wondering how I was supposed to push a kid out. After about 10 minutes of pushing (maybe 4-5 pushes), she came. She was beautiful, and I was so overwhelmed with the spirituality of it all that I wept—and so did Matt.

As first time parents we loved it. We spent every minute with her, and bragging about her. She truly made our lives feel complete. I could get into specifics about her, but I’ve documented that in our Southam Family Journal History as well. 

Matt and Me, Our Courtship, and First Few Years of Marriage

I attended Utah State University (home of the Aggies!) in the fall of 2003. Tenille and Brad had been married for a few months and were also living in Logan (from BYU Hawaii). It was nice to have family still close by. Tenille was very pregnant with Kobe, but would still cook me Sunday dinner and let me do laundry at their house.

I began majoring in Interior Design, but I later switched it to Journalism & Communications (with an emphasis in Public Relations). Writing and public speaking were really more of my forte. I loved my major, and had some really neat professors. I got some great hands-on experience, and was even awarded the “Most Outstanding Junior in the Public Relations Department.” I wrote articles for the online newspaper, “The Hard News Café” and was featured at my favorite ice cream joint (Charlie’s) since I had written a review on their ice cream. (It’s still matted and framed in their parlor if you want to check it out!)

I loved college! I dated a few guys, I enjoyed my classes (I had a 3.75 GPA when I graduated), I loved my singles ward, I loved my friends, I played intramurals (volleyball and basketball), and I worked for Aggie Ice Cream. Things were definitely going right.

I met Matt while my boyfriend at the time was playing city league basketball and intramurals. It was in my freshman year, and I attended the games, and saw Matt on  his team. But I did not care for Matt at all. I thought he was way too cocky. He was good at basketball, and he sure knew it. I remember he was being guarded by a tall black guy, and Matt was the point guard. He leaned over to his defender while dribbling the ball at half court and said, “Do you want me to shoot it from here? Or do you want me to dunk it?” The defender told him to shoot it, and so he did. And it went in the basket perfectly. I was so bugged. I was hoping he’d miss it to show him he wasn’t as good as he thought he was. Then after the game, Matt always had a bunch of girls there cheering him on. He’d go over to them after, and they’d be all over him. He truly thought he was God’s gift on earth. I used to tell my boyfriend, “UGH! I can’t STAND that guy named Matt on your team.” My boyfriend would just laugh it off and be like, “Ya, but he’s funny.”

The following year my boyfriend went on a mission, and I thought I’d wait for him. The cocky guy, Matt, happened to be in a few of my classes that semester. He approached me and said, “Hey, aren’t you Brian’s girlfriend?” I said, “No, he’s on a mission anyway.” The next day I had another class with Matt, but he couldn’t remember my name, so he looked at my paper from the quiz we had that day. He couldn’t pronounce it, so he asked me, “How do you pronounce your name again?” I told him, and we got to talking. I don’t know how long it was that I thought his name was Derek, though. Ha ha.

Because the first week of classes end so early, we sat out on the quad and talked. He got my phone number (I was the fourth girl he had gotten a number from that day), and told me to save him a seat in our classes we had together. When he didn’t show for one of the classes, though, I got upset. I felt like a retard for saving a seat for someone that was trying to play games with me, so I gave it away. I saw him in another class, and it turned out he transferred out of the class he missed. I figured, “Hey, if you don’t want to be near me, that’s fine.” But then he started saving me a seat. We got to talking, and found out he liked sports as much as me (if not more). He asked me if I wanted to go to a football game that weekend, and I said yes.

I still had no interest in him, though, because a) I still thought he was too cocky, and b) I thought he was a “premie” (a pre-missionary). When I found out he wasn’t (because he wore a Chinese CTR ring), I started to like him a little more because he was “old” (he was only 22 at the time, and I was 19). My friend, Amy, said he was pretty cute. And so, being the competitive person I am, I didn’t want her to get together with him, so I flirted with him all night. We held hands at the game, and went to a party at his apartment afterward. We were both really flirty, but when it came time for him to take me home, I promised myself he was NOT getting a kiss, as I had a missionary still. Well, he didn’t get it, nor did he even try for one. So I was kind of upset. I thought to myself “He’ll try again. But if he really likes me, he’ll have to wait a month.” The next night he invited me over to his house, and he kissed me while we were watching a movie on his Luv Sac. And that was the end of that. We couldn’t be separated after that.

I won’t get into any more specificities of our courtship, as it is all documented in my hand-written journals. So we’ll skip down to our engagement. We were engaged January 22, 2005 in my sister’s parking lot. We had just gotten back from an Aggie basketball game, and he got down one knee and popped the question. My first response was, “You didn’t ask my dad.” We were married a few months later on May 7, 2005 in the Mount Timpanogos LDS Temple. We honeymooned up Ogden Canyon to Eden and stayed at Wolf Creek Lodge. We went fishing, bbq’d, and just relaxed before we moved to Montana where Matt would sell Dish Network and I worked at Sears as a cashier. After living in Montana for just over a month, we moved to Reno so Matt could do roofing with his brother. We lived in Reno for three weeks before moving back to Great Falls, Montana for the rest of the summer.

At the end of the summer, we moved back home to Logan. We lived in Canyon Terrace Apartments and absolutely LOVED our married student ward there. Everyone was around our age and so much fun. We had a lot of fun activities with the ward, including a Fall Dance. We hung out a lot with the other couples and loved it.

Shortly after moving to Logan, Matt began working for a roofer while I finished my degree and looked for a job myself. I graduated just under three years of schooling (in 2006) and landed a part-time job working as a Staff Assistant for the State 4-H Office at Utah State. That summer, it turned into a full-time position. I was so excited to have a “career” with benefits and a 401K plan. Matt quit roofing after a little while in order to volunteer coach at Mountain Crest High School in Hyrum (and from then on until we had a kid, I was the main breadwinner for the family). He assisted with both freshman and sophomore teams. The poor guy was so busy having early morning practice with the freshmen, followed by attending classes, and then an afternoon practice for the sophs. He also attended the JV and Varsity games, so our life got to be really hectic.

The people at Mountain Crest were so neat. I quickly became friends with them, and loved their community. It wasn’t long before Matt and I decided we wanted to live there some day permanently. The next year Matt became the head Freshmen coach, and would coach there the following year as well. He loved it, and everyone loved him. (He also coached football his first two years out there.) Because of volunteering his first year, he found out that’s what his true love was—and he decided to major in Physical Education so he could be a teacher and a coach.

While Matt kept busy with that, I continued working for 4-H. I loved my job and the people I worked with. I was able to be creative as I developed flyers, brochures, presentation boards, and other marketing things. I also served as a secretary, but liked the designing part of my job better. I thought about going back to school and getting a graphic design degree, but that would have been another two + years. Our biggest events were held in the summer—State Contests. There was a LOT to be done, and I was constantly busy—but I loved it. It was nice to feel needed, and to feel like I was in a position of leadership. During State Contests I worked so many hours in 2 ½ days that I got to take the rest of the week off. It was awesome.

While in Logan we decided to try managing apartments in exchange for free rent and utilities. I never actually thought we’d get the job, but we did. We moved into a 2-bedroom apartment and dealt with a lot of crap. It was nice, though, because it was flexible with Matt’s schooling and coaching. We lived there for two years before moving to a one-bedroom to relieve ourselves. We were just too busy to deal with it. Matt began working for a taxidermist while attending his last semester of school, and coaching.

We sent in over 40 different applications to school districts across the states of Utah, Idaho, Wyoming, Texas, Oregon, Arizona and Nevada. Matt interviewed over the phone with a few, and the rest didn’t contact us at all. It wasn’t until there was a basketball camp up at USU that Matt ran into an old friend/coach who was working at Tooele. He told Matt to apply there, and so he did.

It was around this time that Matt had a LOT of stomach problems. For about a year he was seeing different doctors to find out what his problem was. Randomly he’d wake up early in the morning throwing up or dry-heaving. We noticed it especially got worse with certain greasy foods, or if he had stress. Needless to say when he was looking for a teaching position, he was in a lot of pain—physically. The day of his interview with Tooele he almost didn’t make it he was so sick. But I’m glad he did, or we wouldn’t have had a job.Matt was hired on the spot, and we began looking for a home. There weren’t many homes we liked within our price range, so we settled on a townhome near the school. It had three bedrooms and two baths, and was sufficient for us. Around this time I was a few months pregnant. I got a job at the USU Tooele extension working as the Assistant to the Dean. The people were friendly, but the work was too easy for me—too repetitional, and boring. So it wasn’t hard to quit when Taylor came.

A few months before we had our first child, Matt underwent surgery to remove his gallbladder. He had a long and hard recovery. He said it was the most pain he had ever gone through (and this guy has had a lot of surgeries! From pancreatitus, to appendix, to pyloric stenosis, to fixing broken bones, etc. Yes, my husband is accident prone!) He was fine for the most part afterwards, but every once in a while got sick if he ate something his gallbladder-less stomach couldn’t handle.

Tenille Gets Hitched

Also while at Alta, I attended almost every school dance I could as soon as I turned 16. My first date was with Shawn Allman to prom my sophomore year. My life revolved around the dances. I figured if I didn’t get asked, I wasn’t popular or “cool” enough. Although high school was a lot of fun, it had its downsides, too. I hated all the cliques at school (even though I belonged to one, too). I dated a lot of losers (I really don’t know what I was thinking with some of them). And I was just a hothead. I’m glad that college humbled me a little.

It was also around this time when Tenille got married to Brad. She met him at BYU-Hawaii, and she didn’t even know they were dating until he proposed to her. (SERIOUSLY!). Their first kiss together was when he asked her to marry him. We all thought it was weird and too quick. Spence and I flew out to visit them. She took us kayaking, snorkeling, dolphin/whale watching, to the Polynesian Cultural Center, to the Dole plantation, to Matzumoto’s Ice Cream, to numerous beaches, the campus, and the grounds of the Hawaii Temple. It was a lot of fun, but Spence and I had a hard time liking Brad. He seemed too needy and pouty. He got upset a lot (like when Tenille and I beat him and Spence in a kayak race, or when he had to use green ketchup for his hotdog instead of red.) haha. It took us a few years to warm up to him. 

9/11 Attacks

If there’s one major thing I remember that happened while I was in high school, it would be the September 11^th attacks on the U.S. I was at school in my first period class (Interior Design) when our principal turned on the news in everyone’s class. We saw firsthand a plane crash into one of the Twin Trade Towers in New York. The whole class was speechless. WE couldn’t believe what we had just seen. None of us thought it was intentional. We figured the plane had accidentally crashed. That is…until the second plane hit the other tower. That’s when my stomach sank and I felt sick. News reports were on every channel saying that America was under attack. All I could think about was my own family. I had crazy thoughts running through my head that we were going to be captured, thrown in a prison camp (like the Holocaust of World War II), and be killed.

Later on we came to find out that some Islamic people had hi-jacked the plane and killed the pilots. There were some other planes that were supposed to crash, too, but the passengers on board made sure they didn’t crash in to anyone. They still died, though. This was the worst thing that had happened to our country. I fasted that day, and when basketball practice (or pre-season conditioning) came, I puked. Coach Stites asked me if it was lunch, and I told her I had fasted. She was so mad at me. I went home that day and sat glued to the tv with my mom and Spence. I had to work that night, and the only song on the radio was “God Bless the USA” by Lee Greenwood.

We also had a school assembly that day for the administrators to explain what happened. We were basically on lock-down I remember. There was one kid in the school named Moses, that always wore weird robes and had a beard. He held a sign in the stands during the assembly that read, "Let My People Go." We all got a good laugh at that.

That weekend was General Conference, and while watching it, it got interrupted by President George Bush pronouncing war against the Iraqi nation. I have never been so thankful to be an American. Nor have I ever had so much respect for our American flag, and those who fight for our country. I promised myself during a school assembly that I would never take our flag for granted. And since then, I haven’t. Whenever the national anthem or pledge is given, I sacredly cover my heart and respectfully honor it.

High School Years

Lance got called on his mission to serve in Tegucigalpa, Honduras. He was there during Hurricane Mitch, and saw a lot of people die. He was never the same person after his mission. We got a phone call from him while he was on his mission, and somehow we all misunderstood it. For some reason we were all freaking out saying, "Lance got kidnapped and taken to Georgia?" That's what happens when you cant' hear him on the phone so well, and everyone is huddled around trying to understand why the caller ID number showed up as a Georgia number.

Shortly after he returned, Melissa got married to Tony in the Timpanogos Temple. Mom was so nervous and stressed that she literally had to be taken to the hospital. She barely made it in time to see her daughter get married, but she was still pretty loopy afterwards.

I made Alta High School’s sophomore basketball team when I was a freshman in middle school. We had a good year, and won most of our games. (Which is really good because I hate losing. In fact, I hated losing so bad that my mom would call our home ahead of me and warn everybody not to say a word to me because I was in such a bad mood.) We’ll just say I’m VERY competitive. I played all four years of eligibility. My sophomore year I played on the sophomore team, while the rest of my friends were on the Junior Varsity team. I was pretty upset that they were considered better than me. But they never got any playing time, and I was playing tons on my team, so when it came time for tryouts the following year, I had improved my skills so much and was playing above them. My junior year I led my JV team to an undefeated record of 23-0. Our varsity team (of which I got some playing time, too), won state that year. We played Taylorsville at Salt Lake Community College and beat them 45-40 on March 2, 2002. It was one of the best feelings ever. Our team was on the news, and I made honorable mention all state. The following year I started for the varsity team. We didn’t do as well as the previous year, but still had a good record. We got out in semifinals of the state tournament. I was pretty upset. By this time I had some offers to some small colleges to play ball for them (like William Penn and Utah State), but I decided against it and tried to focus more on academics. I figured I already had an academic scholarship, and I didn’t need to waste time with the sport. Later I regretted it, and still kind of do. I really miss playing it.

I kept busy in high school. I was involved with the National Honors Society and in FCCLA. I also served as seminary class president for one semester. I was enrolled in a few concurrent enrollment and AP classes so I could enter college as a sophomore. I also did some modeling with my sister, Tenille. And of course I played basketball. My schedule was pretty hectic, and looking back at it now, I don’t know how I managed it all. After school was basketball practice, and then I went straight to work at Janbo Express (a Chinese food restaurant where I delivered it and got paid really well with my tips, but I also totaled two cars—neither of which were my fault—and I always was able to upgrade to a nicer car!). I usually got off around 9:30 and would go home to do homework. The only days I didn’t work were usually when I had a game. On the weekends my friends would wait for me to get off, and then we’d all hang out until about 1:00 am. We did a bunch of things like: going to the movies, hot-tubbing, toilet-papering houses, shopping, cruising Main, etc.

My best friends at the beginning of high school were Ashley Bunk, Russ Bass, Alex Rosenhan (also my boyfriend for a while), Andrew Stewart, Shawn Allman, and a bunch of other people. After Alex and I broke up, though, I began hanging out more with Sarah Romig, Tina Fonoimoana, and Brooke Wilson. We called ourselves “us” and always had a blast together. For our senior spring break we went to St. George, and for our senior graduation trip we went to Lake Powell. We girls still try to get-together every few months.

I loved high school. I aced all my classes (but received one A-), and was in the top 3% of my graduating class (with a GPA of 3.97). My favorite subjects were math and English. Those subjects just seemed to come so naturally to me. And I got great satisfaction out of seeing perfection on my report cards. Speaking of perfection, anyone who knows me knows I am a perfectionist and organized freak. I love seeing complete order. I remember when I was young my mom saying that my siblings were such “teenagers” because they had messy rooms. I ran to my room and tried to mess it up so she would think I was a [cool] “teenager,” too. But soon after shutting my door, I couldn’t stand thinking of what mess lay behind, so I quickly tidied it all back up. I used to have all my clothes in my closet in alphabetical order by color, and I constantly would re-arrange the furniture in my room as I got bored of the same layout. My parents used to worry I had OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder). I started to sweat if I knew I was going to be late to an appointment, or not do something perfectly. Yes, I was really hard on myself. I blame my dad—he’s the perfectionist one in my family.

Middle School Years

Mom was always a worry-wart. If Lance was late coming home from something and she saw a police car drive by, she’d start crying wondering if the cop was coming to bear her some bad news (although it turned out she had forgotten he called her to say he’d be late). She used to fret over the smallest things. Unfortunately she passed that trait on to me. I remember it was my birthday (around 10 or so), and Mom hadn’t come home for a while. I heard an ambulance in a distance and started crying wondering if she had been in a car accident. By the time she got home I was hysterical. It turned out she had gone shopping to get me some birthday presents.

Growing up we always had a dog. We started out with Puff (a little white dog we had back at our house in West Valley). Someone fed it antifreeze around Christmas time a few years later and she died. Then we got Peaches from an Animal Shelter. She had been abused and was scared of the garden hose. She also didn’t like Spence—she bit him as much as she could. She was really cute, though. She died from being hit by a car. Then we got Bear, a beautiful golden-retriever/yellow lab mix. He was the biggest dog we had ever had. He loved car rides and to jolt outside whenever someone came over. The only way to retrieve him was to pick him up in our car. Bear also loved to chase cars, and was hit three or four times, but he always survived them. Then one day Bear ran away, and never came back.

Middle school came and went. Lots of people hate middle school, but to be honest, I never really hated it. I just liked high school and college a LOT more. Middle school was during my “awkward” years. And kids are MEAN at that age. I was always really good at art from a young age, and took some art classes while at Indian Hills Middle School. I did really well, but didn’t seem to have enough time for it when basketball season rolled around. 

Oh, Butter Boy!

I wouldn’t be lying if I said I got a little cocky at a lot of things. I was one prideful kid. One time I tried standing on top of the toilet to check myself out in the bathroom mirror. I did it all the time, but this time the seat was up, so my foot went down inside the yucky, wet toilet bowl. My whole family made fun of me after that. They still do.

We all did some silly things that we still get teased about till this day. One night out family was sitting down eating dinner when a neighbor called asking if they could borrow some butter. I told my mom, and she made Lance deliver it. The only problem was, I didn’t get a name from the caller. So Lance had to go up and down the streets knocking on each neighbor’s door to see if they needed some butter. When he came back with the butter still in hand, he was fuming. (Lance always had a temper). We all got a good laugh at it. We called him “butter boy” from then on. Even to this day at Thanksgiving dinners, if someone needs the butter passed to them, we tell them to just ask “the Butter Boy.”

Sunrise Elementary

I attended Sunrise Elementary. It was maybe one mile from our house, and Mom made us walk as she had to be home for the daycare kids to come. Every once in a while she was able to get away while leaving Melissa with the kids at home to come pick us up, but sometimes we had already hitched a ride with a friend. I remember seeing Mom fly down in the old red Safari van, and I felt so guilty for taking a ride from Tenille’s friend. I knew Mom would be upset, but I didn’t know she had been so worried that she couldn’t find us. I always tried to walk home after that just in case she went out of her way to come and get us.

I was always in the Accelerated and Advanced learning classes at Sunrise (as were my siblings). Mom and Dad used to say they didn’t know where we kids got our brains from because when they grew up they would get “average” grades of “B’s” and “C’s”. In second grade I had Mrs. Ostler, but for “rotation” time I had Mrs. Saunders for English/Reading. She would hand out a picture from a magazine, and we had to write a short story on it. This is where I really began my writing and creativity. I had a keen understanding for correct spelling and grammatical/punctuation use at an early age. I was far above my level and other peers. In fact, I was better than a lot of high school and college kids. I LOVED to write. And at home, I would make magazines for fun. Dad even bought me a typing program because I loved to type (and I love the sound it makes on the keyboard). It was also while I was in second grade when I won second place in the Spelling Bee (I got out from spelling “knock” as “nock.” Needless to say I will NEVER forget how to do that from now on). I lost to Dominic Simpson (the second grade know-it-all with red hair). But I won all the other spelling bee’s after that. Mrs. Saunders would give me a prize every time I won.

In third grade I had Mrs. Fielding. This is when I learned how to write/read cursive, and I was so proud of it. One day she handed out a math assignment to the class and I raised my hand to ask her if she wanted the assignment done in cursive. She responded, “If you know how to write numbers in cursive, go ahead.” I remember feeling so hurt and embarrassed. I never cared for her after that.  She left halfway through the year, though. It turns out she got pregnant out of wedlock, and had to leave.

I loved going to school, but dreaded the first few days. None of the teachers could ever pronounce my name right. And everyone always laughed. But I got back at a lot of them at recess and P.E. Because I was so athletic, I was always picked first for teams (whether it was soccer, basketball, baseball, or dodge ball). During recess I played “Lightning” on the basketball courts with the boys. I beat all of them, and they were pretty embarrassed. I felt great. I continued playing at home, and my friend, Melanie and I beat two neighbor boys—Chris Romrielle and Chad Oscarson. The next day at school everyone made fun of them for losing to girls. I can’t take all the credit for being so good at sports, though. My dad and Tenille played a big role. Dad used to make me practice lay-ups and other shots on our driveway hoop. For each one I made, I earned $.05, and for each one I missed, he deducted $.05. He always worked with me and gave me suggestions on how I could improve. Sometimes I didn’t take his suggestions too well, though, because I was all steamed up from the game I had just played in. Looking back, though, I wish I would have been more receptive. Tenille tried out for the high school team and made it. She would teach me the drills/skills they would do at practice. I had a lot of them mastered by the time I reached that level. 

Night Skiing at Brighton Ski Resort

Dad tried very hard for our family to always do things together. He’d take us camping, fishing, take us on road trips, and even skiing. I’ve been able to ski since I was five because of him. He used to take us night-skiing at Brighton (because it’s cheaper at night than the day). But we preferred it at night anyway. It was so fun to ski down in the moonlight, with those bright lights above us. Then we’d all head over to the ski lodge, and Dad would bring in a cooler of sandwiches and hot cocoa for us to eat (as food at the lodge was really expensive). He always tried to make sure we were happy and having fun.

One time we went up Mom ended up hurting her leg really bad. She couldn't ski at all, and I remember that from that point on, she had problems with it. 

Little League Sports

When I was in third grade I became friends with a girl who lived near me. Her name was Melanie Jardine. Her dad, Doug, coached little league basketball and softball. She asked me if I wanted to play, and I figured, “heck, I’ll give it a shot.” This is when we found out I was a natural at sports. The game came so easy to me, and I was the best one on the team. I usually had upwards of 30+ points per game. And oh how I LOVED being in the spotlight. I loved being athletic. I was glad to find out I had some type of talent (as dancing wasn’t my thing—Mom had me take tap from a lady in our ward when I was in kindergarten, and I was so shy and couldn’t remember any of the steps. It was awful, and I always felt so embarrassed. Mom also enrolled me in miniature cheerleading. I wasn’t the best at it, and wasn’t sad to quit after two years. I just didn’t fit in with all those girly-girls). So in the winter/spring, I kept busy playing Jr. Jazz basketball, and in the summers I played softball. I was a natural at softball, too. I always hit home runs, I was the fastest runner, and I even became the pitcher. I’ll admit, the pride got to me. I started becoming really competitive, and it got the best of me. One game I struck out, and it was the first time in two years that had ever happened to me. I was shocked, and ticked. I chucked the bat (and it hit one of my teammates), and yelled at the ump. He ejected me. It was then that I decided I wanted nothing more to do with softball. I quit. And I’ve always regretted it. I’m just glad I stuck with basketball.

Years later we found out that this coach of mine (who was also on the high council in our stake) had an affair. I was devastated to hear the news. I was shocked and couldn't believe it. He and his wife tried to work things out, but it couldn't be done. They divorced.

As I got older I played on a superleague team. My coach for this team was Rick Halliday. He was the dad of one of my friends on the team, Meggan. He was a great coach, but after we got on the high school team he didn't seem like himself anymore. He always looked sick. While on my senior trip with my friends he ended up committing suicide. Apparently he had been really sick for about three years--constantly nauseated and no doctors could figure out what was medically wrong with him. He was a respected judge in downtown Salt Lake, so it took a lot of us by surprise. I had a really hard time with this. I bawled my eyes out. 

Power of the Priesthood

I don’t remember how old I was when I got really sick. So sick that they thought I was going to die. Mom took me to a whole bunch of different doctors, and nobody could figure out what was wrong with me. I remember pulling into the garage with mom one night. She turned off the van, and just started crying. I looked at her and thought, “Gee, this must really be bad. Am I really going to die?” I got so sick that I could no longer walk. Spence and Tenille would pull me around the house in our little red Radio Flyer wagon. When Dad saw the wagon in the house he get pretty mad, though. So I either had to crawl or be carried. One night our home teacher and bishop (Bishop Bateman) came over and he and Dad gave me a blessing. Immediately after the blessing I stood up, and I could walk! And for the first time in a really long time, I was hungry. And I gulfed down plain white rice (normally I needed ketchup on it, but it tasted so good the way it was). It really was a miracle. To this day we still don’t know what I had. They thought it could have been scarlet fever, but nothing’s for sure.

Dark Kids

Being Hispanic kids, we sure got dark. Sometimes we resented it, though. All of the other kids at school were white, and would sometimes tease us for being tan. Sometimes I’d cry to my mom wishing I were like the other kids. And she would tell me that all those kids would be jealous of me some day—that boys like tan girls. This was a nice consolation. My sisters would wear white tights to school to try to blend in, but everyone knew they were dark. I’ve never regretted my skin color since. My dad would always say we should be thankful for getting such pretty skin from my mom. He used to say she traveled a long way on a banana boat from Ecuador for us. And for the longest time I always though my mom and her family immigrated to the States literally floating on a big, yellow banana.

Our family was pretty poor in the beginning, but both Mom and Dad worked very hard for us, and we were blessed. Dad was even able to afford a nice boat. We used to go to Utah Lake, Deer Creek, Bear Lake, and Lake Powell. One time we split a houseboat with another family in our wad (the Dean’s) at Lake Powell. It was there that I first tasted honey dew melon and a cantaloupe. I told my mom that I really liked that fruit, and asked her why we didn’t have any at our house. She replied that it was “white-people food.” Mom would come to use this phrase MANY times later in my life. I also learned that grapefruit and cranberry sauce were white-people foods. Come to find out anything she didn't like was considered a white-person food. haha. When I got older and was in high school, I asked my mom why she used to always say that. Her response was, “When you have kids bugging you and asking you questions all the time, you’ll say anything to make them stop.” (I guess that also explains why when we were younger, if Mom grabbed her purse, we would ask, “Where you goin’, Mom?” and she’d reply, “To the moon, you wanna come with?” She still owes me a trip…)

We had a lot of fun at Lake Powell in that houseboat. We danced to oldies at midnight, and jumped in the water or slid down the slide. We lost a mattress and saw it floating on the other side of the lake. Dad almost died by getting sucked under the houseboat. And Brother Dean came close to having a marital affair with some stranger who’s jeep got stuck on a nearby road. Yes, our trips were ALWAYS adventurous…

Sandy--Our Home

When I was three-years-old, my family moved to Sandy (Thanksgiving day, 1988). This is the place we all grew up. My parents bought our home for $100,000 as it was a foreclosure. I remember thinking it was so huge (it is—it’s 4800 sq. feet). And our poor little family barely had any furnishings to put in it. We all slept on the floor in the “big room” (living room) the first night there. I used to think my family was so rich that we could afford that. And although we were actually very poor, my parents made sure we never knew that.

Our house in Sandy only had dirt for a yard. And I remember one hot summer day having to roll out the sod and cover that whole third acre we lived on. It was a tough job, but not too bad when you had seven people in your family, plus the help of good friends and neighbors. My parents instilled a hard work ethic in each of us at an early age.

I have a lot of good memories of this house. One time my parents went to ward temple night, and the rest of us stayed back. We were in charge of babysitting Spencer. He was still potty-training at the time, and we were no experienced teachers in that area. When Spence said he had to go potty, we pulled his pants down and sat him on the toilet all satisfied that we knew what we were doing. Little did anyone tell us that you have to hold down the boy’s wee wee, though. Next thing we know, the bathroom door is covered in pee.

Our summers were spent playing in the small, circular, 4-feet deep underground pool we had. We’d also go rollerblading and bike-riding around the block with our friends. I remember the first time I learned what it meant to go “around the block.” I used to hear my older siblings say they were going to do that, and I thought the “block” was literally a red-brick rock that was special sitting in the middle of the road. I wondered why it was so cool to circle around a piece of rock.

We had some really good neighbors next to us. I used to take my mom’s daycare kids (or my friends) with me next door (to the south) to the Billingsley’s and help them do yard work because after we finished, she’d always offer me a bowl of ice cream. (To this day I still love ice cream, and it was obviously instilled in me at an early age). To our north was the Shakerin’s. And down the street were the Bateman’s (who were also our home teachers. Jay Dee had Down Syndrome and was so funny, even  though I could hardly understand him at the time). The Bateman’s had kids that always matched up with us Banks kids. And across the street was the Carter’s. I couldn’t stand Valynn & Rodney. She was plump and he was thin, and they always reminded me of that poem “Jack Sprat could eat no fat, his wife could eat no lean, and so between the two of them, they licked their platters clean.” Valynn used a wheel chair when she wanted pity. She’d drive out to her mailbox in her car just to get her mail. And one time Tenille and I had to go help her clean her house. It was a pig-sty. Newspapers and dirt dishes covered her countertops and floors. Tenille and I spent 4-5 hours there cleaning, and all we got paid was a lousy $2 that we had to split. I was never too fond of her after that.

Our next-door neighbors, the Shakerin’s, had a boy named Sausan who was a few years younger than Spence. Mom used to babysit him. He was with us so much that he was like another brother to us. We used to get in fights with him—whether it was chucking cherries at him, or using the hose to douse him, or planting a sprinkler by the wall and luring him to come over. We loved to pick on him. One time we were running into our house and Sausan was chasing us. Spencer didn’t want him to come in, so he closed the garage door, and Sausan tried rolling underneath it. He got stuck, and we kept trying to get him out by pushing the garage button, but it just made the door push down tighter on him. Later on, when Spence played PeeWee football for Alta’s little league team, Sausan decided he wanted to, too. He came back in our high school’s rival colors, though—as a Jordan Beatdigger. We convinced him to make his mom change it to Alta. (Good thing we did, too, because he later played running back for Alta’s team and took them to State, and later on to play at the University of Utah). 

A Little About Me in the Early Years

I got my name from a perfume bottle. Back when my mom was pregnant, she saw the name Tatiana on a perfume in a department store and decided she would name me that (even though the doctors insisted I was going to be a boy). Mom knew I was going to be a girl because she said her dad (Nery Sanchez, who had died before my first sibling was even born) visited her and told her. Needless to say that doctors were pretty surprised when I came out. I always felt cheated that I had the “ugliest” name. (Just glad it wasn’t Marcella, like they had thought about). Nobody could ever pronounce it right, and I always thought they were picking on me. All throughout my grade school years I always wished I had a “normal” name like “Ashley” or “Megan.” But now I am VERY grateful I don’t have one of those boring, all-too-common names.

My family lived in a small, split-level house in West Valley (a suburb of Salt Lake). I don’t remember much about that place, except that I had Mickey Mouse wallpaper in my bedroom, a big trampoline in the backyard, a sand pit underneath our back porch, and a huge tree out front. I had some neighbor friends. Danielle lived down the street from me, and I remember walking to her house sometimes. Tenille was friends with her brother Donald, and she used to have him wrapped around her finger. Tenille once made him lick some pee off a toilet seat, and put him in the dryer. You would never guess she did that by the way she is now (mature, reserved, soft-spoken). I had another neighbor across the street from me whose name I don’t recall, but I remember being extremely jealous that she could blow a bubble with her bubble gum before I could.

My dad’s parents lived in Kearns, which wasn’t too far from us. We used to visit Grandma & Grandpa Banks (Doris & Bruce). My grandma was always very sick, though. She always wore a muumuu or nightgown, and sat in her recliner while Grandpa waited on her. (It wasn’t until after she died that I learned she had lupus, diabetes, and a slew of other problems. She used to pray to die because she was in so much pain.) We visited them on Sundays, and before we left she would give us a piece of Bubblicious Bubble Gum (the purple kind). One time she forgot to give us some, and I remember thinking that she didn’t love me. Behind their house was a big auto-body garage. My grandpa used to work in that thing all the time (and when they were younger he used to own a gas station. Dad said people would be angry with him when he wouldn’t give them free gas.). My sister, Tenille, and I would ride tricycles down the pavement in and out of his garage.

Speaking of tricycles, I have two scars: on my chin and my forehead. I don’t remember getting them, but was told I rode a tricycle down the stairs in my old yellow house in West Valley, and went right out the front door. Tenille had just come home from school and didn’t catch me!

Our little neighborhood used to be so nice. You didn’t have to worry about locking your doors, or walking anywhere by yourself because it was so safe. I remember one summer all five of us kids, and a few neighbor kids, walked about a mile to the Circle K Gas Station to buy some candy. I thought it was the coolest thing in the world. The neighborhood isn’t so great now.  If you drive back that way it’s so dirty. It’s one of the worst places to live in Utah. People there no longer take care of their homes or yards. It’s just not what is used to be. Mom says it’s pretty sad.

Before my mom had me she worked (although I’m not exactly sure which job she did then. I do know she used to be a secretary for the Church Headquarters and for Salt Lake Community College). And because of her job, she had to take my siblings to a babysitter. She hated being away from her family. She knew she needed to be at home, and so she started her own home daycare business. She did home daycare for over 25 years (after retiring for good in June 2009). My dad worked, too. He worked for UPS while going to night school. When he graduated from the University of Utah with his degree in Business Management, he got a job working at the University of Utah Federal Credit Union.

Jazz Games

We used to LOVE the Jazz! They were a classic team when John Stockton, Karl Malone, and Jeff Hornacek (Aka "Horny")

Dad loved to take us to the ball games, too. We always sat in the nose-bleed section because those were the cheapest tickets. Mom never really liked to go, though, because she was afraid of heights, and our seats were literally the highest in the arena. I felt bad that Mom didn't come (I think it was partly because she didn't care too much for sports anyway), so I stayed behind with her (even though I really really really wanted to go to the game). We had a fun night just me and her. And because they thought I was so thoughtful, Mom and Dad decided to take me out. Just me. Nobody else. They said I had two choices: 1) Go to a Jazz game or 2) Go get ice cream. Although I really wanted to go to the Jazz game again, I chose number two, because I knew Mom would still be scared. But hey, ice cream is never a bad choice!

That Jazz team was our dream team. I remember the famous words of the announcer yelling, "John Stockton sends the Utah Jazz to the NBA Finals!" We were hootin' and hollerin' and jumping up and down for joy in our basement. We thought for sure they'd win it all. We were back east at the time they played the championship game against those blasted Chicago Bulls (with Michael Jordan, Scotty Pippen, and Dennis Rodman). Oh how I hated them. We lost. And I remember silently crying at night on the floor of the hotel room because I was so upset. Mom heard me and asked what was wrong. I'm pretty sure she just laughed at it, but she didn't in front of me. She knew I was crushed at their loss. I guess that was an early sign that I don't handle losing well?

Date Night

We used to own a small, brown Bronco. (Not the large one like OJ Simpson was chased in). My parents were headed out for a date one night, and all of us kids were to stay behind. Sneaky Tenille, however, snuck in the back and hid under a blanket until my parents were halfway to their destination. Apparently they thought it was cute and let her join in on the date while the rest of us enjoyed hot dogs at home...lol.

I remember Mom and Dad going on dates a lot actually. (Something Matt and I need to be better at). I was always so curious whenever they were headed to the temple with the ward. Those old, turquoise suitcases were so interesting to me. I had to know what they kept inside those. And why did they need a suitcase if they weren't staying overnight? I was dying to see what was in them, but I never had the guts to open it.

We kids thought we were pretty cool. Sometimes when Mom and Dad came home we'd have our own little restaurant set up for them. The lights would be dimmed, the intercom had classical music playing, and all of us were dressed in our Sunday best ready to serve them boiled hot dogs. We anxiously awaited hearing the garage door open so we could line up behind the chair with the phonebook on it waiting to see if their name was on our reservation list. Lance was always the waiter--with a penciled on mustache (with Mom's eyeliner tool) and a dish towel draped over his arm, he lead them to their seating area in the "Big Room."

After dinner was served, we always made sure they danced. I'm sure Mom and Dad thought it was silly, but we loved peeking in from the kitchen and entry-way doorways to see them romantically dance.

"1,2,3!"

Every phone conversation with a member of our immediately family ended like this, "1,2,3!"

You might think that's code for something, but it wasn't.

Dad called Mom every day from work around lunch time. They would say their, "I love you's," but afterwards neither one wanted to hang up first. (So cute, isn't it? At least that's how I remember the story...Unless they lied to me...haha) So they always counted, "1,2,3!" and then they could be sure to hang up at the same time.

As kids, we subconsciously picked up on it, too. We began to say, "1,2,3!" when getting off the phone. And even if it didn't have the same meaning for us as it did my parents, it kind of became a catch-phrase around the Banks Home.

Couponing

I know this isn't a memory from my younger days, but it's an ongoing thing I never want to forget. The hubby's a teacher, and as most wise people know, teachers don't get paid well. To help offset our expenses, I started couponing. My sister, Melissa, introduced it to me a few years ago. I follow one particular blog religiously: Freebies2Deals. I've scored everything from cereal, fruit snacks, canned goods, cleaners, lotions, pastas, formula, toys, and clothing for CHEAP CHEAP CHEAP. Just today I came back from another adrenaline rush from Wally-World, scoring four boxes of Scrubbing Bubbles Toilet Cleaners for free, along with a Woolite Spray (for carpet removal) for free. Actually, I got paid. What's better than getting paid to shop? Doing this has definitely helped alleviate costs for our family. and I feel good that I'm doing my part, too--even if I am a stay-at-home mom. ;)

Primary & General Conference

This past weekend was General Conference. While watching it I noticed that some primary children from a stake were singing in place of the Mo-Tab Choir. I had completely forgotten that I once did that, too!

I was 11, almost 12. (I remember how old I was because I felt too old and dumb to still be in primary when all my other friends were already in Young Women.) We practiced every Sunday evening at a stake building. They taught us how to sit properly, how to stand appropriately, what colors to wear (light pastels), how to sing and sound words out like you had a British accent, etc.

The day finally came (a Saturday afternoon session), and we were ready to go. I wasn't nervous. My friends and I all got placed on the very last row high up in the corner of the Tabernacle (this was before the Conference Center was built).

I remembered our leaders telling us to sit very still and reverently during the talks (when the lights were dim) because even though on television nobody can see you, the people in the Tabernacle could. I tried SO hard to be so good. I sat straight up the whole time, listened intently to the speakers, and tried to find my mom and Tenille sitting in the audience. It wasn't easy sitting like that for two whole hours straight, but I did it. I felt so good that I did. And even after my mom and Tenille came to get me and Spence (he also was singing), they complimented me on how well I did staying still--and that not many other kids did it.

The only other thing I remember about this day was when our prophet, President Gordon B. Hinkcley entered the room, everybody stood. As we were standing he walked right in front of us primary children and smiled and waved. I felt like he was looking right. at. me. I felt so good.

I won't ever forget this experience. President Hinckley was the main prophet I grew up with. He was my favorite. I had a really hard time when he passed away almost four years ago. I think this experience was partly how I grew a strong testimony of our prophets.

Son of a Gun

My Dad loves toys. Four-wheelers, boats, cars, motorcycles, motorhomes, and at one time--snowmobiles.

We had never been snowmobiling before. But we were determined we could figure it out. Being the OCD person he is, Dad polished up the snowmobiles with "Son of a Gun" to make them nice and pretty. We headed up the mountains and were anxious to ride them.

When we got there, we quickly learned we didn't know the first thing about them--let alone how to get them off the trailer. We pretended like we were fixing the snowmobiles, and instead were secretly watching the other snowmobilers to see how they did it. Once we were confident we had it down, we made Dad do it. Then came the second tricky part--getting up a over a snow mound.

Once again we spied on the "professionals." It looked easy enough--just drive up and over. Once again we sent Dad to do the trick. He gunned it, and the snowmobile took off! But Dad did not. The leather seats were so slick from being polished with the "Son of a Gun" that he slid right off. As the family stood back watching him, we didn't know what to do. We stayed straight-faced until we saw Dad's reaction. We thought for sure he'd start up cursing. But instead he began laughing.

Phew!

We had a good laugh about it.

That same day Tenille took the snowmobile out with Spencer and they got stuck. She couldn't get out on her own, so she told Spence to stay with the snowmobile as she trekked back the 1-mile walk. Dad was getting furious that they had been gone so long. Mom was worrying (like always) that something was wrong. When we saw Tenille walking toward us, we found out what happened and were relieved. (They had been gone about an hour--which was NOT like Tenille...aka our little "straight arrow.")

Anyway, my Dad trudged the mile walk back with her to find Spencer in an even deeper hole. Apparently he had tried to get the snowmobile out on its own and ended up sinking it in a few more feet. We all tried to dig it out, but to no avail.

The cursing began.

I'm sure Tenille said a prayer or something, because just then some nice "professionals" came by and showed us just how easy it was to get yourself out of a hole. We felt pretty sheepish for learning how easy it really was.

I was just happy we got it out, and that Dad was happy again.

Clarence

We took a trip up to Island Park one time (a small town just outside Yellowstone). They had the cutest little cabins there--and we felt so cool staying there. Sometimes I liked to pretend I was Laura Engels from The Little House on the Prairie (I daydreamed SO much).

Anyway, they have a little shop in town that we went to check out. Lance thought the girl that worked there was kind of cute. When she asked him what his name was, he told her. But she must have misunderstood because she kept calling him, "Clarence." He was so ticked off about it. We teased him about it for a while, and he would get so angry. Clarence never had a funny sense of humor about that.

One of MANY boating stories...

We used to go camping and boating a lot. We couldn't really afford to do anything else. While everyone else was flying to exotic places, we had our own fun in Bear Lake, Lake Powell, and Utah Lake. We used to be Gold Members at a resort in Bear Lake called Blue Water Beach Resort. It was wonderful going there for a few reasons:

• the church we attended on Sundays was always jam packed. With so many tourists visiting for the summer, we all filled the hallways and extra classrooms. It took their poor deacons about an hour to pass the sacrament (if not longer)
• We always bought Raspberry shakes at LaBeau's. They had the most mouth-watering shakes alive! (They were always really crowded, so you'd have to take a number. When the guy yelled out a number, my dad happened to be standing right by him and got that screamed into his hear. He gave us a funny look and yelled back jokingly, "SCOTT!" -- an inside joke/quote from the movie, Austin Powers, that had just recently come out.)
• The city was full of bike paths that Tenille and I used to ride bikes/roller blades on. 
• It was just a beautiful area. A lot of times my parents would go "cabin hunting." Ya, they still do to this day, but have yet to purchase anything. haha

Anyway, two particular events stand out to me about Bear Lake. 

1. Melissa was in her teenage years and boy crazy, like most other girls that age. She flirted with boys, and got invited up to a party. Tenille and I tagged along (probably to keep her in line--my mom's spy girls). The boy's house was on top of a big mountain, with a highway that ran below it. The boys decided it would be funny to launch water balloons and hit cars. So we did. I can't remember exactly what happened (whether or not we got caught), but it sure was a lot of fun.

2. My parents liked to go to the Pickleville Playhouse dinner theater. It was a little more pricey, so the kids always stayed behind. One night it stormed (like it always did on a Banks Family camping trip...) and our boat that was anchored at the beach started blowing away. Lance ran to the theater to get Mom and Dad, and luckily we were able to save our boat. Other people weren't so lucky. I remember seeing other people's boats the following morning washed up on the beach. They spent hours digging it out only to find their propeller had been destroyed. 

We went to Bear Lake just about every summer (a couple times a summer). And every time we went my parents always had short tempers. I used to wonder why they would get so grumpy sometimes until I grew up, had my own family, and had to pack our whole family for a camping trip, too. Not. Easy.

As the years went on, more and more tenters transferred over to motorhomes. We used to complain that they were just lazy and that wasn't considered "real camping." A few years after that, we became those "lazy" people, too. ;)

Kneel Down & Close Your Eyes!

Every time we wanted a treat, my mom would make us kneel down at the couch and close our eyes so we couldn't see where she was hiding the "loot." I've since started doing the same thing to Taylor. :)

Sports

Mom put me in tap dance when I was in Kindergarten. A lady in our ward had a dance studio in her basement, so I went there. I hated it. I was so shy and never remembered any of the steps that we had practiced. When we'd actually perform at the 49th Street Galleria, I was too shy and would just play with my hands and "shuffle rock step." I remember thinking at the end of our dance routine, "When did we learn this?! Was I there?"

Needless to say dance didn't work for me.

A few years later one of my best friends, Melanie, was playing on a Jr. Jazz basketball team that her dad was coaching. They asked if I wanted to join, and I did. Apparently I was a natural at it. I had never played the sport and was doing awesome. I loved it. I loved excelling at something that came naturally to me. I beat all the boys in Lightning at recess, and after school we played Chris Romriell and Chad Oscarson and beat them, too. (Poor kids were teased the next day at school that two girls beat them).

I ended up playing softball with Mel's team, too--which I also happened to excel at. I actually excelled at most sports. I was always the first girl picked for soccer, dodgeball, kick ball, volleyball, etc. I went from a girly-girl to a tom-boy pretty fast.

I didn't stick with softball more than two years, though. I was great at it--hitting a homerun almost every time I batted (one time I hit the siding off of a house). In two years I hadn't even struck out. So when I actually struck out my first time, I flipped. (Yes, I was an arrogant, cocky kid). I chucked my bat and hit one of my fellow teammates (can we say, anger management issues!??!). I got ejected from the umpire. I was so embarrassed I didn't want to return. My coach called and visited and begged me to come back. I was stubborn and didn't. I regret it. I really could have gone far with it.

Luckily I stuck with basketball. I made an AAU team and we took second place in the state. When I was a freshman in middle school I made the high school team. Tenille used to be on the team, too, and would teach me the drills she learned at practice. I owe a lot to her for getting me so far. We would condition during the summer to help me prepare. (Tenille was on the team her fresh and soph years. Melissa played volleyball, Lance played Lacrosse. Spence DID play football, but wouldn't play at the high school level. Amazing how different we all were, huh? Especially considering my parents aren't exactly sportsy themselves...)

My junior year we took state, and my JV team was 23-0.

My senior year we had a target on our backs. We were the returning state champs, and I guess we just couldn't handle the pressure. We got out in quarterfinals and I was devastated. I took it really hard--banishing the sport and not even considering the scholarship offers I was receiving from small colleges across the country.

In college I missed it too much, and began playing again on city leagues, intramurals, and church ball. But it just wasn't the same.

I still miss it.

A Near Death Experience

Okay, so I don't know if I would have died or not, but at the time my condition seemed pretty serious.

When I was young I got really sick. So sick to the point where I couldn't really eat, I kept losing weight, I could no longer walk, and the doctors couldn't figure out what was wrong with me. After visiting multiple doctors, it seemed hopeless. I remember coming back one night with my mom. She closed the garage door, but we were still in the car. She didn't say anything. She just started crying. That's when I knew something was seriously wrong with me. I really thought I was going to die.

Spencer and Tenille pulled me around the house in our little red Radio Flyer wagon since I couldn't walk. Dad got really mad that the wagon was in the house, then felt bad and backed off.

We finally called our home teacher, Bishop Bateman, over to help Dad give me a blessing. And immediately after the blessing was done, I stood up. It was indeed a miracle. I knew from an early age that the gospel was true. I witnessed the beautiful power of the priesthood. I've always had a strong testimony of the power of the priesthood since.

I remember scarfing down plain white rice afterwards (which wasn't like me. I usually put ketchup on my rice). And I said to my mom, "This is the best food I've ever eaten, Mom!" She replied that I was just hungry.

For the longest time after that we thought I might be allergic to chocolate (don't ask me the correlation with it). So I avoided it at all costs. That didn't last long, though. My sister, Tenille, offered me a sip of her drink from Wendy's. Turns out it was a frosty. And I lived!

Grandpa Banks

My dad's mom, Grandma Banks, passed away when I was pretty young. I didn't know her very well, but I do remember she always gave us purple Bubblicious Bubble Gum before we left her house each time. (And one time she forgot to and I totally thought she didn't love me anymore. lol). Anyway, with Grandma gone, that left poor Grandpa Banks alone. He worshiped the ground she walked on, and was devastated when she passed. She was really sick and had a lot of things wrong with her (Lupus, and a few other things). I came to find out later in life that she actually had prayed to die because she was in so much pain.

Anyway, with Grandma gone, Aunt Sis (I want to say she was my Grandma's sister) kidnapped my grandpa and sold all his possessions (including his home). She kept the money from it all and locked him in her basement and fed him tons of Prozac pills. (That's the story in a nutshell). After battling her out, we finally rescued Grandpa and brought him home with us. Poor Grandpa was never the same after that, though. His Alzheimers was awful. It was really sad to see.

Grandpa lived with us for a few years. And in that time we experienced some funny things with him:

• He loved batteries, and he always had some on hand. (His favorite store was Radio Shack)
• He was so giving. He carried around a small, black, leather coin pouch and was always giving money away (it made me jealous when he'd give my friends more money than me).
• One time he bought a pair of shoes and threw them in the garbage can when he got home. When we asked him why, he said they were too small for him. (Turns out he hadn't taken out the tissue paper they stuff in the soles of the shoes.)
• One day I saw Mom replacing all our toothbrushes. When I asked her why, I learned that Grandpa had been using all of ours. haha
• This man LOVED Sprite! I think we all gained a few pounds while he lived with us.
• Grandpa was so generous. He was always doing things for other people. He even bought us a go-kart! Man were we spoiled with him there!

Poor Grandpa's health got so bad that we no longer could care for him as he needed. We sent him to Nephi to live with his brother and sister-in-law (Uncle Gale and Aunt Julia). While living with them, we learned that he went across the street to the mortuary and stood in a family line shaking people's hands at a stranger's funeral. When asked who he was, he said he lived across the street but everybody started shaking his hand so he stayed. 

His health progressively got worse, and we had to put him in a nursing home. It was so sad to see him there. We always cried every time we visited him because he no longer remembered us. I remember Dad giving him a hug and kiss and Grandpa said to him, "Who the hell are you!?" 

I remember going to the nursing home one time and saw him and a few other elderlies standing by a window looking out. When we got closer, we looked out the window, too--expecting to see something amazing. There was nothing. Just a lonely, withered tree. 

Not long later, he passed away. His funeral was up in Idaho. He was buried next to Grandma. I wrote a poem and read it there, and I cried. And because Grandpa served in the military (WWII), they did a gun salute to him. The flag and remnants of those bullets fired are now proudly displayed in a nice box in my Dad's office at home. 

10-Year Old Assistant Ward Clerk

Dad used to serve in the Bishopric as the Ward clerk--which meant he had to sit on the stand while we sat in the church pews. He missed sitting with us, and invited Spence and me to sit with him. Spence was pretty shy, so I ended up being the one to sit with him most of the time. I remember counting how many people were in the congregation and hallways, writing down the names of the deacons and priests, recording the talks that were given, etc. I LOVED it! And when we were done with our stats, Dad and I played games on his notebook paper (mostly the game with a bunch of dots, and you have to connect them to make a square and write your initial inside of it.) lol

I did this for a long time, that is until my sister, Tenille, told me I was getting a little "too old" to be doing that. I abruptly stopped, and I think my Dad was hurt a little. I never told him why, but I regretted it. I look back now and wished I would have done it every Sunday until I moved away to college.

My Mama the "Sign Lady"

Every time someone in my family had a major accomplishment, you could be sure the whole neighborhood on Casper Road knew about it. 

My mom was always great about recognizing us and our successes. For that, I am so thankful. Even if it was my Dad coming home from being out of town on a business trip, you could guarantee a "Welcome Home, Dad!" sign would be proudly displayed on the garage door or hanging on the columns of our house. My mom was so great at that. She had a sign for every event in our lives--whether it was making a sports team, doing well on a test, getting baptized, receiving a mission call, getting engaged, celebrating our birthday, or just to say she loved us. And honestly, I did love it. I think we all did. In fact, my sisters and I do the same things for our families now. 

Isn't it funny the little things you inherit and pass on?

My mom wasn't just the queen of house signs, but of the queen of "napkin notes" in our lunchbags, too. It wasn't too often that we took "cold lunch" ("hot lunch" offered at the school was cheaper since we were poor and on "reduced lunch."), but when we had to for a field trip or something else, I always knew I'd find a napkin in my lunch with a love note from Mom. And she always signed it with this dorky-looking heart with a smiley face in it. It's her signature. But I love that dorky logo. And I love my Mama!

Tats in Real Life...

A few years ago Matt's parents gave us a really neat Christmas gift--a book with the personal history of Afton Lemmon Southam (Matt's grandmother). In it she wrote about 80 pages worth of events and stories from her life. I was engulfed in it, and felt inspired to do the same thing. I want my future posterity to know how it was when I was growing up, too. 

These stories are in no particular order--just as they come to me.