Game Over

It's official. The football season in the Buhrley household is done for the season. We lost our playoff game to Lehi tonight 14-7. It was tied until the last 2 minutes when Lehi scored their second touchdown and we didn't have quite enough time to come back. It was a great season, though, and we're so glad that Zach got to play.

The whole Buhrley family was out tonight (except our lovely Kara, of course, who is working on making it big, big, big in Chicago...... we sure do miss her!)

Trisha's daughter, Mia

Lola and Truman

Max and Truman

Hailey and Brynn

Ali was in charge of cookies

Parker and Rosie

The kids had more fun doing this than watching the game.

Ali and Caitlyn (Em and Angie too)

Caitlyn and Angie

Trisha throwing a tantrum because she wanted her picture taken, too.

Emily and Erik

Nate and Little Max

Grandpa and Grandma Buhrley with Zach

Unfortunately for the young, helpless employees of the Purple Turtle, the entire family decided to eat there after the game. We did a great job and managed to drive many, many families out until we had the place to ourselves.

Caitlyn's Bike Ride Home

Caitlyn wrote this for her creative writing class. We got a kick out of it because it all happened. In my defense, it made perfect sense at the time to send her on her bike, in the dark, on a two-mile adventure.

"I can’t go to Zach’s game tonight," Breanne glumly said.
"What?" I said into my cell phone. It sounded more like a demand than a question. Zach is my 12 year old brother who has football games every Wednesday evening, which is how Breanne and I hang out. You could say I use him to my own advantage, just so I could see my cousin.
"I can’t go," she repeated. "I can only get a ride from Grandma and Grandpa, and they are going on a date before the game. And...so...I would have to go with them." I knew she wouldn’t accompany them on a date. Ever.
I sighed loudly so she could hear. She laughed.
"Just...come. Please?" I begged.
"No," she giggled. "Who would want to go on a date with two old people?"
I agreed. "Fine," I mumbled. "Now I have to go to dance class."
"Ok...bye!" she sang.
I hung up on her.
I sat down at the kitchen table as my mom brought in groceries. Underneath the table, I texted Breanne saying, "U ruined my night!" Even though I was serious, she probably thought I was kidding. I sighed and walked over to the opposite side of the island counter top where my mom was. She looked weary, yet full of energy.
"Bree can’t go," I said.
"What?" she asked as she hurriedly walked over to the dishes that were in the sink.
"Breanne. Isn’t. Going." I hate repeating myself.
Ignoring my attitude, she continued the conversation. "Do you want to go to dance then? Or the game?"
"Eh...," I turned my back to her and walked, again, to the kitchen table and sat down where I once was. I slouched. I don’t want to go to the game. There really is no point now considering Breanne isn’t going. So I should go to dance. After all, I haven’t been for two weeks. Maddie better be there though!
"Ya...I’ll go to dance," I answered.
"Alright. Well, I can’t give you a ride because I’ll be at the game." It sounded like it was a question. She stopped doing the dishes and turned to face me, leaning against the counter top. She exhaled as she thought.
I could almost see the lightbulb go off as she asked, "Could you ride your bike?" My mom put enthusiasm into the question, but it didn’t help.
"Sure," I answered, turning the word into 4 syllables.
"Ok. You do know how to get there, right?"
"Hmm...yes," I lied, wanting to be done with the conversation.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
When it was time to leave, I put my dog into her kennel, turned all the lights off, and locked all the doors.
There, standing in the garage, I examined the 3 possible bikes I would ride. I immediately excluded my own due to the fact that while riding it I look like a clown in a parade. I grew out of it when I was like, eight.
Goldilocks came to mind while I thought. Mom’s bike: seat wiggled. Dad’s bike: seat too high. Zach’s bike: perfect.
Without thinking I jumped on the muddy blue culprit, closed the garage door, and rode off down the street which was already darkening.
After riding a few blocks from my house I felt optimist. "I’m almost there," I thought, "Of course..its getting darker and darker by the minute, and there is a chance I will get kidnapped, but I’m O.K.! At least..for now! I just need to get there and Mom will pick me after dance. Alright. No need to worry. What the...?" I screeched to a halt and looked around.
Where am I? I think I got side tracked, "Crap."
I nervously called my mom, and getting directions I made it to the correct street. I looked at my phone. 7:38. I did a double take. 7:38!? Ugh! I am already late! I HATE being late! Breanne....
When I got there, I was late of course, and tired. And guess who wasn’t there? Maddie. Yep. I thought that mini-nightmare couldn’t get any worse.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The cold air felt nice as I walked out of dance. I looked around the empty parking lot. Where’s mom? Its 8:45. She’s usually here. Even though I knew where this was going I still called her.
"Where are you?" I asked. What a stupid question to ask, considering I could hear people cheering and a whistle blowing in the background.
"Oh, come on!" my mother yelled unattractively.
I continued to look around me. My bike was against the fence and the dance studio was closing up. It was pitch black everywhere. I kid you not.
"I’m still at the game," my mom said. Duh.
"Oh.,"I mumbled.
"Can Maddie give you a ride?" her voice was hoarse.
"Nope. She isn’t here." Perfect. Out of all the nights to not be here...she picks tonight? Just my luck.
"Well, I can call a neighbor to come get you," she suggested.
"No, mom. That would be a stupid thing to ask, no offense. Its almost 9 o’clock. I don’t want to bother them."
"I’m sure it’ll be ok. Brook, look up the Vick’s number on your phone," I could hear my mom tell my dad.
"No, Mom."I interrupted. "I might as well bike home." Even though I was kidding and hoping she would hear the sarcasm in my voice, she didn’t. I had just committed to riding my bike home. In the dark. By myself. Ugh.
I biked slowly down the dark street, lined with houses on each side. I felt like I was in some horror movie from the 70's, like the girl who gets stalked and when she turns around there’s never anything there. I passed bushes that seemed perfect for serial killers to hide in. I swear I could feel their eyes on my back, giving me the chills. I passed houses that were dark and mysterious. I pedaled past abandoned cars with their sound proof doors and bodies in the back seat. I was nearly hyperventilating. This is stupid., I thought to myself. I’m freaking myself out. I tried to laugh.
As I turned a corner, I gulped. Baseball fields, basketball courts, and a park. These all seemed harmless in daylight but not so much at night. Two lights flickered on and off as I quickly biked through. My eyesight made me see blurry images that turned out to be trash cans or trees. I quickly called Breanne. No answer.
"Hi. This is Bree. You know what to do. Leave a message after the tone." BEEP!
"I hope you’re happy. I didn’t get a ride to dance, so I had to ride my bike. The ride was like a billion miles. So I was already tired when I got there, and I got lost, of course. Then my mom couldn’t give me a ride home, it’s pitch black, and...where am I?! I’m probably gonna get kidnapped... Just because you didn’t go to the game! I hope you’re happy, Breanne. I hope you’re happy." I emphasized on the last word. Loud and clear.
Who should I call next? I don’t want to ride alone. My thoughts will get to me again. And......What the? It’s raining! Since when!?
The rain stopped suddenly. Oh. Perfect. Sprinklers. Joy. I rode down the road, getting pelted by sprinklers, as I called Mary (BFF). No answer. Why won’t anyone answer?
"Mary...," I started. "I might die tonight. Just wanted to tell you bye. Love ya." I hung up. The bike then started squeaking, and rocking back and forth. Napoleon Dynamite on his bike quickly came to mind.
My phone vibrated. Calling from...Breanne.
She laughed hysterically when I answered.
"Jayden...thinks...it’s funny too,." she giggled. Jayden! As in her best guy friend who is practically one of my brothers? That Jayden?! This would ruin me. For sure. He would never let this go.
"Why?" I yelled to myself.
She laughed. For the first time that night, I laughed at myself too.
"Holy cow!" I interrupted as I swerved. "I almost ran into a ditch," I laughed.
When I got home, my mother and Breanne called, making sure I was O.K. Was I O.K.? I was cold. My clothes were soaked. My hair was plastered across my face from the wind. The bike had squeaked the entire ride home. I was tired, scared, and really wanting to go to bed.. "Ya, I’m O.K." I assured them.

Mormon Tabernacle Choir

We had the most wonderful Sunday morning this past week. With the school quarter ending soon, Caitlyn had a choir assignment which had to be completed over the weekend. She had to attend a musical performance for her choir class. As Brook and I thought about how we could help her, we thought of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and the Spoken Word. Brook had never attended a broadcast, although he loves the choir. I attended one with my family when I was younger and I thought that this might be a fun thing to do with the kids. Luckily the choir was in town.

I have never been one who love, love, loves the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, but as the kids and I walked into the tabernacle we were spellbound. There truly is nothing that compares to the sound of them singing. It was magical to listen to in person.

There was almost a full house that morning and I'm glad we had arrived a little bit early. We got to listen to them rehearse with the Orchestra at Temple Square. It was a wonderful feeling to sit in the tabernacle, where all of our prophets have spoken, and feel the peace there. A few minutes before air-time, the narrator of the Spoken Word told us a little bit about the history of the choir and of the tabernacle. He also explained what to expect during the broadcast itself. He introduced a few groups of special visitors and then encouraged us to remain seated after the broadcast for a special presentation.

The broadcast was beautiful and moving. The message for the performance was one of endurance and looking for the blessings in our individual trials. We were told that even in the darkest of times, we can find a way to grow and be blessed.

After the broadcast we remained seated and were happy that we did. The announcer introduced special visitors that day: Earl Holding and his entire family who had been seated in a special box toward the front. The family was invited up to the podium and introduced to the congregation. Earl Holding himself seems quite ill, having suffered a stroke, and requires a wheelchair. We were told that a special person wanted to present them with a gift and then President Thomas S. Monson was introduced to say a few words. He remarked that he had been a longtime friend of Earl Holding, having know him as a schoolboy, and said some very nice things about him and his family. The family members were then made honorary members of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and presented with plaques to commemerate the honor. Sister Holding spoke for the family and said some very humble and sweet words. Then the family gathered around tight, turned around, and the choir sang, "God Be With You 'Til We Meet Again" for the family. It was the most beautiful song and I know that I shed a tear, though I don't know why.

On the way out, Caitlyn said to us, "You're welcome." When we asked for what, she explained that had she not procrastinated, we probably never would have gone. She's more than likely right. So to her we say, "Thank You."

Osgood-Schlatters

"Oh my gosh, he does walk like Grandpa Allred," my sister Jessica remarked as she watched Zach hurry onto the field.

We were all huddled close, wrapped in blankets as we watched Zach's football game from the metal bleachers. The fact that it had been a freezing day added to the misery that this particular game was being played at 8:00 at night. It's fair to say that "chilly" didn't do the night justice.

It was a great football game against the other Lone Peak team. If we won, we earned a place in the playoffs. If we lost, we were out. The whole clan was there and I know that it meant so much to Zach. He truly had a cheering section. Both sets of grandparents were there, his Aunt Jess and Uncle Aaron, his two sisters, mom, and even his cousins Bree and Hailey had come down all the way from Pleasant View on such a cold night.

"I've been telling you that," I said to Jess. Duh.

Let's just say that walking like my Grandpa Allred isn't exactly a compliment. He was in a serious car accident and walked with a pronounced limp for the last 20 years of his life. Brook has a different take on Zach's walk, though. He compares it more to Kramer in that Seinfield episode where Kramer's jeans are too tight and he walks like Frankenstein, scaring the neighbor kid. I can see Brook's point. Zach kind of shuffles along, avoiding bending his knees at times, swinging his arms to propel him forward.

For the past three or four months Zach has been complaining about his knees hurting. One day it's his right, the next day his left. Some days it's both. It's hard to watch him run because you know it's just killing him. We've been treating him with ice packs and pain reliever when it flairs. A visit to the doctor this week confirmed that he has Osgood-Schlatters, something we had assumed. Basically, it's growing pains and is very common for children his age who engage in a lot of sports. The doctor said that it will leave in a few months and return again when he goes through that one growing period around the beginning of high school. I don't think Zach was overly thrilled to hear the latter part.

I guess growing pains are inevitable, but it doesn't change the fact that I'm never ready for them, at any age. Every stage in my kids' lives seem to bring something new and unexpected. I feel like I'm always one step behind, always trying to catch up. Just when I get one thing mastered, something else sends us off flying in an unknown direction. At times I feel like telling them all, "Don't look at me. I don't even know what I'm doing." But Brook and I seem to trudge on, leaning on each other to somehow pull it together. Being a parent is not always easy, but it is definitely worth it. I wouldn't change my life for the world, growing pains and all.

Zach played well. He had some great passes and hand-offs and everyone played their positions beautifully. They ended up winning the game and earning a place in the play-offs. Go Knights!

Mom, Was it Heaven?

Brynn was looking out the window on the ride home from school. The weather was gray and cloudy and raindrops still decorated the windows from the morning rainstorm.

"Mom, was is it heaven when you were seven?" she asked quietly.

"What?" I couldn't figure out what she was asking.

"Was it heaven when you were seven? I love being seven; it's heaven," she explained.

Ah, being seven. I thought for a moment. "Yes Brynn, seven was heaven for me too."

"Brynn, why is seven heaven for you?" I asked.

"Well," she started, "I was the queen of the jungle gym in Castle Rock, I have lots of Webkinz, and I got to go to Disneyland."

I'm glad that Brynn loves being seven, but truth be told, she's enjoyed every age she's been. It's almost impossible to look through albums of pictures and find one where she isn't flashing a huge, cheesy smile or striking an impromptu, ridiculous pose. She sees each morning as an opportunity to rustle up some kind of fun and entertainment.

Brynn doesn't walk: she skips, runs, hops, and cartwheels down the aisle at Target. She doesn't just stop either: she flies into a chair, slides across the floor on her knees, or flngs herself into someone's unexpecting midsection. Church must be an exercise of intense patience for her. And while these descriptions sound like a diagnosis of ADD or something, she wouldn't be labeled that at all. She does well in school, can maintain her composure, and does have the ability to pay attention, reflect, and reason.

No. Brynn doesn't have a disorder of any kind. Brynn simply has, well, joy.

Later that day, as I watch her in dance class, I notice that the drab colored, soft pink ballet leotard she's wearing gives no indication of the spunk within. It isn't until the class is stretching and she announces to the other students, "I can feel the buuuuuuuuuuuurn!" that she resembles the Brynn I know. The other girls giggle as she puts them at ease. She loves a good girlfriend (and she has many). She likes nothing better than telling secrets on the sidelines during a soccer game, making best-friend nicknames, or giving "hug-gies" goodbye (usually 2 or 3 or until she's dragged away).

It's sad for me to watch her grow. Her build-a-bears and plastic princess shoes have gathered dust in the back of her closet as she's rushed full force into girlhood. With excitement she's taped up posters of the Jonas Brothers and Hannah Montana to the walls of her room. I take them down every so often, but new ones appear, as if by magic, to take their places. Her sweet bedtime storybooks don't get read anymore. Instead, books with titles such as High School Musical, Get Your Vote On! sit on the nightstand next to her bed. I'll find her reading them as I go in there to kiss her goodnight

Oh Brynn.

My Brynn.

I hope you continue to find joy in this old life. I hope every age greets you with the excitement and thrills you so love. May your years be filled with snowglobes, and tomatoes, and stickers, and chocolate creamies, and the sweet smell of your pillow as you bury your face in it. I hope you find the joy you so optimistically expect and the party you're searching for just around the next corner.

Rosie's Baptism

Yesterday our family had the privilege of going to a baptism for our cousin Rosie. She just turned eight-years-old this past week and was able to be baptized Saturday. It was a special day for her and we enjoyed being there. Rosie was baptized and confirmed by her dad, Nate. Rosie's mom, Emily, and her grandma Huff both gave wonderful talks about baptism and about being confirmed a member of the church. Rosie was excited, as was everyone there. We are proud of her and her decision to follow in Jesus' footsteps.

Pictured are Rosie, Nate (Brook's younger but wiser brother) and Emily.

Brynn was excited to watch Rosie be baptized

because she turns eight in December. She can't

wait for her special day. Here are the three

cousins: Brynn, Rosie, and Hailey.

Brook and his Dad, Max Buhrley

Brook's sister Trisha and her cute daughter Mia.

Mia is so soft and feminine. Caitlyn said the word

"hate" in a conversation with her cousin and Mia

gently scolded her and told her that it wasn't a

nice thing to say and that "I wouldn't say it if I

were you."

Caitlyn with Trisha's son Truman. He has the

cutest curly hair and the best disposition. He

joined in and just sang the final hymn as loud

as he could.

Here is Rosie's younger brother Max on the left,

with Truman in the middle and Angie's daughter

Allie in front. Max wore his backpack the entire day.

I'm not sure there was even anything in it, but he sure

enjoyed having it on.

Angie (Brook's sister) and her son Parker.

Parker is a true boy's boy. He loves anything fast

and furious. If you can kick it, throw it, catch it,

or ride it, he loves it. And his three sisters and

mom love him, too. Zach loves to hang out with

Parker when he gets a chance.

Caitlyn and Breanne. Can't you just feel the love?