The Story of a Minivan

This is long. LOOOOOONG. 

Earlier in the year, we came up with the crazy plan of driving to Connecticut and New York this summer. One of our main worries was driving in our 2004 Toyota Sienna, which was a good minivan, but very basic and with no air conditioning in the back. The thought of driving for 3 days straight without a DVD player or A/C for the kids was quite daunting. We looked and looked and looked for a newer, nicer van. Particularly a Honda Odyssey, since we love Hondas and have always had good luck with them.

After a few weeks, we found one that had low miles, and was listed well below Blue Book. We looked up the Carfax, which was clean as a whistle, test drove it, and everything seemed to check out. About a week after buying it, it started to shake violently when I drove on the freeway. I figured it was the alignment, so I had that fixed and it seemed to improve, so we assumed it would be fine. We had no idea what we were in for. 

We set out on our road trip, and it started shaking again. It shook and shook and shook. It would get so bad that we would have to pull onto the side of the freeway, put it in park and wait for a couple of minutes, and then it seemed to reset. We did that every couple of hours. By the time we were in Nebraska, we were just praying that we would make it to Connecticut, and then we'd get the problem fixed. We also assumed that it was something minor like the rotors. Near the border of Wyoming and Nebraska, one of the wheel wells was suddenly ripped off, which sounded terrible and scared the bejeebers out of everyone. That also made the bumper come loose, so we were stressed the whole time that the bumper was going to fall off at some point. We eventually made it to CT, but we were hobbling. Nils took it to a couple of mechanics the next day, but they were giving him a major runaround. 

A couple of days after we got there, we had planned to go to NYC for the day. It's only a couple of hours away from where we were staying, so we figured the ol' van could handle a short day trip. In hindsight, this was really stupid, but we underestimated what we were dealing with, and we were determined to have all the fun we had planned on! After a couple of mini breakdowns on the side of the freeway in Queens, (and getting a nice lecture/history lesson on George Washington from a cop, who then escorted us to a safer place to break down), we made it to Manhattan. 

When our visit was done and we were trying to get out of the city, again, on the freeway- at 9:00 at night- in the ghetto, the van stopped accelerating and started to smoke. We just sat there and looked at each other. We said things like, "What are we supposed to do?" and "What are you supposed to do when you break down on the side of the freeway in Manhattan at 9:00 at night in a minivan with your four little kids?" We decided that our only option at that point was to pray. We said a prayer, and not a minute later, this guy came running across the freeway to help us. He led us to a gas station, where he and his buddies got us up and running. I will never forget that experience. It was honestly one of the craziest, most surreal moments of my life. In New York City, in a rough part of the city, to put it nicely. Sitting at a random gas station, having strangers work on my piece of crap minivan, my kids climbing all over stacks of tires, running amok, taking my little girls across the street to use the bathroom in a disgusting deli with a guy at the counter who did not look completely with it or stable. I couldn't believe it was really happening, but I felt like everything was going to be okay and that we were being watched out for. The guys working on the van were a bunch of characters, to say the least. One of them wouldn't tell us his name- he said, "Uh, my name? Well, today you can call me Abracadabra!" They were able to fix the immediate problem of the smoking and all, and assured us we would be okay to drive back to CT. 

We made it back without too much trouble, and the next day found a shop that seemed honest and like they knew what they were doing. I swear, every hour they called Nils to tell him something new they found. The transmission mount was broken, and another motor mount wasn't even screwed into place. Thus the shaking, as the motor was never secured. There was a leak in the steering column, a lug nut that was missing and the post was broken off. It needed two new front tires, and there was the the wheel well and the bumper. All of this was adding up little by little, but none of it was too expensive or difficult to fix, so we weren't too worried.

Then came the kiss of death. They had the van running, and it suddenly stalled. The timing belt had broken, which essentially ruined the engine. As it turns out, the genius we bought the van from decided to change the timing belt himself before selling it. The problem is that he didn't know what he was doing, and did it wrong. He put parts on backwards which shredded the belt. We had to have the engine rebuilt on this minivan we had purchased 5 weeks prior. Our repair costs suddenly went from $900 to $3,700, not to mention the fact that we were across the country and without a vehicle for at least a week. 

We stayed with Nils' sister and her husband, who were beyond amazing. They backtracked in NYC to come find us at that gas station and make sure we were safe. They told us we could stay at their house as long as we needed to. We had planned on going to Rochester, and they let us drive their Highlander there for 3 days. Just unbelievably cool and generous about everything. If it hadn't been for them, this trip would have been such a disaster. 

We made it back to CT from Rochester, and had to wait for 2 more days for the van to be finished. It was so frustrating. We had planned to leave for home on a Wednesday from Rochester, but had to backtrack to CT and wait until Saturday to leave. When we were finally able to head out, the van seemed to be driving a lot better and we didn't really have issues. After three days of driving home, we were in the MIDDLE OF NOWHERE in Wyoming- 4 hours from home, when the speedometer started to wig out. The needle was jumping all over the place and again, the van would not accelerate. We pulled off the nearest exit, and saw that transmission fluid had leaked all over the place. It was splattered all along the side of the van, and the wheel was coated with it. I looked under the van, and the fluid was just dripping out. I called roadside assistance, who arranged a tow, but let me know that we would have to take a taxi to the shop, since a tow truck couldn't accommodate six people. This was when I started to cry. Nils called the taxi company, who cheerfully told him that they would be happy to give us a ride, for $8 a person, and $3 per mile, each way. They were 60 miles away. This was when I started to cry harder. I mean, really. How much more ridiculous can this situation get? 

We decided to bag the tow. We drove slowly to the nearest town and found a car dealership that had a shop. They topped off the transmission fluid and told us we'd be lucky to make it 10 miles down the road before the transmission went out. By this time I had stopped crying and was just angry. We called our neighbor and asked him to be on call- we might be needing a ride home from Wyoming. Thank heavens for neighbors who are willing to do that kind of crap, ya know? We were going to drive until the transmission fell out. The kids were praying in the back that we would make it home, and by the faith of our little children and driving annoyingly slow, we did. 

We have been home for a month, now. After much deliberating and praying, we have decided to keep this treasure of a minivan. So far the transmission hasn't gone out, and when it does we will get it fixed. This experience was so horrible and stressful, but there are many silver linings. We were kept safe both going to CT and coming home. We were safe in NYC. The timing belt could have broken anywhere, and we would have been stranded in that spot. It broke in the shop in Connecticut, where we had a place to stay, with family to help us out. We were able to do everything we wanted to and see everything we wanted to see. We went to Rochester and saw the Hill Cumorah Pageant, which my brother and his family were in. We had an awesome time staying with and visiting our friends Larry and Mary Ann. Our trip was a blast! 

While everything was happening, we were very aware of all of our blessings. I admit, I started to despair in Wyoming on the way home, but mama can only take so much! 

And that is the story of how a minivan gave me PTSD.

Sweet back to school story

This school year brings some changes for Addie and Aani. Addie was accepted into the A.L.L. program at the same school that Anders has been attending for the last two years. Addie really didn't seem to care one way or the other, but we've been very happy with our experience with Anders, so we decided she would do it.

We tried unsuccessfully to get Aani into the very popular Spanish Immersion program at our neighborhood school. Not long after we found out she didn't get into that program, the school down the road called me and offered her a spot in their Chinese Immersion program. After giving it some thought for a couple of weeks, we decided to go for it. Why not? Any opportunity for her to learn a new language at such a young age is great, I think. She's been excited all summer.

Last night  when we were tucking everyone in, Addie started bawling. She said she felt scared that she wouldn't have any friends, wouldn't know anything about the school and that she would miss Mommy and Daddy (???), etc. We reassured her that everything was going to be fine and she would love her new class, but she was still upset and crying. I suggested that she pray and ask Heavenly Father to help her to not feel nervous or scared, and that she would have a great first day at her new school.

This morning I took Aani to her new school, and Nils drove Anders and Addie to their school. Before they left, I asked Addie how she was feeling, and she said, "I feel better. I think my prayer helped me." Be still my heart! When they got to the school, there was a red carpet going into the front doors, with the faculty standing on either side of it, cheering and giving the kids high-fives as they walked in. It goes without saying that teachers are grossly underpaid, and Utah gets a bad rap for having under-funded schools. I must say, however, I am constantly in awe of the teachers my kids have had, and what they are able to do with the resources they do have. Teachers are miracle workers and I love them.

Addie had a great first day of school. She said her current 3rd grade teacher is in a tie with the teacher she had for both 1st and 2nd grades. That is really saying something, because she thought the world of her 1st and 2nd grade teacher. I'm so thankful that her prayer was answered and she was able to recognize it.

Aani had a fun first day, too. She has an English teacher and a Chinese teacher, so her day is split between the two. The Chinese teacher only speaks in Chinese. Aani said she was so funny. She said she had a tomato on her head during class. Can you imagine what this teacher has to do to keep the kids' attention while only speaking Chinese? Bless her.

Anders seemed to have a good day as well. His teacher is a man, which is a first for him. Anders seemed pretty impressed with everything he did prior to becoming a teacher. His classmates are mostly the same from the last 2 years, so he feels a little less enthused about starting a new school year, I think. And, since he's getting so old, school is less cool and more drool.

Ava is starting preschool in a couple of weeks. What am I going to do with myself for 4 whole childless hours a week? I'll probably do something really awesome. Like clean.

Halfway to 70

Today is Nils' 35th birthday! The following is an example of why I love him:

On Thursday, I called Nils with a small household concern. This evolved into a small honey-do list involving hanging things on walls, etc., which then evolved into, "While we're at it, why don't we just rip up both bathroom floors, paint the vanities, re-paint the walls, frame the mirrors, get new faucets, tile the floors, and put bead board up?"

So that's what we did this weekend. Friday night after we got the kids to bed, we were both scraping up the old linoleum from the bathroom floor. It was fun. I stayed up until about 3 a.m. painting the vanity out in the garage while Nils worked on tiling the bathroom floor. I had to call it around then, I was pretty delirious. Nils stayed up until 4:40 grouting the floor. We got up at 8:30 and were back at it. We worked all day on painting the vanity, painting the bathroom walls, measuring the bead board and chair rail, feeding the kids, making sure they were alive and accounted for a couple of times, etc. We got the bathroom put back together around 8:00 last night, and it looks awesome. And we did it together! It was fun and exhausting and our house was a total disaster, and the kids were orphan-like, wandering the neighborhood like little scoundrels.

Most things are fun with Nils. I love him. He's my bestie, and I love to be with him. He works hard at making me happy. If things aren't right between us, he's usually the first to acknowledge it to see what needs to change to fix it. Nils is a lot different than me in a lot of ways. He has an inherent need to be productive and creative all the time and always has a project going on. I just need a clean house and a good meal and I'm pretty happy. 

Anyway, I'm really thankful for him and the good man he is. He's so good to me, and I don't think I could have a better match. So thanks for all of that, Nilsy Nils. Happy birthday to you.

P.S. I'm sorry for not getting you a present. Maybe we can eat your cake in our new bathroom!

P.P.S. Aren't you so excited to do the other bathroom next weekend!? 

I can talk about Ragnar like it's a distant memory now.

Nils and I were invited to be on a Ragnar team back in November. Sometimes, when you find out about something 7 months in advance, it sounds like a lot of fun. But then as the time draws closer and closer, the more you realize that said thing might actually cause you pain and discomfort and chafing. Lots and lots of chafing.

I'm pretty sure almost everyone knows what Ragnar is, but if you don't, here's a brief synopsis: A 200-mile relay split between 12 runners. The team is divided into 2 vans of 6 people. Each runner runs 3 legs of the relay. Runners 1-6 (van 1) complete their first legs, then hand off to runners 7-12 (van 2), while van 1 rests for a few hours. And so it continues until everyone has run their 3 legs and the race is done. The Wasatch Back Ragnar goes from Logan to Park City and is beautiful.

We had an awesome team of fun, supportive people. When we weren't running, supporting one of our runners, eating, rolling sore muscles, eating Advil like candy, patching up blisters, or crying about being chafed in places that you should never be chafed (wait- was I the only one who did that?), we were laughing our heads off. 

Nils was runner 1, so he started us off at 5 a.m. in Logan. His legs were 7.75, 8.2 and 5.something. He did great, but managed to get a triple-deep blister as big as his heel. He didn't get any bloody nipples, though.

I was runner 6. My legs were 6.9 miles, 8.2 miles, and 2.1 miles. My first leg was mostly downhill on a rocky, rocky dirt road. My second leg was a lot harder, being uphill most of the way. The first 5 miles were actually amazing. The terrain was not bad at all and it was really beautiful. After that, however I was kind of a mess. My legs were knotting up and I kept getting a charly horse in my hamstrings. When I only had a mile left, I had to squat down on the road and think about what I was going to do, because I really couldn't move. I had eaten part of a GU a few minutes before, and that kicked in in the knick of time and I felt great running the last mile. 

Once I was done with that leg, it was about 10:00 p.m. and time for our van to go sleep. We drove to a high school in Coalville (it's okay, I don't know where that is, either) where we could sleep on wrestling mats on the gym floor. Walking into that gym was one of the strangest things I have seen. I was expecting it to be a party. It was dead silent, with hundreds of people lined up like corpses on the wrestling mats. Everyone was so tired. I was a wreck. I was sick to my stomach and hurt like I have never hurt before. Nils decided to go eat a spaghetti dinner in the cafeteria. He said it was the best food he's ever eaten, but we now know that he was just delirious and starving to death. We got to "sleep" for about 3 hours, and it was time to get up and run again. Since Nils was runner 1, he had to be ready to jump out of the van and start his leg as soon as runner 12 was done. Runner 12 was going a lot faster than we were prepared for, so we were racing to the hand-off location, thinking we were going to miss her. We got there RIGHT as she was finishing. I don't even think we stopped the van before Nils jumped out and was on his way. This was about 3 a.m. 

There were about 6 hours in the middle of that night when I was in a bad place. When Nils finished his 3rd leg, I was wrapped in a blanket in the van and looked like an enchilada. I was sleeping like a baby, and Nils recorded the following conversation: 

Nils: Katrina, are we going to do Ragnar in 2014 or ever again?

Me: (Not awake) Noooooo. NOOOOOO!!!

Nils: Glad I got this on video.

My last leg was an easy 2 miles through Heber, and I was so happy to be done.

Running Ragnar was way harder than running a half-marathon, in my humble opinion. I was really surprised by that. I stupidly figured it would be no big deal. I think I'm getting old and senile. It took about 36 hours to realize that it was actually a lot of fun and that I would totally do it again. I would just make sure to stock up on a hefty supply of Body Glide next time 'round.

Nils, all geared up to start the race at 5 a.m.

Me running after him to give him water in Logan. Such a good wife I am.

In the middle of leg 2

Finishing leg 3, hooray!

Our team, "Wasatch Your Back"

I usually think medals are stupid, but I felt like this one was earned. Then we got home and Aani broke it. Whatevs.

I've never slept so good in a sleeping bag. So. Tired.

Hooray for us!

                                      

It's not that I hate your joy, I just want you to pretend to have a little less of it.

Nils has been in Chicago since Sunday morning, so we're done with day 3, with 3 more to go until he's home. I was talking to my friend the night before he left and said that I was fine with him going on trips for work, I just don't want to have to see pictures of the food he's eating or the cool, fun places he's going to. I want him to pretend like he's miserable and can't stand being away from me, even though I know he's not.

So he's been posting pictures on Facebook all week of the food he's been eating and the cool places he's going to.

He called me tonight and was telling me about the fancy restaurant he went to for dinner tonight, and I said something snotty like, "Gosh, I hope you take some more pictures of your food and post it", and he said, "I know you hate my joy", and I said, "I do hate your joy."

Listen. It's the first week of summer break, and I am far from in my groove. We're all in that post-school year haze, where we don't know what to do with ourselves for the next 2 1/2 months. Yesterday I got to take the kids with me to get emissions done and then to the DMV, if that gives you a flavor of what it's like around here. Totes awesome.

So, Nils (and husbands and fathers everywhere whose wives are indignant, like me). Maybe when you post pictures of your authentic Chicago deep dish pizza, you could caption it with something along the lines of, "I'm in Chicago eating this amazing pizza- but all I taste are my tears, since I miss my wife so much and can't enjoy anything without her."

I think I would really like that.

On Busyness not being Happiness (for us)

Addie and Aani have been in gymnastics/tumbling since August. Initially, they were going down the street to a little storefront for tumbling. It took 3 minutes to get there and was right after school, before dinner. In December, the owner decided to close it down, so I signed them up for gymnastics at the Lehi Legacy Center. It takes about 15 minutes to get there, and it's from 5:45-6:45 on Monday evenings. The girls have really seemed to like it, and I've been impressed with the program there. The classes are full to the max, and unless you already have a spot it's almost impossible register, so you have to take what you can get.

The downside, obviously, is that the timing of the class is horrible and it pretty much ruins Monday nights for dinner, FHE and other togetherness time. We'll either eat something really fast before we leave, or, the majority of the time, wait to have dinner until 7:00 when everyone is home. Then we have FHE after dinner, which is sometimes at 8:00- way too late.

Nils and I generally switch off taking them, but last night I was just not feeling like taking my turn. Nils got home from work and looked tired. All the kids were outside playing hide and seek in the cul-de-sac, having a grand old time, and we decided to ask the girls if they were okay skipping gymnastics. Both of them were more than fine with it. Aani said, "That's fine, I didn't want to go anyway."

As we were eating dinner, I asked the girls if they LOVED gymnastics. Aani said, "No." Addie held her thumb horizontally, to indicate she was neutral on the matter (classic Addie communication method). I asked them if they would be super sad if we decided not to do gymnastics anymore. "No!" in unison. I was pretty surprised. I really thought they liked it.

So this is my dilemma. We want our kids to have opportunities to develop talents, be involved in things, and feel like they can participate in activities outside the house with confidence. The trouble is that doing some of these things is a huge sacrifice to family time. I told the girls that if they LOVED gymnastics, we were more than happy to keep doing it. That goes for any activity for any of them. If they absolutely love it and identify with it, we will do what it takes to make it happen for them (within reason, obviously). But if they're doing it because everyone else in the neighborhood is doing it, or because it sounded like a good idea in the beginning or whatever, then I can't justify the sacrifice. Our weeks are jam packed with something every night. We don't have any evenings when we can just go or do whatever. Between homework, scouts, activity days, bishopric stuff, lessons, date night, school performances and other miscellaneous things thrown in there, we feel spread pretty darn thin.

How do you balance it? How do you find happiness in the crazy? We love just spending time at home with our kids, and we're not very happy when there isn't any time for it. I guess I would like to know if the kids not all being in different activities at any given time is going to be detrimental to their future success in life. Pretty sure they're not going to be professional athletes, dancers or musicians, but I do want them to have happy memories of their childhoods. I expect that those are going to be made both ways- at home and by doing things they love outside the home. Just not sure how to make the two work together.

Easter Wienerbration and April Fool's Poo

It's good to be a Vander Werff on certain occasions. One of those occasions is on Easter, when we have what has become the Annual Wiener Toss. After the kids finish with the candy hunt, Uncle Greg (my brother) throws hot dogs off his balcony at the kids below. They might be raw, they might be cooked- you never know what you're going to get. I don't know if there's anything funnier than watching the kids run after hot dogs being thrown at them from above. We can't decide what to call it: the Annual Throwing of the Meat, the Annual Wiener Toss, the Easter Wienerbration? They all sound so nice, I think we should just use them interchangeably.

See? Some cooked, most not.  It's a bucket o' surprises, I tell you!

Nothin' like an Easter basket full of candy and raw wieners! Look at that happy kid!

On April Fool's Day, the day after the Annual Wiener Toss, I had devised a brilliant April Fool's joke to play on the kids. Since we got a puppy, we have had the pleasure of finding poo in random places in the house. It's gross and I hate it, and I have been tempted to kill the dog, or worse, give it away to someone at Walmart. Anyhoo, it's gotten better, but it did provide a platform for my April Fool's joke.

We had a movie night with our neighbors and I baked some brownies. During the movie, I rolled up a brownie into a few little pieces, and they looked exactly like dog poo. I put the brownie poo in the next room, and a few minutes later "discovered" it, and started yelling at everyone that I was going to kill the dog and so on. Everyone came into the room, and Nils asked, "whose turn is it to clean up poo?" The kids all insisted that it was none of their turns, so I said, "Fine, I'll clean it up." I bent down and picked up the brownie poo with my bare hands and slowly put it in my mouth. The grown-up neighbors knew about it, and Nils was in on it, but all the kids were totally fooled.

It may have been one of the greatest moments of my life, watching all those children with their jaws on the floor, thinking that their mother/crazy neighbor lady was eating dog poo. I said, "Hmm, not bad!" Then Nils picked up a couple pieces and ate them. It was great.

Ava asked me for the next two days why I ate poo. Poor, confused girl. Best April Fool's joke ever.