(Matt here)

Adolf Hitler was kind of a trouble maker.

In 1923, Hitler attempted his first overthrowing of the German government. He was unsuccessful and his attempt landed him in jail for "political crimes". While imprisoned, he decided he would document his struggles in an autobiographical book titled "Mein Kampf", which is German for "My Struggle". Simply put, it is in this book that he laid out his agenda for all that he deemed good, how to realize such euphoric goodness in his surrounding environment, and finally, how to terminate that which didn't quite fit into his Utopian game plan.

His Struggle.

He wrote a book on it.

So what is your struggle? Could you write a book about it?

Hey! One big whine session! Fantastic...

So, this post today is entitled "Mein Kampf" because I am going to let you all in on a little piece of my psyche.

I had a friend a long time ago. A dear, dear friend. I haven't seen this friend now for quite some time. This friend was special because he always made me feel so good about myself. I wanted to spend all day with this friend, once I really got to know said friend. It wasn't easy at first, but after a while, this friend and I REALLY hit it off. If I went one day without seeing this friend, the day was just all the harder and I couldn't wait to see said friend as soon as possible.

Don't you wish you had such a friend?

Well, so do I. Again, I haven't seen this friend for ages and I desperately miss this friends company.

So, who is this friend you ask?

Said friend's name is: (drum roll.........)

Exercise.

There was a time about a year ago, I was running everyday. I never felt better! I lost a lot of weight and things were going my way. I ran a 10k. I was actually fitting into my pants and even having to go buy skinnier ones. I cared about what I ate and meals didn't simply consist of everything. I had time to go to the gym.

The hard work was really quite blissful and I have never felt better.

I guess thats what feeling healthy does to you. I hardly remember. It has been too long...

So what is your "Mein Kampf"? Well, mine is exercise. I need to get back on the horse. I need to rededicate myself. I need to make it happen and become reacquainted with my long lost friend that could prolong my life so I can spend more years with my grandbabies. I mean, seriously, is there anything more important that that?

So, I am not sure where this post is going from here, but I will say that I am going to call my old friend this week and see if said friend wants to get together sometime....

I'll tell said friend you said hi, that is, if this friend will take me back.

I am addicted to facebook. I admit it. I check my phone for updates all the time. I love seeing what other people are doing and I enjoy all the sarcasm and humor.

However.

Some people don't get it. They don't understand what facebook is. Or what the purpose is. It is where we publish superficial tidbits about our lives for those around us. That's it. Girls night out is a better place to discuss the disfunctionalities of our lives. Not the world wide web. I sometimes wonder if some people realize anyone could be reading their comments...

So I wrote a list to help. Here it is. Take it or leave it.

1. Thou shalt not whine.
OK. We all have bad days. Crappy things happen. Fine, tell us. We're your friends and we want to know. This is for those people who continually post their woe-is-me status updates day after day after day... you know the type.
2. Thou shalt not publish thy dirty laundry.
Facebook is not the place to tell the world about the fight you're having with your husband. Period. Call your therapist.
3. Thou shalt not call names.
Are we really in Junior High again? C'mon. (Of course, name calling in jest or when funny is acceptable, but if you're not sure, don't do it)
4. Thou shalt not publish your bedroom escapades.
Need I go into this one?
5. Thou shalt attempt humor once in a while.
Now I am neither funny nor witty, but I try. In this arena, go for it. The standard "I went to the park. I love chocolate. I am a mom. I work at Zions Bank.." Boring. Jazz it up a little. Give it a whirl. With practice, you may become that funny person you always wanted to be.
6. Thou shalt publish a variety of topics.
At the risk of offending someone, I have some friends who post about the same thing every day. I don't even read their posts anymore. Move along. Next subject.
7. Thou shalt comment on other statuses.
You don't have to comment on everyone. But some statuses sometimes. We all like to be acknowledged. It only takes a minute so just do it.
8. Thou shalt use caution in publishing personal information.
This is the world wide web. Be smart. No phone number or address listings.
9. Thou shalt have a facebook account if your kids do.
Now this is mainly for parents of teenagers. Just another way to spy on your kids. Don't act like you don't want to.
10. Thou shalt not accept all friend requests.
This is more of a rule than a commandment. It's OK to say no. You don't know the person? You don't like them? Say no. It's all right.

So there it is. I got that off my chest. Whew. I feel better now.

My cell phone rang. My friend, Kelly, was on the other line. "Clark's house is on fire."

Clark is the owner and primary photographer of Swensen Photography. I have worked with him for over a decade and he is truly a wonderful guy. He is genuinely funny and his photography is exceptional. He has been very successful in marketing his artistic ability and I enjoy every opportunity I get to work with him on a wedding.

"Clark's house is on fire."

When I heard this devastating news, I rushed to his home, I wasn't sure why, but I went anyway. Outside his residence, I found hundreds of Clark's friends and family all trying to give him comfort and show support, but failing in the ability to formulate such emotions. There just weren't words.

I was standing next to Clark when the fire chief approached him and declared, "There isn't a lot of time, but if you want to try to get something out of the house, now is your chance." He and Clark scurried towards the house and a few minutes later, out he came with two soaking wet computers and 8 TB of storage. In four hands rested years of his work. Hundreds of shoots. Thousands of images. All threatened by the flames that had destroyed Clark's home and the world wide headquarters of Swensen Photography. Clark handed them to me and a few others and pleaded "See what you can do." Back Clark went to do whatever one does when one's house is burning and we went to work, happy that we finally had something to do.

Long story short. The pictures were salvaged.

But Clark's images aren't what this post is about. Not really anyway.

When I first arrived on the scene and saw Clark. I didn't know what to say. I simply walked up to him and gave him a hug. As I searched for words of comfort that would mean anything at this terrible hour, Clark, in his happy-go-lucky way, asked, "So, how are the twins?"

You're kidding me.

"WHO CARES!" I wanted to yell at him! My twins? Who cares about my twins!? Your house is on fire. Everything you own is burning to the ground. Everything. 100% loss. And you are wondering how my twins are? Hello!?

But then I thought, how amazing is Clark for thinking that. When all was lost, he inquired about me and that which was important in my life.

There is more.

As I watched Clark for the next few hours on that night he consistently remained upbeat. He smiled at family and friends. When new people arrived, he was genuinely happy to see them. I stood and watched in awe as Clark hugged and greeted everyone around in the foreground of utter devestation. It was truly amazing.

How would I respond? How would I react. When the fire chief approached me, what would I say or grab? What do I consider my most priceless possessions? Clark grabbed images. Not just his own, but all his clients, who, in a way, had become part of the Swensen Photography family. For Clark, nothing was really THAT important. He knew his family was safe, and it was this knowledge that was the glue that, I believe, kept Clark from falling apart on that night. We can lose everything, but when we have family, we can overcome anything. Clark showed me this on that night.

It has been a week and I had the opportunity to shoot with Clark again today. His happy-go-lucky self emanated through every action and word. The fire hadn't phased him a bit. Of course, it had caused a few speed bumps in the life of Clark, but when asked how he was doing...
his response FLOORED me....

"It has been the best thing that has ever happened to us."

I was stunned.

He went on to say, (paraphrasing) "There have been so many miracles that my family has witnessed. We have had so many family and friends offer their love and support, it has just been an amazing experience to be the recipients of everyone's acts of love and kindness. My family and I will never be the same."

... in a good way.

I guess life entails happiness, but then we will all face difficulty and even tragedy. I have learned something invaluable from Clark today. Regardless of what happens to us or how difficult things can sometimes get, it is important to keep one thing in mind...

Perspective.

One Year Later....




May 26, 2009

I don't know why I call him "Frax". Maybe just the rhyme. Probably the rhyme.

Of the two, Dax is the youngest. Elsie made her way quickly and effeciently into this world after three or so good pushes. She cried for a minute. Then she pretty much just chilled thereafter.

Dax was different.

Many have read the story from this previous post but to sum things up, Dax had a pretty rude introduction to this world. After being literally yanked out of his peaceful home, nearly breaking arms and legs (he was delivered breech), and then not being able to breathe for a good couple of minutes after extraction, Daxton's welcome was much less inviting than that of his sister's.

It has been four months now I am amazed at how much they have grown.


So how would I describe Dax a' Frax today?

Well, first. He is all boy.

Daxton has an insatiable appetite, but maybe that is just a Baker attribute. One thing is for sure, he has definately acquired the Baker belch. Alex and Isaac like to be in the room whenever Dax is nursing because like the consistency of Old Faithful, there is always a wall-rumbling belch of satisfaction after every feeding!

Another Daxism is although his intake is great, it seems his output is even greater! Daxton is a leaky, leaky faucet. Drool of all sorts is constantly seeping from his mouth which causes multiple daily outfit changes accompanied with constant carpet scrubbing. I am stunned at how he can spit up all that he has eaten and then immediately produce the cutest, big-eyed smile which instantly enables the holder to see past what has just occured, and reflect a heart-felt greeting in return.

Elsie likes to smile but one has to work for it. Daxton doesn't seem to stop smiling. His bald head and toothless grin is the perfect recipe for parental joy and is the antidote for any bad day. Frax's grunt laugh can brighten any room and it's contageousness is overwhelming.

Among so many other things, perhaps my favorite Frax attribute is his snuggleability. When the day is done and Frax is bathed and fed, I love to take him in my arms as he snuggles his head into my elbow pit, shielding his eyes from any sliver of light. He often falls asleep quickly and during those quiet few moments, I acknowledge how lucky I am to have such a joy in my life as Dax a' Frax.

Even if I have to change my shirt from his drool after I am done.

Those of you who know me, you know that I loathe getting my haircut.

Don't get me wrong, I love having a fresh do and enjoy the ability of hearing because my hair is no longer lopping over my ears. I simply hate the process, not the end result.

Allow me to explain.

Normally I walk into a salon and am greeted by this:


Next, he/she (whatever that is above) takes me back to a chair which belongs to Tenequa, The Hair Goddess (at least she thinks she is). This is Tenequa.


I tell her what I want, but I don't think she is really listening. She is completely engaged in a conversation with Opal (the stylist next to her) speaking in a language I don't understand. Not that I could understand anything because the music is so loud I can't hear the whining clippers assaulting my scalp... When they do try to talk to me and make polite conversation, I cringe and pray to find just the right answer that will disengage any need for further dialogue... She can just keep talking to Opal about who is pregnant now...

...just cut my hair.

She completes my "style", I drop a $20 on the counter, and I thank goodness I don't have to do that for another two months (or hopefully longer)!!

Well, today, something different happened.

I took the boys to school, and on the way home I noticed a shop called "Our Barber Shop". It is located on 10907 South and State in Sandy. The Phone is 801-576-5651. My wool had grown quite long and uncomfortable so I decided to give it a try.

The first thing I noticed was how busy it was. Lots of old, old men. The youngest patron was in his 70s. Instead of Tenequa, I was greeted by Harold. He must have been 75. His partner in crime, Raymond, had plenty of life experience as well. There was old fashioned music playing and everything seemed to move just a little slower. It was a breath of fresh air.

I sat down in a super comfy, black chair. Harold inquired how I liked my hair and I told him "just make it look nice" and off he went. It was wonderful! He told me about how things used to be. That you could eat at Chuck-a-Rama for $2.50. He told me about his military days. We discussed interesting things. It was like talking to my grandpa whom I miss dearly.

I knew I had arrived when every new/old comer entered the clingy door with the same greeting from my barber... "How you doin', Harold?" His response, "Still on the green side of the grass!"

And then the haircut... He cut all the normal things when I get my haircut, but then the real fun began. He heated up some shaving cream and began applying it to all those annoying places like my neck and around my ears. With quick, professional precision, he whipped out the biggest razor I had ever seen, and commenced his slaughter of all my pesky, unwanted follicles. At first, my heart began to beat a little faster, after all, he is a little advanced in age and one slip meant my jugular, but after a few minutes I just sat back, relaxed, and enjoyed the shear and shave.

And then came the old-man trim. He razored my burns, neck, plucked my ear hair, trimmed my bushy eyebrows, yanked out my nose hair, and he even took care of those filler hairs attempting to bridge the gap between my eyebrows creating my ominous unibrow. Well, not not today...

...not under Harold's watch.

After a final dash of aftershave, I was done.

I felt like giving Harold a hug.

Today, I am definitely happy I am "on the green side of the grass!"


PS... All for $10!

Last game of the season...

Thirty seconds to go with the score 7-6. We just scored a touchdown, and the coach decides to go for two.

We want the win.

3 months ago, Alex swaggered onto the football field where he knew no one. His coach, Tito, welcomed Alex to the team with his big bear voice. We later learned this team had played together during tackle season for Hilcrest and Alex was not only the newcomer, but the only stranger on the team.

Practices went well and the coach discovered that Alex was a good student of the game and had a pretty good arm. Alex started taking snaps and overnight replaced the former quarterback which so happened to be the coach's son. Alex embraced the QB1 position and became a rallying leader on the fledgling team.

From the sidelines, I watched in awe as Alex did things I never dreamed possible. He took snaps, negotiated runs, drilled passes, and led his team to a 6-2 winning season. From completing deep bomb passes to 50 yard rushing scrambles, Alex did it all.

I know this sounds like a parent dotting over his son and could one be more tainted? Well, if you don't like it, go read seriouslysoblessed or something...

Anyway.

3o seconds to go till the end of the season and our team is going for two and the victory.

It's either euphoria or devastation, well, at least until Alex's TV time when either feeling will be forgotten.

30 seconds...

The play is given to Alex and it is a fake handoff bootleg pass/run, whichever is available.

Alex takes the snap.

Fakes to Jordan for the run. He bootlegs right (ladies this means he runs right).
Both receivers have double coverage and Alex is facing up to the linebacker. I look in Alex's eyes and they glow with intensity and determination. Alex bears down, tucks the ball and with all his strength and the weight of the teams hopes and success on those little nine-year old shoulders, he rushes for the end zone.
The linebacker closes in. Alex lunges and....

SCORES!

Victory.

Perhaps the best thirty seconds of my life.

After the celebration from the kids and parents on the sideline, the coach gathered the players around him and started handing out trophies and pictures while the kids displayed as much excitement about their Oreos as their tremendous victory. The coach recognized the players for their accomplishments but then I noticed he had four game balls, which he personally purchased (what a stud), laying at his feet.

The first player received a ball for his defensive abilities. The second player as well. The third for being one of the best rushers in the league. And then finally, my heart stopped. He brought Alex to the front. The coach, again in his big, bear voice yet smoothed with compassion said, "When I saw Alex's name on the roster, I wasn't sure what we were going to get. I hope he's good!" He lauged. "But a team is only as good as it's QB, and I believe we have the best QB in the league. Alex, this game ball is for you and it has been a joy to have you on our team!"

The players and parents erupted with applause.

I passed out.