Part Two: Let's Dance!

I know it's been weeks since my little girl tied the knot but I still need to write about it. To be fair, I haven't just been slacking off during these weeks.

Sir Spencer decided to remind us all why we call ourselves the Crisis Center. He's been working construction and took a nail to his knee while holding a truss in place. (Read: entire day seeking medical attention!) The next day he decided that life couldn't go on without him and supported his siblings at an all day ballroom competition and then went on his first date in two years. Let's just say I was taking care of a very swollen, sore, frustrated, not medicated enough son well into that night.

I also had the privilege of attending a first ever retreat with my sisters. Even though I was reluctant to leave my family with so much "stuff" undone, I am so grateful that I traded that stuff (some of which was really good) for something even better. I don't think we've ever enjoyed an uninterrupted conversation together, let alone until 4:00 in the morning.

I have the attention span of a gnat, so I don't watch movies very often. When my sisters found out that I had never seen Mama Mia they were determined. They delighted with watching me experience it for the first time but I had the better time listening to them sing and dance. Who knew flashy pants and Elvis suits could be so much fun? Cannonballs onto the bed has its merits, too. (Don't tell the Little People I said that.)

At any rate, I love my sisters even more than ever and feel like we have a renewed bond.

But now it's time to finish my story.

Just ten days after Elder Crosgrove returned from serving a two year mission, our beautiful Miss Nichole was married to my now favorite son-in-law, Ammon.

There are so many things that I want to remember. I wish I could have written them down sooner. I hope I can still catch some of the essence of how special this day really was.

As much as I stressed over all the obstacles that came up while making Miss Nichole's dress, I am very grateful I had the opportunity to do so. Much of the lace in the bodice had to be stitched in place while she was wearing it. What a wonderful excuse to have those last precious moments with her before she went off and became her own woman. She still had a lot of planning to do with Sir Ammon but she didn't want him to see her dress. They solved that problem by him turning his back or covering his eyes while they talked. They are both really mature in their thinking and the way they handle responsibility....but it still makes me smile when I think of him sitting there like a little boy playing peek-a-boo to make her happy.

The day before the wedding, my sweetheart gathered up our boys and set out to transform our church's cultural hall (gym) into a spectacular reception venue. He spent hours hanging wire and lights from the ceiling. I guess he's just like Ammon. He will still do anything to make me happy.

The origami swans were Sir Ammon's idea. He insisted that in Japan the mother of the bride folds 2000 swans as a gift of admiration to her new son. It was a sad day when I had to burst his bubble and inform him that I am not Japanese. I did help fold a few of them. This little deal might actually become one of our family traditions. It was a brilliant way to get the whole family involved, especially the younger children, and they were beautiful!

Miss Nichole earned her wish to be married in the temple. It was such a sacred experience. I'll keep the best close to my heart but feel I need to share some thoughts from my perspective.

After all the planning, decision making, and hard work to put a wedding together, I found myself at the temple, alone for a few minutes with my sweet daughter all dressed in white, and it was very clear to me that none of the hullaballoo was even needed. She was where she needed to be, about to make promises that would bring her joy for eternity. Everything else was just extra. Wonderful.....but extra still the same.

I thought I would be a crying mess. I tend to do that. I was surprised at how calm I felt. Everything just seemed be just as it should be. It was so natural that she should be married and happy and my heart filled with joy that they were finished with the good-byes at the end of a date and on to forevers together.

Enough of the sappy stuff.

Let's talk party!!!!

My one wish for the reception was that everyone would feel our love for them and that there would be lots of dancing and laughter. I was overwhelmingly granted that wish. I couldn't believe how many of our friends and family came to support us.

One of my favorite things to remember will be dancing with my sweetheart. It's a pretty powerful moment when you realize you are dancing in the same spot you danced 24 years earlier as the bride and groom yourselves. It's hard to believe, but we're so much more in love now than we ever thought possible back then. Our dancing has improved slightly, too!

At the end of the evening, when it was time to say good-bye to the newlyweds, I took my little girl in my arms and danced with her one more time. (We took the opportunity to have a lovely waltz together the night before.) I can't post a picture of that because I really do look like a crying mess, and I won't tell you all that I said to her, but I will re-iterate some things.

I am so proud of her. I am so grateful that she has lived her life in a way that I can look up to her. I am so proud of her for being true to herself and her ideals. I couldn't ask for a better example for the rest of my daughters to look up to......

.....and I couldn't think of a better man for her to be happily ever after with.

photo credit: Brianna May Photography, Alex Trujillo, Keiko Foote

Part One: Let's Get Together

First family photo with all the Little People together!

Some things never change!

I never thought these two looked alike. Mind. Changed.

Just looking at this picture makes my insides all happy.

Isn't it ironic? The times when there is so much to say and record are often the times I have absolutely no minutes or even seconds left in me to do so!

The past few months have been a whirlwind for me. And that is the understatement of the century. I am positively exhausted. I feel like I should get a few weeks of recovery time just as the famous athletes take after an Iron Man or the Olympics. I honestly have no idea how we pulled everything off!

But I know I'd do it all again in a heartbeat!


I'm not an organized person. I take issue with that. I am also very determined to be able to retract that statement someday.

When it became apparent that I would be welcoming Elder Spencer home on the 10th of February, marrying off Miss Nichole on the 20th and then two days later hosting Sir Spencer's welcome home dinner I decided to pretend I was an organized person. I made lists and schedules and became down right pesky about decision making with all parties involved. I was very proud of myself.

And then I was reminded of all the reasons that I am not an organized person.

Miss Nichole had only three wishes (to begin with....the list grew as time wore on). She insisted on being married in the temple, to the right man, and in a dress made by her Mama. She was in charge of the first two items and the third was a no brainer. I had it covered, no problem.

My life always likes to slap me when I get arrogant.

We designed her dress with a million and one yards of chiffon and just the right lace. After ransacking every available resource we were left with nothing. It took days but I finally found the lace I wanted and felt pretty good about my dress schedule.

A week later the fabric and lace arrived.  They didn't match. You'd think white and white would go together......not so.

Then Steve left for Florida for an entire week and the Little People started to come down with the flu. The really bad flu. Fevers, pukies, trotskies, runny noses, body aches, the works. I couldn't even think about sewing. I don't think I even slept more than an hour at a time while he was gone.

When My Man came through the door that Saturday night I felt like the cavalry had arrived. I honestly thought we would be spending the night at the E.R. with at least three of the babies. A Daddy, a bag of Popcicles, and the goodness of God work miracles.

By this time I was two weeks behind in my very organized schedule. I wanted so badly to be finished with dresses and decorations at this point so that I could spend a day cleaning, pick my son up from the airport, and then spend a few days getting to know him again.

Instead I was employing my hard earned abilities to ward off depression and a physical break down.

I really struggle with asking for help. I love the beautiful mess that my life is. I would never want fewer children or lesser adventures. I would also never want someone else to feel burdened by the life choices that I've made. It just seems easier for me to try to figure things out and make them do than to have others help me, especially when I know that I can rarely repay the favors.

Once again, angels landed on my doorstep. My mother arrived early Monday morning and read to the sick children for the entire day. My sister Trina rang the doorbell with a cleaning bucket in hand and spent the day cleaning walls and toilets and all the while telling me how much she enjoyed it. Miss Brianna, Miss Emily, and Miss Sarah stepped up to the plate and made sense of the kitchen. I was able to focus on all the laundry and bedding that had to be cleaned.

We were able to get the house in reasonable shape. I just kept a prayer in my heart that Elder Crosgrove wouldn't be too overwhelmed with it all. I also wondered how we would be able to travel the four hours to and from the airport with sick children.

Elder Crosgrove answered that question. His last e-mail home was just three short sentences. One of which was a plea to be picked up by just his Mom and Dad. I was a little unnerved by this request (I had been envisioning a great family reunion for two years!) but I remembered how difficult it had been for Miss Nichole to transition so we sorrowfully left the other children home.

The airport was a repeat scene from when we picked up Hermana Crosgrove. There were several other missionaries returning at the same time and their families were waving posters, wearing T-shirts, and carrying balloons filled with anticipation.

I didn't know how to handle the moment. I started pacing away from all those excited families.

I heard a shout from my sweetheart.

"Julie, he's here!"

I turn around to see my not-so-little-anymore son coming down the escalator all by himself. There were no acclamations, no hysterical outbursts, no hero's welcome. Our eyes locked on each other and I was shocked at how calmly we just walked towards each other from across the room.

With about fifteen feet to go there was an interception. The Daddy just couldn't take any more and grabbed the first hug. I'm so glad he did. It gave me a second to absorb what was happening, to shake off some of the surreal aura of the moment.

When I did get that hug it was definitely real. I sent him off two years earlier as an eighteen year old boy and now I was hugging a confident, strong, capable man.....that really loved his Mama. Instead of the fanfare filled moment that I thought this would be, we took our time without much ado at all and just basked in the moment.

I thought I wanted a big pick me off the ground prove-to-me-you-missed-me hug. Instead I just kept feeling his face and looking into those huge blue eyes of his and soaked in the fact that his arm was around my shoulders and he was perfectly content to just leave it there.

He's been home two weeks now and he still puts that arm around me when ever we're near each other. Tender mercies of motherhood. I didn't think that anything could feel as amazing as a newborn's silky head rubbing under my chin. I've found a match for that.

I think the pictures above are pretty accurate for our arrival home. The doors flew open, siblings spilled out in droves, and happiness ensued. Except for Harley. He hadn't been off the couch for four days and he really wasn't in the mood for shouts of joy. Poor little guy.


The first moments with Elder Crosgrove and his littlest sisters were not candy coated. It's difficult for two people that should have a tight bond but have never met to have a storybook moment. Miss Izzie just stared at him with no expression at all, which was better than the panicked emotions that came from Miss Ives. Sir Spencer just kept saying, "What's up honey?" He still keeps saying that to her. They were best buddies before he left and now he's a complete stranger.

Things will change. Just this morning I saw her go to him willingly. He gave her the, "What's up Honey?" and she hugged him. More tender mercy mama moments!

I really need some sleep and this post has already been three days in the making so I'll just have to hope I can pick it up again soon and say, "To be continued........."