The Bluest Eye

We are a brown eyed family. By "we" I mean my mom, dad, brother, sister, and me. All of us. My dad's eyes seemed to have grown greener his whole life, and my sister's eyes are definitely at the golden end of the brown spectrum. But my mom, brother, and I all have just plain brown eyes. Dark brown.

Then my brother, sister, and I all married blue-eyed spouses. So there is this kind of running competition in our family to see who can produce a blue-eyed child. The background is this:

My maternal grandparents had eyes like this:
Green
Brown



My paternal grandparents had eyes like this:
Blue
Brown

So on both sides of our family tree, we have one brown-eyed grandparent (B = dominant) and one blue/green-eyed grandparent (b = recessive). So if you remember your 9th grade biology class, the genetics chart for my own parents looks like this IF they both inherited that recessive gene from their light-eyed parent:

So they technically had a 1:2 chance of having blue or green eyed kids. None of us did. But that recessive gene could have showed up with further children or not at all. The question is, did they CARRY the recessive gene? Yes. (The evidence is below). But do my siblings and I? That remains to be seen.

Our own genetic charts (me, Jennie, Ben, together with our spouses) look like this if we carry the recessive gene from those light-eyed grandparents: That would mean I would, in theory, have a 1:2 chance of having a light-eyed child.


But if I didn't inherit that recessive gene from my light-eyed grandparents, my genetic chart would look like this: Meaning, if I don't carry that recessive gene, it doesn't matter that I married a blue-eyed man. My kids will have zero chance of having blue or green eyes.

Why does it matter? I guess it doesn't. Only, I'd like some variety. Roughly 9/10 of the world or more has brown eyes. They're just so...redundant. And in my case, the color is so static. I love that light-eyed people--be it green, blue, grey or hazel--have such variety to their eye color, such depth. Me? Just straight, plain, poop brown. So for the sake of interest, as well as the sake of phenotypical variety, (I just love finally using words I learned in junior high and have had zero use for until now), I'd really like a blue eyed child.

So, here is how the eye color for our family has turned out so far:

My Sister Jennie - brown, becoming more golden with time. This picture doesn't really show it.
Mr. Jennie - blue
Their kids...
India - brown
York - brown
Finn - the greenest of the brown-eyed grandkids. Would you even call his eyes brown? Or green? Hazel?
Arabella - brown
Adelaide - blue!
Jasper - Brown
___________

My Brother Ben - brown
Nicki - blue
Their kids...
James - brown, but definitely greenish
Avery - brown
Briella - brown

_____________

Me - brown
Big Daddy - blue
Our Kids...
Daphne - golden brown
Beck - brown
# 3 ????

_______________

Did you catch it in there??? The ONE AND ONLY blue eyed child? My sister Jennie's 5th child, Adelaide, has blue eyes. So Jennie for sure has that recessive gene. Which means one or both of my brown-eyed parents carried it and passed it on. Did my brother get it? Did I? I don't know. But it should be noted that Briella's and James's eyes--my brother's kids--were both very blue for quite a long time when they were small. You'd have sworn they would end up being blue-eyed kids. My daughter Daphne also had very green eyes until she was 2 or 3 and now they're golden-ish brown. I wonder if this hints to there being a recessive gene for both of us?

There is only one way to know. And it rests in the eyes of the child I carry. If her eyes are blue or green, I will know my gene is a Bb. If not, I will never know, because I'm pretty sure she will be our last child. So if you believe in God, PRAY. Pray with all your might for the eyes of my child to be blue. If you don't believe in variety or interest, at least do it for the sake of my curiosity.

South By Southeast

By the time you read this, I will be somewhere between Albequerque and Amarillo.

My sister and I are moving our mother to Texas, to live closer to Jennie.

One moving van towing one trailer full of food storage followed by one stationwagon -- all driven by three women.

And Zombieland on my iPhone.

Should be a good trip.

The Fam '09

While my family was here, we took some pics of all of us and some of us and more of us. For your viewing pleasure....




Jennie (my sister) and Mister Jennie (her man)

The Boys (Jasper, Big Daddy, York, Mister, Ben, James, Beck and Finn)

India and Boppie (whose progeny this is)

The Boys (James, Finn, York) in "Aren't We Artsy."

The Whole FamDamily

(Adelaide, Avery, Daphne, Big Daddy, Finn, Jennie, Arabella, Mister, York, Nicki, India, Ben, Moi, Boppie, Beck, James, Jasper)

Siblings (Me, Ben, Jennie)

The other, slightly less attractive picture of us

My Nucleus

Us (and the top of Daphne's head)

Happy Seventh Of July! (Random Version)

Thanks for the tips on doing fireworks pictures, Kami. I got some really fun shots!


HAPPY FORTH OF JULY/INDEPENCENCE DAY! (LATE)

For the first time ever, my kids were old enough to do something other than cover their ears and cry. Daphne loved the "sprinklers" (sparklers). Beck tolerated one and then his curiosity was satiated. But at least they participated and enjoyed themselves. (FINALLY)

My whole family is in town. My brother and his wife and their kids from Oregon. My sister and her husband and their kids from Texas. It's been a madhouse around here. MADHOUSE. (Awesome, fun, wonderful madhouse).

Someone may or may not have gotten some really excellent fireworks that may or may not be illegal from another state that may or may not border on this one on their way here. Said alleged fireworks may or may not have shot several stories high in the air before showering down hot chunks of ash on us. WORTH IT.

We had family photos yesterday. And the husbands only bitched and moaned a minor amount. MIRACLE. (Pictures forthcoming).

We took my brother and sister in law to dinner last night at the Foundary Grill up at Sundance. The food was, as usual, completely delicious and very plentiful. The company was wonderful. My body? Still full the next morning. STRONGLY CONSIDERING BULEMIA.

Was it really 103 yesterday??? That's what the outside temp read on my car dash. FRIGGIN HOT.

I woke up a few day ago in the middle of a dream where Tom Selleck really wanted to get to know me. We were hanging out. He was persuing me. It was awesome. Thanks for waking me up out of that dream, Daphne. BUMMED.

Things still on the itinerary for my family being in town?
Laser Tag
Cowabunga Bay
Shopping
Pizzeria 712
Swimming
Spark
Lagoon
Oquirrh Mountain Temple open house

AWESOME.

Finn McCool

I have a nephew named Finn and he recenly sent me this letter (click to enlarge):


First notice the paper. Didn't you know, 8 1/2 x 11 is so passé. Secondly, the message. You have to read it in all its 3rd grade glory. I've transcribed it below in case you can't see it, but you are only getting half the story unless you read it yourself...

"Yesterday my dad gave me a buzz cut. Now I don't sweat as much at recess and baseball. I just got home from Egor. I thought it was weird. Have you seen Meet Dare? It is so funny. I have caught a few lizards, but they always let go of their tail. It is gross. p.s. Trick or treat."

And on the back, a hand drawn Halloween wish made of snakes, pumpkins, pollywogs (or commas) and a guy with an afro, I think.



I love kids. And Finn has got to be the coolest one of all. I want to write back, but I'm not sure what to say that could compete with that. I need a young boy to tell me what the hip kids are discussing on the playground these days. Anyone have an 8 year old I can borrow?

Play It Again, Sam

My brother-in-law and his wife, my sister, have decided to start a business doing disc repair. You know how your kiddles love to hold, spin, drop, scrape, throw, scratch, dance on, and play air hockey with your DVDs and CDs? And you know how your life is then a living hell every time you try to play one of those discs, particularly in the car when you can't do anything about it and they are screaming "Mommy!!!! Make the movie go!!!!" Well, that's what this business is going to fix. It's pretty cool--they can fix even deeply scratched discs back to like-new quality. Check out their website to see actual photos of a disc that has been fixed. And it's pretty affordable when you think that a new movie or music CD costs between $15-$25 a piece and a new video game on DVD or a software disc can cost $50 to $your firstborn child (resurfacing is $4-6 for most types of discs).

Anyway, I just thought I'd do a shout out for them and their new business, fastdiscrepair dot com, in case anyone (c'mon, it's most of you), have need of something like this.

Now if only they would also come to my house and fix all the scratches in my wood floor. Maybe I'll talk to them about adding that feature to their business.

p.s. My BIL, Darren, says that anyone who want to do a shout out for his new business on their blog can get a free disc resurfacing! Just blog about his website and then copy the link onto your order form when you send the disc(s). Woot!

My Mom

Written by my sister...

"If you can't behave yourself then I'm not going to bring you to Costco again!"
I said these words, which wouldn't have been such a big deal, except that I was saying them to my mother. She had already been scolded twice by the Costco sample ladies for trying to grab their food straight out of the microwave. "But I don't want to wait for them to cut up the food. I'm in a hurry," she whined. Even though we both knew we weren't in a hurry at all.

My mother is a brilliant, opinionated, artistic, spiritual woman. She also has severe ADHD. When I think of ADHD I picture a third-grader who can't sit still in class, not a retiree whose life resembles one of those Chinese plate-spinning acrobats. She is a very enthusiastic starter of projects. Not much of a finisher, though. Each day when I came home from school, the detritus of her latest phase was everywhere: Sawdust and tools from building new kitchen cupboards from scratch; little bits of wax and silver covering every countertop during the jewelry-making phase; sheets of cork and leather when she decided she would be making her own shoes from now on. Don't even get me started on the stand-up hot tub or the giant flower-shaped lamps she welded. Mom would enjoy an invigorating day of creativity, then spend the afternoon napping, leaving her three children to clean up all of the messes.

For a long time I resented her selfish pursuits, her messiness and her complete lack of normalcy. ("Mom, if you're going to pick me up for an orthodontist appointment can you please not come to school covered in wood shavings?" or "why can't you just crochet or watch soaps like all the other moms?") I used to sit in class fantasizing, not about cute boys, but about a quiet, sweet mother. She would be beautiful and stylishly dressed at all times (no weird homemade shoes, to be sure). She would be reserved and a good listener, not a noisy, brash know-it-all. Most of all, she would be still. Not always starting something. Not always distracted.

As I got older it helped to understand what adult ADHD means: The disorganization, the difficulty finishing tasks, the inability to follow directions, the lack of a filter in conversation (if my mom thinks it, she says it), limited listening skills and the tendency to interrupt. Mostly I just try to think of her as a responsible eight-year-old. I don't tend to be as judgmental or harsh that way. I can enjoy her zany exuberance a little better when I picture her as an enthusiastic child, not just a weird old lady.

This time of year, as Mother's Day rolls around, I think about her and what it's meant to have her as a mother. The roles seem to have changed and somehow I have become the mature, responsible one; the matriarch of the family. I'm now in my 30's but the woman can still embarrass me in no time flat. Since I have become a mother, though, I have come to appreciate and cherish her ADHD as a gift to my children. She is the "fun grandma". The one who doesn't get tired of taking walks or giving piggybacks. The one who has an endless repertoire of fairy tales and Bible stories (spooky/funny/silly voices included). The one who will spend hours helping her grandchildren cut out and decorate homemade gingerbread. And when I walk into the kitchen and see flour and cinnamon and cookie cutters scattered on every single surface, I take a breath--a big breath--and notice only the smiles on everyone's faces."


Ahhh....all so true. Our mom is a nut, but we love her! Happy Mother's Day, Hilde!