Recently I’ve been missing my mom. All I really wanted for my birthday was to go to North Ogden and put flowers on her grave. Somehow, it seemed fitting to celebrate her on my birthday. But since that wasn’t possible this year, I’ve been savoring some great memories. Mom taught me a lot over the years – some things serious, some things practical and some things just crazy!
So here, in no particular order, are a few of the gems I picked up from her. She didn’t necessarily use these words (except for a few that my siblings will surely recognize), but by her example she tutored me in some of life’s important lessons.
I hope I never forget these Joyce-isms, but honestly – how could I!
Be proud of who you are
Fold the laundry as soon as you take it out of the drier
Celebrate your marriage
Speak up
Love chocolate
Launder the kitchen cloths and towels in a separate load
Be nice to your brothers and sisters
Clean the toilet thoroughly – including the space between the seat and the tank
“Two sets of four” is the hardest phase to get
Don’t treat your friends better than you treat your family
Great shoes can make your outfit – or your day
You can do it willingly or unwillingly – but you WILL do it
Grease and go naked with your hair on fire (her response to any whining about having nothing to wear)
Service in the Church and to the Lord are a key to happiness
The fall of 1978 found us still living in Isfahan, Iran – but not quite so comfortably as we had been. Politically, the country was in constant turmoil. We were living under martial law, which meant we had to be in our house between 8 p.m. and 6 a.m. Martial law also restricted public meetings to groups of three or less, so our church meetings had been canceled. We knew from shopping trips out and about the city, that some bank buildings had been hit with firebombs and occasionally we could hear rioting in the distance. Sporadic power outages were common, and it was not unusual to be without power for the whole night. Our parents were very concerned about us living under those conditions; they got their information from television news, and the media coverage was a bit disturbing! We too were beginning to feel the stress of the political upheaval, although we had not witnessed or experienced any problems personally.
In the midst of all this chaos, we learned that we would be welcoming a new baby into the family around March 28, and we were excited! I remember being a little intimidated about having three kids, since that would mean the parents were outnumbered by the children; but Emily was gradually maturing into a more reasonable pre-schooler and Nathan was showing signs of better behavior. It’s interesting to me that as I look back, my memory is that I was more concerned about handling three kids than I was about giving birth in a country that was on the verge of civil war!
Christmas Day, 1978
Although this picture is poor quality, you can still tell that the faux fur collar remained a wardrobe staple – the wrap style made it a perfect fit for my expanding mid section.
We had plans to spend Christmas in Germany with Carolyn and Stephen who were stationed there, and then go on to the States. Don would stay just a couple of weeks and then return to Iran to complete his contract, while the kids and I would live with my parents until after the baby was born and Don returned. We all decided that the restrictions of martial law would make a potential middle of the night trip to the hospital challenging. We couldn’t be out during the curfew hours, but we had no phone to call for a police escort and none of us was interested in a home birth!
The war refugee and his pregnant wife
That plan worked pretty much as outlined. by the time baby #3 was due, Don was back from Iran, working between San Diego and Chicago preparing for our new assignment in Saudi Arabia. He was home for occasional weekends, but I knew the chance of him missing this delivery were high. As the due date approached, my doctor and I agreed that since Don would be home the weekend that the baby was due, I would have labor induced so that Don could be here for that event. But when that weekend arrived, neither Dr. Westrup nor I really wanted to go through with that. I kept thinking that when the baby was ready, he would come, and I didn’t have the right to hurry the process for my convenience.
The weekend passed without any labor pains and Monday was uneventful as well. Due to a United Airlines strike, Don’s return to Chicago had been delayed until Monday evening, but that still wasn’t enough time. My dad drove Don to the airport and didn’t start back until Don had called back to check on me around 10:30. It was a terse conversation that went something like this (imagine Don speaking in a kind and concerned voice and me responding through gritted teeth, furious that this was happening):
“So I’m here at the airport, and before your dad leaves I just want to make sure nothing’s going on.”
“Nothing’s going on.”
“If you think it might be tonight, I can come back to Greeley with him.”
“It’s not tonight. Quit asking me! Just get on the airplane and go.”
However, before my dad returned to Greeley an hour later, I was timing contractions and getting ready to go to the hospital! Mom took me to the hospital, and sat with me through an almost painless labor process. I think that was my reward for going on my own – the contractions really didn’t hurt! But because of the logistics of this birth, none of us thought to take a camera to the hospital, and Mark’s first pictures weren’t taken until three days later.
The mother doesn't look great, but the baby is darling!
At 4:30 a.m. on Tuesday, April 3, Mark made his appearance – all 8 pound 10 ounces of darling little boy! When I called the Telemedia office in Chicago to share the good news, Don hadn’t even arrived there yet so it was a couple more hours before he knew that he had missed the whole show. And knowing how Don loves to be a part of childbirth, I could almost think he planned it that way!
And as with his brother and sister, Mark was welcomed into the family and adored from the beginning. From a letter to Don:
April 8, 1979 – Emily and Nathan are so cute with baby Mark. Of course Emily thinks she can do anything and everything for him. She’s real sweet with him and doesn’t seem to be jealous. And Nate is just his usual self. He came in the house after church this morning and hollered down the stairs, “Where’s my little brother?” I told him Mark was in bed, and his reply was, “I need to hold him.”
First born children typically seem to be especially resilient – perhaps chosen especially for that role. They are the guinea pigs, the lab assignment, the hands on training for those who have jumped into parenthood. Firstborns often are strong willed, bright and determined – qualities which enable them to train two inexperienced and clueless adults in the proper care and feeding of children. Emily handled that role with skill and finesse!
Don and I eagerly anticipated the birth of our first child, wondering in those pre-ultrasound days if we’d have a daughter or a son. Don was sure it was a boy and referred to the growing baby as little “Sheide” after Gary Sheide, BYU’s outstanding quarterback of the 1974 season. I thought we were having a girl, but really just wanted to get that whole labor and delivery thing out of the way. Fear of the unknown was intense.
So after a Relief Society Homemaking meeting on April 2, 1975, feeling like I would never get comfortable again, I vocally listed my complaints, pains, concerns, and frustration.
April 2, 1975
That must have been just what I needed, because less than 24 hours later we were the picture of happiness – or at least relief!
Leaving the delivery room
The next day life looked great.
April 4, 1975 - looking good!Father and daughter get acquainted
Utah Valley Hospital in the 1970’s was an absolute baby machine. Health precautions were strict – Don had to put on a gown before he was allowed to hold Emily. And the only people who could visit other than the dad, were grandparents who were allowed only one visit during my 3 day stay in the hospital.
We left the hospital on April 6, 1975 and went home to our one-bedroom basement apartment where Emily began her training sessions with us. We had a lot to learn, but she was a great teacher covering such topics as sleepless nights, projectile spitting/throwing up, and muffling a newborn’s cries so as not to disturb the upstairs neighbors!
Do we look like we should be trusted with the life of this cute baby girl?
Don was a really proud first-time father
And I was in awe of our cute little bundle
Thirty-four years have passed since those days in Provo, and we’re still proud and in awe of our first born child and only daughter. Thanks for the continuing education. Current classes are a lot more fun than those prerequisites you put us through, and we look forward to many more semesters under your tutelage.
A road trip to several points in Utah was the perfect antidote for my winter blahs.
Ault, Colorado
Once we passed through Ault, I really felt like we were on the way.
Colorado landscape on Highway 85
Although the rock formations are somewhat interesting, the scenery wasn’t exactly breathtaking. Just imagine a car full of kids, with nothing more than this to look at just 35 miles into a 500 mile trip. . . now those are some great memories!
Wyoming landscape - Interstate 80
Wyoming scenery was no better than what we had just passed through in Colorado, but the windmills were a good diversion.
. . . . . . . .
Tree in the rock is a place our kids love to hate, but we stopped and had a good laugh remembering their disgust with such a lame landmark!
A trucker's paradise
The Flying J was a welcome sight in the desolation of Interstate 80 across southern Wyoming.
Developing computer skills
In Salt Lake on Monday morning, we did gmail training with Grandpa. He’s definitely moving into the world of computers kicking and screaming!
Starry-eyed family
We celebrated Kate’s birthday in Lehi on Tuesday. The chocolate cake was delicious!
We also built a fantastic square-foot garden, but Kate will have to post those pictures. The produce from that fertile soil will be fantastic!
Convenient to the grandkids
In St. George on Thursday we toured this model home, and Maddie and I imagined how fun it would be to have sleepovers together.
Katie and Grandma trying to keep Charlie focused
Jack - Lance Armstrong in training
We played at the park, shopped with Maddie, played Shanghai with Ryan and savored a much anticipated Concrete from Nielsen’s Frozen Custard.
On the way home. . .
Friday we reluctantly left St. George, hating to leave the fun and craziness that are always a part of our family get-togethers. But after driving several hundred miles east, “our” mountains came into view and Colorado looked pretty inviting.
I love St. Patrick’s Day. I’m not Irish. I’ve never made corned beef and cabbage. And I’m not sure I’ve ever eaten it. Green is not my favorite color. I don’t believe in leprechauns. But just the same, March 17 is one of my favorite holidays – dating back to 1973.
Don was young – 23 years old, but I was younger – just 18. The Saturday afternoon sun was inviting, and we went for a walk. The end of the semester at BYU was approaching, and I was in a quandary about where to live the next year. Don was graduating, so he wasn’t bothered with those kind of details, but all of us in May Hall were discussing apartments and roommates and new living arrangements. Don listened as I rambled and ranted, wondering what to do about a place to live. Should I live in the dorm again? It was easy – no meals to prepare and no house to keep clean. Should I get an apartment? I wasn’t sure who I wanted to live with, but apartment contracts were going fast so I had to make a decision.
We walked as I talked, and although Don was very attentive to my disjointed conversation, he didn’t offer much in the way of advice. After a while we found ourselves at the football stadium and sat down on the curb at the edge of the parking lot. When I finally stopped to take a breath, in a very matter of fact manner, Don said, “Well, you could live with me next year.”
It took me a minute to process what I thought he had said, and then not wanting to appear too forward but still a little flirtatious (after all – this was 1973), I cautiously replied, “Are you asking me what I think you’re asking me?”
He confidently responded, “I’m asking you to marry me.”
A lot of squealing, laughing and jumping ensued. I think I eventually remembered to say yes.
Greeley Tribune - April 12, 1973
St. Patrick’s Day is an enchanted time – a day to begin transforming winter’s dreams into summer’s magic. – Adrienne Cook
When we made plans to go to Saudi Arabia in 1980, it was with the understanding that we would not be adding to our family while in that country. I figured once was enough in the foreign birth department, and since we were only going to be there for two years we could easily have another child upon our return to the States. But after five years in the sandy desert, Plan A had become a little outdated, and we decided that we didn’t want any more space between child #3 and #4.
On November 25, 1984 we got our first look at the newest member of the family, but with ultrasound technology being what it was at that time and in that country, that look wasn’t a very good one. The doctor told me that if he had to make a guess about the sex of the baby, he’d say it looked like it was a boy. But he cautioned me against buying a lot of boy things, because it was too early (26 weeks) to be very sure
Can you even tell this is a baby? His head is on the right side of the image - identified by the "H".
March 13, 1985 found me looking like this
3 days to delivery - and looking every pound the part!
but March 16, 1985 found me looking like this:
Lynn - feeling great with friend Desley Boardman
The hospital experience in Saudi Arabia was much different from that in Iran. Abdullah Fouad Hospital in Dammam was quite new, modern, and clean; but best of all the labor and delivery department was supervised by a British midwife. She was attentive and competent and spoke English! So when Peter decided to make his appearance a little sooner than the doctor had anticipated, the midwife and I joined forces, and I had a baby before the doctor could arrive – and before Don got back from lunch!
Brand new!
Hospital security - tag on Peter's bed
Baby’s Name : Ibn Rynette Butler = son of Lynnette Butler
Just home from the hospital
Proud dad and Peter
We brought Peter home to an adoring family, and he slipped into place almost seamlessly. How could we not get along well when he slept through the night from about day six. I still think that was my reward for having #4!
the amazing Crib Cuddle
Or maybe it was this Crib Cuddle he slept in. Suspended against his crib mattress in the soft “sheepskin” and lulled to sleep by the sound of a heartbeat that was provided by the red heart, he slept like a champ. (Read here about the recall of this product . . .)
Our first Family Home Evening after Peter’s birth was spent writing welcome notes to the new baby brother.
. . . I'm glad you are you
I'm glad you're a boyI'm glad you are my Brother
Mark spoke for the entire family with this concise summary as a school assignment:
things that make me happy 