The Connector - Summer 2008 - (Page 15)

RWAU Summer 2008 The Basics Shannon Rasmussen, Event Planner o, I have a new nephew on the way. And I love that for more than one reason. First of all, all of the attention is on my brother and his wife, and no one in the family has asked us when we are having another one for the past ten minutes. (Been there, done that. Waiting until I forget a little bit more of the “fun” before trying that again, in case you were wondering.) And secondly, I finally have proof that I was not the only pregnant woman to ever lose half of her brain to the fetus. In fact, the latest report on my sisterin-law was that in her attempt to make sure her house was baby-ready, she dragged her hope chest to the center of the room, laid a towel on top of it, put a chair on top of that and then began her ascent up the makeshift tower to polish that ceiling fan. Good thinking, Mom. Sounds like a safe plan to me. Especially since that belly of yours will add to the efficiencies of your balance. In fact, I am sure little Isaac (my nephew-to-be) will grow to fully appreciate the shininess of the ceiling fan blades as he struggles to view them from his one good eye. But I think it actually made me feel better. Because I feel like I am not the only one who missed the memo somewhere, or possibly the book or a handout of some sort. I mean, I am a mom now—and have been for almost two and a half years. When do I become wise and all-knowing and do odd, but apparently intelligent, things? Like when do I learn exactly what time of year I am supposed to start running around opening every window at 4 am and then close them in a flurried panic later that same day? That was something my Mom did every day in the summer. And so does Shawn’s Mom, for that matter. All I learned from that ritual was stay the heck out of the way during window-closing hour. (Note: I am currently using the air conditioning that came complimentary with the house until I get the window system down. So far that seems to do the trick.) S Or when do I learn how to make a mom-sandwich that tastes way better than the one you made yourself because everything is cut evenly all throughout? The sandwiches I concoct for Sydney consist of a brick of cheese the size of a deck of cards and a slice of ham that fades off into nothing after a quarter of an inch. She may never know the joy. What about how to not laugh when your child is supposed to be in trouble? The only time I ever saw my Mom fail at giving the “just wait until your Dad gets here” look was one fateful day in elementary school when we were all leaving the dentist and heading for a fun time on the town. (In Montana that meant the grocery store and the NAPA part store, if you were lucky.) We were reveling in the fact that our sister had made the mistake of loving the bubble-gum flavored goo on her teeth—so much so that she swallowed every drop of her fluoride treatment with a smile. Her stomach, however, did not agree to the nutritional value of straight fluoride and returned all of the ill-gotten substance to its rightful owner moments later. The retching noises coming from the four children in the backseat of the car (everyone but the one who actually lost her cookies) brought a mixture of reprimand and laughter as my mother attempted to control the downward spiral that was her children. “Everyone stop puking right now—I mean it! I am driving! Don’t you make me turn this car around! I hear one more heave back there…” With tears of laughter and mascara streaming down her face, she was finally forced to make good on her threats and pull off the road just to regain visibility. That was a red-letter day. We didn’t even mind that she took us straight home afterward just to save face. But me? Well, for starters, I am trying to teach Sydney to share. Mostly by pointing and telling her to do it. So the other day when my husband removed her toy-of-the-moment which involved a butter knife and the wall socket, Sydney responded by pointing her finger at him and saying “Share!” It was a good thing I wasn’t wearing much mascara. And I guess at least the principle of sharing is sticking—she just thinks it applies to everyone but her. She also thinks we should be freely sharing things like steak knives and dish soap. And why wouldn’t she? I have only told her to share forty-five million times in the past week alone. Not that I don’t love to repeat myself until I’m hoarse, but sometimes I feel like I have given birth to the human form of that bee that keeps trying to get out of the Water Works Brass and Pipeline Products THE FORD METER BOX COMPANY, INC. 260-563-3171 • FAX: 800-826-3487 http://www.fordmeterbox.com 15 The Connector PM 2/8/08 5:07:32 368863_Ford.indd 1 http://www.fordmeterbox.com

Table of Contents Feed for the Digital Edition of The Connector - Summer 2008

The Connector - Summer 2008 Contents President's Message Executive Director's Comments Letters From Readers Legislative Update Rural Water News The Basics Shannon Rasmussen Sanitary Surveys - What to Expect: Part 1 Chuck Jeffs Tank Cleaning 101 Terry Smith Where in Utah?

The Connector - Summer 2008

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