Hands Down, This Day Was Crappier than Yours

Chances are, if you know somebody, they at one time dropped their cell phone in the toilet.  If not, then you ARE that somebody.  It happens. Does anyone not take in a device in the bathroom these days?  We've forgotten how to just sit and think on the throne.  And so what if it drops in??  Not only will a cup of rice cure our woes, but the phone got washed in water at the same time.

I'm about to tell you a true story.  This story is tragic, horrific, and filthy.  If I could rate it, it would definitely be mature, R, or possibly worse.  It should come with its own advisory:  You may want to save this story to read late at night when the kids are asleep so you won't have to console their cries.  You don't want to be eating and reading for fear of choking/vomiting or both.  You might want to read in a closet for if the neighbors hear your screams they may call the police. Proceed at your own risk.

As ugly and shocking as this story is above, it would've been heavenly compared to our story, but true to Tanner tales, it couldn't have been a clean toilet, nor a private toilet, or even just one toilet.   We were at Coachella music festival this past weekend where over 200,000 tickets are sold.  If anyone has ever been to music festivals, then this is a familiar sight:

Porta potties.  Imagine all those people sharing all those restrooms and I think you can see where I'm headed. Brynna and I went to the restrooms and I had to wait an unusual lengthy time for her.  She finally walked up to where I was but had this complete distressed look on her face.  I figured it was the 'oh crap, I need a tampon' look.  Unfortunately, my stomach cringed as she told me she lost her phone in the depths of the porta potty.  I half wanted to point and laugh at her hysterically and half wanted to instantly throw my hands around her neck and shake. This is where the story COULD have ended.  We could have let it be a prisoner to plastic potty god, but no, I am too cheap and I will not lose to a toilet.  Even completely damaged, we could still sell her phone for over $200- or pay a smaller than new phone fee for an exchange at Apple.  (No, of course we don't have Apple care.) I told Brynna, "We can't leave, you have to go get it!"  Her look was how I felt as we went back to the restrooms.   As we walked up, a horrible reality presented itself.  Because she had been in so much distress when it happened, Brynna had forgotten which porta potty she had been in.   Remember on the movie Poltergeist when the mom went upstairs to save her children and as she stared down the hallway it got longer and longer and seemed like a mile?  That was how the image was to me.  Truly, it was an endless row like this:

We had it narrowed down to 5. We had to continually keep people from going in and using them; each one gave us the 'better you than me" look.   As I looked down the hole of each one, it was a dark blue abyss with only who knows what crawling around in there...and I was going to have to put my hand in there.  I already hate lakes.  I hate the fact that fish can brush up against me and I can't see them. This was the lake taken to the extreme. Now before any of you say I don't have it in me- there was a time when Brynna had to wear a $250 contact in her eye.  Once we were at a restaurant, she was 6 months old, and it was bothering her, so I took it out and placed it in a cup of water.  I left the restaurant and didn't remember until later that afternoon that I left the cup.  So what did I do?  I crawled in the dumpster in the back of the restaurant and went through bags and bags of trash until I found it, which I did.  Heck, if I could find a clear contact in a dumpster full of trash, an iPhone in tampons, used toilet paper, feces, and urine wasn't going to be more challenging- just way more disgusting.  I found a maintenance worker and asked if they had extra trash can liners.  My critical thinking plan was to put my hand in the bag and use it as a ginormous glove and just blindly feel around until I found it.   Now, I've never wanted to kiss a big black woman before, but as she got on her radio and called for reinforcements and a staff of 5 people to come rummage through people's waste for me- I wanted to kiss her and leave her whatever inheritance I have.     Some went through with the handles of mops- some used the trash liner methods, and by the 5th porta potty, it was found.  Those poor people earned every cent of their minimum wage that weekend on this experience alone.  I feel so sorry for them, yet so grateful at the same time.  They went far beyond the call of duty for something I was willing to do on my own.  Coachella staff rocks. The phone was nasty, I'm not going to lie but I'll spare you the details.  We were all handling the phone like evidence from a crime scene.  Carefully carrying it with our plastic trash can liners over to the sink to give it a thorough rinse, soap and disinfecting job.  Since it had already been sitting in blue sanitation water (among other things) for over 10 minutes- I knew trying to sanitize the heck out of it wasn't going to harm it more than had already been done.  We stored it away and tried not to let it ruin our weekend and let it go to crap. (I have plenty more puns where that came from). We put it in rice when we came home.  We knew chances were slim to none, but were shocked when 2 days later it turned on and was functioning.  Now, mind you, it has a permanent blue background screen from the blue water, but amazingly is working.  Unfortunately, Brynna doesn't want to keep her limited edition Coachella Porta Potty screen saver, so we are ordering a new screen which Jason will replace and this will one day just be a distant, gross, dumpster/porta potty diving memory which I may or may not need therapy for. So next time yours ends up taking a dive in your own urine, take comfort in knowing you can identify who's DNA is on your phone. 

Senior Pictures...Sweet and Sassy

She's a little bit country... and a lot more rock and roll.  More photos to come when the wheat turns white, it was a mud bath out there.  Props to Quinn Kellis for hitting the road at 5:30 a.m. and taking some great photos and outtakes.  

I know, I have to take a double take every time.  She was adjusting her glasses, not flipping you off.

A Daughter Who Raised A Mother

You know how they say you will always remember where you were and what you were doing when you hear traumatic news?  For example, for some it's the Kennedy assassination, or 9/11.  I can replay it clear as day as I remember specifically the day I brought you home from the hospital and the moment it clicked that I would be responsible for you the next 18 years of your life.  It was not a blissful thought; it was a traumatic, paranoid claustrophobic 'where can I jump out of the next window' thought.  Up to that point, I'd never been responsible for anything for more than a week, let alone a month, year, or, oh my gosh, 18 years! I was only 21 at the time, barely over 18 myself.  What had I done??!!  I remember immediately picking up the phone and calling my mother and her reassuring me:  You take it one day at a time.    Well, that magical age happened today and miraculously, you and I both survived.  In reflecting back over these past 18 years, I've been asking myself this question repeatedly:  Did I do my job, did I do enough?  We can do a million things right, but yet, the things that stand out most are the small percentage of things we do wrong or know we could have done better.  Those small percentages haunt me.  So many times I wish I could go back with the knowledge I have now. I would be so different.  Yet, I have realized I wouldn't be different without having those experiences which have shaped who I am today.   Yes, true to fashion, I'm making YOUR birthday about ME. I've seen you grow physically, emotionally, and spiritually.  I've seen you acquire skills that will carry you through this life and the life hereafter bringing much joy wherever you go. Anyone can look at you and be fooled:  "She's a great individual which equals she must have great parents."  In reality, you came to us with the same loving, sweet, obedient spirit and light you possess today.  We basically just needed to feed you, give you shelter, and tell you 'no' and 'stop being lazy' a handful of times.   Honestly, parenting was more for me than it was for you.  Through parenting, we both became adults. You've heard me compare teaching seminary to Groundhog's Day (the movie).  I put at least 2 hours of preparation in each day, teach a 50 min class, and feel relief and joy when I'm finished with instruction and almost immediately slump my shoulders because I know I have to turn around, go home and start the process all over again for the next day. It's never ending, non-paying and exhausting.  Yet, don't dare release me because all the  knowledge and spiritual experiences I'm acquiring on a daily basis, as well loving those I teach, far outweighs the 4:30 alarm and load that is placed upon my shoulders.  Seminary isn't like Groundhogs' Day, it's like parenting. Raising you wasn't easy and at times, extremely exhausting.  You had endless doctor appointments, diaper changes, bottle feedings, sleepless nights, unfinished homework assignments,  school commitments, extracurricular activities, friend drama, boy drama, and heartbreaks (which made my heart hurt just as bad).  Yet through it all, I never wanted this day to come- when by the worlds standards, I have been officially released as your legal guardian.  It's mind boggling really, the difference of one day, just like a snap of the fingers, you technically don't need me anymore.   Thankfully,I know I will always be loved and listened to as your mother, and we both know the parenting will never truly end.   This knowledge keeps my heart from shattering into a million different pieces.  My dearest daughter, when you love those you serve and serve the ones you love, your heart is changed and magnified. What I want you to know on this special 18th birthday is in spite of trying to raise you, it was really you who raised me.  It has been the greatest privilege to serve and love you for so many years.  Without your presence in my life, I would still yet be a child: immature, selfish, impulsive, and distracted.   18 years was a long time to refine me, but you did it, and did so like my mother said...one day at a time.   I love you and thank you for all you do to help me become the woman and mother I need to be. Happy Birthday.

MY BRAIN DOES NOT WORK LIKE YOURS

It's April Fools Day, the only day other than Christmas where I bounce out of bed early in the morning due to excitement! Unfortunately, after many years of pranks, and refusing to repeat past pranks- my creativity is working overtime, therefore my methods are getting more questionable and morbid (but still awesome nonetheless). Morbid and questionable you ask?  Well, hmm, let's see.  For my neighbor's last birthday I wanted to decorate his porch.  From time to time we have birds that get stuck and die in our pool.  So I bagged and froze them.  And then when the time was right, like a fairy godmother, got them ready for the ball.

   I don't think my neighbor was amused, but I don't think he appreciated the time and effort it took to make custom bird fitted party hats.  AND, the neighborhood cats eventually ate them anyway...so no clean up was required.
Which brings me to today. I have a full day planned, so I'll have to update my post when all the shenanigans have been administered, but I'll give you a few starters. I knew I wanted to prank my seminary students, but we're talking 18 kids- and I didn't have the time nor did I want to go overboard on my classroom that I would have to clean up myself. I Googled to see what teachers do to prank their students.  Pop quizzes, grades changed. Lame.   Since they all speak the same language of food, I thought of sabotaging some treats, but then I would be wasting time baking in the kitchen for something they would throw away anyway.  So instead of doctoring a recipe, I thought I would just doctor (pun intended) how I administer it. 
Luckily, I know a guy.  I asked my doctor if I could get some urine cup sample containers.  He did so in exchange for dark chocolate.  

In the words of one of my students:  "That's messed up."  Watching them handle them with ultimate care as to not spill it, then with half the class; their noses over it, sniffing it to decide whether it was safe or in fact urine was like opening a Christmas present, it brought me great joy.  

Once they knew it was apple juice instead of urine- then the snapchat stories and fun began.  I was not prepared, however, for their creative juices on  how they were going to use this at school to prank their friends and teachers and I immediately started to cringe.  I take no responsibility for them once they leave my classroom.  Sorry, parents.

Then, there is always the classic bumper sticker of the political figure you love to hate.  I always make several of these in different fashion for my politically passionate friends.  

The moral of the story is...it's April Fools and it doesn't really matter if someone else thinks it's funny, as long as you do and I am my own best entertainment.