the rhyming stanza.

Tucker Family News:
2009 edition

With all the festivities of 2008,
We didn’t pen our poem so great.

So back with tradition in 2009,
The rhyming stanza is back and that’s a good sign!

This year has been awesome
And one that we’re glad has finally to us come.

It’s been a year that could be characterized by change.
Our experiences have really been quite the range.

In February, after many months filled with tears,
We pulled our Roundabout out of Kindergarten and decided to homeschool for the rest of the year.

Our experience was far from the expected.
We loved every minute together and enjoyed the curriculum that we carefully selected.

In March, we all celebrated as the kids gained a new aunt.
Uncle Gary married Sarah; and for that, we won’t rant.

Dr. Tucker received his Masters degree.
An Orthodontist at last; bringing his number of higher education degrees to three.

2009 was finally the year to search for a job.
We feel incredibly blessed; our school years we left behind with a sob.

For jobs, we searched high and we searched low.
We searched far and wide in this great state, but exactly where we would end up we just didn’t know.

Sometimes life deals you the unexpected.
Straight Arrow was offered a job at Wake Forest University that we just couldn’t have rejected.

A clinical position 4 days of the week and an academic appointment made the offer just so sweet.
Straight Arrow is loving his work and that, you just can’t beat!

So out of Married Student Housing/ Baity Hill did we leave.
Dear Chapel Hill and our friends near and dear we did grieve.

We packed our things and looked for a place to move.
We made an offer on a gem of a foreclosure; a drawn out process it did prove.

But in the end, when we closed on our home,
All the stress seemed worth it for a house from which we never wish to roam.

New friends we did seek;
We felt a warm welcome in our new ward the first week.

Home improvements, yardwork, and cleaning became our new routine.
Beautiful wildlife, both flora and fauna, became our new scene.

Our first square-foot garden was planted.
Squash, tomatoes, and basil; such bountiful goodness from it to us was granted.

The warm summer was fabulous; we had friends come as guests.
Even Grandpa Tucker came all the way from the West.

The beach, eating strawberries, catching frogs, and tractor riding;
Just a few of our summer adventures in which we were gliding.

August slipped up on us before we knew it.
And school enrollments now seemed to be the right fit.

Roundabout began attending in the First Grade.
Her teacher we love and a better experience for which we had prayed.

She expanded her horizons and began gymnastics and swim team.
Her second place ribbon in the butterfly stroke really made her face beam.

Green Light began preschool at a tumbling gym.
New friends and activities has made him happy to the brim.

He loves to learn new things, especially the ability to read.
He is a cheerful helper to have around indeed.

Curvy Road has grown by leaps and bounds.
His smile is contagious and he is an absolute joy to be around.

His loves are cars, balls, fish, and trains.
A smart boy he is, though he keeps his words contained.

Share the Road has enjoyed decorating our home and crafting new things.
Still thrifty at heart, she loves seeing what kind of deals she can swing.

Straight Arrow keeps busy at work by day.
By night, with the kids he loves to play.

For all our blessings this year, we feel truly blessed.
We’ve received more than we ever would have guessed.

Our friends, they are scattered this country abroad.
To hear from you all, or even better, a visit to us we would laud!

We still keep a blog to keep in touch with both family and friend. http://tellitwithpictures.blogspot.com welcomes you to attend!

We are so grateful now for our blessings galore;
For our family, our friends, but most of all, our Savior.
To him, we are forever in debt
For all the things that for us he beget.
May we all enjoy this Christmas season
And never forget that we celebrate for Christ, the reason.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Struck by love.

February 6, 2000 taken in front of the Joseph Smith Building on BYU campus

{the beginning}
BYU Days.
18 years old.
A first-week Freshman.
Tricks vs. Lies.
Curly hair.
A Returned Missionary.
Deseret Towers.
Late nights.
Provo Canyon.
Princess Bride.
3am Denny's anyone?
T Hall lobby.

{i love you, baby.}

On the 4th Day of Christmas...

On the 4th Day of Christmas,

my pediatrician gave to me:
40 straight days of antibiotic
3 different prescriptions
2 severely infected ears
--and--

That's right, folks. Anyone who remembers Green Light's first year of life probably remembers that he had chronic ear infections. I would take him in for his well-child checkups only to find that he wasn't actually well. Every single time, he'd have 10/10 double ear infections with no symptoms. He was a happy baby who slept like a rock, ate like a champ, and never complained. No antibiotic would touch the infection and so he went on for months with infection and fluid clogging his ears. We began to be worried for his hearing ability. And finally after several months, more antibiotics than I care to remember, antibiotic shots, and many doctors visits...he was admitted to the hospital to receive tubes in his ears. They were wonderful and solved our problems for a full 18 months before they fell out this past July.

And now I suppose we can blame it on genetics in our little boys. Rest Area started with a stuffy nose about a month ago and had fluid in his ears, but the doctor who was treating him that morning decided against an antibiotic. Next came a severe eye infection that took 20 full days of antibiotic to treat. And just when I thought the course was clear, he developed a wet cough that went on for a week before I decided on a whim to just take him to the doctor yesterday just to avoid any emergency over the Christmas break. I felt so silly bringing him in just for a little cough since we've visited the pediatrician at least once a week over the past month. But in the end, I didn't feel so silly when he let me know that Rest Area's ears were both full of fluid, very infected, and bulging on the ear drum. Never fear though, he's still the happy baby he always is. And so...we seem to be on the track to have tubes placed after the beginning of the year. For now though, we're on two more antibiotics for 20 more days. Good morning diarrhea.

Spread.

Some days I feel so incredibly compelled to update this blog. And some days I don't. And sometimes it becomes a few days in a row. Oh, how time is really slipping through my fingers these days. Between being a wife and mom in normal everyday life, being on the job hunt and in turn being on a house hunt, partaking in a myriad of other things that occupy my time and at the end of the day having a little bit of time to have some me time, the blog has taken the back burner some days.

On a different note, I had a small ah-ha moment today. It was the infamous Orthodontic Match Day, the day awaited by many in hopes of matching at their top choice of Orthodontic programs. It usually involved much anticipation and anxiety. Three years ago, we were sitting on pins and needles wondering if we would be blessed to stay at UNC. And indeed, we were incredibly blessed. So today, as I awoke early this morning thinking about my sweet sister and her family, I wondered where they would match. Washington Hospital in DC! Exciting and sad all at the same time, but one must believe that this is the hand of the Lord. And so today, I realized that in five months from now, my siblings will all reside in different states from each other.

The four of us (1989)

Currently, we have two in North Carolina, one in Utah, and one in Idaho. But next year, we'll be spread from Texas to Washington to North Carolina to Idaho. Some great opportunities lie ahead for all of us!

POM Wonderful.

Back in the day when my dear mother struggled to find things to pack in my school lunch, she let me choose to try a few new foods in hopes that I would like a couple. I fell in love with the vibrant pomegranate. Since they were on the expensive side, it was decided that if I wanted to eat them on a regular basis, I would have to purchase them with my own funds. So when those autumn months rolled around, I was always ready to eat as many as I could. Back then, I didn't know the proper method of deseeding a pomegranate to avoid the mess that they can make. I ruined quite a few shirts.

It's been a few years since I've indulged myself. As I passed by them in the grocery store this week, I wondered if I still have an affinity for them.

The verdict (noting that between Roundabout and I, we ate the entire fruit today!):

Twenty-five dollars.

Some may know and others may not, but I am a musician. Music is a way that I can effectively express myself, my emotions, and my state of being. It has been for a very long time. At least 20 years. And usually, I am not one to "toot my own horn", but in recognizing a great talent given to me by my Heavenly Father, I must say that it's always come very naturally to me.

I began playing the piano when I was eight years old and began playing the flute when I was eleven. I excitedly entered middle school and signed myself up for Band as my elective course. As we auditioned for chairs in 6th grade, I quickly became 1st chair and as others challenged me for my seat, I never gave it up. 7th grade came around and one afternoon as I was chatting with our band director, I mentioned to him that I would really love to learn to play the french horn. He chuckled at my immaturity and told me that I was too valuable of a flute player to switch instruments. A few weeks passed and all the while I admired from a distance that great french horn instrument. It was so beautiful, a sight to see, and I wanted it to be mine. I asked again; can I please learn to play the french horn? Again; no. Third time's a charm, right? I asked again and was given a slightly different reply, but one that was still meant to deter me. "I'll let you give the french horn a try. I will send you to the backroom and if you can teach yourself to play the B-flat concert scale in a half hour, then I will let you take one home to practice on." Agreed!

Note that I had never played a brass instrument, was not accustomed to buzzing my lips, and had no clue of the fingering on a french horn. But still, it was destiny; I taught myself a scale by the end of the half hour mark and I was allowed to take the instrument home to practice on. The next challenge given to me was to learn to play the instrument up to the level the rest of the band was on. If I could do that, then I would be allowed to switch instruments and play french horn with the rest of the band. Agreed!

I began taking private lessons and practicing at home. Within a few short weeks, I felt that I was to the level of my classmates and I presented myself before Mr. Smith again. He tested me on my mad skills and I was admitted into the band! Soon, I was 1st chair again.

One afternoon, I heard of an upcoming audition for Middle School All-County Band. Mr. Smith challenged me and a few classmates that we should audition, but he told me that I should probably stick to the flute if I really wanted a chance. I was in love though. French Horn was my thing and I chose to audition on my new instrument. And I made it. All-District Band tryouts were soon after and again, I made it. All-State auditions were after that and again, I made it! This went on year after year through middle school and into high school. As a freshman, I was placed in the upper classmen (11th and 12th grade) band class. When chair auditions took place, I made 1st chair as a freshman. And this is how it went through high school. I continued to take part in All-County, All-District, and All-State year after year. It was very fulfilling to me and I loved every minute of it.

My Senior year rolled around and it was time to choose where I wanted to attend college and what I wanted to pursue educationally. Music.

I was offered scholarships to several universities and in the end, I chose to attend Brigham Young University as a French Horn Performance major. I quickly met, fell in love with, and married my husband and my music quickly fell to the wayside in order to graduate with him and follow him to dental school. Over the last 8 years, I've tried to keep up with my playing abilities just enough. Just enough that I can still play a tune every once in a while. And I have big dreams of playing again. And being good again. And playing with an orchestra. And expressing myself musically again. And teaching my children to play too.

Twenty-five dollars. My mom called me a few weeks ago as she was perusing the local Goodwill store. As she was looking through the Christmas decorations aisle, she spotted an old French Horn in perfect working order and in fairly good condition pushed up on the shelf under some holly berries and red bows. On the price tag was printed: $25.00. $25 for an instrument that costs literally into the thousands?! Some unknowing worker must have thought it to be an old hunting horn used for Christmas decorating. And for Twenty-five dollars, it's now mine...for my kids!

There's no way I'd ever let them touch MY horn...my expensive, flawless, unscratched horn. But this, I can guiltlessly let them play it all they want! And so far, it's still a huge novelty to them. They beg to play it all day long! Nevermind the fact that the instrument itself is nearly as large as them. They don't mind at all. And I don't either. And never fear...I'm loving every minute of the dying-cow-sounding-strain. Sorry neighbors...but we have some budding musicians on our hands!

Football Season.

It's upon us! The first game of the season was last night...for BYU and for UNC, in fact! And while we love BYU football, UNC is a good substitute for now. A friend of a friend has Season Tickets and was kind enough to pass them along to us. When he handed us the tickets and we saw that they cost $50 a pop, we could hardly believe that they cost so much!
But that's not all! We got to tailgate too! There's nothing like some good ole' country boy, finger licking, Southern Bojangles fried chicken and biscuits. I opted not to eat, but the rest of our clan indulged themselves. I'm sure they regretted it later when the grease set in.

Football brings back a flood of memories to me. High school football games where I was one of the ones dressed so immaculately in steaming hot, long sleeved uniforms complete with shirt, pants, knee high socks, black shoes, coat, cumber bun, sash, and hat.
It wasn't long after we found our seats and sat down that Green Light started begging to go home because he was "Too Sleepy". We convinced him to stay a little bit longer. We wanted to at least make it until the end of the 1st Quarter. He persisted and kept asking, but Roundabout kept begging to stay. Blame it on the Bojangles, I say. That, combined with the 93 degree heat with some high percentage of humidity, soon made even Roundabout asking to leave with about 2 minutes left in the 1st Quarter. So, we did. Sad, I know...but it was really hot!
By the time we made the mile walk home, the thunder clouds had converged on us and lightening was striking all around. Within minutes of walking through our door, it started down pouring like you wouldn't believe! What a nightmare it would've been to have to walk home in that weather! There ended up being a Flash Flood Warning for over an hour. The game ended up getting delayed for an hour while the storm passed. We'll call that Bojangles, hot and humid weather, and whiny kids a tender mercy. Our kids were very inspired to get us home in time.

By the way, we won (and so did BYU!)

Once Upon a Time.

I hope I'm not this nerdy anymore! At least the tapered legs and big sneakers are out...

Glad those are gone too...

Nope, not anymore.

I kept that shirt until after I got married. Can you believe that?

Whew, it was cute...but I'm not too sure I could pull that look off anymore.

Oh, wasn't I an angel?! Roundabout believes that this is a picture of her.

The grandparents couldn't believe that we would be so inconsiderate to each other.
Times change, huh?

I was a baby too. I really was....and it wasn't too long ago either. Sometimes, I feel like I am still a little kid and I am just happily playing make-believe house with Mr. Straight Arrow.
Life's funny like that.

Friday, the 13th

Are you superstitious? I've tried and tried to convince myself that I'm not...but still anytime the thirteenth day of the month falls on a Friday, I am admittedly a little freaked out. I know deep down that it's just like any other day, but I just can't bring myself out of this funk. This morning as Straight Arrow and I were getting ready for him to leave for school, I was telling him my list of things to do today. Included on that list was a trip to Walmart. That's when he reminded me that it is Friday the 13th. My heart skipped a beat and it made me think back to a story that can be located in the

I was Friday, March 13, 1998. I was 16 years old and had my driver's license. My younger brother, Owen, was playing at a friend's house and it was beginning to get late. So, he called home and asked if he could spend the night with Matt. My parents agreed and offered to bring him a pair of pajamas. With no date scheduled, I was bored on this particular Friday night and offered to drive to the friends house to bring Owen his pajamas. About 2.5 miles from my house, on my way there, I was traveling in my little gray, 1987 Honda Civic on a road that had been under construction during the light part of the day. There was mud thickly caked on the road and it was slightly damp and slippery. As I came around a bend in the road, I found myself scrambling to keep my car under control and before I even realized what was happening, I was spinning out of control. My car slid off of the road, bounced off a ditch, swung around a telephone pole, and was then thrown into a grove of trees in someone's yard.

I was scared to death and had no way out of my car. I wasn't pinned, but the doors wouldn't open. I was bleeding from glass cuts and I didn't know if I was traumatically injured. I tried the passenger side doors and was able to get the front one open. Looking back, I was more concerned about being embarrassed about what had happened than wondering if I was going to live through this experience. I ran as fast as I could to this man's front door and explained what had happened and asked to use their phone to call my parents. Since this was back in the day of dial-up internet, someone in my parent's house was using the internet and I couldn't reach them. I finally resorted to calling my Uncle Dan, who lived nearby, and asked him to relay the message to my parents.

They eventually got to me and everything turned out to be okay. I can't believe I didn't go to the hospital...again, I think I was too prideful and too embarrassed to go. A police officer came to the scene of the accident and all I remember is that I did not get a ticket although he asked me numerous times if I was speeding. I still contend to this day that I was not.


It's memories like this that put my life into it's proper perspective. It is a day in my life that I will never forget. I will never forget the mercy and love that my Heavenly Father showed me in sparing my life. It also allows me to reflect on the mission and calling that He has for me and if I am living up to it.

Dumpster Diving Diva

There's something you may not know about me; that is, I have an eye for big, green metal smelly bins that you may call dumpsters. It all started with Straight Arrow, back in the day. How'd it go again, honey?

"When I was younger, I learned from my friends that you could go to the dumpster behind KMart and you could find some really great loot that the KMart employees had thrown out. There was nothing really wrong with the things they threw out, just maybe had a scratch or a ding on them. Christmas rolled around and as tradition would have it in my family, my parents took us shopping at KMart for my siblings and I to choose gifts for each other. I remembered the dumpster out back and just couldn't pass up the opportunity to get something for my brother Gary for free. So, there I was. I snuck out of KMart and out to the back of the store. I climbed up and pulled myself up just enough to peek over the edge of the dumpster. I didn't want to climb in until I knew what was in there first. As I pulled up to the edge, I rested myself up there so that I wouldn't get too tired while I looked. Before could even look around though, I found that in the freezing temperatures of Utah, my lower lip was frozen to the side of the dumpster. It was completely stuck and I couldn't get it off. My mind raced as I tried to think of just how I was going to get down because I knew that if I dropped off, it would rip my lip. Being the bright little kid that I was, I thought of a plan to pry my lip off with my warm tongue. Little did I know that my tongue would soon become stuck in place beside of my lip. Now, I was stuck to a dumpster behind KMart and my parents didn't know where I was. I hung on as long as my arms could hold me and then I decided I just had to do it...I dropped. As I walked back into KMart and found my parents, they immediately rushed to me and asked what had happened to me since my lip and tongue were bleeding! I explained the story..."

Obviously his dumpster adventures turned him up empty handed. But mine haven't! There's an understood rule in the apartments we have lived in over the past 6 years that if you want to get rid of something that is still in good enough shape, you just set it beside the dumpster instead of throwing it in. My little eyes have become quite adept at glancing at dumpsters when we pass one.

This may seem completely disgusting to you, but we have come up with some great finds over the years. Here's just a few of the things we've landed....a card table, a brand new girls bike with baby doll seat on back, a car seat (we didn't end up using it because we didn't know how old it was), newspapers, coupons galore, and then

With Rest Area weighing 15 pounds now, I've debated whether or not to move him out of his infant car seat carrier. I can't carry it for long periods of time, but I hate to get him out of it when we're out and about if he's asleep in it. So, I've wanted afor a couple of weeks, but I was just too cheap to buy one.

As we pulled up closer and I realized exactly what I was looking at, I jumped out of the van and threw it in the back. Before I could bring myself to use it, I wiped it down with clorox wipes and then strolled the mall to escape the 100 degree heat with a

"One man's trash is another man's treasure!"

splendid. superb. tiptop.

Hard to believe, but it's true. I entered this world 27 years ago today. I've come a long way since those wee morning hours on June 1, 1981. Here's a little G flashback...





It's been a superb day!
Thanks for all the well wishes and the smashing cake and ice cream.

I got to have my

and eat it too...


Love, G

Apples don't fall far from their trees. Well, cherries don't either.

On our Memorial Day drive this past Monday, I told S a story from the archives of my past. It goes something like this: My maiden name is Marshall; I grew up on a road named after my family in a town with a population of 1,500. There wasn't a stoplight in town and most of the folk were farmers. This road became the happening place for bike races, rollerblading, walking with the aunts and uncles, and all kinds of roaming around through corn and tobacco fields. There wasn't a fear of anything bad happening. After all, every imaginable Marshall relative of mine lived as our neighbors.

Among my favorite pastimes was cherry picking. Mind you, I didn't bring my big, berry picking bucket along with me. It was just me and my Uncle Pete's cherry tree. Well mainly, it was the tree and my belly. Cherry picking was tricky though. These cherries were the sourest, red bing cherries around. I wasn't competing with any one else for these prized sourpusses; it was those pesky blackbirds that I had to outsmart. My Uncle would put shiny, tin pans in the branches of the trees to keep the birds away, but his attempts weren't successful.

When the cherries were just barely ripe enough to eat, I would head down to the cherry tree and start eating. I knew when I left that cherry tree to head back home that it might be the last time I got any cherries until the next year. And I loved those cherries.

And so to fight against the odds, I'd eat if there were still cherries hanging by their little stems.
I would eat until my belly was just too full to take another.
I'd eat until I made myself sick of sour cherries.

Well. The point of all of this is this: tomorrow is my 27th birthday. And to celebrate this, I indulged myself with some of


I thought to myself when I picked up these beauties that I would savor every cherry.
I'd make them last for days.
I'd even share them with my kids.
I'm here to say that although they are not all gone yet, they almost are.

I discovered two things today. I still love cherries.
And cherries don't fall far from their trees.