Big News

Well, It's over. I had my baby today at 3:19 p.m. She weighed in at 5 lbs 4.4 oz. and is 19½ inches long. She has a pretty nice head of hair too. She went to the NICU, but otherwise she is pretty healthy. Her lungs are in great shape. She was born at 34 weeks 4 days, so the NICU is definitely a precaution to make sure everything is okay.

Before
Baby Gaby high fiving the world (in all of her naked glory).

Mommy is a bit of a basket case, but Daddy is sure proud.

Gaby is giving you a wink. I think she knows something.

Oh, I Had Such a Pretty Dream Mama

I want to wish all of my sisters, sisters-in-law, nieces, nieces-in-law, and Harriet all a wonderful Mother's Day. I put together a tribute to the source of all of our musical inspiration - Georgie Gay Bateman - for all of you to enjoy. We used to sing this song to her every Mother's Day. The singers are all of her daughters who were at her funeral. I hope you enjoy this tribute to our mother. Oh, and you may want to have a box of tissues nearby.

"SORRY MOM"

We are giving talks in church tomorrow and Brennan wrote this poem to his mom that I thought I would share. I thought it was so cute. hope you enjoy.
I am wishing everyone a happy Mothers Day! Love, Tammy



"Sorry Mom”

Mom, I know that you think I’ve turned out all right.
But I know that I was the cause of many a sleepness night.
I gave you grey hair and deepened your worry lines.
If I could do it over again, I would be much more kind.

I pulled a lot of stunts and put my life on the line
Just to prove I was tough or out of my mind!
The cuts and scraps came in the tens and twenty’s
You were always there to give me comfort aplenty.

The constant teasing must have gotten very old.
My poor sisters were my favorite targets; truth be told.
I know that I should have treated them much better.
The fact is, I was not a very good example setter.

My feats of driving gained me great renoun
Of couse, as I was only 12, I couldn’t drive around town.
The church parking lot was where I learned to spin the tire
While you, meanwhile, were practicing with the ward choir!

I’m sorry Mom for all the heartache and pain
I hope leasons learned won’t need to be learned again.
You taught me so much about faith , hope and love
About Jesus Christ and Heavenly Father above.

I know it is their love that helped you to endure.
It strengthed you; it calmed you; it made you pure.
I will love you forever and.treasure the gifts given
I will be the son now that you knew I could be then.

-Brennan Bateman

The Birthday Train

Oh m'gosh, how could I almost forget?! Thanks for the gentle reminder, Holly. I was so distracted by the fact that school is out and I can now get on top of the mess that has accumulated around here, that this blog (that I have been thinking about posting for days now) almost went by the board. It's a good thing that school is out, actually, and just in time, so that I have time to do justice to the memories I have of Dad, Gayla, Holly and Luella, even though I am getting this off much later than I had intended.

Maybe Dad remembers when the first birthday train cake was made, and by whom. I remember that it was an ingenious creation, decorated with gumdrops and Oreo cookies (for wheels), among other things, and that it was made in a year in which Mother's day fell on May 9th, so in that year there were a total of 5 cars, including one for Mom. It so inspired Mom that it became a May 9th institution thereafter.

The Engine: The thing that is most significant to me about Dad is his creative ingenuity. If he can dream it up, he can build it. My most memorable Christmas is the one for which he built for us four "chairs", painted red, yellow and blue (if my memory serves me correctly) that could be turned on end to form a table. He was often in his workshop playing Santa, and we had no idea what he was doing all that time, or where the toys he made of wood came from. We thought Santa brought them. To this day he derives satisfaction from building things for people, it doesn't matter who. If someone else can dream something up, he can build that, too.

The other, most notable thing (to me) about Dad is his ability to pack a car, family included, for a trip. Not only could he pack a car with style and grace, he could do it in record time. If packing a car for a trip were an Olympic event he would drive off with the gold medal tied to his bumper. Woe unto the person who was not ready, and whose suitcase was not ready, to be loaded into the car when Dad was ready to load it! They were in danger of having to depart minus whatever was not packed when it was time to go. Many times did we hear Mom exclaim, just prior to the fixed (in Dad's mind) moment of departure, "TED! I'm not ready yet!"

The first of Dad's most notable packing accomplishments was an inspired achievement. It took place in the summer of 1971 when he loaded us and Diane Mix, plus two cellos (Mom's addendum, of course) plus enough of our stuff to last us for two weeks (whatever did not fit inside the car or in the trunk was tied to the bumpers) into two VW bugs. After each trunk was packed to the brim, the back of the back seats were laid down so that not less than four of us (in one car) and five of us (in the other car) could scoot all the way to the point where our heads could be bowed by the back window and our hips could be scrunched together. From there we could stretch out our legs and rest our feet on the stuff that occupied the space from floor to "seat" level. Then one cello (per car) was placed across our legs/laps. Then Mom (in one car), and one big kid (in the other car [I don't remember who got this privilege. I know it wasn't me]) sat in the passenger seat of each car with Rachelle and Noelle respectively, on their laps. In this manner we proceeded on our journey of 50 miles to Palmyra, New York and the Hill Cumorah Pageant to be participants. It just so happened that in that particular summer a reporter from the Ensign observed our grand entrance into wherever we first entered upon our arrival. He wrote of us, and I quote, "Coming down in two Volkswagons loaded with fifteen people, fourteen suitcases and a hundred dresses, they were the epitome of the always-laughed-at hardships genre." (I was disappointed that he failed to mention the luggage tied to the bumpers.)

This particular packing feat could not be repeated, try as Dad might, when it was time to go home after the two weeks were over, probably because enough members of the Ithaca ward came to the Sunday morning meeting to accomodate our collective need to get ourselves and our stuff, and the cellos, back to where we came from. I wonder if the reporter was around, watching to see if Dad could do it again.

The other most memorable of Dad's packing achievements was accomplished shortly thereafter when we were slated for a trip to Logan, Utah for Ralph's and Lamona's wedding. Thank heaven we had a van by then or we would never have been able to fit fifteen people (some of whom had grown slightly), two dogs (not cellos this time), violins innumerable (this time), plus all our stuff. I remember sitting anywhere but on a seat for the duration of that trip.

So the moral of these stories is (are?): You might be able get to heaven in Daddy's car, but only if he packs it! You might even be able to take it all with you when you go, but only if you're fast enough! Happy Birthday Dad!

The first car: They say that the perfect spacing for siblings is three years apart, and that children get along better with the sibling that comes after the one right next to them. That must be why of all my sisters, I felt the closest to Gayla growing up. I was protective for one thing. I tried to protect Lamona, but she was too fiercely independent to humor me. With Gayla it was another matter. She was more than happy to humor me, sometimes on occasions when I would rather not have been humored.

We three--Lamona, Gayla and I, all worked at the Cayuga Inn washing dishes. We took turns, one of us working at a time, and many times, at least for me, getting there and going home was an adventure. On one particular dark, dark night, very, very late, I was assigned to go pick Gayla up after work, in one of our little old beat up VW bugs. I arrived without incident but on the way home we had a flat tire. It just so happened that the flat occurred straight across the long and lonely road from a bar. What else could we do but venture forth into the darkness and plead for assistance from whoever was in there, in whatever shape they were in? As we approached the entrance, I, being shy, whispered to Gayla, "You go ahead. I'm right behind you," to which Gayla whispered back in no uncertain terms, "I'm not opening that door! You open it!"

What else could I do? I opened it and poked my head in, and all eyes, sober and otherwise, were upon me. I had no choice but to speak up, "Can somebody help us with a flat tire?" Turns out we had nothing to be afraid of. There was a mad rush, the charge being led by a manly looking lady who must have been able to hold her liquor, who manned very efficiently the changing of the tire. We were on our way in no time, thankful for helpful people in bars, and home before Mom had a chance to wake up and worry, wondering where we were.

Though it might have been said of others of us Bateman girls, I don't believe it could be said of Gayla that she ever flirted with the missionaries. But by the same token, the same could not be said of the missionaries when it came to Gayla. One summer day while at the Pageant, during lunchtime at the Hill, Elder Ross called out to her as she was walking by saying, "Hi-i, Gayla," and Gayla, who was stringent about obeying the mission rules imposed upon us during the Pageant, called back, "That's Sister Bateman to you!"

Gayla had it all: beauty, talent, intelligence and a sense of humor. Terry Williams, a Cornell grad student, used to come out to the Trumansburg house just to play Scrabble with us. His strategy for winning was to place a nonsense word on the board and when we protested, would put it in a sentence and make it sound as if it made perfect sense. He was so entertaining we let him get away with it, and so he won every game. Gayla, perhaps intent on winning a game once in awhile, took Terry's strategy and did him one better. She would look up unheard-of words in the dictionary, learn their meaning, then go around the house making conversation with whoever was around, deliberately using her new unheard of word. If she didn't win the next Scrabble game, she at least won the contest for best entertainment.

I wish she were here so I could tell her how much I miss her, and wish her a happy birthday.

The next car: Lamona's fierce independence was nothing next to Holly's. Even though she was a late walker, she had her ways of getting wherever she wanted to go. Before walking she didn't crawl. She scooted. I remember the cute little print-line she left on the kitchen floor as she made her way across it after we had come home from swimming--a heart shape here and a heart shape there... all in a row, rhythmically placed. When she did finally walk she was probably the first baby ever to count cadence to her first steps--perfectly inflected if not perfectly pronounced: "Hup! hoo! hee! hor! Hup! hoo! hee! hor!..."

For all her fierce independence, Holly would repeat anything we told her to say. We would surround her and let her mediate our arguments, even. One of us would say, "Holly, say (a word)", and Holly would say it. Then another of us would say, "Holly, say (a different word)," and Holly would say it. For a joke, Lamona took advantage of the fact that Holly could not pronounce her J's. She would say them like D's instead. So Lamona said, "Holly, say jam it!" and Holly obligingly said, "Dam it!"

Holly would make an exception to being fiercely independent when she was sick. In these instances she would be theatrical, milking everyone in her vicinity for all we were worth. I remember one occasion when she had a slight fever. She really didn't feel well, and to make sure I fully fathomed how well she didn't feel, she spoke weakly, slowly, in the most pathetics tones, and with profound expression, "Teddie..." (her voice trailed off and she breathed heavily before making another valiant attempt to finish), "Would you get me a drink of water?" (More trailing off of her voice, more labored breathing...) Not being able to endure a repetition of this performance, I got her a drink of water.

I hope you are feeling well today, Holly, and that you are having a great birthday!

The caboose: Luella was born on Dad's fortieth birthday, and since life begins at forty, Mom had the ingenious idea of having a baby shower--for Dad. Not very many people came, but enough to make it fun and funny. (I'm not even sure if Mom and Luella were home from the hospital yet.) The missionaries came bearing pink bubble gum cigars, and we all played games, which included bottle feeding and diaper changing contests using our dolls. And then we had refreshments--always the missionaries' main reason for coming--homemade bread and jam, probably.

Luella would have been a late walker like Holly if we her mother and older sisters had permitted it. But we were getting short on people willing to carry her, what with the novelty of endlessly carrying babies around having worn off (of me, for one). And so, when Luella was fourteen months old, we made her learn to walk. It was in the summer and while we were at Pageant, in the Sacred Grove, to be exact, although the atmosphere was anything but sacred, thanks to Luella's resounding resistance to this learning activiy. She did not want to walk and was mad that we were making her do it, and was making no bones about letting us know she was mad that we were making her do it. With Mom on one end of the quilt we had spread, and me on the other, she loudly cried all the way across as she left the security of Mom's arms, and loudly cried all the way back as she left the security of mine. This scene was repeated a number of times until we heartless ones were assured that she could sure enough walk. I believe she had quit crying about being able to walk by the time Pageant was over.

In spite of my heartlessness in helping to make her walk, Luella loves me. I know this because of the concern for me that she expressed after Faline had gone off to college, got engaged and got married the following summer, then I went off to college, then came home, then Lamona went off to college, got engaged and got married the following summer, and in the meantime I kept going off to college, coming home and going back to college. Finally Gayla went off to college and we both came home together for Christmas, with neither of us showing any indication of having gotten engaged. Luella was concerned for both of us and so she said to Gayla, "Gayla, you better hurry up and get married. We don't want you to end up an old maid, like Teddie!" All I can say to her now in response to this is, "Oh well!"

I am having a great day, Luella, "old maidenhood" notwithstanding, and I hope you are too. Happy Birthday!

Happy Birthday to us!

I never regretted sharing a birthday with my Dad and 2 sisters. I always thought we were lucky because Mom always made us a special train cake. Dad's was the engine, Luella's was the caboose and Gayla and I had 2 cars in between. I also enjoyed the link my birthday gave me to those who share it with me. I always miss Gayla on May 9th. I wish I could include her in my round of Happy Birthday telephone calls. I think that is why I've usually gotten beat to the punch by Dad and Luella, because I am reluctant to face the reminder of Gayla's absence. I remember our picture in the paper and as a child, wondering why having a birthday was so notable. It never occurred to me that such a thing was out of the ordinary.

I've often wondered since then how, out of 12 months in the year, Mom managed to hit the May 9th mark (which happened to be her sweetheart's birthday) 3 times out of 12. Maybe trying to give Dad an extra special birthday present? Or herself an extra special Mother's Day present? Or maybe we all just liked the month of May to be born in and thought, "Heck, as long as we're going to be born in May, why not make it the 9th?" Besides, the 9th day of every month was always celebrated by Mom and Dad as the anniversary of their first date. And, wow! I'm the 9th child. Oh the numerology!

I love Luella's little face in this picture. Such a beautiful Mona Lisa smile.

So now I'm planning to be the first to wish Dad, Gayla and Luella a happy, healthy birthday. I've loved sharing it with you.

My Stepdaughter Danielle is Getting Married

Not much notice I know, but my step-daughter Danielle Dawson is getting married on Saturday May 16th at 11:00 with a reception immediately following at 12 or 12:30pm. If you want to see how to put together a wedding for $200 (that's all Danielle's dad was willing to donate to the cause), this would be an instructive event for us Bateman cheapskates! On the other hand, some of you may want to come just to share in the celebration. All are welcome. Please RSVP. I did put this up on Facebook (although some of you probably asked yourself, "who is Danielle Dawson and why am I being invited to her wedding?"), so please go ahead and RSVP there if you are planning on coming.

Annual Memorial Day Bateman Family GetTogether

The time has come to plan for the Annual Memorial Day Bateman Family Get Together. The date is May 25 at 224 N 2000 W, West Point, Utah. We will plan to eat about 12:30. As usual, we will provide the dinnerware, meat, bread and drinks. Please bring a dish of any kind to share. If you can, let us know how many from your family will be coming. 801-825-5602 twhmbateman@Q.com