Grandpa Cliff

My name was almost Merford. That's what you get when you mix Clifford and Merrill, the names of my grandfathers, together. Whether (almost) a namesake or through other means, grandparents tend to leave their mark. That Grandpa Cliff did in spite of our very infrequent interactions has always been a bit of a mystery to me.

I wanted to know him better. The distance between Florida (where he lived) and Arizona is significant, and on average we had visits from Grandpa once every 2 years. I remember meeting him just shy of a handful times my entire life. And yet I can recall quite vividly the almost euphoric moments contemplating his arrival. They were probably even beyond what a child would experience near Christmas.

That I was a Miami Dolphins fan was entirely due to him. I liked Dan Marino and still remember watching him play live for half a quarter against the Cardinals in a pre-season game. As evidence that my appreciation of the Dolphins and of football in general is due to him, my interest greatly waned after my grandfather's death in 1999 (it didn't help that Dan the Man retired too). Every Dolphins sweatshirt and poster, and especially the jacket I wore every single day it was cold enough to get away with through Middle School were all through his influence. Yet the varieties of paraphernalia were purchased by my parents. It just seemed to matter to me that the Dolphins mattered to him.

Towards the end of his life he suffered from dementia. As things grew steadily worse we discussed sending me out to visit him during the Summer of 2000. I still don't know what we would have talked about or what he would have said to me. He was cared for during his last days by a lady friend whom I've never talked to and don't know. I'm glad they were there for each other. I sometimes think I would have liked to have been her. You can see from the pictures we have of him that he seemed to be a jovial sort of man. He often was sporting a "sheepish grin" I think he called it and there was no end to our amusement at watching him wiggle his ears.

I remember that he loved prune juice and recall seeing a jug of it on the top shelf of the fridge whenever he came to visit. Half drunk bottles were a reminder of the time he'd spent with us, but before long the container would make it to the trash, still half drunk (though maybe half drinkable would be the optimist's view).

I confess that this little impromptu ritual has been a mixed blessing for me. I am grateful to have known him. I have a strange nostalgia for him in memories of my childhood. And yet I know almost nothing about him. It's an odd kind of sadness, one that pushes me to get to know the people around me a bit better. Of all of the hopes I entertain and project onto the here-after, one of the clearest is that he and I will have that chance to get to know each other a bit better, to see as we are seen. Maybe then I'll get the chance to thank him for being my grandfather.

We decided against prune juice as a food offering. Instead we skipped the food offering and played "Rhapsody in Blue" by Gershwin, his favorite song, while we lit his candles and ate dinner. We thought this music would help him feel welcome.

To both of Jen's grandmothers, and to Grandpa Cliff, we say, You are always, always welcome in our home and hearts. You won't be forgotten.

Grandma Phyllis

Today we honor and remember my Grandmother Phyllis Truman Hunt Bracken, a complex individual I wish I had been able to spend more time with.

As a budding adolescent I felt some comfort knowing that my height and my curvy figure came from my Grandma Phyllis. She would be, frankly, more than slightly disappointed in my skills as a housekeeper. The state of my kitchen floor and my bed would appall her. Her cleaning gene just didn't make it down the chain.

Friendship meant a lot to my grandmother. She loathed the ranch she grew up on, near Gunlock, Utah. It was simply too isolated. I think she must have been lonely growing up. When she was able to live life her way she did it with a close circle of friends and neighbors. I remember riding in the backseat once while she gossiped with her neighbor and best friend, Grace. "Now don't you repeat this," she said to Grace as she shared a juicy piece of information. Even as a kid I thought this was hilarious.

Secretly I loved that my grandmother swore and said things like "shut up" when she was annoyed with someone. The fact that she never told me to shut up made it even more enjoyable. She seemed so salty and world-wise. She was very rarely sentimental. She survived two husbands. Her first husband was brutally murdered and left her a widow with three small children. I never heard her cry or talk about it. She was practical and sometimes embarrassingly honest.  True to her generation, she didn't care for fat people, was suspicious of "Injuns", and was an unabashed sexist. Somehow, with her, it was funny instead of infuriating. Mainstream spirituality wasn't what I would call her greatest strength. She was simply too contrary to fit into the perfect Mormon mold, if such a thing exists. She may have passed this gene on to me, though she never knew it.

Her favorite word was "shit". She used this word in every imaginable way. To babies: "Well aren't you the cutest little shit".  To adults (my dad): "You look like shit".  The fact that it annoyed my mother made it even more funny and idiosyncratic.

 

She loved babies. She loved her family. She made the best potato salad anyone's ever tasted. She liked going for drives too. I never remember her getting angry with me, even that one time I picked every single flower in her yard.  I wish she could have lived long enough to hold my daughter. I know had she been able to, Phyllis would have declared her the cutest little shit yet.

I wasn't able to make it to her funeral, and I'll always be sad about that. 

 

Tonight our food offering for Phyllis consists of bacon, which my grandmother ate every single morning. She had excellent taste, yes? Also some tea, which she drank every day. No doubt she would have been disappointed with my choice, Lemon Zinger, instead of her very scandalous (in Mormon circles, at least), Black.

Grandma Norma

Today my family is honoring and remembering my grandmother, Norma Alice Ricks Durfey, who passed away last spring.

Grandma, we invite your warmth and presence to be with us today and 

always as we take this moment to recognize and honor you.

Growing up I didn't always feel that my Grandma Norma and I had a lot in common. I think that was partially an age thing, but also we were, like everyone else, unique individuals in a common family.  As I've gotten older, and especially with the sharp contrast of having her no longer here with us, I see echoes of my grandmother in myself. 

My grandma was the original minimalist in our family. Very unattached to material things and unphased by passing trends, she was a great example to me of someone who could make do with simply being comfortable. 

I spent a few weeks with my grandparents the summer I was 12 or 13.  This was when hippie vintage reigned, and more than anything else in the world I desperately desired a pair of frayed shorts with psychedelic patches glued on them.  My grandma tried to appease me. We went to the store to pick out patches. The patches I wanted were too expensive, she explained. I conceded. We made the more practical, but unstylish, purchase of patches used to actually patch up jeans. Plain squares were glued onto my shorts.  Instead of letting me fray my shorts, my grandmother simply sewed some yellowed lace onto the bottom.  We made a lot of compromises that day, and despite my disappointment that they hadn't turned out exactly like I'd wanted I still wore the shorts with pride. She even took pictures of me modeling them in a very saucy manner. She must have been laughing on the inside.

 

Our food offering for Norma tonight consists of her own Dixie Salad. In the era of Mormon 1950's infamous and horrid fruit salads comprised of canned fruit, jello and marshmallows, my grandma somehow invented or chanced upon this creation, which kept the spirit of the Mormon 1950's salad but violated the horrendousness. No canned fruit. No jello. And no marshmallows. But still thoroughly Southern Utah. It even depends on some St. George local fare (pomegranates and pecans). 

Just make some whipped cream. Add some chopped apples (we prefer sweet, not tart), chopped pecans and pomegranate seeds. 

This was my absolute favorite dish at every Thanksgiving dinner, and my grandma Norma took pride in making it for everyone to enjoy. Making it tonight I smelled the cream and apples and was enveloped by memories of family get-togethers. It would have made her very happy.

Holidays

I am grateful for any day that makes me stop and celebrate something good or ponderous or beautiful about life.  I'm also grateful for my decision to focus on what it means to celebrate this year (click on link above for more info). Of course there are the more traditional North American holidays that help us ponder things like abundance, life, birth and death.  I also greatly appreciate another North American holiday: Day of the Dead, or Dia de los Muertos, which is a holiday I am currently at work on instating in our house because I think there's nothing more beautiful than a ritual celebration remembering those we've loved who have left us.  I've passed the "traditional" dates of celebrating this (Mexican tradition places the dates between October 31-November6), but I just finished my midterms so cut me a break.  

Just know that in the near future you can enjoy a Day of the Dead post here on my blog.  

Here's a sneak peak for you of my paternal grandmother, a woman who wore her emotions on her sleeve. 

I love her for it.

More on her and the legacy she left me to come soon.

alleluliah

"Today, we endeavor to understand more deeply what it means to be stewards of creation by celebrating St. Francis [of Assisi]. . .We reach back to 1182 as we focus on the transformation and dedication of someone who must have seemed unlikely to become a saint.  Born to a prosperous family, Francis reveled in wealth and craved military fame in his youth.  But he would later have his life changed by his encounters with street beggars and lepers.  Francis defied the protests of his father as he renounced all material values. . .

 

"Each year the Earth Mass and Blessing of the Animals is placed under the roof of [St. John the Divine Cathedral] as a way of convening a conversation about stewardship of creation. . .Francis taught that we were created by the One who created all things.  And that we are intended by God to be faithful by loving each other, every creature, and all of creation. . ."

 

Prayer of Thanksgiving

For All Creation

"We give you thanks, most gracious God, for the beauty of earth and sky and sea; 

for the richness of mountains, plains, and rivers; for the songs of birds and the loveliness of flowers, and for the wonder of your animal kingdom.  We praise you for these good gifts, and pray that we may safeguard them for our posterity.  Grant that we may continue to grow in our grateful enjoyment of your abundant creation, to the honor and glory of your Name, now and for ever. Amen."

 

 The Blessing

 The Bishop invokes blessing on the animals

"Live without fear: your Creator loves you, made you holy, and has always protected you. Go in peace to follow the good road and may God's blessing be with you always. Amen."

 

Prayer

Attributed to St. Francis

Lord, make us an instrument of your peace. Where there is hatred, let us sow love;

where there is injury, pardon; where there is discord, union;

where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; 

where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy.

Grant that we may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; 

to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love.  

For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; 

and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen.  

red-letter day

I know it happens all the time. We celebrate landmark events even, or sometimes especially, if the person we hope to celebrate, or celebrate with, is gone.  It happened this past Mother’s Day for my mother who struggled to know exactly what to do to commemorate it with my grandmother’s recent passing.  It happens on birthdays, Presidents’ day, MLK day, Christmas, Easter, and, as mentioned, Mother’s/Father’s Day.  And we’ve all seen movies or read novels or personally witnessed how psychologically hard this can be on people.

While I’m not in the throes of existential despair, I have been back and forth on how exactly to commemorate this day, my fourth wedding anniversary, without my partner in crime.  Separated by an ocean, and quite a bit of land mass in between, we will be apart, for the first time, on our anniversary.

I have other plans in the works, but I wouldn’t feel like much of a blogger if I didn’t do the obligatory number-correlated list that emerges on loved ones’ birthdays and other such special occasions. 

So here it goes, four reasons I continue to be grateful that I married Derrick:

one. Derrick doesn’t just put up with my craziness. He likes it. Sometimes I think he might even love it.  Like the time I decided it was a great idea to go back to school four months after having a baby, or that one time I decided to shave my head, or another time when I took him to a goat farm for our date night and bought chevre at an unseemly price (admittedly he liked this one a little less), Derrick is up for about any curve ball I frequently throw his way.

two. This one is easy. Derrick is the most patient man I know. He handled 18 months apart while I was on my mission like a champ. Last summer while I lived in Arizona and he lived in Utah, a word of complaint never escaped his lips. And, quite obviously and more recently, the seven weeks we will have been apart this summer, with no visitation rights, Derrick has yet again proven that he is a man whose patience is a force to be reckoned with as he has tackled single parenthood. Let me make a public announcement about this: my husband is a master potty trainer, and that makes him a god.

three. We are a great couple because we consistently make scary choices. Derrick is brave, and brave is sexy. We might continually make decisions that don’t make a lot of sense to other people, but I know for sure we’ll have a life of adventure ahead of us.

four. There was once a time when I debated whether I should marry Derrick because we seemed like the exact same person and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. It seemed too easy and maybe a little dull. Then we got married anyway and I realized how mistaken I had been. In our four years together I’ve changed a lot; differences have been heightened and at times that has been challenging and frightening. Derrick somehow managed to love the core of me, and has learned to appreciate and respect our differences, which at times have seemed pretty substantial. I’m not sure a lot of other men could have done that, and that makes my husband very special.

Happy Anniversary to us.

Caitlin's Mother Blessing

Most of you know that my theme for this year is celebrate, so when I got an invitation to attend a friend's Mother Blessing, I unhestitatingly said yes, even though it meant a commute to Provo on one of my off days. Of all things worth celebrating, I think a woman about to bring new life into the world should be at the tip top of the list, don't you think?

Unfortunately, soon-to-be mothers sometimes go uncelebrated in the excited anticipation for the child itself. Baby showers, though necessary, certainly celebrate the expected child more than the mother, and do so in a way that can come off as rather materialistic. A Mother Blessing, instead, is a spiritual, mother-focused ritual.

"A Mother Blessing is a special ceremony designed to acknowledge, honor, and celebrate a woman's journey into motherhood. Surrounded by some of the most important women in her life she will gain a sense of power, confidence, and support that will help her before, during, and after the birth of her child."

Candles were a special part in the ritual of this particular Blessing: Although I will only be talking about Caitlin's Mother Blessing in this post, keep in mind that every Mother's Blessing can be unique and special, depending on tastes or desires. For more information, please look up the following book, which has more suggestions on ways to celebrate a Mother Blessing:

All the women invited were asked to bring a bead that reminded them of Caitlin or that represented something special to them. The beads will be made into a necklace that Caitlin can wear before, during and/or after her labor:

We opened up our Mother Blessing by saying some prayers. We invited both God and Goddess to be present with us during this celebration, but especially to be present with Caitlin during her important transition. In our prayer to God we asked that our gathering might "bring Caitlin a wealth of strength, peace, and joy to bless her way as she labors and mothers her children." We also prayed that Goddess might "join us today. She is earth herself, her body reflecting mountains and valleys, fields and rivers. Her palpable sensuality is a celebration of physical existence. She represents the waves of primordial waters from which all life and consciousness arise. . .She is peaceful in her body and her truly miraculous power--as woman, as earth--to create life."

Isn't food a special part of any celebration?:

After a symbolic salt-water cleansing, everyone was invited to dispel negative energy. We did this by passing around ritual herbs and taking turns expressing our fears out loud while we flung some of these herbs into a fire. Some of my fears included having a second child, paying for grad school, and not finding a job after grad school. Phew. What a load off.


After this, we focused entirely on Caitlin. Everyone took turns pampering her and making her more comfortable. This included hand, foot and shoulder massages and brushing her hair. Doesn't she look so queenly?:

I volunteered to "put her hair up", a historic symbol of exiting girlhood into womanhood:

A beautiful woman:

We then presented Caitlin with a few simple gifts. Suggested gifts included a promise to deliver a homecooked meal to the family after the labor, a special snack for during the labor, or flowers for Caitlin after the delivery. Thinking of my anxiety about caring for a newborn in addition to Lissie, I bought some toys for Caitlin's first child that she can have in her arsenal should she need a rest with her recent newborn.

After presenting our gifts, yarn was passed around to create a literal web of support for Caitlin. As we wrapped the yarn around our wrists, we invoked our individual blessings on Caitlin and our desires for her labor. My wish was that by going through her labor well, she would have the energy and confidence to push on through her upcoming Ph.D. program (as in, wow, I did that? I can do anything!).

"We are the flow, we are the ebb, we are the weavers, we are the web."

We then cut and tied our own strands of yarn and will wear them until Caitlin has passed through her labor. A phone tree was also created so that all guests can be notified when Caitlin has gone into labor at which time each guest will light a red candle given at the Mother Blessing.
With the red candle, each guest was also offered a free henna tattoo by Caitlin's cousin-by-marriage, Nessa. Awesome!:
Caitlin's, appropriately, was the most elaborate:

Didn't Nessa do a remarkable job?:

And with that, I think this woman is ready to do just about anything:

"Today we have succeeded in forming a beautiful, sacred space for Caitlin's blessing. The power of the feminine spirit has been unveiled in each of us today. Let us stay connected to Caitlin, creating a cradle of support, as she awaits her birthing day and beyond, as she learns to mother her new baby. This has been a powerful day." Amen.

Thanks to Austin for organizing this even and inviting me to it.
And thanks to Charla for granting me permission to use these lovely pictures in this post.

traditions II

If you participated at all in my post about traditions-how to celebrate them or how to make them work for you and your family-get a load of this tradition started by one of my professors.

In my political economy of women class on Wednesday we talked about...drumroll...periods. Can you sense why I freaking love this class? We talked about historical and current views of the menstrual cycle and why it has been viewed as "yucky" or "unclean"; we talked about how little women are trained to know their own bodies and what signs to look for during their menstrual cycles; we talked about what the negative effects of the pill can be and how natural family planning works and there were guys in the room listening all the while. It was amazing.

But the thing we talked about that caught my attention most was how women can be affected by their introduction to their own menstrual cycle. Understandably, there are women who hate their periods. Cramps, messiness, expensive measure to control it; these are all things many women deal with on a monthly basis.

Our professor talked about the importance of coming-of-age rituals. For instance, in my church boys of 12 traditionally become deacons (which allows them to pass the sacrament, collect fast offerings, and visit members in their homes with their fathers; girls are given no such service opportunity). I don't see it this way, but some members of my church (my professor is one of them), view menstruation and reproduction as the female equivalent of deaconhood/priesthood. Members will often celebrate their son's transition as a deacon by giving them a gift, such as a set of scriptures, or throwing them a family party. It is something to be celebrated.

But do many Mormons have an equivalent celebration for girls who have recently menstruated*? No. At least not among the white Mormon families that I ever knew growing up and none that I know now.

My professor decided she wanted her daughter's experience to be different. So when her daughter started her period at age 14, she had a plan. Her daughter's only condition was that her friends not be involved. Okay. Said professor had her daughter think of the women she admired most in life (one of them is a co-professor in this class). Mother and daughter wrote up invitations for a celebration at the house in the daughter's honor and these women were invited to come-the only condition was that they had to bring a gift that symbolized what womanhood meant to them. Mother/professor made her a special necklace. Red velvet cake was served at the party (hahaha!).

I was impressed and motivated to do something similiar for my daughter(s) when the time comes. I don't want my daughter to be ashamed or embarrased by her biology or to view it in other unsavory ways. After all, because of my own period, I was able to receive the greatest gift of my life-her! Any comments? Would you be inclined to do something similiar? If so, how would you change it to accomodate your family?


*There are exceptions to this, notably among Mormons that are Navajo. Some of them celebrate female menstruation with a well-worn and beautiful tradition called Kinaalda. There may be other groups that have similiar traditions, but they are in the minority in the wide spectrum of what is known as Mormon culture.

traditions

I watched a beautiful short clip for my class on the political economy of women yesterday. It was called "Morocco: the Rights of Women" and centered on the efforts of one woman in particular, Aicha Belarbi, in increasing the status of women in her country through democracy.

My favorite part of the clip was when Aicha talked about her marriage and three children. She was asked (in French of course), "What role do politics play in your family?" She replied that it played an enormous part of her partnership with her husband and in her family's daily life. She told a beautiful story about when her first daughter was born. Traditionally, a sheep is slaughtered for a party to celebrate the birth of a child. However, various political movements were circulating at the time of her daughter's birth, so they broke with tradition and instead of using their money to purchase a sheep, they donated that money to a worthy political cause. They did this with each of the births of their children.

It made me think about meaningful traditions, and how celebrating really can be (should be?) a conscious act. I hope my post about Christmas is a step in the right direction for us as a family, but I have a lot of work to do in this area. For instance, I've never been very excited about Halloween, even as a kid. Now I'm trying to see the virtue in this celebration at all. I know, I know. It's fun. It's for kids. But all that processed sugar, cheaply-made yet pricey (for me least) costumes you use only once a year. What is the big deal? But I've been thinking that I really don't want to ruin the excitement of this time of year for my children. I know one woman who makes a bunch of homemade treats (homemade Snickers bars!). She allows her children to trick-or-treat, but then they give their candy away to the kids that come to the door and eat made-with-love, often healthier, special treats. I love it!

I've been more conscious of buying foods in season lately. Not super great at it yet, but I've been trying. What if our Halloween/fall tradition included me buying pumpkins not for decoration, but for fun pumpkin-based recipe experiments my kids can join in and enjoy. This makes this celebration of a brightly-colored, beautiful time of year more meaningful because we're also trying to eat more local and seasonal. This may seem granola and cheesy to others, but it actually makes me slightly more excited to celebrate Halloween.

Now, deviation from the norm doesn't always equal more meaningful, but I think many families find a way to adapt a tradition to themselves. For my sister and I, placing plates on a table may be a way of perpetuating a meaningful tradition.

What about you? What do you do to celebrate consciously (note: this doesn't always mean differently)? What traditions would you like to start? Or what traditions do you want to deviate from for whatever reason (Mine is the giving of cheap, plastic things, but this isn't desirable for everyone)? I'd like to know.

Christmas Makeover

Remember this post from January? In it I talk about de-commercializing Christmas. Well, Derrick and I have finalized our plans. The catch is I'm going to need some help from you more clever and crafty types to hook me up with some great ideas.

First let me give you our reasons for changing the way we do Christmas. As a married couple we've found that we both dislike, and are therefore pretty bad at, shopping for other people. Derrick hates shopping altogether, and I am terrible at guessing what other people might like. We are also busy people. With me juggling school and a baby and Derrick juggling classes, work, and a commute, we would put off Christmas shopping until the last minute. When that last minute arrived, we'd bite the bullet, call a babysitter and spend a stressful evening navigating a busy mall to make guesses as to what our beloved family members might like. After this last Christmas, I decided this method had lost whatever appeal it ever had (was it ever appealing?).

Don't get me wrong. I love family. I love Christmas. I love making family members happy. But couldn't it all just be a bit more meaningful for them and for us?

Our plan, therefore, looks a little something like this:

We plan ahead.

Instead of buying "stuff", I decide on a project for each person or couple that we can work on together as a family, particularly with Lissie's help (Christmas fiasco babysitters need not apply-I want her to be involved and have fun too).

This project can be a craft, display, something useful, or just some way for our family members to remember us (and Lissie, in particular) by throughout the year. My only other rule be that it is something they can actually unwrap on Christmas day.

I would especially love for these projects to indicate that Lissie was involved in the process.

So, my crafty readers, what say you? Any thoughts or ideas to help a sister? I'll be starting a Pinterest account, perhaps you could share ideas with me on there?

Happy Birthday, Squirty!

That's right, today was the big 1+1, which = 2. It's been a laid back sort of day. Squirty isn't really old enough to appreciate that it's her birthday, and I'm more of a simple-celebration kind of mom, but that doesn't make this day any less special.

We celebrated a day early by opening aunt Stephanie's birthday package:

Her gaze in this photo shows a marked preference for me, right?

Thanks, Aunt Steph! You're a doll :)

I then took Squirty's stickers that have been waiting on the shelf until she could appreciate them a bit more:

Then we went to Shirley's for some delicious sweet rolls for our playgroup. We bought two danishes for ourselves so we wouldn't be tempted to break into the sweet rolls, since I'd be apt to stuff all the sweet rolls in my face before anyone shows up.

At playgroup, a good time was had by all. Thanks to everyone who came!

It made Squirty's day.


As always, there are a few fights and tears at playgroup, but nothing beats the adorable making-up process.

Happy Birthday, Squirty. Thanks for being such a joy in all of our lives.

You are so loved.

Holiday Photos

Christmas Plates-stockings hanging from the mantle with care were never a part of our family tradition growing up. Instead, we set fancy china plates on the kitchen table and then in unison my brothers and sisters and I would place a thick tablecloth over everything. In the morning we'd find bumpy mounds as we lifted the tablecloth together. I'm not quite sure where this tradition came from, though I hear it's a Norwegian or Scandinavian tradition and it's been in the family for ages. My sister Becca and I are the two most likely siblings in the family to pass this tradition on (I think everyone else has converted to stockings) and we were lucky enough to have her and her family spend Christmas in St. George with us instead of in blizzard-ridden Iowa where they live. Izzy, Theo, Adeline and Squirt lifted the tablecloth to find these fun surprises from Santa:

Opening Gifts:

My Birthday-I knew I wanted to go on a hike for my birthday, but only decided on Antelope Canyon (not really a hike, but a scenic experience) the morning of. I loved it and I'm so glad Derrick and I finally went.

Other fun things- Nana and Papa Hull took Squirt to Tangled, her first movie theater experience. I was a bit nervous for them, but since they had an adequate amount of snacks she handled it perfectly, or so they told us.

Izzy and Squirty had some bonding time: And we had a yummy, if not gluten-free, birthday cake:

"Hiking" with Grandpa Bracken:

And a girls lunch at Basila's, a fun Mediterranean cafe in St. George. Their pitas are amazing and made fresh everyday, and their gyro was delicious.

If you can't tell from the photos, we had a great holiday, and we were lucky enough to spend different portions of it with both sides of our family. I hope yours was fun too!