More Bedtime Stories

Dad: Maybe mom will sing you three songs tonight.

Mom: I think we can do that.

Dad: Score!

Mason: No, I already did that.

Dad: Were the girls there?

Mason: No.

Dad: Umm.. uh-oh.

Making Our Own Fun

We took the kids to Veterans Memorial Park to enjoy the actual spring weather, and they had so much fun. This park may be one of my new favorite outings for Mason. It was the middle ground for Heather and I, so it's a little off our beaten path and that was a very good thing. It's a huge park, with plenty of room. There was a "Wild West" themed playground that was quite crowded, but there were several other playgrounds to choose from that were not as crowded. One blue and green one was huge and we were, at one point, the only people there. Not that any of that mattered; as is always true with kids finding simple entertainment, they made their own fun by throwing wood chips at each other and running around poles in the picnic area.

We picked up sandwiches and made a picnic of it. We immediately parked in the shade, thinking it would be too hot in the sun. But the weather was great and the kids quickly wore themselves out.

Wordless Wednesday: The Original Squirt Gun

For more Wordless Wednesdays, check out 5 minutes for mom.

Improvisational Skills

Alan was super sweet and brought me roses and this small bag with a little treat (that will be very good, and I think I'm going to enjoy it while I give myself a pedicure after Mason's bedtime tonight. Chocolate + a good foot soak= heaven.) as just a general thank you and a huge, really sweet surprise. The joke was on him, though. Apparently we no longer have any vases in our house. Any ideas where we can get a couple of cheap, unique vases to keep on hand for scenarios like this?

When it doesn't rain, we pour.

We got the prep work done for our concrete RV pad a few weeks ago, and then the weather has been horrible. It's been a long couple of weeks what with the dog getting out and all. I was so glad this was going to finally be done! Really, Alan and I did a fair amount of the prep work about four years ago and then there was a concrete shortage, and then there was a funding shortage on our end and, well... you know how yards can be when you finish your own one piece at a time. Our backyard has looked like a construction zone for the last four years. We're now a little closer to having a cute yard.

Mason was our big helper from the start. I think little boy's heaven is full of rocks, dirt, and shovels. The buckets, trucks, and wheelbarrows are optional.

Well, we knew this was going to be a big day for the truck-worshipping boy at our house. Since I can't (won't usually anyway) help with the heavy duty stuff, I was relegated to kid duty. It worked out well that the mixer truck in our front yard attracted my fun neighbor and her kids, too. It was a lot of fun playing with them while our yard was in chaos. Our other neighbor from up the street also came; they have a new pug puppy, Daisy, that the kids spent a fair amount of time loving on. I took lots of pictures, trying to make sure I had everything Mason would ask to view later. The first thing he asked for was Mason touching the wet cement; that didn't happen because he was too chicken. Oh, well!

The final tally was 12 yards of concrete in two cement trucks, and two chunks of vinyl fencing were carefully ripped out and reconstructed. We opted to chance letting the truck drive on our lawn rather than pay the huge fee to rent a pumper; the real risk was the truck getting stuck (which would quickly be more expensive than the pumper!), but it didn't happen that way. There were some huge ruts in the area that is now under concrete because the truck was so heavy as it started pouring, but that is apparently normal and didn't cause any problems. We also had barely enough concrete in the second truck, and one of the workers literally climbed up into the spout to help it slide down to finish the job. Mason was basically in heaven the whole day, except for the part where it didn't occur to me that any of us would need sunscreen. So we also got our first sunburns of the season, but nothing major. I was in heaven because Alan took us out to dinner so I wouldn't have to deal with cooking and dishes. He also took me to look at rocking chairs for the baby's room, but I'll have more on that later in the week (or possibly next week at the rate I'm going).
Just finishing up


Mason helping dad rebuild the fence. He loves climbing ladders. Is that normal?


Mom and Mason shared the view on the front porch. I'm not so good at the self-photography.

National Emergency Telecommunicators Week

This was sent around at my work. It's a blog post from Sheriff Winder's blog (which I can't link to because the link I was given doesn't actually work), and will adequately answer what a day at work is like for a dispatcher. If you have ever wondered what it is like, or what it has the potential to be, read below. It isn't always this way. But it can be and you just never know.

Posted At : February 11, 2009 6:10 PM Posted By : Sheriff Jim Winder

What do you take for granted?

There are some things we all take for granted. We all walk into a room and turn on the light and expect that the lights will come on. We get into our car turn the key and expect that the engine will start. And many of us get into our police cars every day, check on and expect dispatch will be there.

Dispatch is always there and all too often we do take them for granted. We assume that no matter what happens we will always be able to push the button and someone will not only answer, but have the answers to some of the most bizarre questions. Who is responsible for the running water at 8850 West 2800 South? Will animal control respond on a missing python? Call the airport and tell them to stop the planes from coming over us. These and many, many more requests are received and addressed by our Dispatch Center every single day.


We all believe we have the hardest job, it is human nature, weather we are Patrol Deputies, Housing Officers or Intake Clerks we often convince ourselves that what we do is by far the most stressful and on any given day it may be. But take a moment and think about the role of the Dispatcher.


These men and women come to work every day and every night and immediately begin to field calls from angry, upset and frightened individuals. People who are in crisis are often not the nicest to deal with especially over the phone. They scream they threaten, and they demand. When the Deputies arrive on scene the people even if they were completely out of line on the phone with the dispatcher tend to calm down, after all they are now speaking face to face to another human and they are speaking with someone who may just take them to jail. But to the dispatcher no such restraint exists.


And unfortunately it is not just the public who speaks in less than kind tones to our dispatchers. Occasionally Deputies find themselves in stressful situations and may unintentionally take it out on the person on other end of the line. I have, on more than a few occasions heard Deputies bark at the dispatcher when they couldn't find an address, or when a tow truck failed to appear in a reasonable amount of time.


All of the stress of the rude and discourteous people pales in comparison to one aspect of the Dispatchers job.


Imagine sitting in a room with head phones on at 2:30 in the morning. You haven't heard the radio crackle for 30 minutes, then suddenly, you hear a Deputies' panicked voice. "Salt Lake Charlie 31, priority". Your heart begins to race as the adrenaline races into your blood, and yet you have to hold it together. "Go ahead 30". "Salt Lake I am 10-80 East bound 5400 South 4800 West, 100 Miles per hour blue Ford truck 3 suspects". Now your adrenaline really begins to pump and yet you still must hold it together. You hit the tones on your console alerting every on duty member of the Sheriffs Office that a pursuit has begun and at the same time you have just ensured that every Deputy, regardless of location is now switching to listen to YOUR pursuit.


"All units Charlie 30 is in pursuit East bound 5400 South from 4800 West with a blue ford truck occupied three times." The Deputy keys his microphone and nearly screams into the radio, "Salt Lake suspect has just gone dark, still east bound approaching 4000 West". Now the terror really sets in as you realize that a 5000 pound bullet, traveling 100 plus miles an hour is heading for a main intersection without its lights on. After repeating the Deputies traffic, you wait for the next location... and it doesn't come.


Dispatchers have many skills, skills that are honed over years of working under these stressful conditions and one of these skills is the ability to know how long is too long when it comes to a Deputies response. As the mental clock ticks, you become more and more concerned. "What's taking so long", you key your head set and you call, "Charlie 30",...no response, you wait a few more seconds, seconds that seem like hours, "Charlie 30" you say, your voice raising. Now not only are you afraid but so is every other person listening to the radio traffic. Has the chase ended? Are they out on foot? Does the Deputy have them at gun point? Or worst of all, has something happened to the Deputy.


After several attempts at trying to raise the pursuing deputy, and your heart sinking, you hear it. The traffic you have dreaded. "Charlie 35, I have arrived 4000 West 5400 South 10-50." Immediately you know what has happened. Two vehicles, one occupied by a person you have been working with for years, that were previously traveling at over 100 miles per hour are now in a twisted heap in an intersection miles away from where you are and there is now little if anything you can do.


As you hear the other Units Arrive it becomes clearer and clearer that something is terribly wrong. "Where is Charlie 30" you think and then you hear it, the sound of a Deputy screaming " send medical."


As the minutes click by you are only able to function because you must. After all, you still have much to do. You must still account for all of the other Units that are arriving, now from all over the valley. You must call for medical and provide as much detail as possible, and you must still hold it together!


Finally the words you wanted, and yet didn't want to hear. "Salt Lake we have 4 victims, 2 are 10-85 delta and 2 charlie minus." Now the reality of the dreadful situation sets in. "This is not good, not good at all", all of the victims are in critical condition and two are possibly fatal. And still no one has bothered to inform you how the Deputy is doing.


There is a phenomenon that occurs in these types of situations. The Deputies and emergency responders on the scene shift into a kind of automation. They know what to do and they are doing it, but for some reason they believe that the dispatchers, perhaps because they are not physically on scene don't need to know exactly what is going on. Because the men and women on the scene can see with there own eyes what is happening they become transfixed and loose sight of the fact that somewhere in a dimly lit room there is a person who is as much a part of the incident as any of them.


This, my friends, is stress. So remember next time you key that microphone, it isn't a light bulb turning on, or a car starting up, it's a human being, a friend, a partner and most importantly a vital part of our family.