Frazzled and Frumpy

Sister Chat

2012-01-30T15:07:00.000-08:00

A while ago, I posted about the Pioneer's Woman's advice about blogging.
'Blog like you're talking to your sister.'
I did it then, and thought I'd do that today, as I'm having a hard time focusing my thoughts. Here's what I would chat with them about.

How was your weekend? I'd ask.
Mine was good. We got the Handy Man's car fixed after 3 weeks without it. Guess what? It was free. Yes, I realize if we'd taken it in when it first broke down, I wouldn't have had 3 weeks of torture/cabin fever. Let's not dwell on that.
Also, I got a free massage on Saturday. (I swapped babysitting with my friend. She thinks she's getting a good deal. I'm pretty sure I'm getting the better end.) It was heaven. Ninety minutes of pure heaven. Seriously, I think I heard angels singing. (If you live in Utah and would like some heaven, give Brigette a call.) (She didn't pay me to say such things, just thought I'd share. Nobody gets too much heaven no more.)

Then, I'd ask how their church was on Sunday.
Me? I stayed home. Don't give me that look. I slept wrong and my pinched nerve in my shoulder made lifting my arm impossible. I could've gotten through church, but I couldn't do my hair. No way was I going to church with bed-head.

I wouldn't ask Heidi or Ellen about today, since they both work. Mondays aren't so much fun when you're a working girl. Ellen teaches jr. high, which means she's a saint. Also, she coaches the girls basketball team. She's awesome.
Heidi runs the cafeteria at a jr high (not the one Ellen teaches at, but wouldn't that be cool?). She's an amazing cook and those kids are lucky. Also, she's like the coolest lunch lady in history- even with a hair net. When I grow up, I want to be like her.
I would ask Sarah about her day. She has little kids and stays home, so Mondays aren't so bad. I'd tell her that she should've gone with me to DI, because I got another purse there. =0)

Last, I'd tell my sisters that we definitely need to plan our girls weekend for this summer and a girls night- soon!

(Does it look like I was trying to set a record for the most parenthesis used in one post?)

*Hey, I'm having a giveaway later this week, so stay tuned!*

Give Me Just a Minute..

2012-01-29T18:18:00.000-08:00

Haven't been on my computer in a couple days. Guess what? The world kept on spinning!
Now, I'm playing catch-up on my email and blogs. This may take a while.
Happy Sunday.

It's Just a Game

2012-01-26T13:46:00.000-08:00

I grew up watching sports. Not on TV, I watched my dad as he played in both city and church leagues. I have many fond memories of watching him and his friends as they ran up and down the court, their shoes squeaking on the shiny wood floor, and the scent of sweat and peppermint gum. Later, I watched my sisters and brothers play in high school and college. (The athletic gene seemed to skip right over me.) From my dad, I learned to appreciate sports. I also learned how to be a very vocal supporter. Most importantly, he taught all of us about being a good sport.

No matter what the result, win or lose, you congratulate you opponent. You don't throw a fit. After all, it is just a game.

This week, the San Francisco 49er's lost to the New York Giants in the NFC Championship game. (I know this because I live in a house filled with males and testosterone. Not because I'm a football fan.) After the game, Kenny Williams, the wide receiver and kick returner for the 49ers, received several death threats for two big mistakes during the game.

Wait. What? Death threats?

What happened to good, old-fashioned sportsmanship?

We have parents who get in fights over soccer games, coaches who stoop to abuse as motivation, and NBA players who live with the greatest sense of entitlement known to man. Don't get me wrong, I think sports are important. Competition is good, and learning to play sports develops our kids bodies and minds. But, we're doing them a huge disservice by putting athletes on these pedestals, by paying them inordinate amounts of money and letting the result of their games boil over and effect our lives long after the television is turned off.

Our kids need to learn that a game is a game. While we work hard to learn our sport, spend time practicing and always do our best, sometimes we mess us and sometimes we will lose- and that's okay. If we do lose, then we congratulate the team who beat us. We don't make excuses, or say lousy things about them, or get into fights.

I've seen enough 8 year-old ball hogs to know that we aren't teaching them enough about the 'team mentality'. Isn't playing a team sport all about letting everyone be involved? What fun is it for the kid who just runs up and down the field, never getting the chance to even touch the ball? They need to learn loyalty to the team they play with, not that you jump ship as soon as you feel you aren't getting the attention or the amount of wins you want. Sport is about more than winning. It's about learning to play together, cooperating, and most of all having fun. Death threats are not fun.

For about 99% of our kids, their sports careers will end once they're out of school. But, whether they go on to be coaches or lawyers or anything, learning good sportsmanship will help them their entire lives.

Be a Friend

2012-01-24T21:26:00.000-08:00

This is our elliptical. We bought him last year in a fit of fitness rage. I was determined that having him here in our house would spur me on to greater things, and a lesser body.

Recently I told my family that Daniel is lonely. (I hadn't actually named him before this. Daniel was the first name that came to mind.) I told them that we all need to spend more time with him. His self-esteem is surely suffering. He has a purpose and we aren't allowing him to fulfill it. He's just standing there waiting for us to pay him a little attention. He's patient, and a bit dusty.

My daughter, Sadie, has taken him under her wing. She's been spending quality time with him every day. She watches Netflix on her phone while she sweats away. Never interested in being a cheerleader at school, she's become our own personal pep squad. "Rah, Rah, get your butt off the couch!"

I'm the worst offender. Poor Daniel must feel so unloved as I pass by him several times a day. I hardly give him a second glance. It's guilt, really. I know I should be waking up early to we can have some one on one time. I like him, I do. I mean, I don't really love to exercise, but if I'm going to do it, I prefer his type. He's easy on my plantar faciitis and works my hips like crazy.

My new goal is to be a better friend to Daniel. As much as I love my bed and staying cozy and warm as long as possible in the mornings, I will sacrifice to make him feel better about himself. And, hopefully, helping his self-esteem will also build mine.

Happy Random Holiday-Day

2012-01-21T18:46:00.000-08:00

I've discovered that I miss out on a lot of holidays.

Did you know it's California Dried Plum Digestive Month?

Seriously.

I need to go buy some dried plums.

Today is Fancy Rat and Mouse Day.

Also National Hugging Day.

Thankfully, not National Hugging Fancy Rats and Mice Day.

I'd have to abstain.

(Did you even know they have an organization for fancy rats and mice?)

check it out here.

This week is National Fresh Squeezed Juice Week.

I'm fresh, the Handy Man squeezed me and I drank juice.

Nailed it.

It's Bald Eagle Appreciation Day.

Here you go-

Appreciate me!

Did you know that when you see eagle on tv

and they make that cool screech, it isn't an eagle?

It's a hawk.

Eagles chirp.

Not very majestic.

Also, today is the end of

Healthy Weight Week.

Dang! I missed it.

Guess I'll try for next year.

There's No Place Like Home

2012-01-20T20:43:00.000-08:00

(image from justbringthechocolate.com)

I've been without a car for two weeks now. The pile of junk that's been masquerading as my husband's car has become feeble and weak, like an old man, coughing, shaking and sputtering. We drive it the four blocks to church, but that's as far as I trust it. Mostly because we could walk if it died altogether.

This has led to my unwilling confinement. The walls of my home have steadily moved inward until I feel like I'm living in a closet. The noises that are a normal part of our everyday routine are louder, bouncing off the ceiling and echoing in my head. It's not that I have so many places to go, but it's nice to have the option, especially when the diet Coke craving raises its ugly head.

It makes me sad, to feel so dissatisfied and impatient with our home. I love it. We've been here for five and a half blessed years. Our search for this house didn't take long. All of the powers of the universe aligned so that our old house sold and we found this one in the same week. I knew as soon as I walked in that this was ours. Not because of any specific aesthetics, there are no curved staircases or grand, sprawling rooms. I didn't know what it was at the time. How I knew was that I cried. I entered the kitchen and a lump grew in my throat. This was my kitchen. We had prayed and prayed for guidance in finding our new home, and now I knew.

What I didn't know was that the home we chose was much more than the building that houses our furniture. This is our home because of the spirit that we try to fill it with. A place of safety and security. Whatever the world may throw at us, we always have a place. In addition, what we needed, were the people who live in the houses around us. As much as bedrooms and bathrooms (3 of them, which, I must say, is fabulous!) was a neighborhood and a ward (church congregation) filled with people who would help mold my children's lives.

The infinite power of home has become more real to me lately. Just a couple weeks ago, Adam, our oldest was home for Christmas. It was so nice having him here for more than just a weekend. (He started at Job Corps in September.) He made a comment, almost casually, that he hated it at Job Corps and hated that he had to go back. I explained that he didn't have to, no one would force him. In a rare moment of grown-up maturity, he said he was going to finish so he could get his diploma. He made me proud.

He came home again the next weekend. After a couple days of tension and general not-getting-along, we drove him back. We've done this many times, but this night was different. I knew he wasn't happy and I knew he didn't want to go. I hugged him and got in the car. Watching his back as he walked away, my heart was lead, so heavy it hurt my chest. Something about his retreating form brought me to tears. I cried all the way home.

Home. This is the place we've created for our children to be happy and strong. It isn't perfect and it isn't grand. But it is our haven. And, like many times in my mothering life, I knew. I knew that my son needed to be home. I wrote him a letter. I told him that it was his choice, but that this was his home and there may not be much space, but there would always be a place for him. He was always wanted and welcome here.

The Handy Man picked him up on Friday for another weekend visit. His first words to me were, "Can I stay home? For good?" Of course. If home is nothing else, it is an open door. It is arms wide, welcoming and accepting. It is the knowledge that here you are loved and here you are secure.

So, the walls may be closing in, but they are our walls. The space is small, but it's our space. Our home.

The Abyss

2012-01-18T20:58:00.000-08:00

(astro.ucla.edu)

A black hole. Just a great big space where ideas are sucked up and disappear. That’s my head right now. Something will spark at the edge of my brain and when I attempt to grab it, it slips away, like so much mercury in my fingertips.

I’ve had a couple people ask me in the last day or two, if I blog every day. No, I told them. I did in November and December, but this month I’m cutting back.

Now I’m sitting here without a thought in my head. (All right, I have thoughts, but they aren’t about blogging. They’re things like- where did all my scissors go? And-will the chicken get done in time to make dinner? And-why doesn’t anyone fold that laundry?) Blogging every day was difficult and sometimes stressful. My husband asked if it was worth it- the anxiety. But, it was. My writing improved and ideas came ~~every single~~ almost every day.

So, I’ve decided I’m going back to the everyday-blogging. I need it to keep me going. And, maybe a little stress is good for me.

Do you blog every day? Whether you do or not, where do you get your inspiration?

Blame it On Technology

2012-01-16T08:43:00.000-08:00

We're having internet issues. Don't ask me to explain. When I say 'technical difficulties', I mean ones that live in my limited brain. I'd like to say I'm too old to understand all this advanced, high-tech, automation, but Bill Gates is 11 years older than me. I might blame him for coming up with all this stuff. I guess I could blame it on not taking that computer class in high school. Hey, I'd taken typing and excelled at it, why would I need to learn about these computer things? I didn't plan on working in an office, where else would I use one?

Right now, I'm using the internet-sharing feature of my new phone. Pretty cool, except it's giving me anxiety. I only have like 5 G's or MB's or some other ABC's of data and I have absolutely NO IDEA what that means. Will using the internet sharing for 30 minutes suck up all my data? If I do use it up, how much will it cost me the next time I check facebook while I'm at church? (I don't really do that, tho' I know people who do.) I'm trying to post as quick as I can, but those bookmarks at the top of my page are calling my name. The blogs I normally read every day- I know they've posted and dang if I haven't been able to read or comment on them. I'm sure my email inbox is full as well.

To use data or not. It's just too much for my technologically challenged mind.

2012-01-15T12:59:00.000-08:00

We are experiencing technical difficulties. Please stand by...

Book Review- 'Why Women Need Fat'

2012-01-12T08:22:00.000-08:00

(This is a paid review for BlogHer Book Club, but the opinions expressed are my own.)

When you’re brought up thinking one way, it can be very difficult to change that way of thinking. This was my dilemma as I began reading ‘Why Women Need Fat’. The authors presented a new, (and a bit radical), idea about the way we eat. Basically, it's that the oils we’ve been using, that are touted as ‘good for us’, are making us fat. This was a hard pill to swallow. We all hear daily about trans fats and cholesterol and how we must use vegetable oil or soybean oil to keep those dangers at bay. The book presents lots of scientific evidence to show that this isn't true. (And, I'll admit, I had a hard time getting through some of the chapters that were so filled with this evidence.)

The authors, Dr. Lassek (a physician) and Dr. Gaulin (an anthropologist), have found that women today are much heavier than their counterparts of the 1960’s. Look at a photo of your mom or grandmother at the same age you are now. Is she thinner than you? Mine are, both of them. According to the book, this isn’t an unexplainable event. It’s a result of how we eat, most especially the oils that we use. We've gotten away from the animal fats we used to use and this change in our diets has led us to be fatter.

I liked the way the doctors explained why we as women need fat, why our body shapes are so different than men’s and why men find our shapely figures attractive. I also felt a bit empowered with the knowledge that my hips and thighs are supposed to be heavier, and that the weight I gained after having kids was natural. I struggled though, when they said that we have a 'set' point for our weight, and if you're heavy, you're set point is higher. I honestly felt like they were telling me that I'm stuck where I am and even if I changed to the 'natural diet' they were touting, my weight loss would be minimal.

I started this book thinking it would be more like, ‘Why Women Need to be Fat’, but that wasn't the case. It did give me some food for thought about how I eat.

If you're interested in learning about how our diets have changed, and in eating a more natural diet, I would recommend this book.

You can learn more about the book and join the discussion here on BlogHer.

Balancing Act

2012-01-11T12:33:00.000-08:00

There's been a lot of talk about resolutions lately, have you noticed? I swear the only thing on TV more than political-crap is diet-crap. I'm feeling a bit bombarded with the pressure to 'make some goals' and 'find areas that need changing'. Well, I'm not doing it! There, that's my 2012 decision. I'm not making resolutions this year. Shocking, I know.
What I am going to do is pick a word. (Yeah, not a very original idea. But, my idea to not make resolutions, that's revolutionary, right? No? Whatever.) Any-way. I gave this a lot of thought. And I finally came up with my word.

Balance.

This is the year of balance- in my home, in my head, with my body and my spirit. I will be seeking equilibrium everyday.

With this in mind, I'm re-posting something I wrote last April. It's one of those things that I need to be reminded of more often. It helps me remember that to balance my body image, I have to start from within.

Ephiphany
This week, I had an epiphany, or as Oprah would say, an 'aha' moment. It didn't really happen all at once. I'd had several days of reading and hearing things that came together like one beautiful puzzle. The pieces fell into place and I could suddenly see the whole picture.
I know, I know, get on with it. Ok, here it is in a nutshell, or to be more exact, in a quote from C.S. Lewis.

"You don't have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body."

I am a soul, or a spirit. And, as a spirit, I am eternal and glorious. I was given a body to house that spirit, and, someday, my body will be as eternal and glorious as the celestial soul it encompasses.

Now, wait. You may be thinking, 'Didn't you learn this in Primary?' Yes, I did. And, I have taught this truth many times to my children and to many Primary and Young Women classes. I know it, but I didn't know it.

Here's what happened.

I've been pondering body image alot, because mine has always been so poor. As a mom, I hate to see my children also developing these inferior feelings. So, I've been hoping to figure out a way to feel better about my clearly imperfect temple. In answer to these unuttered prayers, I was sent several different sources which helped me understand.

If Satan had a 'hit list' of the things he attacks, we could agree that the family is at the top. Well, I believe that our bodies run a close second. Why? A couple reasons.

First- he doesn't have one. He's quite the jealous type, you know. Our bodies are something he will NEVER have. Man, that has got to tick him off. And, if you can't have something, and you're basically a hot-head, you don't want those who do have that something to enjoy it. You'd like nothing more than for them to dislike or even despise it. You'd want them to think badly about it, to abuse it, to put it down and try all kinds of drastic means to change it. You'd use drugs, alcohol, sex, tattoos, piercings, plastic surgery, food and peer
pressure to get people to destroy their temples. And, if you have the media to help you, all the better.

Second- our bodies have power. We have the power to create. We can create art and literature, buildings, technology, really, the possibilities are endless. Most importantly, we can create life. Living, breathing human temples to house more glorious spirits. And, through that, we create families. Which brings us right back to number one on his hit list. He can't create anything, except turmoil, which doesn't really count.

I am a soul. I have a body. I am choosing to love this body, faults and all. I pledge to care for it and give it the respect it deserves. It may not be glorious, yet, but it has the potential and the promise that someday it will be.

Daydream Believer

2012-01-10T09:25:00.000-08:00

(My post this morning was inspired by Masked Mom and her posts about Laura Ingalls Wilder.)

My second grade teacher wrote on one of my report cards- "Julie is a good student, but she's a daydreamer."
It's true. My childhood was spent in imagination. What my own world didn't give me, books did. I read voraciously and then lived those stories in my mind.

In the fifth grade, we lived 'in the country' in Idaho. Miles out of town, the homes were separated by fields that would've easily supported football teams. Friends lived far away. Our house was a quaint two-story surrounded by land and behind it was the greatest back yard I could have dreamed of. There were empty ram-shackle buildings,(Which we were forbidden to enter-of course, we did. Sorry, Mom.) and trees, both standing and fallen, all the greatest playground for a girl who lived in her head.

That year, our class read 'Island of the Blue Dolphins'. A book about a girl who'd been left alone to fend for herself, learning survival skills and making friends with animals. I devoured that book. Then, I spent hours in the fields behind our home acting out my own version of the story. I was Karana. My island wasn't as tropical as hers, but it didn't matter. I could see the cliffs and smell the spray of the ocean. I pretended to use sticks as my 'bone comb', gathered leaves and 'hunted' for food.

Over my growing up years, I became other characters, like Laura Ingalls and even Hellen Keller. I read every day, long before it was a requirement for school. That, plus the time I spent alone, either playing out stories, or living them in my head, was my pathway for becoming a writer.

Now, I worry for our kids. My baby dolls didn't cry or move. My stuffed animals didn't crawl across the floor and our Battleship game was silent. I look at my children and hope they'll develop their imaginations. With all of the stimulation we provide them, I'm afraid they don't have the need to pretend. In this time of technology, reading may be the last of the imaginary activities available.

Imagination is a precious commodity. It teaches them to dream. If they can see themselves as Harry Potter or Eragon, then perhaps they can see themselves as a teacher or a doctor or a parent. Imagination gives us hope, it's an avenue to setting and achieving goals. Our children need to read so they can learn to imagine. So they can learn to dream.

Today, I still daydream. It's how I write. Time alone with my thoughts, while exercising or driving, or lying in bed at night, that's when my stories develop. I'm grateful for parents who didn't squash my flighty tendencies. And teachers who encouraged my love for reading and all things pretend. My children may not become writers, that's okay. I hope, though, that they are pretenders and dreamers, that they will believe that they can be whatever they can imagine.

A Mother's Plea

2012-01-09T19:21:00.000-08:00

Day 2 of a killer headache and now nauseous. Please, please, don't let it be the flu.
Back tomorrow- I hope.

Six Word Fridays- Looking Forward

2012-01-06T18:09:00.000-08:00

Looking with faith at a year,

Filled with the possibility of gladness.

Put fear aside, hold onto hope,

Take a step forward and fly.

P.S. I 'borrowed' an idea I found about taking a picture a day for a year. I added the page at the top of my blog. It's mostly for me, an interesting way to record my year. Stop by if you'd like.

Happy 5th to My Baby

2012-01-04T19:58:00.000-08:00

He doesn't like it when I call him my baby. He doesn't understand I'm not calling him a baby. But, he will always be my baby.

He arrived at a time when most mothers are planning graduations and even weddings. He arrived and soothed my frazzled nerves. He slept well, ate well. His was a life of calm and relaxation. He allowed me to stop and cherish moments. With six older siblings, somehow he knew what I needed and handed it to me on a soft pillow of baby love.

Sleeping with his buddy, Patrick.

Since then, he's been my almost constant companion. We spend our days together, running errands, playing and whatever else comes up. And interspersed are his frequent hugs and kisses. He is a lovey boy.

Someday, I will miss this time with him. This I know. He is already branching out, wanting to spread his little wings. And, I'll let him go, when I must. For now, he is my boy, my youngest and forever and ever- my baby.

Having a birthday breakfast.

Let Me Introduce You

2012-01-03T16:33:00.000-08:00

to my new phone.

Her name is Delilah. Because she's a temptress. And, she knows my weakness. We met a few days ago on the internet while I was 'just looking'. She spoke to me.

"Hello, Jewels. I am your new phone."

Oh, no, I don't need a new phone. I'm just looking.

"Well, look a little closer. See how pretty I am? I'm white and new."

Yes, but my old phone works fine.

"But, it doesn't have all the technology that I have. I'm a 4G. G is for gorgeous. With me you could check facebook and email. And you can check your blog for comments any time of day."

Um..that's ok. I'll just keep this one.

"Really, Jewels. You know you want me. I have a touch screen. You want to touch my screen, don't you?"

Yes, yes I do. But, what about my old phone?

"Give it to the Handy Man. He'll love having your cast-offs."

But my old phone is pink.

"Oh, he won't care. Take another look. I have a camera and music, you can listen to music. Come on Jewels. Just one click."

I don't know.....

When she arrived today, I was making dinner. It took all the willpower I own (which isn't much) not to holler, "Cereal for dinner!" and run to my room for some girl-time. Even her box was cute.
One of the reasons I gave in was because I have 14 days to return her if I choose. The Handy Man thinks this is what's going to happen. I've thought about it, but Delilah is trying to convince me otherwise.

"You want me. You need me. You aren't letting me go."

She's right, of course. Dang temptress.

A Future Filled with Faith

2012-01-01T19:57:00.000-08:00

"The past is to be learned from, but not lived in. We look back to claim the embers from glowing experiences but not the ashes. And when we have learned what we need to learn and have brought with us the best that we have experienced, then we look ahead and remember that faith is always pointed toward the future. Faith always has to do with blessings and truths and events that will yet be efficacious in our lives." -Elder Jeffrey R. Holland 'The Best is Yet to Be'

Happy New Year

My Un-Bucket List

2011-12-31T16:10:00.000-08:00

"Carter and I saw the world together. Which is amazing. When you think that only 3 months ago, we were complete strangers. I hope that it doesn't sound selfish of me, but... the last months of his life were the best months of mine. He saved my life... and he knew it before I did." -The Bucket List

Love that movie. I don't have a bucket list, tho' I guess I do in my head. There are things I hope to do. But, as I was watching Tom Hanks on David Letterman last night, I realized I have a 'un-bucket' list. Tom was talking about being in Germany and driving the autobahn. I don't even like driving much. Driving fast? No thanks. There are other things I hear people talk about wanting to do that just don't appeal to me. Such as-

Sky diving. I don't know what would happen if you vomit while free-falling at 120mph, but I really don't want to find out.

Climbing Mount Everest. Thousands of dollars, months of preparation to make a climb that might kill you- and at the end you can't even see anything but clouds. Not for me. I've heard someone say they climbed it because it was there. That's my philosophy about cookies.

Swimming with sharks. Really, people? I've already discussed my feelings about large ocean-life. Add rows of teeth and a taste for blood and I'll have to pass.

Meeting someone famous. I don't get this one. What would you say? "Uh, hi. I'm your biggest fan." OK, Annie Wilkes, let me introduce you to my security. There are lots of people I'd like to meet, most of them aren't all that famous.

Eating exotic foods. I've never even eaten sushi, can't bring myself to. So, eating rocky mountain oysters or goat's head won't be on my menu.

What things do you NOT want to do?

One Word Wednesday- Delight

2011-12-28T21:00:00.000-08:00

December in our Den

2011-12-27T19:41:00.000-08:00

cody-wyoming-network.com

I lumbered into December heavily this year. A big, fat momma bear, burdened with the care and keeping of her cubs.

We moved slowly through the month, reveling in the light displays, the scents and sounds of the season. Talk of gifts and all the excitement kept the cubs rolling and wrestling with anticipation and each other.

Then, one day, I looked out to find our world wrapped in grey. The mountains had mysteriously disappeared along with my cheer. I tried and tried to keep the inversion at bay. This miserable lead stripe that colors our horizon and buries us in depressing fog. The pollutant threatened to squeeze its way into our home.

Discouragement is as thick and gunky as they come, though it has the peculiar ability to slide into small, unprotected spaces. I threw my hide to the doors, attempting to block it out. There is no room for you here, I explained. The desire to protect my young from the cold that has nothing to do with Utah winters was overwhelming. I do not expect them to see in me a perfect mother, but I do strive to instill opitimism whenever possible.

Just in time, a storm. Blessed snow that scrubbed and chased the inversion from our atmosphere. It left behind very little to show, our white Christmas would be patchy at best. But, the skies were a clear and crisp cerulean that carried on for miles. For me, some hope- in the way of stories, emails and encouraging talks- did the same thing. My air was clear and I could breath again.

Finally, the end was in sight. I hunted, I gathered, I cooked and wrapped. The cubs played and wished and ate and were tucked into their beds with visions of technological sugarplums dancing through their dreams.

Christmas arrived with a bounty. Who said this wouldn't be enough? Simple is king. There were smiles and squeals and happy cubs all around.

When the merriment abated, I made my way slowly to my den. Buried in soft warmth, with papa bear beside me, I slept. For hours and hours. Sweet, relaxed hibernation.

Now, we wait for spring.

A Christmas Gift

2011-12-25T15:13:00.000-08:00

One Star

Millions of people,

The heavens filled with stars.

Multitudes of angels,

Buildings near and far.

One silent stable,

One messenger so bright,

One star is blazing,

One baby born this night.

One manger holds him,

One mother softly sings,

All hearts enfold him,

And the promise that he brings.

One night among many,

When faithful knees would bend,

For our one perfect Savior,

One hope, without end.

(-Jewels 2008)

Merry Christmas

The Gift of Music

2011-12-24T12:04:00.000-08:00

Happy Christmas Eve.

The Wonder of Friendship

2011-12-23T09:20:00.000-08:00

Sadie and her BFF

My kids have good friends. I love my them. For example, there's D. Now, to understand, D. has two parents and her Japanese mother is the least strict of the two. Their house is orderly and always, always clean. They have 3 very well-behaved children, who play instruments and attend 'advanced' classes. So, when D. showed up at our front door, mere minutes ago, I cringed a little. Today is our 'cleaning-up-before-the-big-guy-in-red-arrives' day, but we're all a little slow on the get-go. I've been on my laptop and the wii is heating up. In other words, my house is a mess.
I invited D. up to the girls' room to wake them, kicking dirty clothes out of the way as I smiled. "Don't look in the boy's room" I mentally encouraged. She didn't flinch or look around in disgust. She simply stepped over the chaos in the girls' room to rouse them from their wintery slumber. She's such a good girl. (Plus, she calls me Mom, that endears me to any child.)
I'm grateful my kids have good friends. Not just that they ignore the mess that is our home, but that they love my children unconditionally. My kids aren't perfect. A couple of them are sort of, well, nerds. But, they have friends who have the same values and who make them laugh. There isn't much better than to hear my 17 year-old's belly laugh. Really.
I have good friends, too. Ones that ignore the mess that is my life. They take me for who I am, when even I have a hard time doing that. I often look in the mirror and wonder why they love me. I know it's because they don't judge me by my outer shell and somehow, see something inside.
Today, I'll be spending the day with my three best friends. The ones who've been with me from the start. My sisters know me better than anyone. They've seen me at my best and at my very worst. (They've seen me give birth, for heaven's sake.) We have a shared history that only we understand. A simple word or phrase can send us into laughter or bring us to tears. It has taken time for us to get here, to a place where we are all bosom buddies. Our lives are different, for sure. But here we are. In an emergency, theirs is the number I would call. I know I can depend on them. and, I know they love me. Is there anything more wonderful?

Heidi, Ellen and me.

"When sisters stand shoulder to shoulder- who has a chance against us?" -Pam Brown

One Word Wednesday- Vintage

2011-12-21T15:42:00.000-08:00

(1965)
The year before I was born. Can you say 'spoiled first child'?

(1975)
My 'baby' brother, Marc, Me, my sister, Heidi, aka- spoiled one.
(Love you, Heidi!)

(1969)
My dad helping me check out my stocking.

The Gift of Someone Looking Out for You

2011-12-20T20:34:00.000-08:00

Noah found it completely unacceptable that I didn't have a

Christmas list.

So, he made one for me.

Slippers, because, as the Handy Man pointed out,

I wear mine everywhere, so they don't last long.

MP3, that one could also be a smart phone-

because my phone is dumb.

Barbie? That was Sadie's idea.

She thought Ms. frumpy might like a friend.

But, since a new Barbie would be coiffed,

and have store-bought clothes,

I don't think Ms. frumpy would like her much.

The Gift of Parenthood

2011-12-19T22:11:00.000-08:00

I've been watching my dvr-ed episode of Parenthood. I have a love/hate relationship with this show. All the conflict gives me gas. No really. I only watch it on my dvr so I can fast forward through the fights. Why must you argue with each other? Can't we all just get along?
I do love that there is an autistic boy, tho' he seems to have every single affect of the disorder, which is odd. This particular episode, Max (the autistic boy) goes off by himself and gets lost. I had anxiety just watching it. Honestly, I need to go get a Tums.

Often, when I tell someone how many kids I have, they get this look. Like I've done something amazing. Hey, I'm fertile. That doesn't make me a good mom. I don't think I have any more experience than other moms. I might have more experiences, but only because I have more kids. Parenthood is a learning process and we all have our own curriculum. What helps me may not help you. I recently saw an article on-line titled, "10 things every mother should know". I didn't read it. If I don't know those things by now, it's probably too late.
If I wrote that kind of list, here's what it might say-

10 Things You Should Know if You Have More than 4 Kids

1-Never take more than one child to the store. For heaven's sake, don't ever take 5. Oh, the looks you'll get. Then you also run the risk of having the cashier ask, "Are those all your kids?" (No, I picked them up in the parking lot.)
2- If you give your 4 and 5 year-olds an adult dose of cough medicine, they'll sleep like babies for hours. Of course, don't do this. It's dangerous. And possibly addictive. To mom. (Seriously, I only did it once and it was a mistake.)
3- Reading to your kids is important. If you read your copy of Twilight aloud to them, it still counts.
4- Those kid-leashes may look awful, but they're much better than losing your kid at Sea World.
5- Buy milk every time you're at a store that sells it. Don't call home to see if you need milk. You do.
6- Sleep any time you can. That includes church. Just lean your head on your hand and close your eyes. The bishop will think you're pondering what's being said. If you can manage to take a kid to the foyer, even better. Those couches are comfy.
7- Chasing toddlers down the street when they run from you counts as exercise. Carrying a diet Coke and not spilling it develops balance.
8- Don't let those 'hollywood moms' get to you. If you had that kind of money, you'd have a nanny and a housekeeper, and could look like a model, too. Or maybe not, but at least you'd have a clean house and someone to take care of the kids while you watch a 'Hoarders' marathon.
9- Playing Michael Jackson-the Experience with your four-year-old is fun. Having your teenagers catch you playing it, not so fun.
10- Don't worry about how your messing up your kids. Those 'perfect parents' you see? Not perfect. They're faking it, just like the rest of us.

Brand new parents.
We had NO idea what we were in for!

The Gift of Hope

2011-12-18T22:14:00.000-08:00

"The things we hope in sustain us in our daily walk. They uphold us through trials, temptations and sorrow. Everyone has experienced discouragement and difficulty. Indeed there are times when the darkness may seem unbearable. It is in these times that the divine principles of the restored gospel can uphold us and carry us until, once again, we walk in the light." -Pres. Dieter F. Uchtdorf

Our house that year was underground. Not part of it, the whole thing. Basement house. (Whose bright idea was that?) My dad had lost his job over the summer and we moved into the tiny home just before my sophomore year began. I won't go into all the details of the house, but suffice it to say it was dreadful.

School began and soon the holidays approached. No amount of poverty could hold the season at bay. I have no idea how my parents got through that time. Now, as a 'grown-up' myself, I better understand the stresses they must have struggled to shoulder. I was 15 so I wasn't ignorant to our plight. But, honestly, I have very fond memories of that year. I remember making treats to deliver anonymously. Mom's fudge and divinity and cream candy. We worked in our small kitchen, filling the whole house with wonderful smells. My sisters and I made homemade gifts for our friends. We joked and teased and laughed. And Christmas eve, we read the story from the Bible and sang Christmas songs while sitting in the soft glow of our Christmas tree lights.

I'd love to say that Christmas morning brought a huge surprise and our house was filled with presents. Not so. I received one gift, a pair of church shoes that I'd picked out a week before. My heart aches for my parents and how hard that morning must have been. What I didn't know at the time is that my parents gave me a much greater gift that year. That Christmas season, they gave me the gift of hope.

Through their struggles and trials, they never gave up. They made family time important. They taught us by example that it isn't about what's under the tree. It's about the baby who was born and the hope He brought to the world.
Our circumstances are usually not what we want. Really, do you know anyone who considers their own life perfect? Life is hard. Money, health issues, teenagers, war, politics- there are so many things to weigh us down. What can lift us up is the knowledge that there is something better. That someday, whether in this life or the next, we will have peace. If we believe this and do all we can to find joy, here and now, then hope will prevail.

"Now the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, that ye may abound in hope, through the power of the Holy Ghost." Romans 15:13

Read Pres. Uchtdorf's talk 'The Infinite Power of Hope'.

The Gift of Brothers

2011-12-15T21:49:00.000-08:00

Today,I went to pick up my oldest son, Adam, from Job Corps. It's only 5 minutes away, but miles and miles from the restrictions and schedules of life at home. He's on his own, making decisions that I have no say in. (He keeps reminding me.)

I brought Noah with me to pick him up. Of all my children, Noah misses him most. We drove into the parking lot, watching the line of 'grown-up' children loaded down with their belongings. I saw Adam in line and walked toward him. He saw us and called to Noah. "Look," I bent down and pointed to his brother. Suddenly, his four-year-old legs took off running. He ignored the snow on the ground, making a beeline for his brother.

"Adam! Adam!" he yelled as he ran. When he got close, Adam bent his 6 foot 4 inch frame to scoop him up in his arms.

I resisted the urge to sit in the snow and cry.

I never expected my children to always get along. I come from a family of 7 myself, so I know. And, I also realize that someday they'll be adults and will hopefully enjoy each other's company, like my siblings do. For now, it can be hard to see them argue and pick on each other.

Moments like today make it all worthwhile.

A Random Gift

2011-12-14T21:22:00.000-08:00

Wow. What a week. I was awarded the 'Most Versatile Blog' award-twice. I'm honored. I'd like to thank the academy, wait, wrong award. I do appreciate the two bloggers who gifted this to me.

First was Gillian at The Greener Bean. I found her on last month's NaBloPoMo. She's young and cute and lives in New York City. Sort of my polar opposite. I find her and her life completely fascinating.

Next came the award from Shelby at Every Little Blessing. I first visited her blog because she was offering to answer photography questions. I keep visiting because she's an awesome writer.

The rules for the award are as follows-

Thank the person who gave you the award and link back to their blog.
Share 7 random things about yourself.
Nominate 15 fellow bloggers for the award.
Add the award badge to your post.

Now, I have two small problems with these rules. First, I've shared a lot of random things about myself lately. That, and the fact that I blog means I'm sort of an open book. I've been wracking my brain all day for something interesting to tell. I got nothin'. So, I decided to share some things that long-time readers may already know. If you've been with me a while, then let's see how many times you nod your head and say, 'yep, knew that'.

1- I'm a terrible singer. And I'm not just being modest. I'm awful. I was generous enough to pass this trait on to my children. When we all sing together, it's laughable.
2-I've never broken a bone.
3-I worked for the CIA for about a year. I'd tell you what I did, but then I'd have to kill you. Just kidding. I was a Russian interpreter. Ha. Not really. It was sign language- American Sign Language.
4- I've written two books. One will sit on my shelf forever. The other I'm trying to get published. It's a YA fantasy novel.
5- I don't like melons. Not even watermelon. And watermelon-flavored products? Gross.
6- I live in Utah, but I don't ski. I went once as a teenager and hated it. I refuse to go again.
7- I'm not superstitious. But, if I break a bone in the next week, I might change my mind.

Now, the second problem. I'm supposed to nominate 15 blogs. Honestly, I don't have that many to nominate. Most of the ones I read already have this award- because I only read award-winning blogs. And, I'm all about breaking the rules. Ok, I'm not. Breaking the rules makes me nervous.
So, instead, I'm nominating my new favorite blog. Judy at Life...Minute by Minute. She gets the award because we're kindred spirits. Every time I read her blog, I get the chills because we have so much in common. And, because she's a great writer and deserves to be award-winning.

Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?

2011-12-13T18:36:00.000-08:00

I'm glad I didn't grow up in the technological age that my kids are in. Oh, not that I wouldn't have loved facebook- being able to share all my teenage angst with the world- heaven. Or cell phones. Texting would've made my conversations so much quicker and easier.
'Did you see Ty today? He wore that velour sweater. He's totally awesome!'
'Can I borrow your hairspray? My bangs are falling.'

No, the thing that would've made my life awful is the movies. I was a big chicken. Once, we saw a Halloween special that highlighted several horror movies. The shower clip from Psycho scared me for months. I literally showered while looking above me the whole time. Hard to shave your legs like that. I saw Jaws in jr. high and commenced to watch for sharks in every pool I swam in. Chicken. With all the cgi stuff they have these days, I probably wouldn't have gone to the movies, not the scary ones anyway.

Nowdays, there are other things that scare me. Rational or not, these are my fears.

Holy crap!
(image from metro.co.uk)

Whales. Especially blue ones. Do you know how big those things are? When I see those pictures of people in kayaks right next to a whale, I start to hyperventilate.
Going up the stairs in the dark. I'm sure someone is going to grab my foot. It takes all my self-control to not look behind me as I ascend. (That's an excellent way to drop a load of laundry.)
Rutger Hauer. I saw the Hitcher when I was in high school. That one didn't need cgi.

Spiders. I saved the worst for last. I cannot say enough about how I feel about these creepy crawlers. You can read some of my sentiments about arachnids here.

What are you afraid of?

The Gift of Faith

2011-12-11T22:39:00.000-08:00

"...I am the light of the world; he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life." -John 8:12

A couple months ago, there was a bit of buzz when a preacher said on television that Momons weren't Christian. This isn't the first time I've heard this, of course. But, today, in church, as we sang Christmas hymns, I wondered again-why? It doesn't offend me. It comes from misunderstanding and maybe fear of the unknown. It does, however, hurt my feelings.

I believe in Christ. I believe that He was born in humble circumstances. That he lived a perfect life. I believe that He atoned for my sins and died on the cross. I believe that He rose on the third day, making it possible for all of us to, someday, do the same.
I have pictures of the Savior in almost every room in my home. On Sundays, I teach the 11 year-old kids. This year, we are studying the New Testament, and while I'm not a scriptorian, and in many cases am learning along with the kids, I believe it is true.

I believe that we are all brothers and sisters and that no matter what our religion, belief is a good thing. Whether your god is Allah or Buddha or Elohim, faith in a higher power gives us strength and focus. Scriptures provide guidance in a world, where, let's face it, we need guidance. Wisdom can come from many sources, the important thing is to pay attention to it and use it to make ourselves better.

Faith is a gift. It is one I am daily trying to bestow on my children. It is my lifeline in times of trouble. It is the light that beckons us to keep moving forward, keep doing good, and never give up.

Six Word Fridays- Make

2011-12-09T17:58:00.000-08:00

After two days of complete relaxation.

No phone, no kids, no laundry.

Enjoyed pool, hot tub and naps.

Wish it was longer, but now...

Making my way back to reality.

The Gift of a Break

2011-12-07T18:03:00.000-08:00

I was feeling sort of weird about all the posts about my anniversary, then I realized this is my blog and I can write about whatever I want. So there. (I didn't mean it. Please don't stop reading!)
Today, in celebration of our 20th, we're leaving the children home and going on a fabulous trip. OK, not really. We are leaving the children home. We're going to a not-so-balmy-but-very-Mexico-sounding destination.
La Quinta.
Here's the thing. When you've been married this long and have more than half a dozen kids, anyplace without kids is a vacation. Throw in a hot tub, and baby, it's a resort. As for posting everyday, you'll excuse me if I miss the next one or two. Yesterday, my daughter said, 'So, you're going to a hotel to watch TV there?' Um, yeah, that's what we're going to do. Watch tv. Take naps. Sit in the hot tub. That's all she needs to know. I'll post all about it when we get back.

Just kidding.

The Salt Lake Temple
-where we were married.

The Gift of a Friend

2011-12-06T21:29:00.000-08:00

The night before our wedding, the Handy Man and I went out for pizza. He dropped me off at my parent's home and went back to our brand new apartment alone (for the last time). I remember the nervous, happy anticipation. How in the world would I sleep? It was like Christmas eve. I woke up the next day and found Santa had filled my wish list a few weeks early. He was all I ever wanted and everything I needed.

When I'd dreamed of who my husband would be, I never imagined that he would be my best friend. There is no one I would rather be with. He loves me for who I am- faults, rolls and all. He supports my goals and encourages me. The days are not always easy, but there is laughter often.

I'm not one for giving advice, but I will tell you three things that have added to our success-
*pray together
*laugh every chance you can
*a lock on the bedroom door

The Gift of Commitment

2011-12-05T21:01:00.000-08:00

7304 days or 177390 hours. That's how long the Handy Man will have been married on Wednesday. Time has flown by. I know we're blessed to still be together with the divorce rate so high. I looked at some Hollywood marriages and the reasons for their demise. Here's a few examples-

Kim Kardashian and Kris Humphries- What does a $10 million dollar wedding get you? 10 weeks. That's a million a week. Probably a bargain compared to what she usually spends.
Kenny Chesney and Renee Zellweger- 4 months. He wrote a song for her, how could that not be forever? They explained the reason for their split as the 'miscommunication of the object of their marriage'. Don't most people know that marriage is for, you know, being married? Kind of a no-brainer.
Shannon Doherty and Chad Hamilton- 5 months. She wore a silk bathrobe to the ceremony. Then, he left her because she threatened him with a pistol. Good argument for not getting married after a 2 week courtship.
Nicolas Cage and Lisa Marie Presley- less than 3 months. Just because you're obsessed with a dead celebrity doesn't mean you should marry his daughter. (Of course, she was also married to Michael Jackson for 18 months. Remember that kiss on tv? Eww.)

You'd think with all their money and stuff that life would be easier for them. Obviously it isn't. I think the stuff is what gets in the way. All the fame and jet-setting takes the focus off what's important- each other. Heaven knows we don't have any of that to distract us. Our secret is spending time together. Has been from the beginning.
10,524,960 minutes. Don't regret a single one.

Our engagement picture.

The Gift of Service

2011-12-04T22:06:00.000-08:00

The Christmas season is my favorite. The lights, the decorations, the music. This year, though, every time I began feeling all jolly, I found myself holding back. Our children are all wrapped up in the excitement and thrill of a promised bounty on Christmas morning. As a parent, the worry and stress over providing that bounty is sometimes overwhelming. I know that Christmas isn't just about gifts. And, I know that my children will survive if they don't get what they asked for. But, still, you want that morning to be magical. So, although, the season is in full swing, I was feeling hesitant to begin celebrating.

Last week, I had the opportunity to do some volunteer service. Our church has a welfare program that helps people when they're having a hard time. Part of that program is the Bishop's Storehouse, where those who've gone to the Bishop (leader of our congregation) and gotten a food order, can get their food. I spent the day stocking shelves, cleaning and helping patrons. It was a slow day, so there was some time to sit and listen to the Christmas music playing in the background. I sat and thought about this Christmas time. Something about putting your own needs aside and focusing on others puts things in perspective. I had the overwhelming feeling that things would be okay. I knew that I needed to have faith in Him whose birth we're celebrating. And I need to celebrate.

Today, we decorated the tree-finally. The kids polished off their wish lists and I bravely read them, smiling and assuring them that they'd made good choices. Tomorrow, we will talk about service and discuss ways that we can help others this month. What better way to celebrate the birth of Jesus than doing as He did. His life and ministry were about serving others. He healed the sick, fed the hungry and raised the dead. He loved unconditionally and cared for those He loved. We will celebrate by serving. That will be our gift to Him.

The Gift of a Challenge

2011-12-03T21:34:00.000-08:00

After a month of posting daily, I was done. Too many nights when I struggled to find something to write about before I could retire to my comfy, warm bed. When I heard that BlogHer is doing NaBloPoMo in December, I thought no way. Then, I thought again. I'm kinda flaky like that.

Thing is, tho' this month has kicked my butt, (why couldn't it have trimmed my butt instead?) I've learned a lot. Two things in particular.

First-reading good writing makes me a better writer. Something about reading quality writing gets my brain in writing mode. Aside from loving all the blogs I've discovered and being wow-ed by these women everyday, they inspire me with their prose.

Second- the more I write, the better I write. We all know, practice makes perfect. I'm not saying my writing is perfect, (so far from it!) but doing it every day has helped me develop my skill. While I know some of my posts were, well, lame, I think some of them were pretty good. (ok, could I have said 'write' any more?)

Soooo, here goes. The theme for this month is gifts and I will try to keep my posts on that theme. I'm up for the challenge. Hopefully you'll join me, and forgive me for the lameness. I'm trying.

(Also, this month is the 20th anniversary of one of the greatest gifts of my life- the day the Handy Man and I were married. I thought as part of this celebration, I'd share some photos of us through the years.)

On a visit to Zion's Nat'l Park while we were dating.

Six Word Fridays- True

2011-12-02T09:18:00.000-08:00

A blustery day left us powerless.

One hundred mile an hour winds.

Now, we pick up the pieces.

Not our fence, for once I'm thankful for chain link.

On the Eve of my Oldest Child's Birthday

2011-11-30T16:24:00.000-08:00

19 years ago, at this very hour, I went into labor for the first time. The contractions were tentative at first, irregular, but definitely more intense than the braxton hicks I'd previously felt. These followed an appointment with my doctor, where he performed what must be recorded in the annals of medieval torture. Stripping of the membranes. Holy white-hot pain! If I hadn't wanted to have my baby so badly, I would've taken my foot out of the stirrup and kicked him in the head.

(On a side note- I've had two OB's, both of them men. I adored them and was completely satisfied by the care they gave me. BUT, every time they said to me, 'This will hurt a little' and then went on to cause pain they couldn't comprehend in an area they don't have, I wanted to flick their ear. Or gouge their eyes with my big toe. Looking back, it may have been more prudent to have a female doctor. *sigh* Live and learn.)

So, my contractions began and the 'plan' was underway. As first-timers, we had thought and over thought every little detail. With our enormous Bag in the car, filled with all sorts of gadgets like tennis balls and popsicles, we left for the hospital. For some reason,we had to stop at my in-laws. I swore my husband to secrecy about the fact that my labor had started. I love my in-laws, but I was dead set against any of them showing up at the hospital.

The next few hours were a blur of pain and exhilaration. I had waited for this day my whole life. From my earliest memory, I had a baby doll. 'House' was my favorite imaginary pastime. Though my goals and aspirations would come and go in life, one thing remained constant- I wanted to be a mother. Now, with our baby on the way, the Handy Man and I were still a week away from our first anniversary. Being married to me meant having children and we hadn't wasted any time.

For a little while, it was fun. A contraction would come and I would breathe through it. Then, we would talk, walk the halls, watch TV, or look out the window at the fresh snow that was drifting down. Around 1am, we called my mom and she arrived. She added a new voice to our conversations and I distinctly remember her crocheting the edge of a blanket while we talked.

As the sun began to rise, the fun ended. The contractions had found some Swarchenegger-type strength. I hee-hee-hoo-ed through one, then cried through the next. Our Lamaze classes had not prepared me for the overwhelming sensations that were coursing through me. (Really, nothing could have.) Our nurse kindly offered a shot. I have no idea what it was. It was supposed to 'take the edge off'. If you take the edge off a knife, apparently it can still rip you to shreds. I was so nervous to tell my cute, young husband- we were still newlyweds, for heaven sake- that I wanted an epidural. Our Lamaze coach had made it sound like it was the basis of all evil and would forever mar our otherwise perfect child. I did it anyway.

"It would just feel so nice not to feel anything."

Thirty minutes later, I found out I was right. By 9am, we were watching Price is Right and joking with my mom. Labor + epidural = heaven.

The next few hours were uneventful. Other than watching television, taking short naps and wondering at the strange sensation of being numb from the waist down, it seemed nothing was happening. The monitor by my bed told another story, the contractions continued and by 4pm, it was time to push. My doctor- a part-time comedian- told me if I wanted to have my baby next year, to keep pushing like I was. (Good thing I couldn't move my foot!) I proved him wrong and after just 20 minutes, Adam made his way into the world. . He was pink and beautiful, and huge! All 10lb. 2oz. of him. We marveled at his head of thick, black hair and his equally thick chest. They whisked him away for testing (stupid meconium!) but soon enough he was back in my arms, nursing like a champ.

He was a perfect baby, who slept well and ate well. Though his is not my only birth story and his perfection didn't last, he is and always will be my first. He was a pioneer in our family, unknowingly taking on that role of practice child who we made the most mistakes with. He has moved out of our home and is 'all grown-up', in his own eyes at least. To me, he will always be my child, the one who came along to help me fulfill my lifelong ambition- he made me a mother.

Thanksgiving Pics

2011-11-29T21:42:00.000-08:00

brother- Marc, sisters- Heidi and Ellen
the cute thing in the corner is Marc's daughter, Danielle.

Jerry (brother-in-law) Dad and Mom w/ Gabrielle.

Noah helping me make rolls.

My first venture into homemade roll making.
Not pretty, but oh, so delicious!

Traditional after-Thanksgiving dinner-
homemade turkey noodle soup. (Sadie made the noodles.)

Secrets of the Blog-Blog Sisterhood

2011-11-28T21:27:00.000-08:00

"It's hard to be responsible, adult and sensible all the time.

How good it is to have a sister

whose heart is as young as your own."-Pam Brown

Me (with tongue) and my older sister, Heidi.

I've posted about my sisters before. They are woven into my life's tapestry in such a way that it would destroy it should I try to take them out. There are many other women in my life whom I consider sisters, who also are entwined in my life. They give my tapestry color and diversity.

I cherish sisterhood. There is strength in women and more so when those women have a bond. Men don't have the same connection. Oh, they can be brothers and friends, but I honestly believe that they cannot have the closeness that women do. We are lucky.

Perhaps it's our nurturing nature. Not necessarily our motherhood, because I've felt it, do feel it, with many women who are not mothers. But, it is something in our capacity to bear children and our tendency to tenderness that pulls our hearts together. We are creators, whether it is children or businesses or homes. We have the desire and drive to make things. Yes, men have this desire, too. But, for women, it is embedded in our DNA, a physical connection to our souls.

This month, as part of NaBloPoMo, I've read many blogs. And, have had mine read by many others. What I have discovered is a new sisterhood. Women who are creating with their words. They make me laugh, cry and think. I leave a comment, they leave one and it's like a pinky promise to be friends. I feel connected to them as I try to share my thoughts in such a way that someone might be enlightened or just entertained. I am grateful for these new sisters of mine. I don't know their faces, sometimes don't know their names, but I am learning to know their hearts. They have good hearts. Now, they are threading their fibers into my tapestry, adding color and life of their own.

Headache=Re-post

2011-11-27T17:42:00.000-08:00

Massive headache. Even the light from my laptop hurts. So, I'm re-posting one of my favorites, hope you don't mind. And, here's hoping someone will remove the vice from my noggin by tomorrow.

Don't Blink

I hurried you along today. You were doing your thing, climbing counters, poking the cake I just made, playing the wii. I was in a hurry.
'Time for school. Let's go.'
I got you dressed, and didn't laugh at your antics.
'We need to hurry.'
You wanted to clean your own face- no time. I did it for you and you grimaced. Once we were ready (finally!) you insisted on going around the block. My shoulders drooped. Fine. I tried to rush you as you got out your scooter.
'Come. On.'
Down the street, I urged you to go faster.
'We'll be late.'
My poky little puppy, you had better things to do. Like inspecting the 'snakes' left all over the sidewalk after yesterday's rain.
'Please don't stop.' when you did just that to make tracks in a nice circle of mud. Standing at the corner, I almost tapped my foot with impatience.
Then, as I watched you push/pull your scooter up the hill, I had a glimpse. A momentary flash of you, just, when was it? Just a moment ago when you were a newborn with your wild brown hair and big blue eyes. I swore I would hold you every minute I could. You were my last and I would cherish every.single.second. And I did.

But, here we are. I blinked and now you're 4. Mr. Independent. You play with friends and ride your bike. You can dress yourself and get your own juice.

If I blink again, you'll be in school- real school. Our days together will end as I send you off on the big yellow bus you can't wait to ride.
Blink* You'll start jr. high- noticing girls, going to Scouts, and spending even more time with friends and less at home with me.
Blink* High school. Dating, driving and the prom. Graduation and jobs.
Blink* We'll fill out mission papers, and then, you'll really be gone.

I stood at the corner and waited. Suddenly patience washed over me. I closed my mouth and opened my eyes and ears. I let you lead. Your pace, poky as it may be, became mine. I watched as you scooted along, noticing flowers, peeking through fences, picking up rocks. The world, so mundane and repetitive to me is oh, so new and adventurous to you.
We were late for school. So not a tragedy. You gave me a quick kiss, then with a thumbs-up and a wave, you strolled to the door.
The sands of time aren't flowing, they're streaming past with jet plane speed. I'll try to stop hurrying it along and heaven knows, I'm trying not to blink.

Random Saturday

2011-11-26T18:54:00.000-08:00

What’s on your mind?

· Does my Barbie avatar look frumpy or pregnant? Because she/I are not pregnant.
· I sometimes wish I actually looked like my avatar. Even if my measurements were 38-12-42.
· Everytime I type ‘actually’, I type acturally, then, I have to fix it.
· If you’re going to be on Price is Right and you bid $1 over someone else, don’t apologize. You’ve given them no chance to win unless they get it on the nose. Own your rudeness. It is a game after all.
· I watch Price is Right. Some days. It lost its appeal when the Handy Man and I went to the show years ago. But, it makes good background noise when I’m blogging. (The stage is really small.)
· I cut my own hair in July. Now I’m stuck in this place where I keep cutting it, because I’m embarrassed to go to a stylist and explain why it’s so incredibly uneven. “I don’t know. I guess it just grows that way.”
· I can’t roll my tongue. As a kid, this was a serious flaw.
· When my husband and I were dating, he gave me a t-shirt he’d gotten from work. Then, one night, I wore it on a date and he wore the same shirt. We were both embarrassed the whole night. I don’t know why I didn’t just change before we left. We swore we would never match again, even when we’re old.
I got on facebook to check on my kids. Now I'm on it more than them.

Six Word Fridays- Thanks

2011-11-25T12:38:00.000-08:00

(Melissa's blog, which I follow, has Six Word Fridays. She gives a topic during the week, then on Friday, gives her six words and encourages anyone who wants to join in. Here's mine for this week.)

Those people who love me unconditionally.

Thanksgiving- lumpy or fluffy?

2011-11-24T11:05:00.000-08:00

Fluffy or lumpy? No, I'm not talking about any of my body parts. Potatoes. That was my biggest decision this morning. How to make the mashed potatoes. My life isn't perfect, some days, not even great. But, today, my only worry was about the spuds. (I'm an Idaho girl at heart.)

Pretty lucky, aren't I? When there are people in the world, our country, maybe even (tho' I really hope not) my neighborhood, who are wondering what they're going to eat today. Or if they will.

I woke up this morning and I was hot. I realized we forgot to turn the furnace down. We have a home, a furnace, beds. I did laundry in an electric washer and dryer. Flush toilets- need I say more?

Later today, we will drive to my mom's house where I'll be surrounded by family and loads of good food. My house is loud and chaotic, but I'm never lonely.

Today, there is so much to be grateful for. I could go on and on. But, I won't. I'll just mention one more, I am thankful for you, my readers. I'm not sure I can tell you how much it means to me that you take the time to stop by. I hope you each have a beautiful, family and food filled day.

(I went with fluffy. )

Danke Shoen, darling, danke shoen

2011-11-23T19:04:00.000-08:00

I'm a sucker for gifts. If you want to get on my good side, anything wrapped in shiny paper will do. Chocolates make me melt and flowers will make me positively giddy. Since I started blogging, I've found that comments have the same effect. It's so nice to know that someone is reading and enjoying what I've written.

Yesterday, I got a lovely gift, like hazelnut wrapped in chocolate ganache. It melted in my mouth and left me with the sweetest surge of serotonin. It was from S. Staus whose blog Periphery has become a part of my daily routine. Her gift was this-

Liebster is a German word that means 'dearest' and it is given to up and coming bloggers with fewer than 200 readers. I've seen it around as I've perused blogs this month, but didn't imagine someone would be so kind as to award it to me. S. has a true knack for blogging and I was surprised to read that she's so new to this world. She can be funny or thoughtful, and her posts always leave me wanting more. About my blog, she said, "whatever her blogs moniker may be, her writing is fresh and funny. I am fascinated by her big family and her ability to keep it all in perspective and remain mostly sane." That's a whole box of chocolates and a bouquet of tulips to boot.

If you receive this award, here is how you continue spreading the love-

1. Show your thanks to the blogger who gave you the award by linking back to them.

2. Reveal your top 5 blogs (with under 200 followers) and let them know by leaving a comment on their blog.

3. Post the award on your blog.

4. Enjoy the love of some of the most supportive people on the Internet.

Here are my top 5:

Last Minute Mommy- Mandy is funny, in that in-your-face kind of way. She'd be the girl that I'd follow around in high school, standing on the edge of her crowd, hoping some of her coolness would rub off on me.

random thoughts from a suburban mom- Karen has a talent for painting her stories with color and texture. She, too, is funny, and I love her irreverent perspectives on motherhood.

Melissa's blog- Melissa's writing is smart and witty. She does this thing called 'Six Word Fridays', and she's so eloquent it totally intimidates me, but I'm going to try this week. (Also, she has a big family and a daughter named Sadie, which means we're kindred spirits.)

Straddling the Bell Curve- I don't know the author's name, but this blog has become a fast favorite for me. She has a son on the Autistic spectrum, so I look at her like a sister who can help guide me through the world of parenting a 'special needs' child. She tells about her children in a way that draws the reader in. I love how she tells the differences and similarities in her two boys.

The Best Stuff- I first found this blog because she had posted about 'Temple day'. I was intrigued, as we Mormons have temples. Turns out, Sarah and I share the same faith. Her posts are at times whimsical and others, spiritual. I admire those who aren't afraid to share their more personal, spiritual side.

So, there they are. I highly recommend you check out these blogs, and while you're at it, leave them a little virtual chocolate. They'll appreciate it as much as I do.

Body Balance

2011-11-22T15:49:00.000-08:00

"Beauty is only skin deep. I think what's really important

is finding a balance of mind, body and spirit." -Jennifer Lopez

I found that quote and was rather surprised that it came from a celebrity. Then again, it's easy to say beauty is only skin deep when your skin looks like Jennifer Lopez. I do like what she says and that is one of the things I'm working on. Like I said in my post before, I'm still struggling with taking it slow, but here goes. My two goals for this week are these-

First, I will listen to my body. For example, when the walnut brownies my kids made call my name (oh, yes, they know my name) I will ignore them. Because I know that eating a palm-sized brownie, while heavenly at first, will result in some serious stomach churning later. And a sugar headache. Do you get a sugar headache? I get lots of headaches, but the sugar-induced kind are especially fierce.

Second, I'm going to start reading this-

-again. I read it a few years ago and lost 15 pounds. Then I fell back into old habits. Me and my bad habits. Such a love/hate relationship- they love me, I hate them. (I am not sponsored by this book, I just believe very strongly in it.) It was given to me by my neighbor who is a nutritionist. It truly is revolutionary.

Also, I'm trying to make note of things I do like about my body. (Often a hard thing to do.) Today, I love my nails. They are thick and strong and grow really well.

What do you like about yourself today?

Where's My Haz-Mat Suit When I Need It?

2011-11-21T13:10:00.000-08:00

I cleaned all three bathrooms today. Two things about that. First, we have 3 bathrooms. I really love that about my house. We lived for 8 years with one bathroom. One. And, I was pregnant 3 ½ times during those 8 years, which means I needed that room a lot.

Second, maybe you don’t think cleaning my bathrooms is a big deal. I am a SAHM, for goodness sake, and my job is cleaning, right? Thing is, one of the bathrooms I cleaned was the downstairs bathroom. The one used exclusively by three boys, ages 17, 12 and 11. You have no idea what that bathroom can look/smell like. I never use that bathroom. I never go in there. I pass by it on my way to do laundry and I try not to even look at it. I see it out of the corner of my eye and hurry past. Kinda like with mirrors in the dark when I was kid. You do know if you look in a mirror in the dark you see that Bloody Mary Lady, right? I never looked. Ev. er. That bathroom strikes the same fear in my heart. But, my oldest is coming home for Thanksgiving and I want the bathroom he’ll use to be nice. (Not because it was when he was here, but he needs to think home is better than away from home. So he’ll visit. Get it?)

So, I donned my lovely purple cleaning gloves and ventured in. (I even bought new cleaning supplies for the occasion. I must recommend Scrubbing Bubbles bath cleaner. Not because they pay me, but because it works and leaves a really nice smell. We need nice smells in there.) I lifted the toilet lid- oh man! I’m not sure how long it’s been since that room has been clean. Yeah, you can judge me, but those boys are old enough to clean their own commode. Problem is, they simply don’t care. And I don’t go in. Not a great combination.

I sprayed and scrubbed. The bath mats are in the wash and the garbage- oh, my. gosh. can you at least empty the garbage?- is emptied. By the time Adam gets here, it’ll look like new. Or at least better. And it smells nice.

I feel I must apologize now to my future daughters-in-law. I am sorry my boys don’t clean the bathroom better. I’m sorry they don’t care if the garbage flows over on to the floor or that the toothpaste is missing a cap and dried out. I am especially sorry that they miss and that you will have to clean it up. They get it from their dad. See, I had to clean my bathroom, too.

Just Grateful

2011-11-20T22:17:00.000-08:00

"When upon life's billows you are tempest tossed,

When you are discouraged, thinking all is lost,"

This is a hymn sung often in our church. So much so that it is one I have memorized. There was a day recently when I was feeling especially 'tossed on life's billows'. I was discouraged and though I didn't think all was lost, it was close. The frustrations and difficulties had ganged up on me and beaten me down till I couldn't stand up straight. It was a bad day.
As I left an appointment that hadn't gone well, I began to pray. I pray a lot in my car, mostly when I'm alone (or when one of my teeangers is driving). I find it a good time to express myself to my Father in Heaven, no distractions. This day, I began by asking what to do. The trial I was facing seemed so encompassing and I really didn't know what my next step should be. I poured out my heart and begged for something, anything to help. I didn't get any great 'instant' inspiration and I cried as I drove. Then, I thought of Thanksgiving and I began doing what the next line in the song suggests-

"Count your many blessings, name them one by one,

And it will surprise you what the Lord has done."

I started thanking God for the blessings in my life. I began with my husband and children and went on from there. The tears continued, but they changed from desperate to cleansing, a baptism of gratitude. I cried because I am so very blessed. I arrived home, renewed and ready to face whatever obstacles awaited. Because, in a world filled with heartache and want, I have so much. Yes, life is hard. We each have our own weights to bear. But, gratitude-expressed to God and those around us- can make those burdens light. They may not go away, but our ability to lift them, to continue onward, will increase.

“In some quiet way, the expression and feelings of gratitude have a wonderful cleansing or healing nature. Gratitude brings warmth to the giver and the receiver alike…Gratitude, expressed to our Heavenly Father in prayer for what we have, brings a calming peace, a peace which allows us to not canker our souls for what we don’t have. Gratitude brings a peace that helps us overcome the pain of adversity and failure. Gratitude on a daily basis means we express appreciation for what we have now without qualification for what we had in the past or desire in the future.” (Elder Robert D. Hales)

(Read Elder Hales talk here.)

(Song, 'Count Your Blessings' written by Johnson Oatman Jr. Complete song lyrics here.)

Good Morning- or not.

2011-11-20T08:04:00.000-08:00

If I ever doubt that the Handy Man loves me, which I don't but, if I did, I would only need to do one thing to reassure myself.

Look in the mirror first thing in the morning.

See, of all my skills, (fingernail-growing skills, giving-birth-to-large-babies skills, making-killer-enchilada skills), one I do not have is the waking-up-pretty skill. It has something to do with my short hair and how I lay on my pillow. Seriously, my hair can defy gravity in the a.m. And you know those lines you get on your face from your pillow? Did you know that when you get to be 45 they don't go away very quickly? Cruel trick of nature. Throw my glasses into the mix and it's a scary sight.

Still, he kisses me good morning and pretends not to notice how hideous I look. That's true love, baby.

This boy looks good every morning.

Happiness 101

2011-11-18T22:34:00.000-08:00

Our local news had a story about an actual class to learn how to be happy. Happiness 101. I think it's a sad state that we need to be taught to be happy. We're too stressed and worried. I'm pretty happy, most days, well, some days. I could teach you what to do to be happy. Here's some ideas-

Stop doing laundry for anyone but yourself. When someone (your kids) ask where their clothes are, tell them to look wherever they took them off.
Buy sunglasses for your teenagers, make them wear them at.all.times. Then, you won't see the eye rolls.
Unplug your alarm clock. Unplug your husband's alarm clock. Sleep till you can't sleep no more. (Then do some other stuff.)
Stock up on cup-of-soup and corn dogs. When the kids ask what's for dinner- make that 'W' with your hands. Whatever.
Eat chocolate at each meal. Heck, eat chocolate for each meal.
Every time it snows (which it's doing right now) declare a snow day and refuse to leave the house. Drink hot chocolate with a side of chocolate.
Watch Spanglish instead of the news.
Throw out all your jeans. Wear sweats and muu-muus. Go barefoot.

I'm going to try these. I'll let you know if it works.

Crush- a Particularly Apt Description

2011-11-17T19:56:00.000-08:00

Do you remember that crush? You know the one. The one who was completely clueless to your pining? He who cherished you- as a friend? Who asked nothing of you when you would have given him everything? The one who built a heaviness in your gut that you carried with you long after he had walked away? Do you remember his name? Of course you do. Though the butterflies and stars he summoned have long since turned to dust, he is engraved on your heart, like a carving on a tree.

farm3.static.flickr.com

He was a Marine. Blonde crew cut, blue eyes. And that smile. The night we met we talked for hours. He didn't kiss me or hold my hand, didn't even touch me. Didn't matter. He unknowingly reached into my chest and stroked my heart.

I fell hard and fast.

He had found a friend.

For the next few weeks, we talked often. We were comfortable, like curling up on the couch. He told me his stories and listened to mine. The days I didn't talk to him, I sulked and worried. Weekdays were spent dreaming of his face and weekends were filled with the hope of seeing it. He was kind and thoughtful and smart. Perfect in almost every way.

Then came the day. The day he told me about her. He thought maybe he was falling in love. I couldn't breathe, couldn't swallow, couldn't wrap my mind around it. When did he meet her? How had he found time to fall in love when I rarely saw him? How could he love someone, anyone, but me?

Not long after he introduced me to the luckiest girl in the world, fate stepped in and split our paths. Two thousand miles should have eased the pain, but it only intensified the fire. His phone calls left me in tears and my mother completely frustrated. I dreamed of the day when our roads would cross again and he would finally see me for who I was. His 'one'.

It was unimaginable that I would ever have life without him in it, yet, our fates led us into different worlds. Now, I don't even know where he is. And, I've been living with another crush for twenty years.

He doesn't have a crew cut. He does have blue eyes. And my heart. The crush who crushed me back.

One Word Wednesday-- Attitude

2011-11-16T13:09:00.000-08:00

Laundry-nauseous

2011-11-15T21:11:00.000-08:00

The Handy Man came home from work today, took one look at our room and said,

"It looks like the dryer threw up on our bed."

Time to fold some laundry.

Michelle Duggar and Me

2011-11-14T14:10:00.000-08:00

(Duggarfamily.com)

Friday night I had a party for my Primary class. Six 10 year-olds in addition to my five that were home. I'm wondering if our neighbors could hear the rumble. I'm pretty sure our house was shaking at one point.
Friday was also the day I heard about Michelle Duggar's pregnancy. I don't care how many kids you have. One or dozens. As long as you don't abuse them and can provide for them, I don't think anyone should care. But, after having 11 very loud kids in my house, I wish I could ask her, "How do you do it?"

Not the pregnancies. I managed to get pregnant 7 times and I'm pretty sure I could have continued. If I'd wanted. And if I'd been crazy. No, I wonder about some other things. As a mom of a large family- even by Mormon standards- I'd like to know how she handles it.

1- The physical part. I had my first at 26 and my last one at 40. There is a HUGE difference in a young body and one that is older. Add in the pregnancies and, well, things aren't as springy as they once were. I heard someone on TV mention that her uterus isn't as elastic after so many. Gotta be true. Also, my hips hurt just seeing her in her pregnant state. (BTW- Michelle is 45 like me.)

2- The noise. I've watched her show a few times and I think editing must come into play. Because no matter how well behaved your kids are, kids are noisy. 19 of them? Perhaps it's the huge, enormous, gigantic house they have. That must be it. If I had more than 1900 square feet to spread my kids out, I might be able to watch The Good Wife in peace. (I highly doubt Michelle watches The Good Wife.)

My bedroom could fit in their laundry room.
(Duggarfamily.com)

3- The laundry. These guys have 4 washers and 4 dryers, so getting everything clean is no biggie. I want to know how they get it folded and put away. I can wash loads and loads of clothes, but then they sit unfolded so long that I'm considering getting rid of our dressers and living out of baskets.

4- The teenage attitude. Again, editing. The sweetest kid will eventually enter puberty, become a teen and begin their reign of terror. If the Duggar teenagers don't ever roll their eyes, talk back or throw fits, then I suspect medication.

5- Private time. Honestly, getting pregnant with all those kids around has to be a challenge. I no sooner shut my bedroom door and there are at least ~~two~~ three children who suddenly need attention. Even if I'm just getting dressed for church, they're there.

6- Sanity. They say you lose brain cells with each pregnancy. I. Believe. It. Then there's the late nights, the worrying, the refereeing, the mess cleaning. It can drive you crazy. Whenever I've seen her on TV she's so calm and soft-spoken. Again, I'm thinking medication.

I do understand one reason for having so many kids. Child labor. Seriously, ladies, I have a babysitter anytime I want. Michelle has twice as many of these built-in sitters. Why is their house so clean, food made on time and laundry put away? Nine. Teen. Kids. Michelle musts be a drill sergeant or something. Those kids do their jobs and then some. So, if she has some time, I'd like to meet her at Chili's for lunch, so I can ask her advice. She could probably use an afternoon without kids. I know I could.

My Wand is a Pen

2011-11-13T20:08:00.000-08:00

"Words are, in my not so humble opinion,

our most inexhaustible source of magic."

-Albus Dumbledore

Today, I am grateful for writers. Since the beginning of this month, I've read LOTS of blogs. First I was surprised at how many bloggers there are. I'm also amazed at the many fabulous writers. As a writer myself, I don't feel jealous of others talents (well, maybe a little), but I do appreciate their gifts and their willingness to share it. Writers have the power to uplift, empower and inspire, and literally change the world. Don't believe me? Look at JK Rowling.

She inspires me with her imagination. My book is a fantasy and I have to admit I've sometimes had a hard time letting go of reality. I worry that others wouldn't believe something in my story. Then, I read the Harry Potter books and I'm in awe of her ideas and her profound insights. Ms. Rowling makes me want to be a better writer. As do the other bloggers.

I don't have any delusions that I will ever have the effect (or success) that JK has had. But, if I can have an effect for good on someone, then that is magic enough for me.

I Can't Live, If Livin' is Without You

2011-11-12T18:17:00.000-08:00

'Ultra-slim Dell laptops'

'New Macbook Air. Thin and light.'

'HP Mobile Thin Client'

Pretty sad when the pressure to be thin even extends to our technology. I've been trying to reassure my laptop that it's ok to be heavier than her peers. She's beautiful. I love her just the way she is. I don't need the newest, thinnest gadget. I'm happy with her. She isn't heavy to me. Compared to the dinosaur desktop that we make our kids use, she's a supermodel. Seriously.
I think she's feeling the pressure, though. She's been sluggish and crashes a lot. Depression will do that to you. Make you not want to do the things you enjoy. I know she enjoys our time together, so that must be it. I've been trying to let her get more sleep, but it's hard. I'm a bit addicted to her.
Maybe it's NaBloPoMo. This posting everyday has been stressing me out. Perhaps she feels it, too. I may have to break down and take her in to the laptop doc. She has to get better. I certainly can't live without her.

Can You See the Difference?

2011-11-11T21:58:00.000-08:00

(Picture from pella.com)

Even growing up as I did, with meager circumstance, I don't think I knew we were poor. Most of my friends lived in the same situation. We went to school together, attended church and played side by side. I had one friend, who, looking back had much more than I did, but I'm not sure I noticed.

The time I really understood that my home was different was one Christmas. Our morning came and we'd had a good day. I don't remember everything I got, but I remember one thing. It was this little, white, stuffed bear. I had asked for it specifically and was thrilled to have found it under the tree. After the gift opening, we would normally just stay home to enjoy our gifts. This year we did something new.

My dad's cousin had invited us to brunch. First of all, we didn't eat brunch. We had breakfast and lunch. Secondly, the cousin lived one neighborhood over. Just a few streets away, but the differences put miles between us. I starkly remember walking up the brick path to their big, front door. The one with pretty glass panels inlaid into the wood. I had been at their home before. They had a basement with pinball machines, a pool table and out back, a pool. I knew they had more money than us. That was clear. What brought the difference into focus was behind that front door on Christmas morning. We walked in and there, just past the foyer, the sight took my breath away. The tall, color-coordinated tree overlooked a sea of goodies. Two sets of water skis were set against one wall. Opened gifts lay in neat piles around the floor, clearly set there for each child. One pile was more than everything that had just hours before, been under our tree.

Santa had been holding out on me.

Of course, I knew about the big guy in the red suit by now. I didn't think Santa had been skimpy, but I realized that day how very unfair life could be.

I grew up happy. I have no regrets and adore my parents for the life they gave me. But, now, I have to wonder if my children see the differences in our home compared to their peers'. They must. I just hope they'll look back someday and be grateful for their happy, if meager, lives.

11-11-11 Three Wishes

2011-11-11T13:23:00.000-08:00

Hold your breath,

Make a wish,

Count to three...

To me, a wish is something just out of reach. As a child I often made my plea to the first star at night, on dandelion fluff, and let's not forget the birthday kind- I never told a soul. These days, I don't dwell on wishes that often, though I have many, like a decent singing voice or a brand-spankin-new minivan. But, if I had to choose three, today this is what they'd be-

1. An anniversary trip with the Handy Man.

2. A book agent.

3. That my children will have a fabulous Christmas.

What would your wishes be?

Wordless Wednesday- Hunter is 11

2011-11-09T20:14:00.000-08:00

National Xray Day

2011-11-08T19:28:00.000-08:00

Seriously, it is.

You can look it up here.

In my life, I've had a total of one x-ray.

My kids have more than made up for that.

One I really wish I had was of Noah's 9 month-old chest,

with a penny stuck in his throat.

But, still, I have this one-

This happened 2 years ago at our family reunion.

Max fell off some monkey bars.

Here's what it looked like to us.

What's worse than that?

Having your most active kid in a cast all summer.

We're celebrating today by not having any x-rays done.

My Quest for Balance

2011-11-07T19:10:00.000-08:00

(picture from wallpapersfreedesktop.com)

Recently, I sat on a park bench. Half of me in shadow, the oak leaves sending fluttering shade over and past me. The other half bathed in sunshine, tingling, slightly burning the skin on my shoulder. Each half balances the other so that I am the perfect temperature. Every so often, I get a chill, my body’s response to the exquisite harmony.

This is what fall is to me. Balance. Other seasons do not have this. Summer is hot, sticky, miserable. Winter has its bitter cold. Fall sits in the middle, a respite from their brutal influences. And, while the other seasons have beauty in their prospective natures, they cannot compare with the amazing portrait that is Autumn. Bright orange and red, balanced with mellow green and brown- even her face has symmetry.

I don’t give much credit to astrology. Don’t read my horoscope, except as entertainment. But, as a Libra, I must say, I see some of my sign in my personality. I cherish balance in all things. The scales tip one way and another. I don’t always find it, but I seek for it nonetheless.

Lately, my searching has gone awry in one area. My physical self. I wrote months ago about an epiphany I had, but you know how hard it is to keep positive about ourselves. I am no different. My mind can know many things that my heart struggles to accept. So, while I know my body is an amazing thing, my heart aches with the longing for it to be something else. Daily, I see women whose outward appearance is beautiful and sleek. I wonder how anyone can look at me without cringing. I do it, why wouldn’t they?

My struggle now is to find a way to balance feeling good about myself with the desire/need to change. It is a teetering tightrope walk. Healthwise, I know it’s necessary. I’ve wasted too many years with all this extra baggage. I’d like nothing more than to shed it once and for all. I want my heart and lungs and everything else to function for years and years to come. I want to see my children get married and snuggle with my grandchildren. I hope to travel with my husband and see things I’ve only dreamed of. That won’t happen if I stay as I am.

Who I am is not just my outer shell. I know that. My mind is sharp and my spirit kind and good. But, this temple I abide in is in serious disrepair. The soul that resides inside must have something strong to call home.

Where does that leave me? With a challenge for sure. I must make changes all while reassuring myself that I have worth as I am, that the person making the journey is just as important and valuable as the one who will finish it.

After much thought and prayer, I’ve decided that I need to make changes one at a time. I actually struggle with that. I want to do it all or nothing. Problem is, it’s usually nothing. So, I will accept that it’s a process, one that will be slow, but hopefully steady. My blog will help, I hope. I plan to post weekly what my goal/change is for the week and how I’m doing.

“Change is the essence of life. Be willing to surrender what you are for what you could become.”

I surrender. I want to change. For me, for my family, for all of our futures. I look forward to finding out what I can become.

Gratitude Sunday

2011-11-06T20:14:00.000-08:00

(Note: I don't usually post on Sundays, but with NaBloPoMo I'm doing it this month. I thought, with it being the thankful month, I'd do gratitude posts on Sunday.)

I've been trying to be all meaningful and spiritual, as it is Sunday. That's giving me writer's block. So, here's my Sunday in a nutshell and why it makes me thankful.

1- I laid in bed (extra hour of sleep-bless you daylight savings) and listened to my kids get breakfast. My kids get their own breakfast. What about that isn't gratitude worthy?

2- We made it to church on time. OK, we always get there on time. I'm annoyingly punctual. But, today, we had to sit three rows closer to the front because we had lots of visitors. I'm thankful we got there when we did so we weren't on the front row.

3-One of those visitors was deaf and I had the opportunity to interpret for him. I haven't done that in years. It was fun. Poor guy may not have gotten much out of it since I'm as rusty as an old wrench. Someone asked me after if it was like riding a bike. Sure, if you're constantly stopping to get your balance. Plus, my fingerspelling sucked. But, I was grateful for the opportunity to use a long buried skill.

4- Two of my boys were put into callings in their quorums (classes). I'm very proud of my children's leadership skills. So thankful for my kids.

5- I taught my Primary (Sunday school) class. I teach the 10 year-olds and seriously, those kids rock. They actually pay attention and answer questions. Even though they get distracted, "Sister D. do you think we'll have an NBA season?'' "Hey, can you show me how to sign 'I like BYU?'", they're a blast to teach.

6- I got my after-church-nap. Momma is always happier if she gets some zzz's on Sunday afternoon.

7-And, now, the kids are in bed, the kitchen is clean and the Handy Man and I are watching football. Well, he's watching football and I look up when there's a good play. I'm thankful that he likes football, but not to the extent that I become a widow during the season. I'm thankful we had a relaxing Sabbath- that doesn't always happen.

Cheating on Thanksgiving with Christmas

2011-11-05T18:15:00.000-07:00

It snowed today, and I listened to Christmas music. I'm not ashamed. OK, maybe a little. Thing is, I love Christmas music. It brings back so many good memories of stacking those black LPs on the record player. Also, it's calming and joyful. Most of it, anyway. I refuse to listen to a few songs, like 'Rockin Around the Christmas Tree' and 'Jingle Bell Rock'. Those two grate on my nerves like a 2 year-old whinefest.

A friend pointed out to me that I shouldn't forget Thanksgiving. I know. It sort of gets lost between the candy orgy and Santa visits. I read on facebook about one woman who puts up her tree while the kids are trick-or-treating. I'm not quite that bad. I do love my Christmas decorations though and feel like I want more time with them. I stood in the garage today looking at the boxes longingly. I. Love. Them. Why don't I marry them? I would, but my husband might take offense to me becoming a polygamist with garland and ribbons.

So, back to Thanksgiving. I don't even have any Thanksgiving decorations. No pilgrims or..... what else would Thanksgiving decorations be? Pumpkins, sure, but I carved all those into jack-o-lanterns. Leaves? Yeah, but fall sort of ended today with the snow storm. I guess I need to make something to remind us of the almost-forgotten holiday. We'll have dinner, of course, but truthfully, holidays are best if they're spread out. I need to remind my children to give thanks. Not just on that Thursday, but everyday. People who are thankful are happier. It's true. I read a study.

Do you have Thanksgiving decorations? Have any ideas? I'd love to hear.

I am making a promise to not let it get lost this year. I will put up something to celebrate this great holiday. I have so much to be thankful for. Like Christmas ornaments.

Why Do I Get Ideas When I'm Tired?

2011-11-04T20:45:00.000-07:00

Lights out, house is quiet, I'm comfy under the blankets. And I start to write. In my head. I don't want to get up and put the ideas down. I want to sleep.
Today's blog prompt on BlogHer was do you prefer a pen or computer to write?

It took while, but now I prefer the computer. My handwriting is okay for the first paragraph or so, then it steadily goes downhill from there. Plus, my hand hurts when I write much. Also, I'm faster on my laptop. (And I really like the way it sounds when I'm typing. click. click. click.) The only time I like pen and paper is if I'm trying to write poetry. Which I don't do often. I'm not sure why, maybe it goes back to when I started writing when there were no computers. Except the kind that took up a whole room.

I'm a child of the 70's- clunky typewriters and correcting fluid. We were so excited in high school when we got self-correcting electric typewriters. Oops! Made a mistake. *backspace/correct* Awesome. I cannot begin to imagine what it'd be like to write a book on a typewriter. What a pain. I'd never get any editing done. And then I'd never get published. How is that different than now? Well, at least I can edit.

(The Excedrin PM is kicking in. Time to say good-night.)

Embracing Our Average-ness

2011-11-03T20:00:00.000-07:00

Can you keep a secret? Just between you and me?

My kids aren't above average.

There, I said it.

If you held up one of those measuring sticks that scales in IQ and accomplishments, they wouldn't rate very high. I'm not being mean. They're smart, all of them. They're talented, too. But, when it comes to a comparison between them and the rest of the world, well, they get about a 'C'. Average. Coasting along in the middle.

Is there anything wrong with that?

I mean, there has to be someone who's average, doesn't there? Otherwise, why would we have the word? We have to have something for all those overachievers to do better than. Really, my kids are doing a service. Giving their peers someone to surpass.

Your welcome.

See, these kids have been ignored way too long. I think it's high time we embrace our average-ness. Wear it proudly, like a badge, or a bumper sticker.

"I'm proud of my average student."

Why not? We can't all be Steve Jobs or Bill Gates. When we tell the children that they can be president- come on! You know that isn't true. There are lots of kids who don't have a chance in hell of living in the White House. They could live in a white house, or trailer, or apartment. There are still choices.

I'm not saying they shouldn't have goals or that we shouldn't have high expectations. I just want to ease the pressure a bit. Not for them. For me.

It's my fault, I'm sure. Isn't it always? (Mom's fault?) I didn't push them enough in elementary. Didn't read to them enough. Should've volunteered more, joined PTA. Obviously, my stress level wasn't nearly high enough.

Mostly, I get tired of the mommy comparison game. Whose kid gets better grades, plays more instruments, does more sports. I hate crouching down and hoping no one notices that I'm not bragging up my kids. You know those beginning of the year questionnaires from teachers? The ones that ask for your kids strengths? Hate them. I feel like it's a test and I just don't know the answer. And, if I don't get it right, they're going to peg my kid as the one with the lame mom who doesn't believe in them.

I do. Believe in them. They're awesome in so many ways. Just because they don't excel academically doesn't mean they aren't destined for greatness. Maybe that's why I had so many, in hopes that I wouldn't mess them all up. Maybe out of 7, I'll get one of them right. And the rest of us can ride on her coat tails.

Halloween

2011-11-02T16:33:00.000-07:00

Welcome to our Halloween Home!

Here's some pics from our party.

It was fun and I'm a little sad about taking all the

decorations down.

On to Thanksgiving and the holidays.

(My decorating ideas came from marthastewert.com;

countryliving.com; and familyfun.go.com)

If you look to the left you'll see the button for NaBloPoMo-

National Blog Posting Month.

Since I'm taking part, I'll be posting daily. (Hope you don't get sick of me!)

Todays subject idea was this-

If your next meal was going to be your last,

what would it be?

Mine- a really good chimichanga, spanish rice,

and chips and salsa.

Washed down with a diet Coke, of course.

What would yours be?

Writing = Inspiration

2011-11-01T20:19:00.000-07:00

"The impulse to write things down is a peculiarly compulsive one, inexplicable to those who do not share it, useful only accidentally, only secondarily, in the way that any compulsion tries to justify itself.

"My mother told me something similar when I was young: you don't get to choose whether you're a writer; your only choice is whether to be a writer who writes or a writer who doesn't. What she didn't tell me then, though I'm certain she knew, is that if you're a writer and you're not writing, you will never quite be happy."--Joan Didion

I've been a writer for as long as I can remember. It started with poetry and then on to stories. As a teen, I wrote constantly. I recorded my thoughts and wrote poems about anything. It truly was a compulsion.
Then, I went years without writing. Years. I was a young mother, busily nursing, diapering, and running around after my kids. Occasionally I would toss out a poem, but never much. Admittedly, I didn't have the venue of a blog back then. My only source for expressing myself was a journal and I'm embarrassed to say I rarely opened it. But, the compulsion to write never really goes away. I always had it in my head that someday, some way, I would write again.

Writing is therapy. It's cathartic. It's my drug of choice. Honestly, it makes me giddy when I've finished an essay or post. I can stew for days about a certain subject and when I finally get the words out, it's a high. ( Getting comments is the bonus. It's a tricky thing, sharing what you've written. Hopeful that it might mean to others even a fraction of what it means to you. )

But, what I love most about writing is the creative process. There's a quote from the movie 'Inception' that sums it up-
"Imagine you're designing a building, you're creating each aspect. But, sometimes it's like it's almost creating itself.
-Yeah, like I'm discovering it.
Genuine inspiration, right?"

That's how it feels sometimes when I'm writing. Like the story has already been written and I'm just the medium putting the words together. It's an amazing feeling, creating something. Taking bits of matter, in this case words, and structuring them, placing them, ever so carefully arranging them to form something new and beautiful. It's what we're meant to do. It's part of our eternal heritage. We are children of the greatest Creator and every time we follow in His footsteps, we come closer to Him. He provides the inspiration, and if we use it to make something new, we are becoming who we're supposed to be. This kind of creating reminds me that writing is a gift, one heavenly bestowed, not to be neglected, but shared. Without it, my life is less meaningful, with it, I am happy.

Money Isn't Everything- Hope Is

2011-10-31T20:25:00.000-07:00

I'm an optimist. Hope is always out there and I'm on a quest to find it. This condition is what got my husband and I involved in a multi-level marketing scheme years ago. We were presented with just that- hope. Hope not only for a better life, but a MUCH better life. I wanted so badly to give my kids a great life, I took it in, hook, line and sinker. We stayed in for a few years, attending meetings and conventions, buying products and the idea that it was all going to make us rich. After throwing our money at the dream for so long, we finally accepted the fact that it wasn't going to happen. We quit in pretty much the same situation as when we'd joined. Broke.

Strangely, this experience didn't diminish my optimism. I still search for the silver lining, no matter how thin or hidden it may be. Without hope, life is meaningless.

The Handy Man and I have been married for almost 20 years. During the last sixteen, he's had the same job, though a job doesn't always mean security. Being a one-income family has been hard to say the least, but when weighing the pros and cons, me being home with our kids always won out.

2010 was our hardest year. My husband works for a small cabinet company. At their peak, they had 8 employees. Now they have 4. When the economy takes a down turn, building is affected and his company began to slide along with so many others. The first effect was having all of his overtime cut. That decreased our pay by about 1/3. Then, in the fall, everyone went to 4 day weeks. Handy Man's paycheck was half what it had been. December arrived and in an effort to keep all his employees, the owner gave them another day off. Three day work weeks. The sacrifice worked and the company stayed in business. This year, he's back to working 5 days a week, but the overtime is still gone.
He has a job. We are blessed and grateful. There are so many around us who don't.

As a stay-at-home mom, I often feel guilty for not helping with the financial end of things. I've considered a job, but with my very limited skills, I would be working to pay for daycare. For years, I've tried to somehow make my one skill- writing- become a source of income for our family. Now, with my blog, that dream is close to fruition. Knowing that, in a sense, I have my own business brings me what I am always searching for- Hope. It gives me hope for our future and for the opportunity to help provide for our family. I've been surprised by the strength and empowerment I feel because I'm doing something, and something I love.

I'm not sure the answer to America's economic woes. I have family and friends who are looking for that pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Thing is, the rainbow is an unemployment line and there's no gold at the end of it. I don't think protests will help. I could go hang out in front of the Federal Reserve Bank in Salt Lake for weeks. It wouldn't get my mortgage paid or buy coats for my ever-growing children. The frustration isn't foreign, many of us feel it. But, there has to be more to do than sleep in a tent and make cardboard signs. There must be a way to give people a chance.

Thankfully, there are those who are trying to help. BlogHer has joined with Starbucks and Opportunity Finance Network to get the word out about CreateJobsforUsa.org. (Read about BlogHer's involvement here.) Basically, Starbucks is donating 5 million dollars to the Opportunity Finance Network for capital grants for lenders to fund small businesses. Businesses that will empower and strengthen people. They're giving money, but in the end, they're gifting hope.
We can help. You can go to their site and donate. Just $5 and you'll not only get a cool, red, white, and blue wristband, that $5 will result in $35 in financing for local businesses. Money that will be used to save or create jobs.
I'm an optimist. I like hope. It's contagious. Pass it on.

Boo!

2011-10-30T21:39:00.000-07:00

Wanna give your kids a good

Halloween scare?

Show them your yearbook photo.

Mwaa-ha-ha-ha.

Happy Halloween!

Cause and Effect

2011-10-28T11:48:00.000-07:00

What happens when my stress level

is at an all-time high,

and,

I'm having a really crappy day,

and,

it's only 11am?

This-

Yes, it's almost gone.

Yes, I drank it.

And, yes, I do feel better.

Thank you.

The Great Halloween Debate

2011-10-27T10:03:00.000-07:00

The Handy Man and I don't always agree. Shocking, I know. When we were engaged, I thought this would never happen. We were young and in love and hormonal. We liked the same movies, loved Mexican food and both wanted a big family. Compromise? It just wouldn't be necessary. hehehe. Isn't it funny the things we learn?

For example- my husband hates Halloween. Hates. It. It's a pagan holiday, he claims. Well, I grew up celebrating Halloween every year. I remember fondly the Snow White costume, with its plastic mask with teeny-tiny holes for the eyes and nose, and its highly flammable plastic dress. I looked awesome! One year, my mom made me a princess costume and several years, I was a hobo. (I'm sure my kids don't even know what that is.) But, amid all the memories, not once did I get into any pagan worship. Unless you include the worship of chocolate, of that I am guilty. Still.

If my husband had his way, our kids wouldn't have gone trick-or-treating, had costumes, nothing. This was one time I had to put my size 11 foot down. No way were my kids going to be 'those kids'. Plus, this is one of the best days to be a child. Come on! Free candy and dressing up? Aint nothing better.

Then, one year, I finally found out why Handy Man felt this way. We were visiting my in-laws one Sunday afternoon when the subject of Halloween came up. My sweet mother-in-law started going on and on about what a stupid holiday it is and how much she hates it. Wow. That makes so much sense. If the person who is basically in charge of Halloween- buying the costume, taking you trick-or-treating, etc.- hates it, well it's pretty easy to see why my the child does. What is supposed to be a fun-filled day of candy and play could very well be miserable if mom isn't on board.

So, we compromised. Our kids got to have costumes and all the candy needed to totally rot their teeth. We buy candy and hand it out. (He'd love it if we just turned off all the lights.) And, me? I don't dress up and I don't decorate for Halloween. Oh, I have the fall decor, but nothing remotely spooky. It's all right, I told myself. Though I got pangs of jealousy every time I saw a cute Halloween house or the displays at stores, I kept my inner goblin buried.

Until this year. This year, my sister's annual party (which the Handy Man never dresses up for), is going to be held at my house. I broached the subject with my husband carefully, expecting something negative. I didn't even get an eye roll. When I said I'd been suppressing my Halloween instincts for twenty years, he just agreed. (Gosh, he loves me.)

Now, my house is a chrysalis. Transforming a bit every day. I scour the Internet looking for ideas, and my kids are amazed with each addition. I didn't realize how much I was missing until I began. I walk around looking at my house with a smile. There are no pagan gods, to be sure. Just lots of cobwebs, spooky pictures and the like. (I'll post pictures of the party so you can see!)

The Handy Man hasn't said much. He's taking it well. The only request I got was when he asked if I wanted him in costume. I told him no. That would be asking too much. And, isn't that what compromise is all about? Knowing when to stop.

On Tuesday, the ghosts and witches will come down and things will get back to normal. Of course, the chocolate worship will continue. Where are those bags??

Sticks and Stones

2011-10-24T13:27:00.000-07:00

Blogging is a phenomenon. It's amazing when you start looking around and find out just how many people are doing it. But, why? Why do we blog?

Last night, the Handy Man and I were at Lagoon, a local amusement park. While standing in line for the old roller coaster, I overheard a young man behind us talking to his date.
"I don't get the big deal about swear words." Trying to impress, or make excuses for his language?
"I mean, it's a word. If it was in another language, you wouldn't even understand it. It's just a word."

Just a word?
Is there any such thing? And therein lies my answer.

We blog because Words. Have. Power.

Poetry and music. A letter from home. A speech. Words wield power that lasts through the ages. "I have a dream." "Give me liberty or give me death." "I am the light of the world." None could argue that there is a possibility for our words to live long after the hour in which they were spoken. Or written.

"Words can never hurt me." Sadly, the old rhyme is wrong. Words can be weapons. How quickly we can break down and destroy others with our simple speech. Our self-esteem is like a wooden block tower, set up so precariously. Each negative word takes out a block until our tower of worth crumbles to pile of emotion. I've read that for every criticism we dish out to our children, we must give ten positive statements to counteract the harm. Then there's the inner voice, the one that constantly degrades and diminishes our own worth. Word after word.

Of course, words have their positive power as well. Building blocks that can strengthen and fortify. When I was in high school, I got a particularly bad grade. I felt stupid for being so lazy and distracted. We lived on a dairy farm in Idaho and the day after the report cards came out, I was in the milking barn with my dad. I knew that he was disappointed in me, but he wasn't mad. He told me how bright I was, that I was very intelligent, and so he expected more of me. That was 30-some years ago, and that memory is bright in my mind. Those positive words have never faded.

We blog for different reasons and our blogs have different purposes and goals. But, a universal truth is that as we share our words, we touch lives. For good or bad, they have an impact. This is a power that we must take seriously and wield very carefully.

I'm Being Stalked by diet Coke

2011-10-21T19:35:00.000-07:00

The silver can calls to me. A bead of condensation breaks free and rolls down the side. Chhhshhhhhh. I watch my sister drink the ice cold soda and my throat feels parched. The glass of water sitting in front of me looks tasteless and dull. sigh.

I love diet Coke. It's a part of my day. Everyday. I get a sense of comfort seeing the 12 pack in the fridge. I look forward to that first taste. A 44 ounce from the corner gas station is my favorite treat. Was.

I broke up with diet Coke 4 days ago. I know, I know. I've done it before. I always go back. But, this time I mean it. Maybe.

21 days.

That's my goal. They say (who are 'they' anyway?) that it takes 21 days to make or break a habit. 21 days just might break me. It's just soda, right? Problem is, it's everywhere.

In the grocery store when I check out, my arm automatically reaches for the cooler door. Oops. Grit my teeth and pay without that cold bottle in my hand.

At the gas station where I know they have fountain (my favorite way to drink it) and my mouth starts to water at the thought. Dang!

And, anytime I'm with my sisters. We go out to lunch and they each order 'diet Coke with lime' and I get it with lemon. We laugh. It's a bonding thing. Guess we'll have to bond another way.

Why, you ask would I put myself through this? A couple reasons. One is my chronic headaches. I don't know that they're related, but I'd like to find out. Second, it is a habit and not a good one. You know, part of that whole 'improving myself'' thing. Funny, I don't feel 'better'. Perhaps more time. Ugh!

So, I need to get some blinders to keep me focused, keep those sneaky cans and bottles from getting back in. Or, maybe I'll just stay in my room for 21 days. It's gonna be a long 3 weeks.

You're my Hero

2011-10-19T13:22:00.000-07:00

Okay, so here's a quick Survivor update because I've been a slacker and didn't post and it's on again tonight. (Could that sentence be any longer?)
A couple things happened two weeks ago that were significant. First, they got their swim suits Yay! No more bras and panties, wait, their bikinis are just as skimpy. But, here's Dawn in the cutest modest swim suit. Seriously, so cute. And, she says in her 'confession' time that she's feeling like the older contestant. Who cares? Woman, you are doing a great job! But, because of that feeling, she thought she needed to exert her strength. So, when the challenge came around, there she was. The challenge was 2 men and 1 woman from each tribe. They each had a long stick/bar over their shoulders, then one at a time, the other team would determine who got weight added- 20 lbs. at a time. First of all, just standing with the big stick on my shoulders would've done me in. "Hey, Jeff, can I have a chair? I'm sure I could do better if I could sit." Jeff Probst would hate me. Second, add some weight, and I'm out of there. They added more weight to the men, so the four of them were out and the women were left. In the end, both Dawn and Staci had 140 lbs. on their shoulders.

CBS, Monty Brinton, 2011

Now, Dawn is a mom of 6. That girl has the weight of the world on her shoulders almost daily. But, this is different. This is physical. I was literally yelling at the TV, "Drop it, Staci, drop it!" And she did!!! Dawn won the challenge for her tribe which meant reward and no voting anyone off. She rocks!
Rick's (remember? he's the other Utah survivor) tribe had to go to tribal council and once again, he impressed the socks right off me. Jeff often tries to stir up some drama during tribal by asking questions. This week he was asking "What annoys you about____?" Of course, these contestants start airing their grievances. But, when Jeff asked Rick what annoyed him about Albert. Rick thinks a second and says, "He snores." Smart, smart man. And, to show you how important it is to help win a challenge, Staci, who 'lost' the challenge, was voted off.

Last week, was by far the grossest challenge I've ever seen. The tribes had to bite meat off a roasted pig then spit the meat into a bowl. On Dawn's blog (thedeserethousewife.com) she says it was worse than it looked on TV- Wow. When one of the guys had a piece of meat stuck in his teeth (their hands were tied behind their backs) Dawn just reached up and took it off with her mouth. What a mom! Sadly, Dawn's tribe lost by 2 ounces!

Now, this did not start out to be a Survivor/Dawn update, but it has evolved into that. Mostly because, how cool is it that we have a Utah/Mormon Mom on Survivor? And, how much cooler that I almost know her? Sure, my friend knows her, but guess what? She told Dawn about my post on my blog and she read it and said, "Thanks." and she invited me to read hers. Which I now do. Everyday. Maybe someday I'll get to meet her.
Maybe not, since I'm starting to sound like a stalker.

Inception- the Idea I Would Plant

2011-10-16T14:09:00.000-07:00

“Ye are the Children of light,

And the children of the day;

We are not of the night,

Nor of darkness.”

1 Thessalonians 5:5

A few years ago, my daughter, Sadie, had a best friend. Anna was a little wisp of a girl, with big eyes and pale blond hair. The two were inseparable. Though they shared many things, mostly their love of animals, their home lives were very different.

I got to know Anna's mother, Beth, because of our daughter's friendship. I wouldn't say we were close, but we were friends. A hard life and tough decisions had taken their tole on Beth. Though younger than me, she looked older. She was missing a couple teeth, and the others were yellowed from years of smoking. Lines creased her face and her hair was thin. We were opposites, but I liked her. I remember well the day she told me they were losing their house. She had such a sadness in her eyes. It broke my heart. A week later, Sadie spent the day with Anna as they packed the moving truck. I brought cupcakes, a feeble effort at best. I just didn't know what to do. I said goodbye, knowing we would probably not see each other again.

That night, I laid in bed, my mind not able to let go of the events of the day. I worried about Beth and her family. I thought a lot about her life and what had brought her to where she was now. She was a member of my church, but hadn't gone since she was a child. Religion was no longer a part of her life. I wondered if she still knew that she was a child of God. Did that idea ever cross her mind? As I wondered if she knew how her Heavenly Father sees her, I had an image come to my mind. It was Beth dressed in a flowing white dress. Her hair was full and shiny, her skin smooth and youthful. She smiled brightly and her eyes sparkled. I cried as I thought of her through His eyes and wished I could have shared this with her. Could it have changed how she looked at herself?

Then, I saw my children, each one dressed in radiant white, their potential shining brighter than the sun. It isn't difficult imagining them so.

If I had the power of 'inception', this is the idea that I would plant in my childrens' minds. That they are children of a Heavenly King. Royalty. That they are gifted beyond measure. I would have them understand that their potential is limitless. They would know that they are intelligent, and talented and kind. I would bury the seed deep that would make them see that the world is wrong when it says they are anything less than brilliant. I want them to recognize that though life is hard, (will be so very hard), they are strong and capable and brave. And as children of Heavenly Father, they are entitled to His help. That He is only a breath away, if they will but ask.

The idea that I would plant is the image of them as their Father sees them. Standing tall and steadfast, eyes bright, a vision of their own future possibilities before them. I would have them know that they are divine, not only in His eyes, but also in mine.

To Answer the Question

2011-10-14T07:43:00.000-07:00

Coulda' Woulda' Shoulda'

2011-10-12T10:48:00.000-07:00

(Image from vectorvaco.com)

Our days are made up of decisions. One at a time. Many of them last about as long as the cookie we eat or the TV show we watch. Others are cumulative and reach their tentacles out to touch our future. We often don’t realize it at the time, because we’re all near-sighted when it comes to our vision of the future. There are no magic glasses for us to wear as we choose each day.

For the most part, I don’t look back on my life with regret. I hate when someone is asked, “If you could do it all again, what would you change.” Because, well, you can’t. And if you could, you’d make the same choices and mistakes as the first time around, because, you’re you. My major decisions, who I married, my children (even the unexpected ones), where we live, I’m happy with them all. I wouldn’t change a thing.

Well, one thing.

Friday night we went to Odyssey Dance Theater’s production, “Thriller”. (If you live in Utah and ever have the chance to go- GO!) As I sat during the opening number, chills ran down my back and the goosebumps on my arms did a dance of their own. I. Love. Dance.

I was a dancer once. I never had the opportunity for classes as a child, but, in high school I was on the drill team. That was my introduction. Then, at Ricks College, I took a modern dance class. I didn’t even know what modern dance was. I fell in love with it. So, second semester, I tried out for the modern dance team. To my shock, I made it. That five months was magical. I discovered I had a talent and a connection to dance. I loved the way it felt to learn the moves and perform in sync with the other dancers. I got so nervous before a performance, but as soon as the music started, the nerves melted away.

That was 20-some years ago and I haven’t danced since. This I regret. When I go to a performance like the one on Friday, those regrets are magnified. I watch those dancer’s bodies as they move with such control and grace. I see their faces and know they are joyful as they make their muscles one with the music. My soul longs to join them, to feel again the magic of movement. But, sadly, my body isn’t a dancer’s body. It’s a mother’s body. With stretch marks and too much skin. My muscles are used to lifting children and cleaning house. The music I listen to is only for my ears.

I don’t regret being a mother. That choice I would make a million times over. But I feel I could’ve done both. So, when I find those longing emotions pulling me to dance, I tell myself I still can. Someday, when children are older and time is less constrained, I'll take classes again. I may never perform, but there is still a chance that I can have that grace and strength. I’ll be the old lady in class, but that’s ok. My soul will be satisfied and I’ll be the old lady without regret.

What Makes Me Happy Today

2011-10-10T19:23:00.000-07:00

My oldest and my youngest spending the day together.

My (now) organized pantry.

The Werewolf prowling around our house.

You Call This Work?

2011-10-08T09:18:00.000-07:00

Applications and forms. This is the life of a mom. Between schools, doctor's offices and scouts, it seems I'm always filling something out. I dread it when I get to that one line-

Occupation:_______________

I never know what to put. I hate the word 'homemaker'. I can put 'stay-at-home-mom' but that's not really true. I've never received a paycheck for my duties at home. I know, I know, I get paid in blessings. What. Ever. I'm pretty sure that's not what they mean. My husband works and I spend his money, so I sort of get paid. But, for what? I don't think 'call girl' would look very good on the elementary school's paperwork.
I could write this,

Occupation: nothing, thanks for the stab at my self-esteem.

Instead, I've started skipping it. I mean, really, why do they need to know? If I'm a lazy woman who sits home all day, that's my business. I like being home with my kids, I don't want a 'job'. But, it would be nice to finally have that career I've been dreaming of.

Which brings me to my big news. (Drumroll, please.)

I have been invited to join the BlogHer Network. They have over 2500 blogs and are "one of the largest and highest quality publishing networks of blogs authored by women". This is a huge honor. I've been a bit overwhelmed by this, worrying that what Iwrite might not be 'up to par'. I have to keep reminding myself that they chose my blog because of what I already write, so I need to just keep it up. What being a part of the netowork means for me is that I'll have some of my posts published on their site. And, I'll have advertising here, on mine. I'll also have the opportunity to do book and product reviews.

This has caused some serious happiness on my part this week. I've been smiling nonstop. I even did the happy dance for my teenagers. I'm sure there were horrified looks on their faces. I didn't care. Jacob asked me, "You mean you can get paid to write?" Yep, and now when I fill out those forms I can put this-

Occupation: writer

D.I. Diva

2011-10-06T20:37:00.000-07:00

I love thrift stores! It's become a bit of an addiction for me. Finding great deals,the thrill of the hunt. Love. It. Whenever I get a new purse, my sister's response is, "Did you get that at DI?" (Too bad I can't type in sarcasm.) I will admit that I have a problem with purses. They attract me like a drug. I can rationalize it because I do buy them at DI (Deseret Industries) and they never cost more than $5.

Since I spend so much time at DI and Savers, I thought I'd share a few tips.

DI tends to have better prices, but Savers has more inventory. Also, DI doesn't have sales.
Every Monday, one of the price tag colors at Savers is 99 cents. All week, one other color is 1/2 off.
Always go with an open mind. You might find exactly what you're looking for, but more often, you'll find something else you just can't live without.
When buying purses, check the inside to see how clean it is. And smell it. Nothing worse than buying a purse that smells like smoke.
Whether it's clothes or purses, check all zippers and snaps to make sure they work.
They only wash undies and swimwear (neither of which I would buy there), so wash everything before you wear it. Also, anything else, I clean with disinfectant cleaner/wipes.
If it's for you, try it on. You never know if things have been shrunk and your size may not fit.
Stuffed animals can be washed in the washing machine. Put them in a pillow case, close it with a rubber band, then wash and dry with a normal load.

Here's a few of my favorite finds over the past couple months.

Dockers $3. Jeans $7. Bass loafers $3.

Jones New York Jacket $8.

Computer Tote Bag $5

This has lots of pockets, including a padded one for my
laptop. A real steal since they sell retail for around $30.

Adorable yellow purse $3.

Again, lots of pockets- a must for me.

This cute boy cannot be purchased
at a thrift store, but he loves going there!

Set of 8 Coke glasses $5.

Happy Shopping!

Survivor Update- Weeks 2 & 3

2011-10-05T09:47:00.000-07:00

I missed the last couple weeks of Survivor updates, so here's the condensed version- plus some contestant intros.

The second person voted out was Christine.

She pretty much sealed her fate on day one when she offended Coach. (He's a returning player, placed in the

game to cause drama. It worked, he's so annoying.)

Don't feel too bad. This picture is deceiving.

This is how she looked at tribal council...

She's very outspoken, which can be good in this game, or as in her case,

very bad.

I was ready for her to go after tribal council.

Mainly because in that 15 minutes, she rolled her eyes more

than my teenagers do in a week.

Next was the guy who called himself Papa Bear.

He was nice. His downfall was his age and fitness level.

He didn't do well in the challenge and his tribe gave him the boot.

The age thing is why I worry for Dawn and Rick, tho' Dawn kicked butt

at the challenges. If she keeps that up, she'll last longer.

Rick is the strong silent type, which is great! There's been many a winner

who just went along, doing their thing without making waves.

I only worry because he is strong physically and at some point,

the leaders in the tribes are going to notice.

Now, I'll introduce you to the most annoying player this season.

His name is Brandon.

Aww, looks like a clean cut, nice kid, right?

Well, Brandon has the distinction of being related to one of the most

hated contestants ever. Russel Hantz.

Brandon is trying hard to separate himself from his uncle- smart.

He kept his relationship to himself- smart.

Then, he decided to tell everyone about his uncle-not smart.

Also, he has a vendetta against Mikayla.

Why, you ask. What did this cute girl do?

Nothing.

Except be cute.

Brandon keeps saying things like, 'I'm a married man.' and ' I'm faithful to my wife.'

OK, but Mikayla hasn't flirted or run around in anything more skimpy than the others.

I mean, we've had some real flirts on this show, and she isn't one of them.

My take on it- he's totally attracted to her and can't handle it.

Honestly, it's all he can talk about, how she just has to go home.

Luckily, no one is listening to him.

I'm saying a big thanks to Dawn for bringing modest clothes with her.

A tank top may not seem like a big deal, but when you have

teenage boys watching these girls in their bras and undies, it's

nice to have someone who's covered!

I found out that my friend lives in Dawn's neighborhood. How cool is that?

(P.S. I have some BIG news, I can't wait to share!)

(No, I'm not pregnant.)

Forget-Me-Not

2011-10-03T23:40:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago I was pondering the recent events in my life. No one gets through without trials and I'm no exception. But, even with the difficulties, I have had several things happen to me that helped me see how 'watched over' I am. Over the past few months, I received emails, and had a couple of conversations that were so perfectly timed that I cannot call them chance. The Lord's hand may be unseen and even unrecognized, but it is there. Coincidence? I don't believe in it. What I do believe is that we have a Father in Heaven who loves us and is so completely aware of us that He knows what we need before we do.

This assurance was reinforced at the Relief Society Broadcast a week ago. President Uchtdorf's talk was, in a word, incredible. I don't think a single woman listening wouldn't have been touched by his message. And, will any of us look at a forget-me-not the same way again?
The three things that hit me most were-
Be patient with yourself. Honestly, I strive everyday to be patient with my children and others I come in contact with. But, with myself? I'm pretty harsh. He said to have compassion with yourself. He said that Heavenly Father knows we aren't perfect and He knows that the woman we think is perfect- isn't. I have such a hard time remembering that.
Be happy now. This can be so hard when the trials we have make life seem a bit bleak. I loved that he said we shouldn't stop hoping for the righteous desires of our hears, but we mustn't ignore the beauty and sweetness around us. I do have beauty and sweetness in my life. I need to stop and recognize it more often.
The Lord loves you! 'Sisters, wherever you are, whatever the circumstances may be, you are not forgotten. No matter how dark your days may seem, no matter how insignificant you may feel, no matter how overshadowed you think you may be, your Heavenly Father has not forgotten you. In fact, He loves you with an infinite love.'

Just today, I received two more assurances that my needs are known and that He is there, ready to bless me. That is beauty and sweetness in itself.

Read President Uchtdorf's entire talk here.

Happy 45

2011-09-26T07:09:00.000-07:00

It might bother me more, if I felt that old. I don't. Getting older has never really bothered me. Ask me how I feel in 5 years, that might change things. But, for now, it's all good. Noah wanted to know who was coming to my birthday. He thinks anyone who has a birthday has a party. We just had a quiet day at home- with cheesecake.
Here are a few random things about me. See how many you already know.

I had brown eyes growing up. Brown. Now, they're hazel.
I didn't like country music until 10 years ago.
I was on the modern dance team at Ricks College. (When I'm resurrected, I'll have that dancer's body!)
As a teenager, I had a huge crush on Shawn Cassidy. (Do you even know who that is?) Also, one on Christopher Reeves.
I was a nanny- twice.
I love beets. My mom cans them every year. My kids won't touch them, I waited too long to introduce them. Oh, well, more for me.
I love action movies.
I cry at the drop of a hat. Everyone knows that. You may not know that I'm trying to get better control of my emotions. It's not going so well.
They say the fear of public speaking is only second to the fear of death. Not for me. I enjoy public speaking.
I'm very limber. I can't do the splits anymore, but I can do a fairly decent high kick.
I've never traveled outside the continental U.S.
I don't have a middle name, but I do have a nickname that my dad has called me for as long as I can remember. He still does.
All I ever wanted to be when I grew up was a mom and a published writer. Almost there.

Procrastination-my greatest skill.

2011-09-21T09:24:00.000-07:00

I'm a terrible procrastinator. And, I've been blaming my lack of effort on my book on that. But, if I look deep inside and come face to face with the truth, I know there's more. I'm afraid that once I get it done and polished, I still won't be able to find an agent or publisher. So, I've put it off-- for months.
Every time I feel frustrated about my life and wonder what to do, I get a gentle reminder of what is sitting inside my laptop waiting for me and my attention. This morning,I was thinking of immersing myself in writing, and there it was again, all the excuses. I need to do laundry. The house is a mess. etc.etc. Fact is, I always need to do laundry and the house is most often a mess. Excuses are being pushed aside. I'm ignoring everything. Hopefully, it won't take too long and I'll be back soon.
Take care.

I'm a Survivor.....fanatic!

2011-09-16T17:55:00.000-07:00

We’re sort of Survivor enthusiasts in our household. Of the 22 seasons, there’s only one we didn’t watch. I enjoy most of it, except when one of the contestants decides he needs to live naked. That was season one and I’m still emotionally scarred. Now, we're into season 23.
One of the hard things about the show is deciding who to root for. You usually can’t pick a favorite in the first episode. You think you’ve got them figured out, but they can fool you. Take this guy for instance-

I was sure Phillip was worthy of the title 'Ultimate Survivor' and the ending prize of a million bucks. He was older (why would I root for older people? I don’t know.) He seemed sincere. He was a hard worker. That was in episode one. After that, we discovered that he was crazy. I’m serious. Certifiable. He claimed to be a government agent. He walked around in his saggy underwear- pink saggy underwear. He drove everyone bonkers. It’s amazing he lasted as long as he did. (This is one of the times I doubted the whole ‘reality’ aspect of this show. To get someone like him to stay this long- to bug the Survivors and the viewers- seems like a bit of producer intervention.) I couldn't wait for him to be voted off. This taught me again, that picking a winner in the beginning is hard.

But, this year, it’s easy. I already have two, yep, two favorites. First is Rick Nelson.

Rick is a cattle rancher- from Utah! I liked him right away. He’s down-to-earth and no-nonsense. He has applied 14 times to be on the show- which means he's determined. He’s also 54. Though I tend to support the older contestants, they don’t always do well in such a physical game. Rick, as a rancher, should do just fine. Tough as nails- that's how he looks to me.

I was excited to have one survivor from Utah, then I found out that this one-

who was labeled an English professor, is just that- at BYU! Her name is Dawn Meehan. When they said she was mother of 6 I thought it a bit strange. She also had that 'Mormon Mom' look about her. Now it all makes sense. Dawn has applied to Survivor before, she was cut from last season’s game just before it started. So, we can assume she knows what’s involved. I was really disappointed, then, when she broke down and started to cry- the second day! This does not bode well for her. I mean, if I was on Survivor, I’d cry. Sure. I’d cry while we were paddling our boats to the island (my arms are killing me- boohoohoo) and then again when I had to sleep in the ground, or the ever-so-comfy wooden platforms they build (my hips are killing me- sob). I’d cry over having to eat coconut and taro for every meal (I’m so hungry-wahhh!) But, that’s why I enjoy the show from the comfort of my couch with a bag of peanut butter M&M’s. Dawn crying so soon makes me think she might not have the strength to last a whole 39 days. We’ll see. I still hope she’ll do well.

This week’s cast-off was Semhar. One of the worst things that could happen on Survivor- other than having to see Richard Hatch in the nude- is to be the first one voted off. But, it has to be someone. I was a bit relieved to have this girl sent to Redemption Island. She had a big problem with her bra/shirt keeping her covered.

And, the cameramen seemed bent on showing her- often. I know that most of the ~~people~~ men who watch would be happy to see her falling out of her clothes, but the rest of us don’t appreciate it. So, girls, when you go on the show, wear something that covers you. Honestly, think of the children.

A Conversation

2011-09-15T20:02:00.000-07:00

My daughters came to me last night with that 'we want something' look on their faces. They batted their eyes and called me 'Mommy'. Then came the favor. And, after begging me to take them and a friend to the movies this weekend, I asked the girls what was in it for me.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what will you do for me in return?"

"Like??"

"Like, you could babysit all day on Saturday...."
I was rudely interrupted.

"Remember, I have that party."
"And I have a service project."

Hmph! Service. What. Ever. Giving me a day with the Handy Man would be service.

"I know, we could do her laundry."
"We don't even do our own laundry."

Yeah, good point.

"I will think of something," I assured them. They then smiled and squealed and did the 'we're not worthy' move and I think one of them called me Holy Mother. Weird.
I will think of something, though. Child slave labor-willingly given- is hard to come by.

Stuck

2011-09-14T20:39:00.000-07:00

Do you ever think that your life is dull? That in contrast to those around you, your little light doesn't really shine? Do you think that others are having these amazing lives with dazzling experiences while you are forced to accept the mundane? I'm not just talking about money here, well, maybe I am. I mean if I can't afford to take my kids to Hawaii or on a midnight ride of the Sundance ski lifts or even to a play, it's hard to expose them to those impressive adventures. But, I'm sure there are things we could do that don't take money. And therein lies my question.

Am I really missing out because of our life-circumstance, or are there experiences to be shared that I simply am not looking for?

My life seems to be in a rut. You know, like I'm a wagon with its wheels stuck in a small crevice and I'm rocking back and forth, back and forth. The scenery never changes. Nothing gets worse, but it also definitely doesn't improve. I want more than anything to give my family culture and fun. I want them to see and do things they've never done before. But, every time they ask about doing something, it's the same old answer, 'Maybe, someday.'

So, back to my question. What am I missing? I don't think Heavenly Father plays favorites. We all have trials, we all have joys. But, often I feel like we're not getting all we could out of this earthly sojourn. Is it because I'm lazy? Or dumb? Maybe the answer is right in front of me and I just don't see it. I honestly want to know what I could do for my kids to enrich their lives, but I'm not sure where to start.

Any ideas?

Room for More

2011-09-13T15:57:00.000-07:00

Many years ago, my sister, who has 4 daughters, took in one of those daughter's friend. (Did that make sense?) I watched Heidi as she enveloped this young woman in her loving ways and made her a part of her family. She did chores alongside her new sisters and attended all of our family gatherings. She called my sister 'mom'.

Now, I have to tell you, I completely admire and envy my older sister's parenting skills. She makes me look like the weak link in the parenting chain. She is tough, but in a heart-felt way. Her girls had to go through the difficult trial of having their parents divorce when they were pre-teen and teens. But, Heidi guided them through it. Then, she had the great fortune of marrying an amazing man. Jerry had never had children, but he was meant to be a father. He loves his girls fiercely. He is the pied-piper at any get-together. He loves children and they love him right back.

So, for these two to take in another child, was not a big surprise. Their hearts always had room for more. I watched them in awe, doubting that I would ever be able to do the same thing. (Also, doubting I would ever have room in my house.)

Then came Brittany.

I first met this girl at a Camp Kiesel banquet. She was short and outgoing and adorable. Over the next four years, I got to know her better as she became friends with Adam, Jake and then Sadie. She is sweet and fiesty. Any time she was at our home, she fit in like the sister Sadie never had. Six months ago, she told me that her parents were moving to California, and if it worked out, could she stay with us over the summer so she could work at Kiesel? I said yes without hesitation. When I told the Handy Man, he agreed. Things worked out and in June she joined our family.

There are still things to be worked out- like chore schedules and jobs, but Brit has settled in like a missing piece of our family puzzle. Sadie is thrilled to have a sister, and she's lucky. A sister you haven't grown up with or fought over clothes and bathrooms with, is one you can get along with. The little boys adore her. Jake and Adam have known her for years and have just adjusted to her being here without any fuss.

A friend told me the other day, when I told her about Brittany being here, that I have such a big heart. I don't know that it's any different than anyone else's. We were created to be parents. It's part of our eternal plan. Whether the children are carried and born of us physically, or they join us in other ways, it doesn't matter. We all have room in our hearts. Love isn't limited. Our floor space is, though, which is why I'm grateful for bunk beds.

2011-09-11T20:00:00.000-07:00

This Week in Pictures

2011-09-10T12:01:00.000-07:00

These pictures aren't in order.

I can't figure out how to put them in order with the new

picture loader-thing.

Here's my week in a nutshell-

Noah started pre-school. (He's running away from me
because I wouldn't let him play with a friend.)

I got some new recipes from the Pioneer Woman.
(The oil looks gross because the chicken kept falling out.)

The Chicken Tacos were a big hit.

Delicious!

Jacob has his first experience riding
a BMX bike at a skate park...

..and his first experience getting stitches.

I've had a lousy head cold all week.
What a way to welcome the fall weather.

The one thing I don't have pictures of is Max.

He missed the whole week of school due to

a weird ulcer on his tonsil and really high fevers.

He's pretty much back to normal now and will

be returning to school on Monday- yay!

Blessed September

2011-09-08T12:11:00.000-07:00

Maybe it's because I was born in the fall. My spirit, whose memory is suppressed by my limited mind, surely remembers the season when I first arrived on this earth. That spirit, with the veil so thin, must've reveled in its new body and the miraculous feeling of being here. Now, every year, when the heat of summer cools and the leaves put on a fashion show, my spirit nods and smiles at the memory.

September, in itself, is a magical month. The kids are back in school, the weather is kinder, there is a feeling in the air that is undeniable. Take a deep breath, smell it? That's the aroma of autumn. I. Love. It.

This is my birthday month. I've never minded my birthdays, even this one. Can you believe I'm halfway to 90?

That may sound depressing, not so. I've done alot in the past 45 years, think of all I can do in 45 more!

I did mention that the kids are back in school, right?

And, this is the month for the Relief Society broadcast. I love General Conference, but this is my favorite meeting. It's always good to hear the counsel that is just for us as women. And, I get to go with my mom and my sisters. It's a great way to celebrate my birthday- spiritual inspiration and my favorite women. Just to get you as excited as me, here's one of my favorite quotes from one of my favorite speakers-
"And He needs us today. He needs us to speak up for what it right, even when doing so is unpopular. He needs us to develop the spiritual maturity to hear the voice of the Lord and detect the deceptions of the adversary. He delights in women who keep their covenants with precision, women who reverence the power of the priesthood, women who are willing to 'lay aside the things of this world, and seek for the things of a better'. He needs us to be everything we can be, to 'arise and shine forth, that our light may be a standard for the nations'."
Sheri Dew is definitely on my BFF list. It's a great talk, you can read the entire thing here.

Yep, September. I'm so happy you're here. Sit, stay awhile.

Life Moves On

2011-09-05T20:35:00.000-07:00

Adam at 6 months.

I didn't cry when my kids started school. Not once. I was glad. Yep, call me a bad mom, but it's true. I. Couldn't. Wait. Not just for the break for me ( tho' that was part of it), but for what it meant for them. Learning new things, making friends, fun. Okay, mostly it was for the break for me. Next year, when Noah starts, there will be no tears. Trust me.

Adam is moving out tomorrow. He's going to Job Corps where he'll get his diploma and get job training in culinary arts. It's a whole 10 minutes away. We've known about this for a couple months, but tonight, as his dad gave him a blessing, it hit me. My baby is leaving home.
As I sat and listened to the blessing, I had this strange moment. His life flashed before my eyes. Seriously. I saw him as my black-haired baby, my tow-headed toddler, a kindergartner, a scout, and now, this-

He's all grown up. He towers over me. He makes his own decisions and things like this move don't phase him at all. That's all right, I'm nervous enough for both of us.

I am excited for him. I truly believe this is the right step for him right now. He still has his eye on the goal of serving a mission, which I'm so grateful for. And, like I said, he's only 10 minutes away.

But, still, he'll be gone.

Imagine what a basket case I'll be when he goes for 2 years? Pass the tissues.

If You Give a Kid a Camera

2011-09-02T14:12:00.000-07:00

While at our reunion last month, I gave my camera to Hunter and told him to take some pictures. I didn't know what to expect, but was pleasantly surprised. He definitely gave me a different perspective on the ranch. It's interesting what kids notice. (The self-portraits are my favorite.)

My Not-So-Romantic Romance

2011-08-31T09:27:00.000-07:00

I'm a hopeful romantic.
In high school, I read every romance novel I could get my hands on. I daydreamed about my dream man- tall, dark, handsome. He'd be a college grad, professional, and wealthy. I dreamed of curved staircases, fancy dresses, roses, dancing, maybe he would even have an accent.

If you've met the Handy Man, you'll know, he meets very few of those requirements. He is tall and handsome, and he does have an accent, if you count Utah-ese. Romantic? Mmmm, not so much. But, that didn't stop him from sweeping me off my feet.

We started dating in July, and soon were seeing each other every day. We were in love. After a while, we talked about our future together, as though marriage was a given. But, the words hadn't been spoken, the question not asked. I decided I needed to take things into my own hands. He needed some encouragement, some inspiration.

One hot August night, we'd been up very late watching a movie. We both fell asleep. I woke in the early morning with a plan. (We just slept, people!) I told him I wanted to go see the sunrise. I mean, really, what would be a more romantic proposal spot than on a mountain top as the sun rose? Oh, yeah. This was going to be good. We got in his car and drove east. We found some spot on the mountain above Salt Lake and sat to watch. As the sun peaked over the horizon, I waited. Light streamed onto the sleepy valley below us. It was beautiful. It was romantic. He said nothing. He took me home.

I honestly don't remember what I did the rest of that day. I do know I was not giving up. When he came to pick me up that night, he asked the usual question, "What do you want to do?" 'Oh, I don't know. Why don't we go downtown?' So, we did. We found a parking spot and walked to- yep, you guessed it- Temple Square. What better place to propose to your future wife than next to the place she'll become your wife? We walked, we sat, we gazed. I put my head on his shoulder. I waited. We walked some more. We left. Dang!

Later, we sat in my parent's home. It was late. My mom and dad were in bed. We were watching TV, or something. Then, in classic Handy Man style, he turned to me and said, "So, do you want to get married?"

I swooned. Seriously. I kissed him and told him yes! At that moment, it didn't matter where we were or that he didn't use poetry or song. He asked. He loved me and wanted me. That was all the romance I needed.

Today is the 20 year anniversary of that day. Over the past two decades I've learned that my husband isn't about poetry or flowers. There are no curved staircases and we'll never be rich. But, my reality is this- he is a hard worker. He never complains. He's a good father. He loves me for who I am. He indulges my chocolate and diet Coke cravings. He puts my needs and wants before his own. And, he does the dishes every Tuesday night.

If that isn't romantic, I don't know what is.

Parenting 101 = Troop 525

2011-08-29T13:42:00.000-07:00

Being a parent isn't easy. You've heard all the jokes about kids not coming with instructions, it's a learn-as-you-go process. The books tell you about milestones and development, but don't go into what to do when they aren't met. They give instruction on breastfeeding and diaper rash and teething. Then, they get to be teenagers and I guess they think you've got it figured out. Maybe there are teenage-raising books, I don't know. Perhaps we should give women a teen-shower when her first one hits that lovely two-digit mark. You could give her things like maid service for their bedroom, a rain parka for letting the attitude slide off your back and lots and lots of Prozac.

Better yet, you could give her a scout leader who cares.
That's what I got 5 years ago, and my life has been infinitely better ever since.

When I saw the couple at the courthouse with their scary son, I thought- 'That boy is not a scout.' Sure, I don't know that, but I'd be willing to bet a lunch at Cafe Rio that I'm right. Why? Because scouting does many things for boys (and girls) and one of them is to keep them busy. That young man at court obviously had a little too much time on his hands.

Scouting also teaches respect. I've never seen a boy in a scout uniform with an eyebrow piercing, or even an earring. Their shirts are tucked in and clean. They learn to respect their leaders and their parents. They respect our country and the flag- wanna make a momma cry? Have her watch her children as they lead a flag ceremony or a flag retiring. It's emotional.

Scouting teaches them to work hard. How many kids do you know who would get up at the crack of dawn all summer long to catch a bus at 6:30am? Then, go to work for less than minimum wage in the heat and the rain? It's what mine have done for 4 years. They also work to get their merit badges and awards.

Scouting also teaches them to play hard. I might complain about the camp songs and the skits they love to do over and over and over, but really, compared to the other things they could be doing or saying or singing, it's all good.

Thing is, the kids don't do this on their own. They have to have leaders who love scouting. Thankfully, we do. I will never in my lifetime be able to tell these men and women how grateful I am for their unselfish sacrifice and service. It has made the difference between having kids I can't control and kids who have respect, both for others and themselves.

There's a popular saying that it takes a village to raise a child. I'd say it takes a troop.

The Camp Kiesel Staff- retiring a flag.

Another Favorite Thing

2011-08-26T10:06:00.000-07:00

I have lots of very talented friends. Really.

Why they want to be my friend is sometimes a mystery to me.

But, I'm glad they are. My friends.

One of these talented gals is Megan.

One day I was learning how to make bags and Megan was there.

She said something like,

"These bag straps would be great for a camera."

And, voila, her business was born.

(Ok, I'm sure there was more to it than that.)

She makes these very stylish camera straps-

Not a great picture, I had to take it with my phone.

They are cute and soooo much softer than the one that comes with your camera.

Now, I've seen photographers who have those strap covers,

Adorable fabric, don't you think? She has so many choices!

and I always want to say, 'Hey, did you know there's a better way?!'

So, if you are a photographer, or like me,

just own a camera and like to take pictures,

and you also want to be less frumpy,

go here- http://www.madebymeegz.com/

You won't be sorry!

If I Had One Wish...

2011-08-25T08:42:00.000-07:00

I first met Lisa at stake girls camp two years ago. I watched her as she associated with the girls and the other stake leaders. She was energetic and fun-loving. I liked her instantly. Six months later, she was called as our stake YW president. I learned that in addition to her outgoing nature, she had an incredible testimony of the gospel. She was a champion for modesty and I so envied her way of letting the girls know what was right. She didn't hold anything back, she never held her tongue because she was worried how they would react. But, she spoke to them with such love, that I'm sure none of them had bad feelings toward her.
Last fall, Lisa was diagnosed with cancer. I watched her as she continued to minister to the young women in our stake. She came to our ward and taught them. She spoke in stake conference. And then, just one month ago, she came to girls camp- with hats to cover her head, an IV to keep her nourished and a blanket to keep her warm. She sat, usually at the edge of the group, ever watchful of her charges. Her sweet husband followed her around, carrying her chair and making sure she was as comfortable as her frail body could be.
I think of all the lessons she taught the young women in the short time she served them.
She taught them that we all have trials, but that doesn't give us an excuse from our callings and responsibilities. She taught them that we can do hard things. She (and her husband) gave them a great example of a loving marriage, showing that we stick together, no matter what. She let them know that she loved them-enough to spend some of her very last days with them.
The most inspiring moment at camp for me was when Pres. S. spoke to us. He told us that Lisa should be home, should be in the hospital, but that she was there, literally sacrificing her life for the gospel.
Yesterday was Lisa's funeral. I didn't know her well, but through the beautiful talks given by her sister and daughter, I learned that she was even more amazing than I'd imagined.
She was a great mom. She was epitome of the word 'nurturer'. As they spoke, I thought of how we've been encouraged to minister to one another. Lisa did this her whole life. It seems, she took care of everyone around her.
Lisa and I have a couple things in common. We both have 7 children and we were both 40 when we had our last child. That's where the similarities end. I listened in awe at the kind of mother she was. She left such a great legacy for her children and so many wonderful memories. I wondered what memories my kids would have of me. Pres. S- the same one who spoke at camp- spoke at the funeral. He talked about her good qualities and said that if we're feeling we should change and try to live more like she did, to remember those feelings and act on them. Yep, he was talking to me.
I don't like funerals. They're sad and I always cry, then I get a headache from trying to hold back the tears. But, I left yesterday's service feeling uplifted and inspired. I left with a determination to become more like Lisa. One scripture kept coming to mind when thinking of her-
Alma 5:15-16,19
"Do ye exercise faith in the redemption of him who created you? Do you look forward with a eye of faith, and view this mortal body raised in immortality and this corruption raised in incorruption to stand before God to be judged according to the deeds which have been done in the mortal body?
I say unto you, can yo imagine to yourselves that ye hear the voice of the Lord, saying unto you, in that day: Come unto me ye blessed, for behold your works have been works of righteousness upon the face of the earth?
I say unto you, can ye look up to God at that day with a pure heart and clean hands? I say unto you, can you look up, having the image of God engraven upon your countenances?"

If I had one wish, it would be to live like Lisa did and then, be able to take that step beyond the veil as she did- ready to meet my Savior, knowing I served Him to the end, standing as Lisa did, with His image on my countenance.

Happy First Day of School- the frazzled and frumpy way

2011-08-23T08:03:00.000-07:00

Most of the time, the other blogs I read inspire me. They make me laugh, or cry. They give me good ideas. But, sometimes, they make me feel bad about myself. For example, did you have a back-to-school feast? Give your kids crowns and gifts? No? Me either. I bought my kids pop tarts. And, I was out of bed before them. That was our big back to school treat. Oh, and I didn't have batteries for my camera, so no pictures. Lame.
It's these times that I realize the title on my blog is very fitting. Having ~~seven~~ eight children makes me frazzled. And, as a mom, I'm completely frumpy. Not much fun at all.

We do have a theme for this year. I thought up that one all on my own-before I read nienie's blog. (She always has a theme.) At our Family Home Evening last week, we got in teams of two and tried to find as many scriptures as we could about school/learning. Then, we talked about how important knowledge is to Heavenly Father, that that is where His power lies. Then we read our theme:
D&C 88:118-119-

"And as all have not faith, seek ye diligently and teach one another words of wisdom; yea, seek ye out of the best books words of wisdom; seek learning, even by study and also by faith.
Organize yourselves; prepare every needful thing; and establish a house, even a house of prayer, a house of fasting, a house of faith, a house of learning, a house of glory, a house of order, a house of God."

Our focus is on two phrases, "seek learning" and "a house of learning". So, I'm not as much fun as other moms, but hopefully, our theme will help us have a better year.

(When we read this scripture, I asked, "Do we have a house of prayer?" 'yes' and asked about each one. When I got to the 'house of order' Hunter said, "No!" I told them that would be a subject for another FHE.)

So Long, Farewell, Adieu

2011-08-22T06:56:00.000-07:00

Oh, lovely summer. Where have you gone? With your long, lazy days and opportunities for frolicking, suntans and beaches.

Whatever. Summer is hot. I didn't get to frolick much. And laziness? Way overrated. The only thing tanned on me is my feet. And beaches? Well, I visited one in Idaho.
Thank heaven it's over. I had no motivation this summer. I've decided I need the structure as much as my kids.

Here's to getting back on track. Alarm clocks ringing, getting things done while they're gone, being here to help with homework, and very limited video game time.

Also, the beginning of school marks the beginning of my favorite season.

Today is a good day.