Today I've been thinking about the women I admire most - the women I want to be like. I have so many friends and acquaintances who are just amazing! They are ordinary women with extraordinary traits. If I could be a combination of all of these women, I'm pretty sure I'd be a greater super hero than Marvel has ever seen. I'm just sayin. Alas, I'm not quite there, but here are some of the traits of a handful of the women I admire (the list is far longer than I can post today).
Let's begin with my friend Christie. There's a lot to love about Christie, but one thing I have always admired about her is the way she treats everyone like a best friend. She remembers names and details about people, and she is genuinely happy to see everyone whether it's a life-long friend or the server from Red Robin that brought her extra fry sauce six months ago. Christie has taught me to value people regardless of the relationship.
Next is my daughters' dance teacher Miss Sara. This woman is amazing in so many ways, but one thing I particularly like about Sara is that she has a full, busy life, but she never plays the "too busy" card. She is so giving of her time, and she openly and lovingly supports other people in their successes and accomplishments. Sara has taught me that the best way to have a full life is to show others they are worth making time for.
One of my life-long friends, Cheyenne is what I consider "Celestial Kingdom material." She is fit for heaven, and she's the type of person I'd be okay rubbing shoulders with for eternity. Cheyenne has the ability to see the good in every day things. She is a person who looks at 18 loads of laundry and sees the blessing of clothes to wear. She looks at chocolate hand prints on the wall and sees children to love. She looks at the grocery bill for the month and rejoices in good health and mouths to feed. Cheyenne has taught me that some of life's biggest messes and largest inconveniences are actually reflections of our greatest blessings.
One of my best friends from church is Brianne, and she is a good listener. Brianne once called me and let me whine to her about how "hard" my life is. She was so compassionate. She didn't give advice, she just listened and completely validated my feelings. The kicker was, Brianne's husband had cancer and nearly died last year. I kept saying, "Bri, I feel so horrible whining to you about all of this when at any moment you would be completely justified in saying 'Suck it up!'" but she never did that. Brianne has taught me that we all have pains and sorrows, and we don't need to measure one another by them.
Shannon is my newest friend. We only met a few months ago, but we "hit it off" right away. Meeting Shannon was an answer to a prayer. She showed up right when I needed her. She is pretty incredible, but one thing I really love about Shannon is that I have never heard her say one negative or demeaning thing about her body. In a world where we are conditioned to hate our bodies, it's so refreshing to be around a woman who doesn't fall for it. Shannon has taught me, for lack of a better way to phrase it, to shut up about my imperfections.
I love that women can draw strength from one another, and even though we can be catty, envious, or competitive at times, we ultimately have an opportunity to learn from one another and to experience variety in talents and abilities. I learn from other women every day, and even though I don't always apply my knowledge well, I'm trying to draw continually from the good I see in others.
Sunday, July 31, 2016
Sunday, July 10, 2016
We Put the 'Rek' in 'Trek'
At the beginning of the year, Scotty and I were asked if we would be a Ma & Pa for stake trek. A big part of the history of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints is the 1,300 mile journey early Church members took from Nauvoo, Illinois to the Salt Lake Valley.
This journey brought the pioneers many afflictions as well as many joys. As modern-day saints, we still rely heavily on their stories and experiences to build our own faith in hard times. The pioneers were wonderful examples of sacrifice and faith, which is why many youth groups reenact the trek west.
As part of trek, the teenagers are divided into "families," each led by a Ma & Pa. This particular trek was in Fort Bridger, Wyoming. We were given 8 teenagers for our family, and each family had a handcart to pull on the trail. We walked approximately 18 miles - 16 of those with our handcart.
I honestly don't know how to summarize trek in a blog post. I've never been before - I didn't have the chance to go as a teenager, so this was my first experience. It was, in short, amazing. Our family was a great mixture of personalities and cultures. Everyone got along wonderfully, and I didn't expect that. We didn't have an ounce of contention among us. That's not to say there weren't struggles - our kids had problems with blisters and muscle fatigue, and we had an incident with a bloody nose, and one kid had constant tummy troubles due to IBS, but there was nothing major.
One of my concerns was the heat, and it ended up being very tolerable. Yes, it was hot, but there was a nice breeze that kept us from getting overheated. Another concern was the attitudes and behavior of the teenagers. In recent years, I haven't had the best perception of teenagers, but I now realize that that is because I've been working with some of the more difficult ones in my calling as a Sunday school teacher (for the record, my Sunday school class is currently in a place I would consider "good." Not ideal, but good. I'm fine with that considering some of the issues we've had).
The teenagers that were assigned to our trek family turned out to be pretty awesome. Scotty and I went to bed each night talking about how great they were, and while there were a few that would have done well in any family, there were a few in our family that we knew were "our" children. Not to boast, but there were some for whom we were the best parents, and that affirmed to us that the organization of the families was inspired.
As a family, we shared many laughs and many spiritual moments. At first, things were a little awkward as we got to know one another, and it took some time for some of the kids to open up, but after two hours on a bus together, we were bonding really well. About an hour into pushing the handcart, I said, "Can you guys believe we just met this morning?" It felt like we'd been a family for a long time.
The farther we got into our trek, the closer we grew as a family. At the beginning, the kids would often run off with friends and come check in with us from times to time, but by the end, they wanted to stay together as a family. We spend a lot of time sitting in a circle on buckets, talking about trek, life, and the gospel.
And Scotty was looking at this:
My sky looks prettier, until you notice this:
This journey brought the pioneers many afflictions as well as many joys. As modern-day saints, we still rely heavily on their stories and experiences to build our own faith in hard times. The pioneers were wonderful examples of sacrifice and faith, which is why many youth groups reenact the trek west.
As part of trek, the teenagers are divided into "families," each led by a Ma & Pa. This particular trek was in Fort Bridger, Wyoming. We were given 8 teenagers for our family, and each family had a handcart to pull on the trail. We walked approximately 18 miles - 16 of those with our handcart.
I honestly don't know how to summarize trek in a blog post. I've never been before - I didn't have the chance to go as a teenager, so this was my first experience. It was, in short, amazing. Our family was a great mixture of personalities and cultures. Everyone got along wonderfully, and I didn't expect that. We didn't have an ounce of contention among us. That's not to say there weren't struggles - our kids had problems with blisters and muscle fatigue, and we had an incident with a bloody nose, and one kid had constant tummy troubles due to IBS, but there was nothing major.
One of my concerns was the heat, and it ended up being very tolerable. Yes, it was hot, but there was a nice breeze that kept us from getting overheated. Another concern was the attitudes and behavior of the teenagers. In recent years, I haven't had the best perception of teenagers, but I now realize that that is because I've been working with some of the more difficult ones in my calling as a Sunday school teacher (for the record, my Sunday school class is currently in a place I would consider "good." Not ideal, but good. I'm fine with that considering some of the issues we've had).
The teenagers that were assigned to our trek family turned out to be pretty awesome. Scotty and I went to bed each night talking about how great they were, and while there were a few that would have done well in any family, there were a few in our family that we knew were "our" children. Not to boast, but there were some for whom we were the best parents, and that affirmed to us that the organization of the families was inspired.
As a family, we shared many laughs and many spiritual moments. At first, things were a little awkward as we got to know one another, and it took some time for some of the kids to open up, but after two hours on a bus together, we were bonding really well. About an hour into pushing the handcart, I said, "Can you guys believe we just met this morning?" It felt like we'd been a family for a long time.
The farther we got into our trek, the closer we grew as a family. At the beginning, the kids would often run off with friends and come check in with us from times to time, but by the end, they wanted to stay together as a family. We spend a lot of time sitting in a circle on buckets, talking about trek, life, and the gospel.
I won't go over every detail of trek, but there are two experiences I want to write about.
First, I started having problems with my foot about a month ago. I started a new exercise regimen, and I thought my foot was just sore because I'd been exercising barefoot, which I don't normally do. But the pain didn't go away, and last week, it suddenly got a lot worse. I began to think that it might be plantar fasciitis (I still think that might be what it is). It got bad enough that I was limping pretty regularly, and I started to worry that I wouldn't be able to complete the trek or that, if I did complete the trek, I would do more damage to my foot.
On the morning we left, I got out of bed and stepped onto my foot anticipating pain, but it wasn't there. It wasn't completely gone, but it was reduced to the point where I didn't notice it. My foot didn't bother me at all on trek. There were just a couple of times when I stepped on a rock and it hit the right spot and reminded me that I had a foot problem. Then, as soon as I stepped through the door at home, I took off my shoe and took a step, and the pain and limping immediately returned.
Think what you may of that, but I believe Heavenly Father wanted me to go on this trek, so I was blessed with temporary relief from the pain so I could do so.
The other story I want to share is pretty neat. On Friday night, all of the bishops (leaders of our individual congregations) came up to camp, and we met together as wards (congregations). While we were sitting with the youth from our ward, listening to our bishop speak, Scotty and I were both admiring the amazing sky. I was looking at this:
And Scotty was looking at this:
My sky looks prettier, until you notice this:
We, of course, thought this was very, very cool.
I am so grateful that we had this experience. It is something I will look back on fondly for the rest of my life. I am so amazed at how quickly I felt a genuine love for the kids in my family. When trek ended, there was a part of me that was devastated to send them back into the world. I wasn't ready for the journey to be over.
It's been 24 hours. I miss them so much!
In addition to developing a great familial bond with my 8 teenagers, I also learned a lot about myself. I had many moments where I felt different from the other Mas & Pas. Scotty and I weren't doing all of the same things they were doing with their kids, and sometimes I felt like I should be doing things like them, but then I had the thought that I wasn't meant to be the same as the other Mas & Pas. Scotty and I were asked to do this because of our unique strengths and perspectives. We were never meant to be exactly like any other Ma & Pa. From then on, I tried to be myself and serve and love in my way, and that was what our family needed.
The entire experience was so wonderful. I am antsy to do it again!
Friday, July 1, 2016
Thoughts on Weight
I hope the title of this post doesn't turn you away. Weight is a topic I don't care to read or write about, and yet, here I am... writing about weight.
To get to my point in this post, I need to tell you a little about my history with my weight. Bear with me.
As a child and as a teenager, I was very thin. I ate anything I wanted - practically living off of junk food for the first 18 years of my life. Then, after getting married, I started putting on weight. I'm now classified as "overweight."
I'm telling you this as a matter of fact, not to put myself down or to whine. A few years ago, I had high cholesterol, and my doctor urged me to lose weight. The weight he recommended is 43 pounds less than what I weigh now (I'd settle for 20).
I never thought I would struggle with weight. I thought being thin for life was a sure thing for me. Even when I started putting on a little weight, I just brushed it off and thought, "I can afford to gain a few pounds. No big deal." But then I got to the point where it was too much weight, and I started feeling bad about myself.
The truth is, I feel bad about myself... a lot.
But I'm not going to dwell on that. I've realized that, even if I were 20 (or even 43) pounds lighter, none of it would matter if I didn't already like myself. So I'm working on that. Liking myself. But there's another important lesson I have learned from my weight.
A few years ago, I realized that if I'd stayed skinny my whole life, I would have continued eating absolute junk until I either acquired a life-threatening disease or died. I would have never exercised. Sure, I'd be thin, but I would treat my body like utter crap. That's just how I am.
But because I have struggled with weight, I have taken the opportunity to make lifestyle changes. I exercise, and because I exercise, I am strong. Yes, I weigh more than I should, but I have developed strength that I wouldn't have otherwise. This morning I was at an exercise class, and I was dripping sweat as I did burpees and push-ups, and I thought about how I never would have been able to do those things in my skinny body because I never would have had to.
Additionally, I know that if I'd remained skinny, I would have given myself the credit for it. I wouldn't have acknowledged that it was in my genes. I would have truly believed that I'd worked for it and deserved it (I can say the same thing of my children. I think God gave me strong-willed, slightly challenging children so I wouldn't give myself the credit. If they'd been well-behaved and obedient, I would have thought it was because of my wonderful parenting, and I would have been judgmental of all of the mothers whose children weren't perfect like mine because, clearly, those mothers would be doing it all wrong).
So in some sick, twisted way, I'm grateful for what being overweight has done for me.
To get to my point in this post, I need to tell you a little about my history with my weight. Bear with me.
As a child and as a teenager, I was very thin. I ate anything I wanted - practically living off of junk food for the first 18 years of my life. Then, after getting married, I started putting on weight. I'm now classified as "overweight."
I'm telling you this as a matter of fact, not to put myself down or to whine. A few years ago, I had high cholesterol, and my doctor urged me to lose weight. The weight he recommended is 43 pounds less than what I weigh now (I'd settle for 20).
I never thought I would struggle with weight. I thought being thin for life was a sure thing for me. Even when I started putting on a little weight, I just brushed it off and thought, "I can afford to gain a few pounds. No big deal." But then I got to the point where it was too much weight, and I started feeling bad about myself.
The truth is, I feel bad about myself... a lot.
But I'm not going to dwell on that. I've realized that, even if I were 20 (or even 43) pounds lighter, none of it would matter if I didn't already like myself. So I'm working on that. Liking myself. But there's another important lesson I have learned from my weight.
A few years ago, I realized that if I'd stayed skinny my whole life, I would have continued eating absolute junk until I either acquired a life-threatening disease or died. I would have never exercised. Sure, I'd be thin, but I would treat my body like utter crap. That's just how I am.
But because I have struggled with weight, I have taken the opportunity to make lifestyle changes. I exercise, and because I exercise, I am strong. Yes, I weigh more than I should, but I have developed strength that I wouldn't have otherwise. This morning I was at an exercise class, and I was dripping sweat as I did burpees and push-ups, and I thought about how I never would have been able to do those things in my skinny body because I never would have had to.
Additionally, I know that if I'd remained skinny, I would have given myself the credit for it. I wouldn't have acknowledged that it was in my genes. I would have truly believed that I'd worked for it and deserved it (I can say the same thing of my children. I think God gave me strong-willed, slightly challenging children so I wouldn't give myself the credit. If they'd been well-behaved and obedient, I would have thought it was because of my wonderful parenting, and I would have been judgmental of all of the mothers whose children weren't perfect like mine because, clearly, those mothers would be doing it all wrong).
So in some sick, twisted way, I'm grateful for what being overweight has done for me.
Thursday, June 30, 2016
The Title is the Hardest Part (and ten other random facts)
Fact #1: Yesterday my baby figured out how to take the lid off the bottle of breakfast syrup. Imagine this for a moment: a 14-month-old at the kitchen table with a 1 gallon jug of Mrs. Butterworth's.
No really, I imagine it!
Are you crying?
Because you should be.
Fact #2: Today the three-year-old opened a can of root beer and poured it into several cups on the kitchen table and mostly missed the cups. Where was I? Vacuuming bedrooms downstairs.
Fact #3: Do you see how dangerous it is to clean? A mere attempt at tidy carpet has resulted in what I'm sure will be eternal root beer stickiness on the linoleum (which only adds to the never-ending syrup mess). The cost of cleaning is to high! Too high, I say.
Fact #4: The Giver is on Netflix now. If you've never watched it, you should.
Fact #5: We recently got to a place in life where markers were allowed to be kept in accessible places. Zoe still had a few marker-related incidents from time to time, but for the most part, it was working for us. This week, Eva learned how to take the caps off markers, so I have to go back to hiding all of the markers. The problem is, I'm so out of the habit that I often forget. Now there are master pieces all over my house, and I am constantly finding markers all over the house without lids on them. I throw away about two per day.
Fact #6: Notice how I put that Giver thing in there to break up the messes a bit. Let the truth be known: my life is messy.
Fact #7: I'm a firm believer in supportive pictures in blog posts and yet, I do not practice this belief because of laziness. It's been a really long time since I've posted a picture of anything, so here is my kid in a crow mask:
No really, I imagine it!
Are you crying?
Because you should be.
Fact #2: Today the three-year-old opened a can of root beer and poured it into several cups on the kitchen table and mostly missed the cups. Where was I? Vacuuming bedrooms downstairs.
Fact #3: Do you see how dangerous it is to clean? A mere attempt at tidy carpet has resulted in what I'm sure will be eternal root beer stickiness on the linoleum (which only adds to the never-ending syrup mess). The cost of cleaning is to high! Too high, I say.
Fact #4: The Giver is on Netflix now. If you've never watched it, you should.
Fact #5: We recently got to a place in life where markers were allowed to be kept in accessible places. Zoe still had a few marker-related incidents from time to time, but for the most part, it was working for us. This week, Eva learned how to take the caps off markers, so I have to go back to hiding all of the markers. The problem is, I'm so out of the habit that I often forget. Now there are master pieces all over my house, and I am constantly finding markers all over the house without lids on them. I throw away about two per day.
Fact #6: Notice how I put that Giver thing in there to break up the messes a bit. Let the truth be known: my life is messy.
Fact #7: I'm a firm believer in supportive pictures in blog posts and yet, I do not practice this belief because of laziness. It's been a really long time since I've posted a picture of anything, so here is my kid in a crow mask:
Fact #8: Sometimes when I talk to people my age who are single, and we discuss their current dating life, I realize that, at this point in my life, making new friends is sometimes very similar to dating. I keep finding myself in whirlwind "romances." Is this true for everyone, or am I just creepy?
Fact #9: Tonight I had to go to a square dancing activity in preparation for the upcoming pioneer trek I'm participating in next week. What is a pioneer trek, you ask? This is where Mormons get a little crazy and dress up as pioneers and pull handcarts through the middle of Wyoming.
Hopefully I'll be able to elaborate on this more in another post, but anyway... square dancing. One of my least favorite things on earth. I don't like touching people I don't know. In fact, in most cases, I don't like touching people I do know, and square dancing is very touchy-feely, partner-switchingly awkward.
But I was a good sport, and I did it. I held hands with 20 different sweaty males (all of whom were either teenagers or married men... awkward, awkward, akward!) Plus we were all dressed in full-on pioneer garb, and it was 96 degrees outside.
Can someone get me a medal? Cuz I'm pretty sure I deserve one.
Fact #10: I was a little surprised when we square danced to disco music and "Who Let the Dogs Out."
Sunday, June 26, 2016
The Things I'll Miss
I have four kids.
How did this happen? How can I be old enough to have four kids? Why have I been allowed and trusted to be responsible for all of these little people?
It's a lot of people. I have many friends who have more than four. Frankly, I don't know how they do it. I feel like I have absolutely met my limit. Actually, I felt that way with three. Somehow I went ahead and had another even though I was already completely overwhelmed.
I routinely get the"You're going to miss this" speech from my elders. I smile and nod and try to be a good sport about it even though I really hate being given The Speech. I know I will miss parts of this, but I definitely won't miss all of it, and I'm a firm believer that missing it is part of the reward of surviving it. Once you've made it through, you get to have the blessing of hindsight that allows you to miss it. I'm not there yet. Let me have my resentment so I have something to regret later. It's my right as a mother. Stop bossing my motherhood.
Anyway, like I said, there are definitely things about my children's current phases and stages that I will miss someday.
I will miss her hugs and her unconditional love. Babies love their mommas like no one else. I'll miss her toddles - that silly walk that works for her but makes me contemplate, what if we all walked that way? I'll miss her baby giggles and her rolly thighs and her squishy potbelly. I'll miss the way her head feels on my shoulder and the way the weight of her sinks into my chest when she falls asleep on me. I'll miss the way she comes up to me while I'm asleep and gives me a big, loud kiss on the face. I'll miss the way she snuggles with her blankets. I'll miss the way she points and gets excited when she sees candy and the way her face looks when she says, "Whooooooaaaa!" I'll miss her weird, little tooth that has a slit in it. Someday it will fall out, and she will look like an entirely different person. I'll miss marveling at everything she learns and the ways she grows.
I'll miss the way she whispers "Yesss!" under her breath when she gets what she wants (she pronounces it "Yefffff!" because she can't say make the 'S' sound very well). I'll miss the way she gallops everywhere she goes. I'll miss the way she sings, "I like you, I like you, I like you just the way you are!" and how she asks to watch "My whoa" which is Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood. I'll miss the way she chirps, "Me help! Me help!" whenever I am working on something that I really don't want her to help with. I'll miss the way she put her swimming suit bottoms on with her waist through the leg hole and the way she plays dress up and announces things like, "Yook, I a yion!" or "Yook, me a daddy!" I'll miss her sincere laughter and the arches in her brow that don't quite line up with her natural eyebrows (maybe she'll get to keep those, but she's already lost the birthmark on her eyelid and the natural curl in her hair, so you never know what will disappear as they grow). I'll miss the way she eats the white stuff out of the Oreos and throws the cookies on the floor (see? I know that there are things I'll miss that annoy the heck out of me right now).
I'll miss her confidence and her passion. Right now her self-esteem is high, and there isn't much to hold her back. She is fearless. She know what she wants and she fights for it. She isn't yet tainted by worrying about what others think. I'll miss the way she calls me "Momma," even though "Momma! Momma! Hey Momma! Momma! Hey Momma!" gets old after a while. I'll miss the mismatched outfits she insists on wearing (plaid shorts under a chevron pattern dress, loud neon socks with high heels for church). I'll miss her obsession with Beanie Boos and Shopkins and the way she lines them up to play. I'll miss her constant insistence that I spend every waking moment with her. I'll miss the way she dances through every room of the house and constantly asks for music to inspire her moves.
I'll miss his desire to do what's right. I'll miss his passion for stuffed animals and blankies. I'll miss the way he insists that we do the same bed time routine every night. I'll miss the way he loves spending time with me and the way he asks me about everything I do. "What are you watching?" "What is your book about?" "Who sings this song?" "Will you teach me how to play that game?" I'll miss the way he uses masking tape to accomplish great things - like building a Hot Wheels track that runs down the living room banister. I'll miss his love for Cub Scouts and the way he looks forward to den meeting each week. I'll miss how goal-minded he is and his desire to achieve things. I'll miss the way he joins us in our exercising efforts - the way he does burpees in the living room with his dad and the way he critiques my moves. "Mom, you're doing it different than Shaun T. I don't think you're working as hard as he is." (BUSTED!)
So yeah... I'll miss it. I know it. I don't need anyone telling me so while I'm in the thick of it, though.
How did this happen? How can I be old enough to have four kids? Why have I been allowed and trusted to be responsible for all of these little people?
It's a lot of people. I have many friends who have more than four. Frankly, I don't know how they do it. I feel like I have absolutely met my limit. Actually, I felt that way with three. Somehow I went ahead and had another even though I was already completely overwhelmed.
I routinely get the"You're going to miss this" speech from my elders. I smile and nod and try to be a good sport about it even though I really hate being given The Speech. I know I will miss parts of this, but I definitely won't miss all of it, and I'm a firm believer that missing it is part of the reward of surviving it. Once you've made it through, you get to have the blessing of hindsight that allows you to miss it. I'm not there yet. Let me have my resentment so I have something to regret later. It's my right as a mother. Stop bossing my motherhood.
Anyway, like I said, there are definitely things about my children's current phases and stages that I will miss someday.
Eva - age 14 months
I will miss her hugs and her unconditional love. Babies love their mommas like no one else. I'll miss her toddles - that silly walk that works for her but makes me contemplate, what if we all walked that way? I'll miss her baby giggles and her rolly thighs and her squishy potbelly. I'll miss the way her head feels on my shoulder and the way the weight of her sinks into my chest when she falls asleep on me. I'll miss the way she comes up to me while I'm asleep and gives me a big, loud kiss on the face. I'll miss the way she snuggles with her blankets. I'll miss the way she points and gets excited when she sees candy and the way her face looks when she says, "Whooooooaaaa!" I'll miss her weird, little tooth that has a slit in it. Someday it will fall out, and she will look like an entirely different person. I'll miss marveling at everything she learns and the ways she grows.
Zoe - age 3 1/2
I'll miss the way she whispers "Yesss!" under her breath when she gets what she wants (she pronounces it "Yefffff!" because she can't say make the 'S' sound very well). I'll miss the way she gallops everywhere she goes. I'll miss the way she sings, "I like you, I like you, I like you just the way you are!" and how she asks to watch "My whoa" which is Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood. I'll miss the way she chirps, "Me help! Me help!" whenever I am working on something that I really don't want her to help with. I'll miss the way she put her swimming suit bottoms on with her waist through the leg hole and the way she plays dress up and announces things like, "Yook, I a yion!" or "Yook, me a daddy!" I'll miss her sincere laughter and the arches in her brow that don't quite line up with her natural eyebrows (maybe she'll get to keep those, but she's already lost the birthmark on her eyelid and the natural curl in her hair, so you never know what will disappear as they grow). I'll miss the way she eats the white stuff out of the Oreos and throws the cookies on the floor (see? I know that there are things I'll miss that annoy the heck out of me right now).
Daisy - age 6 3/4
I'll miss her confidence and her passion. Right now her self-esteem is high, and there isn't much to hold her back. She is fearless. She know what she wants and she fights for it. She isn't yet tainted by worrying about what others think. I'll miss the way she calls me "Momma," even though "Momma! Momma! Hey Momma! Momma! Hey Momma!" gets old after a while. I'll miss the mismatched outfits she insists on wearing (plaid shorts under a chevron pattern dress, loud neon socks with high heels for church). I'll miss her obsession with Beanie Boos and Shopkins and the way she lines them up to play. I'll miss her constant insistence that I spend every waking moment with her. I'll miss the way she dances through every room of the house and constantly asks for music to inspire her moves.
Nicky - age 9 1/2
I'll miss his desire to do what's right. I'll miss his passion for stuffed animals and blankies. I'll miss the way he insists that we do the same bed time routine every night. I'll miss the way he loves spending time with me and the way he asks me about everything I do. "What are you watching?" "What is your book about?" "Who sings this song?" "Will you teach me how to play that game?" I'll miss the way he uses masking tape to accomplish great things - like building a Hot Wheels track that runs down the living room banister. I'll miss his love for Cub Scouts and the way he looks forward to den meeting each week. I'll miss how goal-minded he is and his desire to achieve things. I'll miss the way he joins us in our exercising efforts - the way he does burpees in the living room with his dad and the way he critiques my moves. "Mom, you're doing it different than Shaun T. I don't think you're working as hard as he is." (BUSTED!)
So yeah... I'll miss it. I know it. I don't need anyone telling me so while I'm in the thick of it, though.
Wednesday, June 22, 2016
Weird Things My Kids Do
Today I gave Eva a few Ritz crackers to munch on, and she threw them on the floor. She always throws Ritz crackers on the floor. Could it be that she doesn't like Ritz crackers? I thought followed by Strange child! And that got me thinking about how weird my kids are sometimes, and that's what led me to write this post.
Here are a few more things about my kids that I think are weird (to protect their weirdness, I'm not going to use names or genders, and I'll refer to all of them as "it" because I'm tactful like that):
Weird thing #1: I have a kid who likes to lick hair. I have to constantly tell this child to not lick the baby's head (process of elimination: it's not the baby)
Weird thing #2: Another child often picks up hair from the ground and puts it in it's mouth. I always pull the hair out of it's mouth right away, but who knows how much hair it's putting in there that I never see. Is it ingesting the hair? I'm not sure. But I have my trichophagia radar on.
Weird thing #3: One of my children likes to smell it's feet. In fact, we were at the doctor's office just this morning when this kid climbed on the table, flipped it's shoes off, and brought it's feet right to it's face and started sniffing. The doctor was a little startled.
Weird thing #4: One of my kids loves mushrooms and wants them everyday for lunch. It eats a pound of mushrooms all by itself and then asks for more.
Weird thing #5: The mushroom child has a ritual of lining the mushrooms (when they are whole) along the handle of the oven. I have to let this happen or the child gets upset, so I stand by patiently waiting for it to finish making a row of mushrooms. Then the child insists on handing them to me one at a time so I can slice and saute them.
Weird thing #6: One of my kids likes to stretch it's eyeball sockets while I'm doing it's hair. It calls this "eyeball yoga."
Weird thing #7: Two of my kids cry if we look at pictures from our Disneyland vacations.
Weird thing #8: One of my kids is obsessed with the name Bob. It sings songs about Bob and calls everyone Bob.
Weird thing #9: One of my kids wants to be a chicken farmer when it grows up.
Weird thing #10: One of my kids likes to smash Smarties into dust and put it in little sandwich baggies and carry it around in it's pocket. Um, yeah... it looks like cocaine.
Weird thing #11: Two of my kids like to fill garbage bags with water, hang them from the swing set, and hit them with sticks. They call it "playing pinata."
Weird thing #12: Two of my children cry if they hear the song "Crash and Burn" by Thomas Rhett because it reminds them of Shaun the Sheep (the movie) which, according to them, is very sad. The song and the movie are completely unrelated, so... whatever.
Here are a few more things about my kids that I think are weird (to protect their weirdness, I'm not going to use names or genders, and I'll refer to all of them as "it" because I'm tactful like that):
Weird thing #1: I have a kid who likes to lick hair. I have to constantly tell this child to not lick the baby's head (process of elimination: it's not the baby)
Weird thing #2: Another child often picks up hair from the ground and puts it in it's mouth. I always pull the hair out of it's mouth right away, but who knows how much hair it's putting in there that I never see. Is it ingesting the hair? I'm not sure. But I have my trichophagia radar on.
Weird thing #3: One of my children likes to smell it's feet. In fact, we were at the doctor's office just this morning when this kid climbed on the table, flipped it's shoes off, and brought it's feet right to it's face and started sniffing. The doctor was a little startled.
Weird thing #4: One of my kids loves mushrooms and wants them everyday for lunch. It eats a pound of mushrooms all by itself and then asks for more.
Weird thing #5: The mushroom child has a ritual of lining the mushrooms (when they are whole) along the handle of the oven. I have to let this happen or the child gets upset, so I stand by patiently waiting for it to finish making a row of mushrooms. Then the child insists on handing them to me one at a time so I can slice and saute them.
Weird thing #6: One of my kids likes to stretch it's eyeball sockets while I'm doing it's hair. It calls this "eyeball yoga."
Weird thing #7: Two of my kids cry if we look at pictures from our Disneyland vacations.
Weird thing #8: One of my kids is obsessed with the name Bob. It sings songs about Bob and calls everyone Bob.
Weird thing #9: One of my kids wants to be a chicken farmer when it grows up.
Weird thing #10: One of my kids likes to smash Smarties into dust and put it in little sandwich baggies and carry it around in it's pocket. Um, yeah... it looks like cocaine.
Weird thing #11: Two of my kids like to fill garbage bags with water, hang them from the swing set, and hit them with sticks. They call it "playing pinata."
Weird thing #12: Two of my children cry if they hear the song "Crash and Burn" by Thomas Rhett because it reminds them of Shaun the Sheep (the movie) which, according to them, is very sad. The song and the movie are completely unrelated, so... whatever.
Friday, June 17, 2016
Getting Reacquainted with an Old Obsession
First of all, thank you for your kind comments on my last post. That was one of those posts where, after I wrote it, I debated whether to hit publish. I didn't mean for it to go where it did, but it ended up being very eye-opening for me. Enough so, that I made a phone call on Monday morning and went to see a doctor on Tuesday. As soon as I started talking to her about what's going on, it became very clear that this was a step in the right direction. It's amazing what we fail to see within ourselves. I've been in serious denial.
And thus begins my newest adventure with anti-depressants (this isn't my first rodeo, but I've never kept up on them for longer than a month. This time I plan to be more diligent). Hopefully I'll feel better in a month or so, but for now, I at least have a sense of hope. If I can get over this hump and get to a place where I feel like I can function again, that would be so wonderful!
All of this is very embarrassing for me. I'm, essentially, a stereo-type. Look at me, the Mormon stay-at-home-mother of four on anti-depressants! It feels, in some ways, like failure, but I've decided I'm going to do my best to not be ashamed of it. I know I'm not alone. It's okay to need help, isn't it?
There's one interesting thing I noticed, though, about my history with depression. Every time I've gone on medication, I've had a three-year-old. Coincidence? I think not!
(Three-year-olds. Seriously. How can a little person be so cute and so horrible at the same time?)
Anyway, I just figured I owe it to you to update you on my progress.
In other news, Scotty and I started watching Lost again this week. If you're an old friend, you probably remember my obsession with Lost circa 2006-2010. If you're a new friend, let me give you a quick history: I was obsessed with Lost. I even wrote weekly re-caps for a TV blog. I occasionally stumble across notebooks where I took notes on the show. I made myself t-shirts for season premieres, and I went through the five stages of grief after the show ended.
I've never re-watched the season finale. It's taken six years for me to feel ready.
Now that I'm re-watching the show, I feel simultaneous joy and frustration. I remember all of the things about Lost that were so amazing, but I also remember the questions that weren't answered and the things that were just a little too bizarre.
I'm definitely becoming reacquainted with the Lost nerd inside me. Aside from the slightly bizarre nature of the show, there are some great, profound moments. Here is a snippet for your viewing pleasure. A little background, Charlie was a drug addict and came to the island with a small stash of (I assume) cocaine (not really up on my drugs). It's beginning to look like they might be stranded on the island longer than anticipated. Charlie knows eventually his drugs will run out. John Locke encourages Charlie to give up the drugs before they run out - that way it will be his choice and not forced on him. Either way he needs to stop using them. Charlie gives John the drugs but soon wants them back. Here is the scene (you get ten extra credit points for watching):
Overall, I'm still smitten with the show with, perhaps, a little less attraction to Jack and Sawyer. They're still not ugly, I admit (for fun, here's a flashback to when I made a Matthew Fox cake).
One thing I love about Lost is the Easter eggs. In every episode, there are little, hidden gems that make the show interesting. For example, there is a lot of literature tied into the series. Some episodes will show characters reading certain books, and then something in the episode will parallel that book. The creators of the show were really clever in the way they tied these things into the show. They are easy to miss, so it's always fun to find something and make a connection. The other day we watched the episode "Tabula Rasa." I come across the term tabula rasa a lot in school as we study developmental theories. Tabula rasa refers to "blank slate" and is an idea that comes from the philosopher John Locke (of course). That episode in Lost focuses on some of the character's past lives and how those characters have a chance to start over again on the island.
Okay, okay, I need to chill. A friend of mine once said, Lost is the kind of show that makes you want to write an essay. She expressed my feelings exactly, so hang tight, friends. You might be in for a year of Lost-inspired posts. I think I might have woken a dragon.
And thus begins my newest adventure with anti-depressants (this isn't my first rodeo, but I've never kept up on them for longer than a month. This time I plan to be more diligent). Hopefully I'll feel better in a month or so, but for now, I at least have a sense of hope. If I can get over this hump and get to a place where I feel like I can function again, that would be so wonderful!
All of this is very embarrassing for me. I'm, essentially, a stereo-type. Look at me, the Mormon stay-at-home-mother of four on anti-depressants! It feels, in some ways, like failure, but I've decided I'm going to do my best to not be ashamed of it. I know I'm not alone. It's okay to need help, isn't it?
There's one interesting thing I noticed, though, about my history with depression. Every time I've gone on medication, I've had a three-year-old. Coincidence? I think not!
(Three-year-olds. Seriously. How can a little person be so cute and so horrible at the same time?)
Anyway, I just figured I owe it to you to update you on my progress.
In other news, Scotty and I started watching Lost again this week. If you're an old friend, you probably remember my obsession with Lost circa 2006-2010. If you're a new friend, let me give you a quick history: I was obsessed with Lost. I even wrote weekly re-caps for a TV blog. I occasionally stumble across notebooks where I took notes on the show. I made myself t-shirts for season premieres, and I went through the five stages of grief after the show ended.
I've never re-watched the season finale. It's taken six years for me to feel ready.
Now that I'm re-watching the show, I feel simultaneous joy and frustration. I remember all of the things about Lost that were so amazing, but I also remember the questions that weren't answered and the things that were just a little too bizarre.
I'm definitely becoming reacquainted with the Lost nerd inside me. Aside from the slightly bizarre nature of the show, there are some great, profound moments. Here is a snippet for your viewing pleasure. A little background, Charlie was a drug addict and came to the island with a small stash of (I assume) cocaine (not really up on my drugs). It's beginning to look like they might be stranded on the island longer than anticipated. Charlie knows eventually his drugs will run out. John Locke encourages Charlie to give up the drugs before they run out - that way it will be his choice and not forced on him. Either way he needs to stop using them. Charlie gives John the drugs but soon wants them back. Here is the scene (you get ten extra credit points for watching):
Overall, I'm still smitten with the show with, perhaps, a little less attraction to Jack and Sawyer. They're still not ugly, I admit (for fun, here's a flashback to when I made a Matthew Fox cake).
One thing I love about Lost is the Easter eggs. In every episode, there are little, hidden gems that make the show interesting. For example, there is a lot of literature tied into the series. Some episodes will show characters reading certain books, and then something in the episode will parallel that book. The creators of the show were really clever in the way they tied these things into the show. They are easy to miss, so it's always fun to find something and make a connection. The other day we watched the episode "Tabula Rasa." I come across the term tabula rasa a lot in school as we study developmental theories. Tabula rasa refers to "blank slate" and is an idea that comes from the philosopher John Locke (of course). That episode in Lost focuses on some of the character's past lives and how those characters have a chance to start over again on the island.
Okay, okay, I need to chill. A friend of mine once said, Lost is the kind of show that makes you want to write an essay. She expressed my feelings exactly, so hang tight, friends. You might be in for a year of Lost-inspired posts. I think I might have woken a dragon.
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