Commitments

A couple of weeks ago, as we drove home from dance, Abbie and I had a long talk about commitments and the decisions she is making now, that will affect the rest of her life.

Dance has been a spot of contention among us.  I want her to dance, something I always dreamed about doing, but either never felt coordinated enough to pursue, or confident enough to attempt.  Abbie on the other hand, talks as though she wants to dance, and enjoys her lessons.  Practicing is something entirely different.  She abhors the structured time and I wonder if the fight is worth it.

She told me she was committed to dancing in a competition this summer.  I am a bit concerned, because to be ready, practicing will play an enormous role in the achievement of this commitment.  Will she make choices to attain her goal?  At this point, I hope and pray that she does.  Not just for my sake of seeing her in kilt and ghillies, dancing a lovely fling, but because at the same time she talked about the other commitments she has made in her life.

Abbie knows my expectations of her.  She knows good behavior from bad, and knows her limits.   I can't take all the credit.  She is an extraordinary child and has a good head on her shoulders.  Many family members and friends have made choices and she sees the consequences.  That right there is a teacher of some import.

From the time she was small, I would joke with her father, "Abbie won't date until she is 30!"  Partly for my own sanity, as well as to tease her.  She has taken up the mantra and committed not to date until she is 16, nor to have a boyfriend until then.  She spoke of these things lightly and I wasn't sure how they had sunk in, until a conversation we had, just last week.

There is a boy.  In her class at school, who told her she was looking pretty cute.  Oh my.  I'm not ready for this.  She asked me what she could tell him if he asked her to be his girlfriend.  All I had to say, "What are your commitments, Ab?"  She recited them, and asked me how to tell him nicely, they could just be friends.  I won't pretend that the conversation will not get harder as the years go on, but for now, I'm glad she knows what being committed to something means.

Her list is long.  I don't mind.  Every commitment is a good one, and one that will enable her to have a life that both she and I pray for.  She will not be burdened by undue hardships such as substance abuse, pre-marital sex and those consequences, or irrevocable body piercings or other bodily markings.  She will grow up and be mature and ready for the opportunities that come her way, unencumbered with the baggage these choices could bestow upon her.

I'm sure there will be times when these commitments will be tested and tried.  Boundaries will be pushed, but the choices have already been made.  There will never be the need to make them again if she sticks with what she had already decided.

A Bee in my Bonnet

This past week I've had several "bee in my bonnet" episodes.  It started with painting both of the bedrooms my children use.  First, they had to be shoveled out and fumigated.  I don't know how two young children can create so much garbage!  Of course the majority of it was paper.  I think our elementary school has single-handedly killed off a forest with the number of notes that come home.  But, after several days of sleeping in the family room, Abbie and Nigel have finally returned to their bedrooms.  Of course cleaner and better painted than before.  I am thrilled with how the rooms turned out, and both children are excited to have a sense of "owness" that wasn't there before.  I will not make too much of a commentary as to the wall of the bedrooms before.  Everyone has an individual style and I can't judge, but only say it wasn't mine.  I just feel badly about taking so long to get around to doing the job.

"Before" pictures only--will have "after" pictures later.

Next up, my sister-in-law Becky and I had a sewing weekend.  We accomplished quite a bit and completed 7 rag quilts with four more designed and ready to be sewn.  We make a pretty good team as she designs and I sew.  Hopefully she can sell them and we can get more done soon!

Lastly, today I decided it was time to change up the ol' blog.  I tried my hand at designing a header and what-not.  I'm not sure I like it, but thought it was time for a change.  Perhaps it is just a learning experience that will morph into something else in time.

So much has happened over the past few weeks, as we rush to and fro, that time seems to drift between cracks in my sanity.  The next thing I will know, the school year will be done, summer time activities will be in full swing, and I will be wondering where January went.  At least one thing is for certain, I accomplished quite a bit during the month, even if my dishes don't get done!

In which I've been a horrible blogger...

Merry Christmas!  I haven't been much of a blogger of late.  I wish it were due to the fact I'm scribbling away at an amazing manuscript, but I can't say that in the slightest.  It has truly been a lack of motivation on my part, and for that I must apologize.  Perhaps a new resolution in the coming weeks will help?  I doubt it, but one can hope!

We had an amazing and quiet Holiday this year.  Abbie was sick all of Christmas Eve, and with that, we didn't do all of our traditional Christmas observances.  Yes, we did get out our little "Christmas" dishes, but where she wasn't able to keep anything down, only Daniel and Nigel participated.  We did read the Christmas story from Luke 2, as always, but Abbie was in bed by 6:30, so it was a little earlier and quieter than normal.

Luckily the sickness passed and Christmas morning brought smiles, and joy to our household.  Here are some pictures of our day, along with a few from earlier in the week with a family party and Christmas recital.  I post more to Facebook, but this is just a sampling.

As the year winds to a quick close, I am sure we will start pondering New Year's resolutions, (something I hate!) and I vow to write more.  I have a quandary that I have been mulling over, and putting words down may make it the decision for me.  May you and yours have a marvelous continuation of the Holiday season!  All our love to our family and friends!

It's Snowing

It is snowing today, although it did start out as rain.  I think that fall is turning into winter quickly, and I'm not sure I'm ready.  We did get Nige a new coat over the weekend, as he is growing by leaps and bounds.  Just in the nick of time, I'd say.  I've been watching the flakes fall outside my office window, with my space heater cranked up to dry my tootsies.

While we are embarking on the Holiday season of Thanks and Giving, I thought I would share our Halloween memories from this year. Another wet day, but it was fun nonetheless.  My Indy and mad scientist had a blast, until they were too wet to keep going.

Nigel as Indiana Jones

They are getting too big!

All the ratting and spraying of her hair was a chore.  It was awesome for about 20 minutes though.

Abbie and her science experiment and Nige freaking out about a possible explosion.

As we continue in our crazy, out of control life, my days flow into one another, and before I know it, Christmas will have come and gone.  Oh to slow the hands of the clock and enjoy the moments before they are gone forever.

It's Unlawful to Feed Alligators

The best sign of the trip!

There are days when something will spur a memory.  It could be a smell, a sight, an address, a song.  The list goes on and on.  Perhaps it is the sight of a burnished autumn leaf, gently falling to the ground against the brilliant blue of the sky that takes you back to time when piles of leaves beckoned to be jumped in.

It hit me today as I opened a fax at work.  It came from Fort Benning in Georgia and I was suddenly transported back to a trip my family took in September of 2007.  It was the first plane ride for my youngest, and probably the first my daughter will remember.  The air was humid, hot, and we were tired from the red eye.  Something as small as the address on a fax cover sheet had the power to bring back delightful memories and twinges of sadness for me, of a trip we took years ago.

This is Nigel's reaction when the plane started to take off!

Abbie is old hat at this!

There is a certain smell, chemical in nature that hits me occasionally reminding me of time spent in cold concrete houses, space heaters, and thick wool sweaters. The smell comes from propane tanks, and though here, more than a decade later, I rarely smell it in my everyday existence, I will find my memories taking me to a mildewed heaven where I learned more about myself than at any other time in my life.  I will taste ravioli and white sauce, a milenesa breaded to perfection and my soul years for those dear friends I have lost touch with over the years, all because of a smell.

A song from the late ‘80s, early 90’s will strike discord in my heart.  It reminds me of times when choices and associations weren’t always the best and I wonder how I made it through largely unscathed.  Other songs bring with them nights of giggles, shopping cart races, band trips, and newspaper parties.

When Daniel and I married, the reception center was interested in a sensory experience.  Fresh flowers adorned the tables, with lavender and tiny orchids to evoke a scent that would remind those in attendance of our nuptials when those scents wafted to their noses in the months that followed.  I don’t know how well it worked for those well wishers, but for me, I see lavender and I smile.  I want to grow bushes of lavender in my yard because it reminds me of love, or at least the day when I felt as though I could burst with it.

We are a sensory people.  We like to touch, smell, taste, hear.  The sight of freshly fallen snow and the aching quiet that seems to echo along the street are sensations I look forward to ever winter.  The twinkle of Christmas lights against the black night, or orange gourds and autumnal leaves are sure signs of an impending holiday.  Add to that, the scent of freshly baked pumpkin pie, or the steam rising off a batch of rolls, and my stomach starts to grumble at the thought of a Thanksgiving feast to match all my wildest fantasies.

My children take after their father.  They are touchy people, snuggling, kissing, hugging, touching.  They aren’t quite as happy as they could be unless they are touching someone.  Last night, my little guy came into my room, crawled in bed with me and stuck his cold feet on my legs.  When I asked why he wasn’t ensconced in his own bed, I could hear the smile in his voice as he replied, “You’re warmer!”  I became a mommy sandwich for a bit, touched on both sides and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Where would we be without our sensory memories?  I am sure I would forget a few of those friends, or moments in my life if there weren’t something there to job me to a certain place and time.  Perhaps tomorrow, I will see the address of someone who will transport me back to Uruguay, or a candle that will indeed spark the holiday season in my heart.  I can’t wait!

Umm, Where's Mom?

Me hanging onto Abbie and Nigel-Valley of Fire 2008

The other day I saw a post on Facebook, with a link to a blog, that got me thinking, and almost has put me into a stupor. It has been on my mind, and I’m almost obsessed with the idea, so much so, that it has caused sleepless nights, and worry. Do I have any proof that I was here?

I’ve been obsessed with writing, or the idea of writing for a very long time. Someday, I want a book with my name stated clearly as the author, proof that I was here, but I’m writing about something entirely different today. I want to leave proof in other ways; ways that my children will cherish in the years to come.

I have a couple of things that sit in my chest of treasures, items that are valuable to me, but have little worth in the eyes of the world. I have a letter, written by my grandfather, in his own spidery handwriting, giving me love and advice when I was far from home. Written before the days of quick e-mail or the ease of texting, it is a letter on lined paper, black ink marching across the page. It is treasured for the fact it was something he wrote, his hand touched the page, his thoughts strung together in words for me to read half way across the world. He could have typed it, which would have been easier for him, and his arthritic fingers, but he wrote it out and so I treasure it even more. I also have a picture of him, in his early days of teaching in the 1940’s. He is young, smooth skinned, and I adore it. The picture has fused to the glass of the frame, where it has been housed for more years than I can remember and regardless of the condition, it is a prized possession. This is physical evidence that he was here. He was part of my life. He has been gone for 15 years now, and I am so glad I have these few mementos to hang on to. Not all my cousins or siblings have these types of treasures, and that makes me sad. What have they missed?

This takes me back to the proof I want to leave. Are there pictures of me? Do I have notes left to my children and husband, which will stand the test of time, written in my own hand? I’m sure that when I am gone, they will not care if my penmanship is gorgeous and elegant. They won’t care if my hair is a mess, or I am having body image issues. They will want a picture of me, smiling when I’m happy, crying when I’m sad, so they can remember me. They will treasure a letter or a note that has my own writing on it, something personal and far from the clinical sterility of typing it out as I'm want to do.

My Mom-June 2008

I grew up with my mother hiding when the camera came out. She was either behind the camera, or running into the other room. I have very few where she is smiling naturally, because she grew up where smiles in photos were forced. It’s a behavior that I’m sure she learned from her mother, and it has caused me quite a bit of frustration when I think of missed opportunities. One of my favorite pictures I have is one that I caught the day she returned home from her mission and I saw her for the first time in almost two years. She is goofy and laughing, hamming it up for the camera. She isn’t stiff and formal, and this is an actual representation of how I view her. In this digital age, where there is so little cost or effort in taking a picture, why do we all shy away from showing who we really are? Are we so afraid of what we will see of ourselves we would rather not be present?

Looking at my own experience, I am the one, always behind the camera, shooting hundreds of shots of our surroundings, they various expressions of my children, and the important events of our lives. I’ve filled external hard drives with the number of photos I’ve taken in the past couple of years. The problem? I’m in so few of them, I’m not sure that my family could even say I attended any of the events I’ve documented. There is no picture of me with my daughter, laughing at the funny antics at the rodeo, or that I was at the zoo that one time we went with friends. Where am I? Behind the lens, catching it all, but never pausing to say, “Take a picture of me!” How sad to think that I put such a low value of my influence on my children’s lives. Won’t they want to see a picture of me, smiling broadly the day they were born? Even though my eyes are exhausted, my hair a mess, and tears are streaming down my cheeks? It shouldn’t bother me, because I know it won’t bother them.

Does this aversion come from a time when a photograph was an expensive item? Something one dressed up for, and never smiled? Is it because we were frugal in ways to “save money” on the cost of film and developing, where we could have saved somewhere else, and had a payout, something ever so priceless?
 

Mommy and Nigel

Abbie and Me at Temple Square

To help myself remember, I’ve created a blog, just for me, although you are more than welcome to participate if you so desire, to prove to myself and those that I love, that I was HERE! I want to post pictures of me, with my children, friends, and family. (Still under serious construction!) I want it to be more than the rare Facebook profile shot, taken with my computer camera. I want it to showcase who I really am. I will survive the embarrassment of bed head for the sake of leaving a physical legacy. Proof I was here.

Viewing Old Glory

I’ve had a number of blog posts running through my head, and just haven’t taken the time to put them down on paper.  Because of our observance of Independence Day, I thought I would share some thought I have regarding this almost spiritual holiday.

While serving a mission for my church back in the mid ‘90s, I spent a time in an area where a number of foreign embassies had offices.  During one of the hot humid days of summer (probably sometime in February or early March), while riding one of the modes of public transportation, we skirted the edge of the grounds of the U.S Embassy.  Peeking through the trees I was able to catch a glimpse of Old Glory, waving in the slight breeze.  Without a moment’s hesitation, tears welled up in my eyes and I was filled with a burning of patriotic pride.  Suddenly, it was the 4th of July for me and my companion.  Home was just a few steps away before the bus turned the corner and continued on through the streets of Uruguay.  Never before in my life had the flag incited such a feeling of warmth and desire.  It took me spending time on what I considered foreign soil to appreciate the symbolism of our flag.  I still love and adore my time in Uruguay, and will consider it my second home for the rest of my life, but there is something that changed inside me that day, where I felt as though I was far from home, but I was proud to be an American.

The past few years we have celebrated the 4th with a cannon firing and time with family and friends.  A parade of children waving flags, a prayer, and much food is to be enjoyed.  It has become a favorite holiday for many, me included.  The laughter, the games, and the sparklers to be handed out at dusk have become as traditional as the holiday itself.

Growing up, I did enjoy the fiery festivities that came about with each 4th of July.  While I was taught from an early age to respect the flag, honor and support those who fought for our freedom, it never touched as close to home as it did last year.  This month marks the anniversary of a fallen soldier in our family.  I saw sheer, raw emotion last year as I watched men, surrounding the hearse, standing watch, each with a flag, protecting the fallen soldier while those inside the building paid their respects.  I was acutely aware of the sacrifice given, and the respect of those who stood, lined along our route to the cemetery, holding flags, heads bowed in deference to the one who was gone.  I will never again here the song Taps played when I will not think of my freedom and its great cost.

This year, our observance was reverent, and we spent the day at church, worshipping, exercising the right to worship the God we chose, in the place we chose, and how we intended.  We avoided the flashy displays of fireworks, and brass bands.  It was a most spiritual time of reflection and solitude.  I am humbled to live where I can worship, celebrate, and honor those I wish.  Oh, we will still have the flashy display of patriotism later in the month as we visit with family and friends on the holiday our state has set aside to remember those who founded it.  The cannon will still be fired by Grandpa, who will deliver a discourse on the history of those who have served and lost lives, and flags will be waved by little ones, eager to participate.  We will gorge ourselves on beef brisket and at dusk, the sparklers will be handed out.

As the years pass, I’m sure we will be lulled back into the festive nature of our Independence Day observances.  For now, I’m glad to have the quiet time to really reflect on my freedom and the sacrifice paid by so many.

Patience, My Lacking Virtue

So, I thought I would do a quick post to update on my mom.  Her surgery is almost four weeks out and she is still struggling quite a bit.  She went to the doctor today and they did all sorts of tests, and we hope they will have some answers soon.  She was doing remarkably well as she left the hospital, but she has progressively trodden the path to ill health again.  They think she may have an infection, so they are testing her for that.  The good news is, at least for now, no pace-maker.

I have to give an enormous shout out to all the health professionals that took care of her while she was in ICU and the recovery unit.  After a week in ICU, she was fed up with the whole hospital stay, but there were those who made it more tolerable.  She did have one or two caregivers that had much to be desired, (i.e. not letting her get out of bed).  Luckily for us, the angels far outshone.  One who tenderly gave my mom a sponge bath, washed her hair and made her more comfortable in her less than luxurious bed.  Others communicated with us about the smallest detail and really made it a positive experience.

Because of all the time spent walking the hospital halls, we spent a few meals at the cafeteria.  The food was WONDERFUL! They had the grill going 24/7, and even when we were there far into the night, there was always someone to ring up a piece of fruit, water bottle, or if times were really rough, a hamburger and fries.

During these past few weeks, I've had a myriad of emotions.  It's been hard to talk to my mom because she isn't upbeat and happy.  She doesn't feel well, and when she doesn't, she gets a little ornery.  I've taken most of it in stride, with a grain of salt, but it has been hard to sit by, and not be able to do anything for her.  Unfortunately, there isn't much I can do, but call, stop by, and let her know how much I love her.

We are hoping and praying that all will soon be well, and she will regain her former strength and personality.  She lamented to me today that she feels guilty for not rejoicing about not needing a pacemaker.  She just wants to feel better, and I can understand that more than I can say.  I'm sure we both would give anything for her to be able to walk a mile, play with the kids, make a card, garden, and all the other things she loves to do.  It will come in time, we just need to learn patience.

Patience is one of my most lacking traits.  I want things, and I want them now.  As a child I would have to try and "trick" myself into waiting for an activity that held my excitement.  "It will come when it comes" was a mantra my 8 -year old self would say.  One would think after so many years, that type of thinking would have caught on.  Nope.  If anything, I'm more impatient than I ever was.  I get frustrated that I'm not writing as fast or as much as I would like.  I look at al those around my and compare.  I must get it from my mom, because right now she sure isn't feeling like being patient.

Oh the joys of trials in our lives.  Really, my trials, and those of my mom are so insignificant when we think of what the Savior did for us.  The pains and anguish He suffered.  My trials are so small in comparison.  Perhaps with the eternal, and spiritual perspective, both mom and I can learn to be a bit more patient in this earthly existence and learn a little of what this experience holds for us.

Heart Health and Me

It's been quite a while since I last posted, and to be honest, I haven't missed it.  My life has been a deluge of sorts, with heart health issues.  Luckily, there are doctors and nurses with amazing healing skills for those in my family who have been struck by different heart issues.

First off, on May 11, 2010, my father-in-law went in for bypass surgery, and ended up with a quadruple bypass.  We consider this an amazing miracle, because he could have had a massive heart attack at anytime.  He followed promptings to see his doctor, and now he is on the road to better heart health.

As we are all trying to do better, this is a quick layout I did of our after dinner walk, a healthy tradition we will all endeavor to adopt.  Grandpa Clawson is out in his bathrobe, and his hat of course, but he is slowly making his recovery.  While he made it just a couple of houses down before turning back home, the rest of us took a longer stroll and had a delightful time.  Of course, the kiddos and their crazy energy took off and ran most of the way.

While Dan's dad has been recovering and relapsing, and recovering again, we have had more drama in our life.  My dad called last week to inform me that my mother was in the hospital with chest pain.  After taking a couple of days of tests, we found out that two of her heart valves are damaged and open heart surgery was her only option.  First it was thought she would be able to wait until the end of June for repair, but truth be told, it was worse than anyone thought.  Today I'm blogging from the waiting room while my mother is in surgery at this moment.  They hope to repair the valves, but if not, they will be replaced.  Either scenario would be acceptable, as long as she begins to heal, we will be happy.  I'm thrilled that both my brothers are here with me as we keep my dad company.  All together.  It made my mom cry, and all of us became misty eyed as we realized the enormity of the situation.  It has been wonderful to be together during this difficult time.

While we tried to keep the mood light, and I did need a few pictures to document the process, because one never knows when they will be valuable, it was a tense time.  We joked and laughed, reminisced and loved.  I don't know if Mom will remember any of it when it is all said and done, but it was nice.

The sun is out today, so I know that things will turn out fine.  We have a fantastic doctor, great nurses, and a great hospital.  More things to come!!

03-03-03

Seven years ago, at this very moment, I was giving birth to my little guy.  Daniel tried to talk me into holding out for a 3:00 pm birth to go along with my 03-03-03 motif.  I was not amused.  Of course, like he's come to show, Nemmett's birth was an indication of how he was going to be.  It started out, us starting labor via the pit-drip, like I have always had to do, forcing the kid along.  Of course, once it started, he took over and decided to come at his own, quick pace.  Just like getting him up in the morning...it is pulling teeth, until he decides he is ready, and bam, he is ready to go.

This morning while I was in the living room, I heard Daniel retell the story of our son's birth.  I had to smile when he told Nigel that Mommy was really unsure of having a boy, but it only took one look for me to fall in love.

I am amazed at how fast the time has flown.  Many people have told me to treasure these years because they fly away too fast.  I am wont to agree.  Wasn't it yesterday that he was smiling at me with his big toothless grin, milk dripping down his chin while I nursed him?  I think that his milestones come and go at a faster clip than those of his older sister.  Partly because I've experienced them before, partly because I dread the fact I won't experience them again.

I've enjoyed the journey so far, and can't wait to see what is next with this little man.  HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!

Under the Weather

I sometimes wonder where our delightful colloquialisms come from.  Really, under the weather?  Just an odd expression.

My kids have been sick.  I thought they could venture to school yesterday, as my little man was chomping at the bit to go back.  As it turned out, it wasn't the best idea, and Abbie left dance early because she felt nauseous and Nigel was coughing.  Luckily today they are at home, ensconsed in the loving care of Grandma and Grandpa.  Of course, this means they will be spoiled rotten by the time I pick them up, but they will enjoy the hours of movies and Wii.

I thought I may have outsmarted or just been stubborn enough to avoid what has been going around, but this afternoon I'm not sure.  I'm in my office, with a blessed lull, and decided to jump on my blog.  It's been crazy, chaotic, and dramatic.  I'm looking forward to the weekend.

The weather has mirrored the varied health related feelings in me.  This morning while on my way to work, the clouds hung low over the mountains, dark and ominous, snow falling in large fluffy flakes.  At one point, the flakes flew so quickly, it was hard to see the other buildings on campus.  Just a few hours later, I watched the clouds part and blue sky emerge to my delight.  Currently, the steely gray clouds have returned, and make the air around me feel chilled to the bone.  I just want to curl up in my blankets, a good book in hand, and stay there until Spring.  That tells me that my body is just waiting for an excuse to break down, allowing it's own steely gray clouds to descend.

Murphy's law will of course bare itself, and my children will be hale and healthy when I succumb to whatever ailments have kept them from the frivolities of youth.  I hate being under the weather.

*Thanks to Google for the image*


Yes, I did update my blog, Daniel.  You can let me know.  It didn't even take more than a couple of days this time. :)

A short hiatus of sorts....

I must apologize for my long absence from the blog world, both in writing, reading, and commenting.  My Google Reader has an astounding number of unread posts, a number I'm loathe to share, and I feel like I need to explain my current state of turmoil.  I hope to catch up on all my favorite blogs, and comment to let you know that I still care and am around!!!

First off, my life has been chaotic from the moment of my last post, and continues to be so.  I am in need of finding the perfect balance, but have yet to discover the secret to that elusive nirvana.  Suffice it to say, my lot in life, working full time, along with all the things I WANT to do, has caused it's own amount of stress, and unique work challenges (that I can't go on about in a public forum) has me questioning my own sanity. While I've gleaned some well earned literary fodder for a future villain, full of deep dark characteristics, it hasn't made for an easy two weeks.

I finally had my fill and did something my well-instilled work ethic (gee thanks, Mom and Dad) never allows me to do, I took some vacation days just because I wanted to.  I had no plans, no destination, no well intentioned home repair project to work on.  I needed some time to decompress and save myself from a stroke because my blood pressure was through the roof.  Here was my Friday:

I woke up at the very leisurely hour 7:30, a time when I am almost alway at or en route to the office.  I scooted my children off to school and looked around the disarray that is my house.  I smiled, grabbed a book (brain candy--i.e. could be read in an hour or two) and drew myself a bath.  Well, it lasted about three hours, with the requisite re-heating to keep myself comfy.  I read my book about vampires, and turned into a raisin.  It was pure bliss.  My phone didn't ring once, and even if it had, I probably wouldn't have answered it, unless it was my mom, offering some Diet Dr Pepper.

Have you ever just needed to take a long relaxing bath?  All my cares and woes seemed to flow down the drain with the water after I decided I had become waterlogged beyond all recognition.  I continued in the same vein all weekend, an extra long one thanks to a federal holiday.  It was pure bliss and I feel almost like myself again.

While I was in the Missionary Training Center, prior to my jaunt to Uruguay as a young missionary for my church, I remember hearing a talk by the wonderful Mary Ellen Edmunds, who is hilarious, spiritual, and somehow merges the two characteristics in a way no one else can.  She had talked about filling our buckets, using the spiritual mean of reading our scriptures, prayer, fasting, service.  The talk has flirted with my consciousness the past few days, and I realized that my bucket was very, very empty.  There were not spiritual feast to fill it up.  There were no times spent pampering my family or myself.  I had been so busy with problems, I hadn't seen where the large cracks were in my own bucket, and it was almost too late to repair them.  I spent the weekend doing just that, welding the fissures closed, and refilling the bucket.

Yesterday was divine.  I spent the day with the most important person in my life.  My children were playing with friends, and it left the afternoon free to spend with my red-bearded sweetheart.  After a trip to lunch, and running errands, I felt that I had spent a day, dating the love of my life.  We hadn't done that for so long, I had forgotten how much fun it is to hold hands and walk the aisles of the office supply store.  No children in tow, meant I could steal a kiss without the chorus of "Gross!" or  "You're freaking me out!" coming from the back seat of the car.  It was bliss, and filled my bucket to almost brimming.

I vow to get back to my routine of blog hopping and comments.  I will even catch up on my reading for my critique group!  It was nice to take a little hiatus of sorts, to fill up my sadly depleted bucket.  Today, my final day of vacation, the house is almost presentable, and laundry is only as high as the Rockies, not the Himalayas as it usually is.  My dishes are clean, and I may even venture to make cookies with my children.  Needless to say, I need to remember to take time, ever now and then, not waiting for a work crisis to push me into it.  My health, my family, and I will thank me.

*Thanks to Google for the image*

The Chaos That Is My Life

My life is chaos, utter, unadulterated chaos.  Yesterday I had a bad day.  Feelings of helplessness and anger seemed to be the only things that entered into my consciousness.  There was a point where I closed my office door, laid my head on my desk, strewn with various papers, and cried.  My tears were for the time that seemed wasted, that could have been spent with my children.  The waterworks continued as I thought about my frustrations with employees, processes and again, time that could have been spent doing things with my children.  Do you see the thing that bothered me the most?

Today as I race from one activity or another, (luckily I can type this while my daughter dances) I feel the chaos again, seeming to press in on me, and the trials of yesterday return.  I don't have a door to close or a desk to rest on in order to allow the tears to well up in my eyes.  Yet, I will continue on as we make the Wednesday night rounds.

My mantra for this year is Balance.  I don't think I'm doing very well today.  I'm allowing myself to become overwhelmed with the fact my Christmas tree is sitting only half put away, my kitchen sink doesn't want to drain, and my mountains of laundry are never ending.  Tonight I am with my children, even though we aren't in the comfort of our own home.  I should be grateful for the time, something I lamented yesterday, and I am.

Here is my question, do we ever learn to balance it all?

*Thanks to Google for the image*

My Holiday Plans

It’s snowing today.  Right now, tiny droplets, frozen into crystal facets, are falling gently to the ground.  The walks are barren, an eerie silence encompassing the ground.  It seems quite appropriate for the season.

I’m feeling that anticipation and excitement that comes every year about this time, when I start to count the hours to Christmas.  I’m very glad I found my spirit, because I’m sure without it, the barren walks and silence would cause some unease.  But to me, it is calm, almost like the pause before a great storm.

The storm I am anticipating is not unwelcome; it is of my own creation.  I am not quite sure how the storm will weather my life, but it will make choices clearer and the path more evident; at least that is my hope.

When I woke up this morning, the fog was covering the world in a heavy blanket.  The streetlight made only a small globe of light before being swallowed up in the dense gray.  What I would have done, to only sit at the window and create a character to emerge from the swirling doom.  But, the real world awaited and the day had to begin.  I left those thoughts in a corner of my mind, and they became swallowed up by the others who have residence there, a concoction of real and imaginary.

I put this out there publicly, perhaps to give myself the push to carve out time for what I love.  The urge is there, like a fist pushing between my shoulder blades, a constant pressure.  It isn’t an unpleasant feeling, but something that is my constant companion.  After many false starts and stops, deleting files, (I write digitally you know), ripping pages out of notebooks, and lamenting my perfectionist attitude, I am letting it all go.  I shall sit and write.  And write.  I will let the dialog flow as it may, and know that I can improve upon it another day.

I plan to sit in my chair, snow swirling out my window.  I may have a cup of cocoa, a cookie, and instead of curling up with a good book, I shall get lost in a story of my own making.  I refuse to let the voices in my head cause damage to my mental abilities other than what they have already done.  They are aching for a voice, and I have a story to tell.

So, for my few days of respite from the real world, I shall revel in my children and the excitement of Christmas, love my husband and share his joys, spend time with family and friends.  I shall also hide in a cubby hole of my own making and visit those who are waiting not so patiently for me to give them life on paper.  Those are my holiday plans.

What are your plans this Holiday?

*Thanks to Google for the image*

Standing at the Precipice

Pardon me, as I mix metaphors today.  I feel as though I am standing at the precipice of something, a crossroads in my life. 

The other day, I read a blog by CK Bryant, where she talked about loosing her publisher for a novel.  I felt impressed to leave a comment about an article I had read years ago in a church magazine about the answer to a prayer when a father and son had been faced with a decision about what road to take when they reached a crossroad.  They chose a path that came to a dead end after just minutes of travel.  When the son asked why the Lord would send them down that path, the father responded that they would not have to wonder for hours now, if they had taken the right road.  I told her that she will never have to wonder if the publisher that let her talent pass by, if she should have gone with them.  Now she knows it wasn't to be.  There is another path for her to take.

After this comment, I have been musing about my own crossroads, the precipice of something great...or not.  My husband accuses me of being a climber, and to be honest, in many ways he's right.  I like to climb the ladder of success.  Up to this point in my life, I have had a very narrow, worldly view of success.  It meant that I was in charge, I was a leader.  My employment was centered on making that next step, moving up to the next rung.  Recently, I have had an epiphany of sorts and realized that my success is not really centered on the worldly definition.  I have two fabulous children, a husband who supports me, and a very good life, and wouldn't you define that as success?  I should, and do. But, in the back of my mind, I wonder if that climbing habit isn't gone for good.  Opportunities and change seem to crop up out of thin air and I wonder if it is a tempting path, making me stray from the right road I should be on.  Or is it the right road for right now, and the other way will be found at another intersection when the time is right?

I have watched the road dead-end a number of times in my life.  I can see in hindsight the Lord helped me get on the correct path by first letting me experience the dead-end.  The experiences are light and fun, deep and spiritual.  Some were heart wrenching, soul shredding, but I left the path stronger and wiser.  Am I about to face another faith inspiring journey?  It certainly feels that way.

Now back to my mixed metaphors.  I've talked about the crossroads in my life, but here is the precipice.  I feel as though I am standing, on my tip toes, right against the edge of that rock in the picture.  The air is thin, and I'm struggling to fill my lungs, the adrenaline racing through my veins.  I don't know where I will land when I jump, and I certainly don't see how far it is to my landing spot.  My dream has been in the forefront of my mind for a very long time.  I juggle it with the innate, almost primal desire to be on top.  It fights almost relentlessly for control, the chance to break free and create, but my alpha ego has a firm grip.

I wish I knew how to balance my life.  It seems like I rush headfirst into many a project, forgetting my perfectionist, idealistic personality.  My children are left to fend for themselves, although they do make a mean peanut butter sandwich, and the crumbs of bread are ground into the carpet from lack of domestic engineering on my part.  My husband throws his own shirts into the wash and all are left to the peripheral of my vision.  I worry that which ever way I jump, which road I end up on, I won't be able to balance the most important, precious parts of my life. Is this just another road, or is part of the right road I need to travel.

So, here I stand.  At the precipice of something amazing.  What it may be, I don't know.  All I know is that the Lord will not allow me to continue down a path that isn't right.  It will dead-end, and I can onward without doubt reigning in my mind.  As long as I have the three most important people with me, I will be on a journey that will rival anything else I've ever done!

*Thanks to Google for the image*

Grateful for Thanksgiving

Yesterday was a wonderful day, full of gratitude, thanksgiving, and pumpkin pie.  My own little family spent the day with my extended family, where we were all together, every child and spouse accounted for. We met my youngest brother's girlfriend and welcomed her into our crazy family and she fit right in.

Preparations were chaotic as the hour to dine drew closer, but we reveled in the fact that the kitchen was spacious enough for more than one person to cook at a time.

The turkey was moist, the potatoes smooth and delicious.  My youngest brother brought new dishes to our family traditions as he sautéed brussels sprouts and baked a delicious mushroom bread pudding.

No Thanksgiving would be complete without some sort of game playing, and Apples to Apples was the choice again this year.  Stiff competition as well as letting the little girls play was a change from the hilarity of last year, but fun nonetheless.

I am so grateful for holidays and traditions that solidify us and make me so much more tethered to my eternal family.  I love the fact that year after year, it just isn't the same if there isn't some shrimp cocktail at the top of my plate, in a cut crystal dish.  A tradition that was started many generations ago, before my mother's youth, that has been carried on to today.

We were blessed in the prayer my father offered in thanksgiving for the bounty we had before us.  I was touched that we, all 13 of us, were together, and surrounded the table, an offering to the blessings we had been so generously given this past year.

Today, we ended my brother's visit with family pictures.  All were decked out in their somewhat best...for us that consists of jeans and a button down shirt...and my other brother may just keep the baseball hat on.  It was a particularly wonderful conclusion to the Thanksgiving holiday.  Filled with love, we smiled for the camera, making jokes and teasing each other in the way only family can.

I hope you had a wonderful holiday too.  However you spent it, with family or friends.

Happy Thanksgiving!!

Grateful for Family...Need I Say More?

Today I have to share my gratitude for my very own little family.  We are small, just four of us, but we are strong.  I just want to share with you a couple of things today, that have made me all the more thankful to be lucky enough to have a husband like mine, and children who are ever surprising me with their honest and heartfelt personalities.

This morning as we were getting ready to leave the house, my little guy bumped his knee.  Being the hurried mom this morning, I kissed my fingers and patted his knee, hoping that would sooth his bruised self.  Not so. Speaking up he told me, “Kiss it with your lips, it feels better like that!”  How can I say no or stay rushed when his big brown eyes look up at me with total confidence that a kiss from me will heal any hurt?  Oh that he will do this for years to come, when a kiss from my lips will heal a broken heart, or battered soul.  I am blessed to have such a son.

My daughter never ceases to make me amazed at her love and willingness to make someone feel loved and welcome.  She has spent the morning making welcome home signs for her uncle who is visiting from Oregon.  She wouldn’t want him to feel like we weren’t excited for him to be with for Thanksgiving, or that we weren’t welcoming to his girlfriend and puppy.  Signs grace the door, the walls, and her heart.  She makes me want to be a better person, to live up to the expectations she has of me.  Again, I am blessed to have such a daughter.

I am not the best housekeeper, as many who have passed through my front door can attest to.  My dishes may stack up and mountains of laundry seem to require a Sherpa to navigate, but my husband tolerates this with nary a murmur.  He is the man who I can send to the store at 6:00 am because I need something desperately.  He will buy my feminine supplies, on his own, by himself, just because I’m running low and need them.  Right there, tells you what a man he is.  He puts up with my idiosyncrasies and will do what he can to make me happy.  I am lucky to have him in my life, and that the Lord has given us the tools to make this marriage work over the years.  I am blessed.

My children tell me they love me many times a day.  What other joy can I have to be loved by such sweet spirits?  I really don’t know.  They tolerate my irritability, my moody behavior, and love me anyway.  They will hug me and love me, and I love them.  My husband will touch me and I know that he cares.  A sweep of his hand across my back as walk across the parking lot or a caress of my hair, is enough to make me fall into a cocoon of happiness.

Tomorrow I will spend my time with them, and extended family, to celebrate all that I am thankful for.  The top of my list will be these three individuals, who I could not live without. 

Happy Thanksgiving and may you be surrounded by those you love.

*Thanks to Google for the image*

Grateful and Trying to Catch Up

I'm throwing in the towel.  For days I haven't felt like blogging and continuing my month of gratitude.  That doesn't mean I have nothing to be grateful for, because I do, and recognize it emmensily.  I've just been off my game, in all aspects of life.

Here is a quick list to catch up on my gratitude sharing:

• Abbie has braces.  I'm glad we can take care of the orthodontic issues, and I'm grateful that she likes them.
• Senior Centers rock!  I say that because I'm grateful my parents have an outlet where they craft, mingle, and giggle like a couple of teenagers.  I called my mom today while she was there and she was so distracted and laughing, I felt like I was talking to a teen.  I'm glad they have someplace to go, and enjoy their retirement.
• Christmas music.  Need I say more?  We started listening yesterday when the children and I overpowered Daniel's restraint and turned on some Holiday tunes.  Believe it or not, it really got me in the Thanksgiving mood and the desire to be with family.  See, it isn't bad!
• I'm grateful for my calling in church.  I taught a lesson yesterday in Relief Society and hope it made sense.  I sometimes get up in front of the women, and don't remember what I said.  Perhaps I went on three thousand tangents and didn't notice.  But nonetheless, I love it.

Believe it or not, the list has helped change my mood.  I was really disappointed today when I found one of my employees job searching on her computer.  I almost felt betrayed and most definitely felt hurt.   The bitterness started to seep into every feeling I had.  I suddenly felt, "Why bother." with so many things, blogging namely.  But then I forced myself to sit down and start typing.  Amazingly a list of wonderful things started to brighten my mood.  I thought about how I snuggled with both of my children yesterday as we watched a movie after church.  I thought about my husband's smile, and then the list began again.

I certainly am grateful for so much in my life.  I'm glad I started this process, even though I've had a few ups and downs.  Now, if I can keep it going, I'll post again tomorrow! :)

P.S. Butterfly Blankets sold their first set!!  Pardon me as I get very excited.  You still have time to enter to win anything from our shop at MMB!

*Thanks to Google for the image*

Grateful for Quality Time

My life is hectic, but no more so than the next person.  I can whine, complain, and feel picked on when I look at how my time is spent, and how little I feel like I have to spend with those I love, but I won't.  Today I'm grateful for the quality time that I get to spend with both my children and husband.

This morning, Daniel rode to work with me.  It doesn't happen often, because we literally go in separate directions each day, me to the North, he to the South.  He happened to have a meeting at the university where I work, (not where he works) and so we had the chance to spend a few more precious moments together.  He held my hand as we drove.  I wasn't as keen on talking or discussing the various topics that seem to clutter our everyday existence, I just enjoyed the time to be.

The other morning, I was able to spend a few minutes with my daughter, teaching her the intricacies of flat ironing her new short 'do.  She made the very grown up decision to cut about 6 inches off her hair and now she is learning how to do it herself.  It causes me some stress as a mother, no longer having this task, and of course, worrying about how she will look, but it is all overridden by the pleasure I feel in seeing her accomplish a task that we have worked on together.  For ten minutes, my focus was on her, and she knew it, a reveled in it. I don't know why I don't do this more often, because I loved it as much as she did.

My son sneaked into my bedroom a couple of days ago as I was getting up for the day.  He just wanted to snuggle for a little while, and he was soft and warm.  We do this occasionally, where he will tell me stories, and dreams, his little lips quivering in excitement, face aglow.  I know that when he is fourteen he won't tell me these things, or want to spend time with me like he does now.  It is precious and wonderful, and again, I revel in it, all the while wondering why I don't do it more often.

I love the time I spend with them, and am grateful for it.


What do you do in your quality time?

*Thanks Google for the image*

Grateful for the Next Generation

How can you say no to this darling, sassy girl?

We have been very lax in our family home evening activities and I had the wake-up call from my dear little daughter who planned the entire lesson for tonight.  She decided that we had not been doing okay and needed to make sure that we were holding FHE, even though her dad has been going to class on Monday nights for quite some time.

Do your children ever make you sit up wonder how they are turning out okay, without any apparent help from you?  That is exactly how I feel today.  Somehow, she is learning and growing and I don't know where she is getting it from.

I wholeheartedly believe that my children have been given strengths that defy what I'm able to do to mess them up at this point.  I am so glad that they have the strong spirits that are needed to face the situations and turmoil in this life.  They are happy and resilient, and I am proud to be their mother.