On Loss, Change and Motherhood

It has been an absolutely lovely, joyous weekend!  I look forward to General Conference and love the traditions we have started with our little family over the last couple of years.  Today was a day full of delicious food, powerful inspiration, beautiful music, our sweet children, and the company of some wonderful friends.  The kids went to bed on time (something we have struggled with in the last week), and Jason had fallen asleep too, so I came out to the living room to listen to some peaceful music and rock the baby to sleep.  As I snuggled my little man, soaking in the calm moment, I was suddenly overwhelmed with how much I miss my mom.  So much has happened in the last 11 months!  I can hardly believe I have lived almost a year without her.  How I long to just talk to her and see her face!  

They say that everything gets better with time, but I’m not so sure.  It is true that I am used to life without my mom – I have adjusted to a new normal where I cannot pick up the phone and call her to talk about the big things or the little ones, and where she is less and less fresh in the minds of my children.  I no longer jump when the phone rings and says “mom home.”  (It may seem weird that I haven’t changed that, but I just can’t do it.)  I am used to the fact that I can’t talk to my mom now, and that she isn’t coming over for dinner, and that she isn’t going to visit the fire station with Sophie’s preschool class this month, and that we aren’t getting together for our birthdays.   But the feeling of vacancy is no less.  I miss her when I’m sad.  I miss her when I’m happy.  I miss her when something great is happening and I am on top of the world, or when I have ideas I need to share, when I am overwhelmed, or worried or stressed.  Just always.

The sense of loss varies, though.  Sometimes there is a week or two or even three where things seem great.  Then, the smallest thing will make me miss my mom with such intensity that I am instantly sick to my stomach.  Without question, the most difficult times are those of change. Weston’s last day of kindergarten was a rough one.  That was the first real change in our lives that she wasn’t a part of…and since I had spent the last 2 months of the school year completely consumed in her sudden cancer resurgence, aggressive decline, funeral, etc…it seemed so sudden that my baby was no longer a kindergartner!  And then there we were, facing our first summer without her.  We have had quite a few firsts without her, actually.  I had my first birthday without her, and so have each of the kids.  We had a Thanksgiving (which was brutal) without her, a Christmas, and now we’re coming up on Easter. The day that Brighton learned to crawl just broke my heart.  No one would have cared as much as she would have about that small development in his life.  It was so exciting, but I couldn’t share the excitement with her!  Even though life has continued to move forward, up until about 2 months ago, life hadn’t changed dramatically.

The first major change in my life since mom’s passing was getting released as young women’s president in February.  My involvement in that calling truly made life seem normal after she died and kept me very busy!  It has been a significant part of my life – something that I threw myself into for over three and a half years. I spent many hours each week devoted to the young women.  The feeling of loss after being released was huge.  People kept asking me if I felt relieved, but nothing could have less accurately described my feelings! 

Then a week ago, Jason was called to the bishopric of the singles ward.  Although I am excited about this and know it will be a huge blessing for our family, I have struggled a lot with the fact that we will no longer be members of our Harmony Hills ward - at least not until Jason is released, which could be years from now, although no one ever really knows these things in advanced.  

I have been trying to figure out why this is so emotionally traumatizing for me.  At first I thought, "ok, this is a change, but not so huge - I mean, we still live in the same house, and we still have friends in the ward, so the only main difference will be Sunday."  Technically, I suppose this is true.  But we all know that in the church, your ward defines your life in many ways.   It is true that many of the amazing Harmony Hills ward members know me and love me. And I love them.  I have let them into my life, and they have let me into theirs.  Being in a new ward, therefore, should not change these important realities.  Certainly, I will get together with friends that I used to see or talk to at least once a week, and we will have lovely times together yet in the future.  There is no doubt in my mind about this.  Yet, there is something about the consistency of Sundays that makes you more connected, more like an extended family.  I think I have finally pinpointed what it is - at least in part.

Before landing ourselves here in the Harmony Hills ward, I had never been in any ward for more than a year straight (since leaving home at age 18, that is).  I am friendly, so I always jumped right in and tried to become a part of each ward, but with a few exceptions, I found that you don't forge deep bonds in less than a year.  I was used to this from my almost 10 years of being a young single adult, so for the first few years of marriage it didn't bother me much.  At any rate, no matter where we went, we still had family - for me, my mom - involved in the details of our lives.  I talked to my mom almost daily (as I had my entire life), and we got together about once a week.  It was a huge blessing to me that when she passed away, we were very much established in our ward.  With my mom gone, I lacked the involvement of family in my daily or weekly life.  While I am close to my dad, brother and other family members, they live far away which makes it difficult to see each other very often.  My ward family, which had been a huge part of my life already, became that much more important to me.  Who were the people involved in the weekly happenings of life?  My ward, of course!  

Usually when you leave a ward, you know it's coming, and you are the one to make the choice because you are physically moving out of the boundaries of the ward.  Maybe you don't want to leave the ward, but you know that this move is in the best interest of your family, or perhaps it is necessary because of employment.  Usually there is time to adjust to the idea of moving wards.  You know it is going to happen in advanced, and you have a little time to mentally and emotionally prepare for your life to change.  We, however, found out three days in advanced that our records were being moved to the singles ward!  On our last Sunday in the Harmony Hills ward, we were required to keep the move a secret because Jason hadn't been sustained yet!  It is a strange thing to move wards without actually moving physically.  

I do genuinely believe and know that serving in the singles ward is going to be an amazing experience.  I am just trying to process the change, and work through the feeling of loss.  Yes, I will see my Harmony Hills family still.  I will run into people at the store, we will attend the Easter egg hunt and the trunk or treat, and we will make the effort to get together with friends whenever possible.  But we won't be involved in each others' lives on a weekly basis, and I think that is the loss I am feeling.  And, it also explains why I am suddenly missing my mom so poignantly right now.  

Last Sunday I kept thinking how she would have been there.  My mom would have been there to see Jason sustained if she had to fly half-way across the world to be there!  Oh, how I miss that about her! The consistency of her presence at every meaningful moment in life (as well as many others) is something that I will always miss.  And there are SO MANY huge moments in our lives yet to occur. 

Ultimately, I have come to realize how important I am as a mom.  I will be the consistency in my children's lives (along with Jason, of course) through all the many changes they will experience.  I will give them the foundation that will help them stand strong when I am gone one day, too, just like my mom did for me.  I can give them a sure foundation of faith in Jesus Christ, unconditional love, confidence, belief and hope. I can give them all that I am – and in fact am doing that anyway, whether it is intentional or not!  What greater motivation could I have for being the best person that I possibly can be?   

Change is such a huge part of life, whether we like it or not.  And let's face it, sometimes we don't. One of my favorite quotes is permanently at the top of this blog: "Life is change.  Growth is optional.  Choose wisely."  I can be sad because I miss the young women, and I can be sad because I am leaving the ward that has been my "family" these past few years.  But although I wrote a whole blog post about it, I will not dwell on those feelings for too long (though I know they will resurface from time to time). I will teach my children to move forward.  Life is so often not what we expect! I have learned, however, that when we move forward in optimism and faith, life turns out always to be better than what we expected it to be.  And that, my friends, is such a hopeful way to end this post that I am compelled to end it now.  Have a magnificent day!

Emotional, Fun Day

Today I miss my mom so much.  It just hit me when we came home this afternoon.  Today was the last day of school, and I just really want to call her and tell her about it, then go over to her house and watch Weston's kindergarten DVD together.  I want to talk with her about how fast the kids are growing up and how smart they are becoming.  I want to hear her telling them how proud she is of them, and watch their faces light up at her words of praise and encouragement. I want to tell her that Brighton got his fourth tooth this week, is already scooting around and loves to play with my toes!  I want her to be there to see him try his first food soon, and to be amazed together at how big he is getting.  On Saturday he will be 6 months old!  How is that even possible!?
I also want to tell her about all of the sweet and amazing things people have said to me and done for me over the past three weeks.  I want to tell her all about my birthday, and how Jason took me to her favorite restaurant and actually managed to surprise me!  I want to tell her that while we were there I walked past the table where we had eaten together several years ago on her birthday and I remembered that Carrot Top had been sitting behind us and randomly sang happy birthday to her!  I want to tell her that my friend, Katie, was my birthday fairy this year and totally took care of me along with so many others!
It already feels like so much has happened since she left, and I haven't been able to talk to her about it all!  I want to tell her that I finally know first hand what it's like to literally feel the power of people's prayers carrying me. I know that she already knows all the important stuff, but there is something so therapeutic about talking together.  Just like Heavenly Father already knows the truest thoughts and feelings of our heart, but we still need to communicate with him.
Today I received a gift in the mail from my Aunt Sharon, who helped me make it through the first 2 weeks after mom passed away (or as Aunt Sharon and I like to say...after she got "promoted").  She sent me a beautiful mother/daughter necklace set for me and Sophie.  The mom pendant is the outline of a heart, and the daughter one fits inside.  The both say "I will always love you."  In the birthday card she wrote: "I know you will always think of your special mother-daughter tradition on this day.  My gift to you is all about the mother and daughter bond you have with Sophie.  I know that you will carry on to be an amazing role model for her as your mom was for you."  Her note got me thinking about how my mom taught me how to be a woman!  Her words made me realize how thankful I am to have Sophie.  Somehow, having a daughter with whom to carry on some of the special traditions that I had with my own mom soothes me and brings me joy.  It also made me think of the special bond that Sophie has with my mom.  Almost every day Sophie tells me how much she misses her grandma and wishes she could talk to her.  I hope that bond that she formed with her grandma at such a young age will somehow have a special influence on her throughout her life.

As much as I enjoy writing my thoughts, dinner is calling me....or rather, the people who want me to make dinner are calling me. How great it is to have a sweet family to serve.
Here are some pictures from playing today at the splash pad after school:

 Brighton had a pretty good time just chillin with his cute little belly hanging out!

 Sophie and Owen being silly...

 My awesome friend Jessica brought a zillion popsicles, which all the kids were pretty thrilled about!

 Two of my favorite people, Katie and Sandy...and the only friends that would cooperate when I said I wanted to take their picture!  Are they cute, or what!

 Weston hanging with his Kindergarten buddies!  You can tell this one is posed, but at least they all stood still for a moment. :)

Knott's Berry Farm

This post was written on June 12, but I just now got around to adding pictures and publishing it:

Last Monday I was asked if Jason and I would be able to help chaperon a group of graduating seniors from our Stake to Knott's Berry Farm for a day. I shrugged it off because I figured we were just to busy, but then mentioned it to Jason who said, "why not?" I felt a little bit of trepidation thinking about girls camp and the fireworks season coming upon us the very next week, but got excited when I realized it would be our first time spending a night and an ENTIRE day together without kids. And, it would be our first time ever going to an amusement park together... seriously, how had we not done this sooner?
We dropped the kids off with grandma on Friday night. As soon as we walked out her door, Jason announced that he felt FREE!! I had mixed feelings, as it was the first time either of the kids has EVER spent the night away from both of us. Saturday morning at 4:00 (when we woke up) came quickly. We all loaded a bus and headed to Cali. The bus ride was loads of fun! Three of my laurels went on this trip - Emily, Shawna, and Alyssa. They all sat near Jason and me in the front of the bus. Let me tell you - the back of the bus may be where the cool people usually sit (and where all the fun goes down), but we had a blast in the front! We played Scatergories, Madlibs,and MASH.
After 5 full hours of driving, we finally arrived and were a little shocked to be chilly! We headed towards the Silver Bullet, because that is the ride that everyone instinctively flocked too... I guess those who have been to Knott's Berry Farm in recent years knew this was one of the "best" rides in the park, and everyone else just kind of followed along. (By the way, when did Knott's turn into a crazy ride place? Last time I was there, I only remember seeing a short video of some kind, walking through a street that looked like it came out of a Western, and buying some delicious syrup. Of course, that was over 20 years ago when I was just a little kid... but I digress!) Let me just tell you that I am pretty much terrified of heights. But I didn't want to be the lame scardie-cat that stayed behind. The other two couples who were chaperoning with us kept talking about how excited they were for this rollercoaster... meanwhile, while everyone is laughing and joking in line, I am just giving myself a mental pep talk. The funny thing is that you can only see a small portion of the ride from line. So what I was mentally preparing myself for turned out to be much more insidious than I had imagined or perceived! Okay, maybe insidious isn't really the right word...
We finally get on the ride, and though I am privately scared silly - heart pounding out of my chest and all - I have built up enough courage to go. I'm getting that stomach-churning anxiety again just writing about how I felt! But I am an adult, and I should face my fears, right? Well, turns out that sometimes it is better just to cop out, because half way through the Silver Bullet experience, I realized that I was going to be very ill. Not only was the ride full of loops (which I can handle), it twists around and around the ENTIRE time! And I swear that was the longest rollercoaster ride I have ever been on in my entire life! It was almost a full minute! (I know, because I looked it up on the internet when we got home the next day.)
So, when we exited the 60 second nightmare, I immediately began looking for a place to throw up. I guess I wasn't thinking clearly because the first spot I picked was from way up high and probably would have hit someone. After puking a couple of times, Jason started asking me if I was ready to keep going. Um, no. They ended up having to summon a nice man from the first aid station to collect me with a wheelchair! And then I spent the rest of the day laying on a pretend bed in the musty smelling first aid clinic. Just what I had always hoped and dreamed of! Fortunately, I was feeling much better by the time we had to leave. And the bus ride home was pretty fun... so I basically had an awesome 10 hours of bus riding to and from Knott's, and a terrible time at the actual theme park.
The moral of the story? If you are terrified of heights, you tend to get nauseated easily, and you have had almost no sleep the night before, avoid twisty rollercoasters! Even if it means getting a little heckled by your friends.
Here are some pictures from the good parts of our adventure:
On the bus:
Arriving at the park:
Shawna and Emily... L O V E these two girls ridiculously much!

Awww, aren't we cute?
Sometimes we're just a couple of wieners, I guess.
I took this picture for Weston. He LOVES old cars!
Jason tried to win some prizes for the kids... he ended up winning a couple of inflatable baseball bats, which they enjoyed immensely for about two days until they broke them both. Shocking, I know.I wish I had one of those things to pound every time I got angry... what a great release that would be!

As I lay, drifting off to sleep...

It has been a dream of mine for quite some time to take a deep, long nap. Jason has attempted on various occasions to watch the kids for me so I can catch a nap on days where I am particularly exhausted, but unfortunately I can't tune the kids out so I just lay there listening to them scream and play. Sophie always screams when the door to our room is closed and she can't get to me... hence the scream part.
So today, I had my perfect chance! And boy, am I tired right now. Both Weston and Sophie were cuddled up to me in bed. There we lay, at the precipice of the frequently imagined but rarely experienced family nap. Glorious! What a thrill to be back on the 9:00 church schedule where there is at least a glimmer of hope that such family naps will potentially occur from time to time.
In the background I have a CD playing that we received when we were married. It is MOTAB singing soft primary songs with lovely instrumental variations. It is the most heavenly music for resting or drifting off. Suddenly the song "Our Savior's Love" came on and I had a memory flash into my mind of my brother and I at some point during my teenage years. He was saying something about how he loved that song. I agreed. That's it! The memory was vague and fleeting but it took me out of my half slumber into a state of alertness, where random memories began flooding my mind. It occurred to me in that instant how much I miss my brother! It also occurred to me how that memory literally felt like a life time ago. A life time! I tell the girls in Young Women's all the time how I remember being their age like it was yesterday, and I do! But those 14 years that have passed since I was eighteen have held many, many experiences. I have been home from my mission over 8 years. EIGHT YEARS!!!! Seriously? I still feel like I'm still 24!
After a few minutes of thinking about that, my mind wandered back to the music and I remembered when I was 20 or 21 and going to George Wythe College... a group of us would get together every Sunday, eat a lovely meal and then sing hymns for awhile. I remembered how I used to listen to this CD the first year we were married while I worked on finances, because it helped me feel peaceful and know that everything would work out. I remembered a time when I hadn't listened to it for a while... Jason must have been out of town and my mom too, because Weston and I went over to her house to watch BYU TV that day. He was sick and I wanted to be able to get some kind of "church" in for the day. The Mormon Tabernacle Choir was singing one of the songs on the CD... I don't know what it's called, but there is a lyric that says "turn around and you're two, turn around and you're four, turn around and you're a young man going out of my door." It's something about how quickly babies grow up. I think I sat down on the couch and cried.
Then I started thinking about how little Weston used to be. At this moment he's a very tall boy, cuddled up with Sophie's sock monkey and wrapped in his Spider Man blanket. Today he is officially in primary - a SunBeam! Wowsers, I can hardly believe it. Like every mom, there's a part of me that wants him to stay little. Today he told me that he's a baby. I told him that he was actually a big boy, but that no matter how big he gets, he will always be my baby. Somebody once said that deciding to have a child is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body - I don't know who that person was, but they were right!

So many of the songs on that darn CD bring back memories... some remind me of people, some of particular situations. But as I sat there rocking Sophie to sleep, I realized that the right kind of music really promotes introspection. (Well, at least when the kids are asleep!) I spend almost ALL of my time thinking about everything I am doing, everything I need to do, everything I expected myself to have done already, everything I will do, and when I need to do it by. It's all about DOing.
Doing things is important. But sometimes I want to just enjoy life for a while - read a book with my kids or take them to the park without constantly thinking about everything I have to accomplish as soon as I'm done. I miss thinking about things just for the sake of thinking about them, for the sake of pondering how to become the person I want to be, for the sake of remembering all the goodness God has always shown me in my life, and for the sake of putting my priorities back in their proper places. It was great for a few minutes to FORGET all the lists I have floating around the house of places I need to go, bills I need to pay, things I need to buy, blog posts from last year that I still need to catch up on, cards I need to write, people I need to call, activities I need to plan, rooms I need to organize, etc, etc, etc.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I have another list to write... you know, to condense all the other ones! (PROOF that I am my father's daughter, I might add.)

Who's that girl?

Who's the girl that takes one bite out of every piece of fruit in the fruit basket, then puts them all back?

Probably the same one who routinely hides things - like hairbrushes and train tracks - at the bottom of our clothes hamper, rubs oatmeal in her hair (maybe it is her secret to lovely locks?), and tries almost every day to climb up the kitchen cupboards onto the counter. (Maybe I have two kids that think they're Spider Man?)

Just the other day she was crying and screaming with the furor of a wild banshee (whatever that is). I couldn't figure out what to do to calm her down, but finally I started singing to her. She quited after I began "The Itsy Bitsy Spider," then burst out a decisive "YES!" followed by an applause when it was over. The same thing happened after every verse of "The Wheels of The Bus," and every one of the many songs that followed. It was precious!

Here are some recent snapshots of my full-of-life little Sophie:

She's been walking in heels since she was 10 months old! So, as some of you may know, styling hair is not my forte. I was secretly relieved when I discovered that my first child would be a boy, because I wouldn't have to worry about doing anything special with his hair. Well, Sophie's hair is getting long enough that I really need to start doing something with it - though it is darling in its natural state, too. So a couple days ago I attempted something new: pigtails. We went to Trader Joe's this way and got more oohs and ahhhs than usual. I guess I did ok!

Sophie LOVES to clap

There we go with the shoes again...

She has recently taken a liking to our produce basket...

Another daily trick: climbing up on the back of Weston's chair while he's eating and attempting to steal a few bites of his food! This little lady keeps me on my toes!

An Unexpected Treat

Yesterday I was stricken with some kind of nasty 24-hour stomach flu. Fortunately,when I woke up this morning, I was feeling much better - though still weak. Usually our Saturdays are packed with errands and activities, which is the way I like it. But since I still felt too weak to go anywhere or accomplish much, we all just chilled at home together.
What a wonderful day it has been! It was cool enough outside to actually open some windows, and I didn't feel any pressure to get everyone fed and "ready to go" by any particular time. Today we all just enjoyed each other's company. It got me thinking about my kids, and how much joy they bring into our life. Here are some of the things I adore about them that I was so pleasantly reminded of today:

* They both love the Lawrence Welk show and dance to the songs on it.
* They are convinced that they are both ninjas! (thanks to daddy)
* Weston is fascinated with the concept of bones. We had to explain to him that not everything has bones. He asked if yellow has bones, and disappointed at the answer assured me that blue does have them!
* Sophie's favorite word is grandpa. If you ask her who her favorite person in the world is, she will say grandpa. If you ask her who is at the door, or who will buy her first car, or who is her biggest fan, or pretty much any other question at all, the answer will be the same: grandpa!
* Weston calls his football a "wupple." I love that he says so many things now. Not everything is perfect, but he is a talking machine - at last! (I knew that kid was going to be just like me)
* When you tell Sophie to fold her arms for prayer, she bows her head and coveres her eyes with the back of her hands... it is so darn cute I can hardly stand it!

Today was a happy reminder that there is no place I'd rather be than at home with my sweet little family! (Although being with them at Disneyland wouldn't be too shabby either)

Confessions of a truth seeker

Have you ever noticed that while the truth is simple, it is not always an easy process to arrive at it? It seems that preconceived ideas, emotions and misinformation frequently gunk up our mental channels, thereby delaying the process. I am daily bombarded with my own thoughts. Ideas and questions constantly flood my mind, and sometimes I just want to get them out. I have noticed a metamorphosis happening within me in my perception of politics and government. I have come to believe that the media has us all so busy debating lies and half truths, that the truth about many things remains largely undiscovered (probably in ancient history books.) And it isn't just the state of our country that fills my mind with questions and a sincere desire for the truth; all things "mom" occupy my daily thoughts. Here are a few of the many, many questions I ask myself of late:

How does the international banking system really work? I have a feeling they control world governments far more than we know. How can we take almost all of the power currently vested in the federal government and return it to the states? How can we stop the tide of global redistribution of wealth? Is that even what is really happening? Are the mosques being built in the US teaching and encouraging Sharia law? Is stealth jihad a real threat?

Really, the list could go on and on and on and on.

What I understand and know to be true on a philosophical level - or in theory - so often conflicts with something else I believe when it comes to practical application. Therefore, arriving at the correct and wise solution to most problems is, well, problematic! For example, I believe in loving my fellow man and know that each person born on this earth is a child of God. I know that the way I treat His children is a direct reflection of my attitude and love for Him. I believe in helping people out, giving them a chance, and treating them with kindness. On an individual basis, this is not difficult... the problem arises when I begin to apply this truth to a large societal problem, such as illegal immigration. I served my mission among illegal immigrants living in New Jersey. I grew to appreciate and love Hispanic people for a million different reasons. I grew to love the individuals that I had the privilege of knowing and serving. Yet I know also that it is wrong to violate the laws of the land. I believe that things are to be done in wisdom and order - and clearly, immigration of the illegal variety is nothing but chaos. I remember women -some very young - telling me that they were raped along the long and dangerous route from their country to the U.S., but that it was to be expected. The drug cartels and violence associated with them often go hand-in-hand with illegal border-crossing. Many innocent Americans are being horribly impacted by the violence. The Christian in me cries out to care for these people that are willing to risk their life in hopes of a better life. But when I contemplate the endless myriad of societal problems created by this mass intrusion, I am left to believe that illegal immigration is also a colossal disaster that must be stopped.

What brought about all these thoughts most recently is a documentary on Thomas Jefferson. Like all of us, Jefferson grappled with the collision between true ideals and correct real-life application. I find the horrible dilemma that faced our nation at its inception with regard to slavery almost unfathomable. The Dutch had brought slaves into the country for many years. A good many American slave-owners (such as Jefferson) inherited their slaves. In Jefferson's case, he also inherited an enormous debt. He had a moral obligation to pay the debt, and was unusually upright in matters of finance. He could not pay the debt without his slaves, and he knew that he would treat his slaves with far more civility and kindness than anyone else would. He traded slaves in order to keep families together. He worked to pass legislation that would end the importation of slaves. Certainly it is abhorrent that slavery was ever tolerated. Yet, as I contemplate the writings of this remarkably brilliant man, it is clear that he felt bound by a system that he could not simply change. He felt that he would be doing his slaves (who he always referred to as family) a grave injustice by letting them go free, as they would have nowhere to go and no means of taking care of themselves. Interestingly, he advocated for the education of slaves so they could one day become free. It is a long and complicated issue, and I'm sure enough books have been written on the topic to fill an entire library!
My only point is this: life is filled with contradiction. What we often see as the obvious truth becomes far more complex in its application to real life. I wish it were not so. It makes wise decision making all the more difficult, particularly in matters of civil debate. I also find it ironic that there are some things we absolutely know are true, and yet find almost impossible to live. I have always been an idealist, but I think the somewhat unfortunate reality of our human condition is starting to settle in on me as I grapple in my own mind with the issues that face our country today.

Because they inspire me

There is just something about a beautiful country road that makes me feel at home. Not all raods inspire me, but these do. This first one reminds me of childhood Summers in Missouri. This one just feels ancient, like if I go down that path I'll be going back in time. I wonder what those trees have seen over the years, and what stories they would tell if they could.Maybe I've just seen too many movies, but when I look at this picture I half way expect some creature to jump out of the trees.

I have been in the desert so long that I forget gorgeous places like this actually exist.

I'm no country girl, but I crave wide open spaces.

How I would love to take my kids by the hand and walk down a dirt road together. This last picture kind of makes me want to throw up, because I know that's what would happen if I ever drove down it! Isn't that thing insane?

Catching Up

How do you explain all of the things you have been waiting for a whole year to share? And how do you console yourself as you write news so very different from what you had a million times imagined in your mind?
In April of last year we were forced to move because our rental went into foreclosure and was sold in a trustee sale before we ever knew anything had happened. I had just been called as primary president. We were very involved in our ward, and genuinely happy with our life. It was the first time in many years that I felt like I belonged somewhere, and we were just thrilled right where we were. Seriously, I cannot think of a single major complaint I had about any aspect of life. When we got the news it was kind of shocking, but we saw it as perfect timing to buy a house - preferably in the same area. We moved to my mom's house temporarily - for what we thought would be 6 weeks at the most - and put most of our worldly possessions in storage.
The first six weeks went by and we still didn't have an accepted offer on a house. We were pretty surprised, but realized it wouldn't be the end of the world to stay with mom through fireworks season. (My husband is in the fireworks business which makes the months of June and July a little overwhelming to say the least.) Actually, I think I was secretly a little bit happy to have the company while so large with child, and during a time of year that is ordinarily very lonely for me while Jason works like a bazillion hours a week.
Mid-July I was getting pretty overwhelmed and stressed out. I was looking at houses several times a week and trying to do my calling in a ward on the other side of town - all while 8 months pregnant and in the full glory of the Summer desert heat. Plus, I knew that if we didn't find a house quickly, I wouldn't be bringing our baby home to OUR home!
As most of you know, I did have baby Sophie while living at mom's house. Not only that, I had her IN my mom's house, in the very same room that my son was born two and a half years previously! Crazy story, that one. But I think all of you heard about it (you know, since I wrote half a novel on the blog about it!)
It's impossible to explain the emotions that you have over 14 months of thinking that you are only a month, a couple weeks, or even a couple of days away from closing on a house and moving your life beyond limbo. The constant never-knowing, thinking you know but then being disappointed - it truly wears on you.
I had prayed that we would find a house before the baby was born so that I wouldn't have to worry about house hunting with a newborn. My prayer was answered! We got an accepted offer on a short-sale a week or two before her grand arrival... well, when I say accepted, I mean accepted by the seller. As you know, it can take many months for the bank to accept it too. So, for the first six months of Sophie's life, we just waited in escrow for the bank to give us the go-ahead on that house. SIX MONTHS!! Hello! By the end of September I was getting antsy to move on. By October, I was beginning to feel downright upset. At that point we had waited over two months, and I just couldn't fathom what the heck was taking so long. (We had been falsely informed that it would be two months tops. yeah.)
Meanwhile, my calling on the other side of town had just become too much. Not worth going into details on that one - lets just say it was rough. (Though I did LOVE serving in primary!) Somehow, by the grace of God and through a lot of work, I managed to pull off the primary program when Sophie was only 6 weeks old. Sometime in October I was released, and in November we finally realized that should probably just switch our records to my mom's ward and stop commuting half and hour to go to a ward we didn't live in anymore. That also meant kind of letting go of our own life. From November on, everytime I would check facebook and see what all my friends in the pelican creek ward were up to, I would feel left out and a little heart broken - like I was looking in on a world that I used to be apart of but was sadly forced to leave.
I kept dreaming up in my mind the blog posts I would write about finally buying our house. For like 3 months, I planned on writing a post entitled "gratitude and irony" about how perfectly everything came together just at the right time. I was asked to give a fireside talk for the Hispanic singles the first Friday in December. I almost declined the request, thinking that it was most likely we would be moving that weekend. HA! The waiting felt eternal (and eternally ridiculous), but whenever I prayed about it, I felt that I must not impose any time table on the situation. Sometimes I feel compelled to pray with all the force of my faith that something will happen a certain way. Those prayers are always answered. Every time I would try to pray like that about our living situation, I felt impressed to lay off and let it be. LET IT BE?!?!?!?! How long can you exist in limbo with your family of 4 in your old room at your mom's house, so far removed from what you consider to be your own life? But, the answer was always the same - and it came as a subtle yet persistent feeling or sense that everything was just fine, and that I should be patient.
Christmas and New Years served as buffers from the growing agony of our situation. Then finally in February we got an answer from the bank on the status of our short sale. It was denied. We were shocked, but full of faith that we would now find the right house. Obviously that was not the one intended for us.
To make a long and tedious story shorter than it otherwise would be, let me just say that we ended up going through two more escrows, on two different houses. Each presented a convoluted list of complications not worth enumerating, but nonetheless accompanied by much distress and anxiety. They both should have been simple and gone off without a hitch. Some of the problems we faced are indicative of the currently volatile and crazy Vegas housing market, while a few issues stemmed from other unusual factors. These two houses kept us in limbo from February to mid June! Hard to believe.
Everyone goes through trials, some painfully poignant, some dull but persisting. Many times, the most difficult aspects of a trial are too personal to share... and that is certainly the case here. For months I felt like I was living in quiet desperation, because I felt SO disconnected. Not being able to blog was one of the worst blows of all, because it came at a time when I desperately needed to feel connected.
In the end, we finally decided to just rent again. You can't rent without signing a year contract, so I suppose we won't be looking to buy again for awhile. So much for my triumphant blog post telling the world about our exciting purchase, complete with pictures and smiles all around. I am just happy to be in a lovely house with my precious little family. I am thankful to use the washer and dryer when I want, to discipline my son the way he needs to be disciplined without worrying about his screams impeding my mom's international business calls (no, I do not beat him :), and to know that if I leave the dishes undone overnight I will not be inconveniencing anyone but myself! I am also grateful to my very patient and generous mom.
AND, I am so very thankful to be blogging again! Woo hoo!!!

It's not all about me

I have so much to say, but as I sit here I realize that I REALLY need to do about 20 other things first - at which point it will be at least 11:30 and I will probably be too pooped to even wash my face before collapsing into bed.

I am a social creature. And when I am in a situation that limits my possibilities for socializing (like, for example, having two small children and living at my mom's house on the other side of town from every stay at home mom I know) I MUST blog. Even my husband recognizes a definite difference in my happiness level when I am blogging. Because, like many of you, I need to connect! I need friendship. I need to share what is happening in my life, and be there to care about what is happening in yours.

Blogging keeps me sane, too, because I love to write.

All I want to say is that I have SO much to say! And I miss sharing the daily tales of mothering that are amusing, endearing, and sometimes frustrating.

And while I sit here mourning the plight that is mine as an overwhelmed, unable to find time for blogging lady, it occurs to me that I am being rediculously selfish.

What I should be writing about is Garth Abbott, one of the coolest bishops ever, and a dear friend who I love for so many good reasons.

Because time is short, I will simply summarize: Garth has a very aggressive form of cancer and no way to pay for the outrageously expensive treatments he needs. His daughter in law (one of my best friends in the whole wide world), Rachelle Abbott, has an auction on her blog to raise money for his treatments. Please check it out. There are some awesome goods and services being auctioned.

Just click here to go to the auction!

Thanks everyone.

Saturday

A few things I learned while shopping Saturday:

1. While its appeal totally eludes me, the Snuggie must be incredibly popular because it is sold in every store - even the kitchen store. Why?

2. The fishing demonstration at the Bass Pro Shop is really just a way to sell fishing supplies.

3. Despite its obvious stupidity, the song that goes like this: "Last Christmas I gave you my heart and the very next day you gave it away..." is apparently worth remaking over and over and over again. I think I heard that song sung at least 10 different ways in one day! Why don't they play the Grinch song, or the one about the kid who wants the hippopotamus for Christmas?

4. It is not realistic to expect a two year old to be happy about hanging out in a dressing room with his mom in the Ann Taylor outlet store after shopping all day. He would much rather do just about anything else. (poor guy)

5. We seriously need a double stroller!

We actually spent a couple of hours at Bass Pro Shops Outdoor World which is Gigantic! Wow. We went there because they had all kinds of fun and free Christmasy things for kids - a virtual wonderland where you can mail letters to Santa, do crafts, and wait in line for a long time to meet the bearded celebrity. Unless of course one of the elves comes to tell you that Santa needs to take a break but you should feel free to come back in a couple of hours (not that we would know...).

We didn't really mind, though, because there were so many awesome things to see! I was utterly astounded by the size of that place. I haven't been to a Bass Pro Shops since I was a kid, and never at Christmas time. They had multiple waterfalls and aquariums, the usual awesome displays everywhere, and just about everything Christmas.

And, I might add, a very ample handicapped stall in the ladies room with plenty of room for changing diapers, nursing, and the like -although there was no chair other than the toilet. I actually nursed Sophie standing up in there until I heard some poor lady say she was waiting to use the changing table.

This is a total digression, but it got me thinking. Everywhere you go there are handicapped restrooms. But I would be willing to bet there are FAR more nursing moms than wheelchair bound people out in public at any given time. So why are there no accommodations for nursing moms? Even just one semi-comfortable chair in the ladies room would do. Seriously. Oh well.Weston could not get enough of the waterfalls! That kid loves water. I tried taking a picture of him and Jason in front of one, but they all turned out blurry.And you can never get enough of the voracious wild animal displays!What is it about watching fish that is so soothing?

Anyway, it was a fun time. This is Sophie and me standing in line to see Santa (you know, before he ditched us!)

Confessions

My friend, Megan, wrote a post of her confessions. I wanted to leave a comment on her blog about some of my own, but realized that the list was way too long for a comment.
So, here we go:

1. Although the endless blathering about the environment makes me want to go bury plastic jugs in my backyard and chop down a tree, I feel guilty throwing a ziploc bag away. We reused everything possible growing up, and it just does not seem right to waste things that can be reused. However, sometimes laziness overcomes me... or maybe it's just exhaustion!

2. I am slightly offended on a permanent basis that my husband does not think my eyes are my best feature. He does, however, love the one part of my body that I have spent most of my time loathing, which leads to confession number three...

3. Until I got married, my butt was the bane of my existence (or so I thought)! Every outfit I ever wore was concocted to create the illusion of a smaller derriere.

4. I, like my friend Megan, always correct people's English in my head. I can't help it - it is automatic. I can't stand it when I am writing and can't seem to remember a rule of grammar or punctuation. For example, I am always forgetting where the punctuation marks go when using parentheses. This REALLY bothers me.
As a side note, I knew it was time to come home from my Spanish-speaking mission when I heard myself ask the question, "did they went yet?" Even writing that makes me shutter.

5. Once in a while when Weston is doing something naughty, I pretend not to notice so that I don't have to deal with the screaming and flailing that usually accompanies punishment. I know that if he knows that I know (did you follow that?), then I MUST punish him so that he learns. But, if he thinks I never even saw... well, then at least I wasn't inconsistent in his mind!

6. If I think I may have hurt someone's feelings or said something to offend them, I will stew about it for days.

7. I enjoy watching iCarly with Weston. I know it's a tween show, but I think it's both clever and cute, and even downright funny!

8. Sometimes when those emails go around where you sign your name in petition of some new horrid political initiative, I get all squeamish. I have actually wondered if the government is going to collect my name and information and store it on some secret enemy list, then come after me and my family one day. I know, this is absurd.
Or is it?

The birth story and more pictures!

Warning: This birth story is very, very long. I apologize. The exciting part is near the end... and there are lots of pictures after the story. So - enjoy skimming, reading, or just skipping right to the pictures! :)

I keep waiting for an ample amount of time to write the birth story of my sweet Sophie, but am beginning to realize that there may never be enough time to do the story justice. And, as much as I long to expound upon the beauty of childbirth and all of my deepest feelings regarding the miracle of bringing a life into the world, of necessity I will forbear. Suffice it to say, I have never wanted to numb or mute the experience of giving birth in any way. I wanted to experience it fully, be aware and in control, and trust my body to do what it was perfectly designed for by my Creator.
In the beginning of June I began to feel extremely irritated by my responsibilities which seemed unreasonably overwhelming for a woman that needed to be focusing on the all important even that was approaching. Other than taking care of my family, everything in my life was a nuisance. Mostly, I felt a sudden urgency to begin preparing my mind and body for giving birth again, because I knew what a huge and life altering event this can be. I am grateful for the desire to prepare, because it proved to be vital – and allowed me to have the beautiful, empowering experience that I longed for.
I had a homebirth with Weston, and in retrospect, I think I was a soldier. It was l o n g and extraordinarily difficult near the end. For some reason I felt disappointed at the time because I thought I didn’t do a good job – like I hadn’t handled the pain and exhaustion well. Even though I was disappointed in myself at first, I immediately knew that I wanted to do a natural birth again. But this time, I wanted to feel a sense of satisfaction about the experience right away – not just months later in retrospect.
I started by re-reading my two favorite birth books, to refresh my memory and get myself focused on birthing a baby! One of these books, Hypnobirthing, has a chapter on affirmations. Somehow I had totally missed that chapter my first pregnancy! Almost every night after everyone else had gone to bed, I took a soothing bath and read my affirmations. It really helped me to focus on having a peaceful birthing experience. That was my goal. After all, when birth is traumatic for mom, it can’t very well be good for baby either.
I decided to have the baby in the hospital this time, even thought it was a little scary for me to think of it… somehow, that just seemed like the way to go this time. Dr. Harter (my doctor) is amazing. I couldn’t hope for a better one. I wrote up a detailed birth plan including everything I wanted - it was like a list of demands! He agreed to every one of them, signed the birth plan and gave me a number to reach him on if any of the nurses did not honor my wishes. I wanted to do a water birth again, and he is the only doctor in the entire hospital that allows you to deliver in the water. So, everything was set – and the birth was going to be perfect. I had planned everything – including music to listen to, aromatherapy to create a calm atmosphere, food and drinks to keep me going, the birth tub that would be delivered, and a myriad of other details.
My due date was August 14th. It was a Friday, the day of Jason’s grandpa’s funeral. After it was over, we figured Sophie would come within a day or two. After all, our schedule had cleared, so the timing seemed just right! (If you ask me, the timing would actually have been just right a couple weeks earlier :)
Well, the weekend passed uneventfully. I didn’t quite know what to think. After all, with Weston I had gone into labor on my actual due date. I felt discouraged by Monday - discouraged and miserable. In fact, I don’t think I realized just how incredibly miserable I had felt for the past couple of months until Sophie was born. I was just so massively huge and hurtey. (Yes, hurtey IS a word.) The Vegas Summer heat is pretty close to unbearable in my opinion, but far beyond it while pregnant. Those last 6-8 weeks were just a matter of survival. People began asking when I was going to induce labor. It seemed like 30 calls a day came in (mostly calls to my mom) asking if the baby had been born yet. All day long I could hear my mom on the phone saying, “Nope, no baby yet! She’s just going to wait… no, no, she doesn’t want to induce labor. We’re just all trying to be patient!” But even in my impatient, uncomfortable state, I still felt that I should wait until the baby was good and ready to come.
I guess it was good to hold off, because I was right… when she was ready to come, she was READY!!
Tuesday the 18th I woke up feeling better than I had in months. I don’t even know why. Maybe I actually slept that night. I was refreshed and energized. Then, to make things better, my good friend Stephanie dropped by. She didn’t just drop by… she dragged her three kids across town in the horrific heat simply to bring me flowers! Two dozen roses to be exact. It absolutely made my day. She must have been inspired, because I don’t think anything could have brightened my day the way those roses did – and her visit, of course! So the good feeling lasted, and I even had enough energy to go to Trader Joe’s with my mom in the afternoon. We did some major grocery shopping and on the way home I began to feel mild contractions. They were mild and very far apart, but I began thinking to myself that tonight just might be the night!
Jason and I went to bed around 10:30 Tuesday night. At exactly 12:25 I woke up with real contractions. I began to time them, deciding not to wake anyone for awhile. They were about 5 minutes apart for an hour, so I finally woke Jason up around 1:30. He drifted back to sleep sometime after that (with my permission of course) because I was resting quietly in between contractions and the poor guy was sleepy. If I would have known what was to come, I would have told him that I needed him awake, but at the time I figured it was better for him rest up since I was going to need his strength 12 or 16 hours later when I was finally pushing. (These were my thoughts because I had been in labor for 21 hours with Weston.)
Around 3:00 I got cold, and woke Jason up to help me get a jacket on and go sit on the birth ball. He kept saying, “don’t you think you should wake your mom up?” to which I kept replying, “no, no reason to wake her now.”
But finally at about 4:30 I went into her room to tell her I was in labor and to bathe in her luxurious spa tub. My thought was that since I had so much time to go and I was already tired, I should probably try to take a warm bath to slow labor down and get some rest before the big work ahead. I had been hungry and eaten a few bites of an energy bar before the bath, which made me nauseated. I thought it was strange that I felt like throwing up. When I was in labor with Weston, I ate and felt fine. In fact, the food is what gave me much needed energy to keep going! So, the bath did make the contractions a little further apart. I slept in between contractions which was nice, except that I still felt like puking. And though the contractions were further apart (like 8-10 minutes), they were going from fairly intense to very painful.
After an hour in the tub, I got out and laid on my mom’s bed for a good while. She timed contractions some more, and finally I just couldn’t take lying there any longer. I got up with a start and informed her that I was going to wake up Jason (who had been snoozing on the couch).
By this time it was 6:00, and Weston had woken up. I told them I thought we should start getting ready to leave in the next while. Jason tried to encourage me by commenting that I might be half way done with labor already! I sure hoped I was more than half way done, but recognized that he was probably right, and I guessed I should be glad about it. With Weston awake, mom starting fixing him breakfast. While in the kitchen, I was straddling the toilet seat (one of my favorite positions for labor) in the guest bath room listening to snippets of her conversation with family members who she was calling. (Jason was showering and getting ready to go to the hospital.) I heard her call my grandma, my brother, and my Aunt Karen. She told my brother that she figured we’d try to be at the hospital around 8:00, and that hopefully we’d have a baby by noon! I remember thinking that sounded pretty accurate… at least I hoped it wouldn’t go longer than that! She kept asking me what I wanted for breakfast, and I told her that I couldn’t even think about eating – the thought of food made me want to vomit!
It seemed so odd to me that I couldn’t eat. Then, I began to wonder why labor was getting so powerful already. At “this point” in labor with Weston (as though there was any way to determine what point I was really at), I was walking around the block, just pausing for contractions. I was carrying on conversation, and while it hurt, I was able to move. I started to wonder if maybe I was further along in labor than I thought. When Jason got out of the shower I told him I wanted to get going to the hospital. But I was starting to really worry – not about labor itself- but about being able to endure a 35 minute car ride while contracting so hard. The way I cope with the pain is by moving. I don’t think there is any way I could do natural childbirth lying down – or sitting in a chair with a seatbelt on for that matter! Gee, why hadn’t I thought of that sooner?
Because everyone was rushing around trying to get ready to go, I was experiencing the worst part of labor – transition – pretty much alone! I needed the emotional support of someone by my side, but no one (including myself) realized how far along I was. By 7:00 the pain was breathtaking, and I was pretty much climbing the walls. I wasn’t completely alone, but mom was dealing with Weston (who was getting upset because he could hear me in the other room, obviously in some kind of distress) while Jason was frantically throwing toiletries in a bag. At about 7:10 I told Jason to hurry and bring me the trash can because I had to throw up. Once I threw up, the reality hit me that this baby was coming, and she was coming soon! With Weston I threw up only a few minutes before I started pushing. It’s hard to remember exactly what order everything happened in, but I know that at 7:15 Jason called his boss and told him that we were on the way to the hospital, so he wouldn’t be coming in to work. Right after he got off the phone he started insisting that we get in the car immediately. I just kept saying “no!” I told him I had to wait until there was a break in the contractions so that I could move… the problem was, there WAS no break in contractions! I was in transition, and while it didn’t last two hours like my first labor,there was absolutely NO break in between contractions for a good 15 minutes. It was insane!
Jason’s urgency seemed to be increasing, “you HAVE to get in the car!!!” My response was the same, “No! I’m not going anywhere!! I can’t move!” Then a strange but familiar sensation hit me, seemingly out of nowhere.
“I feel like I have to push!” Could it be true? I was almost in disbelief! Less than a half an hour earlier I had been hoping I would be lucky enough to have this baby by noon.
Once Jason heard me say that a couple of times, he opened the door and yelled out to my mom, “Ruth, call 911! We’re having a baby!!”
I know most people would have been all freaked out and terrified in this situation – it certainly was dramatic, untraditional, and a little crazy – but I was just so thrilled that I didn’t have to get in the car! I wasn’t afraid of giving birth, and in fact I was happy that I felt like pushing… that meant that labor was almost over and our baby would be with us! It was exciting!
I guess my mom handed Jason the phone because next thing I know he’s talking to the 911 dispatch lady, and telling me to take my pants off. Again, I kept saying no, until I realized that it was a pretty rational request considering the circumstances. I guess I had said no because I was focusing on making it through the never-ending contraction.
As soon as I took off my pants I realized that the baby’s head was engaged and moving down. I hardly even remember pushing, but as I lay down on my side and put my hand down there, I was surprised and thrilled to feel the top of a soft little head! Holy cow. When I pushed Weston out, I was terrified to feel the head of the baby. This time there was no fear. It was truly exhilarating.
Meanwhile, there’s a conversation going on between Jason and the dispatcher, and me and Jason… it went something like this:

Dispatcher: Make sure she is laying on her back
Jason: Michelle, you have to lie on your back
Me: NO!!
Jason: You need to lie on your back!!
Me: NO WAY!!! (Duh, doesn’t he know that is the single most painful position to push a baby out? I mean, hasn’t he given birth before!?!?!?! Oh, yeah………)
Dispatcher: Is she on her back?
Jason: Yes, what next…

Actually, I remembered that Julie gave birth on her side, and that’s what felt comfortable to me. So I lay down on my side and pulled my top leg up toward me. The lady on the phone kept instructing Jason on what to do, which wasn’t much because by the second push her head was already out. I remember thinking, “well, I can rest a second, wait for the next contraction and push the rest of her out, or I can just do it now.” I went with the second option. Actually, the only reason I even knew her head was out was because I heard Jason tell the lady on the phone that the head was out. Yes, he delivered our daughter with a phone between his ear and his shoulder!
Jason instinctively positioned his hand to hold up her neck as she came out, immediately checking to make sure the cord was not wrapped around her neck. (Fortunately it wasn’t.) So out she came, and we knew everything was alright because she cried right away – just enough to let us know her lungs were working. She calmed down very quickly when Jason wrapped her up, and moments later six strange men came rushing into my bedroom! The only thing I remember from the time she was born to the time the paramedics arrived was checking between her legs to make sure she really was a girl.
The paramedics were very kind and calm, and let me tell you – I felt like a million bucks! Once Sophie made her grand entrance into the world, I felt great. It was a peaceful, wonderful birth that I certainly would never have planned, but that was more perfect than I could have imagined. My poor mom couldn’t wait to see what had happened, so when the paramedics arrived she had one of them entertain Weston and show him the fire truck for a few minutes. Weston came in a couple minutes later too. He was so happy! His instinctive reaction to seeing his sister for the first time was to kiss her on the face. It was so precious!
So that’s the story! Time of birth was 7:25; exactly 7 hours after labor began. Off we rushed to the hospital in the ambulance where Sophie and I got all checked out. I didn’t need stitches or anything, and she was in great shape too. It was beautiful, fulfilling, and had a very happy ending… which is really only the beginning. That was two weeks ago today, and I am just overjoyed to have my two precious kids. Part of me can’t wait until Sophie gets a little older so they can play and so we can all get to know her, but the other part just wants to cherish every moment of her tiny perfection!
These are the beautiful roses Stephanie brought me
Princess Sophie (that's what daddy calls her), fresh from the womb

Here's the paramedic that entertained Weston... you can't see it because the picture was snapped a couple of seconds too late, but that was right after he saw and kissed his little sister for the first time.Shortly after arriving at the hospitalFeeling pretty great about life!

Weston's visit to the hospitalDr. Harter came and checked on us a few times while we were there... he was disappointed that all he got to deliver was the placenta. I am so grateful to have him as a doctor. He LoVES delivering babies, and treats his patients with more respect and kindness than any doctor I know!The first few days at home:

Loving grandma

Sleeping beauty!

Daddy... admiring his little ladyWeston can resist those pudgy little legs no more than we can!I love this close up! I haven't seen that many pictures of myself as a newborn, but I think there's a resemblance other than the extremely chubby face! :)